Good morning, Readers.

This week, I posted a lot about Black Lives Matter. I retweeted article after article outlining the horrendous actions of the police in America during peaceful protests. I created a YouTube video in protest. I spoke out. I had to. Everything in the news was hurting my heart, and that pain needed an outlet. It still does.

The thing is here, in Canada, in lockdown, without a job, I can't really do much else. And that grates on my nerves so badly. It makes me feel helpless and that intensifies the anger I feel.

And I want it well known that Canada has its fair share of this horrendous bullshit, too. We can't let our own problems go unaddressed because our neighbours are one fire.

Look, I have a platform. It is small and insignificant. But I have it, and it's mine, and I could not in good conscience look at what is going on and not use that platform to do something about it. Yeah, it's really uncomfortable to be confronted with this stuff day in and day out.

But here's the thing:

Black folk live it every day.

Indigenous folk live it every day.

You're exhausted about hearing about it all the time. I understand. It is exhausting. It's uncomfortable and confronting and heartbreaking. Now imagine the special hell it must be to live it all the time.

I also understand why so many of the folks in my circles haven't spoken out. There's a lot to lose, you know.

Perhaps they're worried that it might lose them opportunities. I get that fear. I desperately want to be successful enough to be supported by my creative endeavours. I get the fear of losing the opportunities to make that happen.

But, you know, I wasn't really getting those opportunities anyway, so I've honestly lost nothing.

Perhaps they were fearful of alienating their readership. That's legit. A writer without a readership is, well, a sailboat without wind. Well, judging by the number of reviews I have, mine is not huge, and so losing the ones who don't agree that black an indigenous lives do, in fact, matter, while making a bigger dent in my percentages, isn't actually all that many people. Most of my readers are, in fact, kind and loving, and won't argue that what is going on is wrong, unjust and ought to be combated. Moreover, I don't want a fan base that thinks otherwise. I don't want those people associated with me at all. Let them leave my social media and diminish that all-important follow count. Let me instead gather readers who are kind, empathetic, understanding and just. I'm okay with racists and fascists getting away from me and my work.

Fuck racism.

Fuck fascism.

These should not be controversial statements.

Perhaps some folks are just too damned tired to speak out. I totally understand. This shit, this heartbreak and outrage, this devastation, is exhausting. I've been crying a lot these past few days - as if the world needed more white tears, but I digress. It's exhausting. And I don't blame folks for sitting this one out. I am not upset at them for taking the time they need to gather their strength and take care of their mental health. I've been there. I've been silence because I just couldn't.

But I had the energy this week. So I was duty-bound to speak up.

Perhaps people are scared of retribution. This is a genuine fear. Did you know that organizers of the Ferguson protests have been killed? Their bodies found in burnt-out cars, or their deaths labelled suicides. Right-wing bastards send death threats, and often follow it up with menacing presence. To women especially. This is very real, and very frightening. No one wants that kind of shit on their door.

To be fair, I am genuinely afraid of that as well. But... I don't know. This week, my exhaustion and anger and heartbreak were all stronger than that fear.

Happily, there have been a lot of allies standing up and doing right. Here are some literary agents I admire, actually standing up to be counted:

Kelly Van Sant, Amanda Rutter and Stacey Graham all resigned from their positions at Red Sofa after the owner of the agency, Dawn Frederick, decided to call the police on folk who were doing nothing wrong. They vocally and publicly stood up and said they could not be complicit in such racists rhetoric or action. They got up, and left, losing their agency; their jobs.

Special love to all the unnamed writers who dropped Ms. Frederick as their agent, too. I know from experience that getting an agent is a fight, and it cannot have been easy to drop your entry into the world of publishing. I am so grateful for and to you for standing up. Thank you.

I also want to highlight Dongwon Song of Morheim Literary, who I've been following on Twitter since he was agent guest of honour at CanCon a couple of years ago. He is not just speaking out. He's walking the walk. He's been running supplies around New York. He's re-opened his submissions for Black writers (and only black writers - take a back seat, the rest of us. This is not our moment). You can read the blog post where he announces that and provides guidelines for submission here.

Incidentally, his twitter feed, how much he's willing to speak up and speak out, has solidified Mr. Song as my dream agent long before now. I feel like I would want to be represented by someone of his character.

I also want to give all my love to Ben & Jerry's. Yes, the ice-cream manufacturer. They've published a thorough and thoughtful statement in this moment, outlining their support for Black Lives Matter, and why and what they want done. They have long been on the right side of history, and I absolutely love them for it. Here is their incredibly powerful statement. I will not be buying ice-cream, unless it's Ben & Jerry's. I stan.

My voice is small, and ultimately unimportant. But a thousand voices whispering together can create such a din as to be a roar. And so I add my small, unimportant whisper to the tumult; hurt, and angry and exhausted, but here. But standing.

Lastly, I benefit from my position as a white woman living in Canada. Privilege doesn't mean that one doesn't struggle. I do. Heavens, I know I complain enough about it. But not like this. Not the way folks of colour do. And my heart breaks for you all. I'm so sorry you have to have this fight at all. It shouldn't be.

Here are some things we can do to help, courtesy of timeout.com.

Alright, I've gone on enough for now. Please, stay safe, look out for one another, and be kind.

I love you.

Good morning, Readers!

I'm over at Black Gate Magazine today, seeing if we'd like to do something communal to take our minds of...*waves vaguely at everything.*

I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking about my writing and my writing skills… or lack thereof depending on who you ask. I fall short in a lot of areas, particularly any story that is supposed to be short. My inability to keep things short has helped me with the whole novel-writing thing I love to do, but I’m slightly miffed at myself for being so inept at something creative. Short stories simply aren’t my forte. I mean, the last time I tried to write one, it became a two volume epic. So, there’s that.

It’s not like I’ve never written anything short. I was the short story champion in high school, and my short story writing ability got me one of the highest QCS (Queensland Core Skills) scores in my class back when I was exiting secondary school. My marks dragged down my eventual exit OP (Overall Position) score, because high school was hell and I didn’t cope.

Anyway, the point is, I stopped writing short stories and now I feel like I have simply lost the knack.
I would like to fix that. But, you know, without the pressure of it counting towards any kind of grade.

And, I’d like for us all to join in for a communal, no pressure, bit of shared creativity.
​
Let me explain.

Except to say this.

Let them breathe.

Good morning, Readers!

Last week was tough. This week will also be tough.

The world is on fire right now. Our neighbours to the south are plummeting headlong into insanity, making the resistance of fascism illegal. As if it is a radical stance to oppose fascists and fascism.

I feel like everything is upside down in the world. I have struggled with the helplessness and anger before. It's back full force, and I've managed to achieve very little.

Of course, in times like this, we tend to look backwards to a time when things were much simpler. Except, of course, our ignorance of the reality in which we lived was what made things seem simpler. For me, i've been thinking a lot about high school.

It was a miserable time for me, I'm sure I've said that before. Most of it has been erased from my memory. There is a nebulous hazy grey when I think back, a cloud that warns of sadness and torment. I had undiagnosed clinical depression. I was bullied to the point of suicidal ideation. I tried. Several times. It was awful.

But there are some points of light, some few memories.

I loved the learning, for example, though that love was one of the many things that made me a target for bullies. My favourite classes were always art, of course, and wood shop. I enjoyed my after school activities, on of which was leatherwork.

By the way, I checked back on my alma mater yesterday, and they have a bloody observatory. AN OBSERVATORY. FOR ASTRONOMY. Who the fuck gave them the money for that? Also, their uniforms are quite different from when I was there. I really like them now.

All besides the point, of course.

The point is, I appreciated the structured days, and the pursuit of knowledge without much care to other things. I turn to my life now, and find that I'm unable to operate without structure. Work used to provide that for me. Now I'm not working, I'm feeling lost and listless. I've been able to break through some of it some of the time, getting work done in bursts, but it never lasts.

Yesterday, I spent a lot of time questioning why, and how I can fix it... because I've not been able to successfully fix it to date. So, I'm going back to school.

Sort of.

What I mean is: I've created a school schedule for myself; six 50 minute lessons with five minutes in between (you, know, so I can make it to the next classroom on time (I'll be using those five minutes to stretch)), a half hour break for morning tea and an hour break for lunch.

I have legitimate classes that I'm taking anyway via skillshare.com - and I figured if I'm learning something, why not build around it?

I've even assigned myself some assessment... which is to say, the work that I still do while at home. My blog posts for Black Gate Magazine, they' re assignments for my English class, due every two weeks. A completed novel is my end of year assessment for English. I have art assignments - that acrylic painting that stands perpetually unfinished is the first art assignment due. Every Monday, my video editing class demands I turn in my Silver Stag Studio projects. Luckily, there are no marks, because I would crumble beneath the stress of that (as I did in school).

Only Phys Ed doesn't have some sort of assignment that I've given myself.

Blog posts here are my nightly homework, as is guitar practice. Guitar lessons every Monday. Martial arts are my extra-curricular activity.

School begins at 9:00 each morning, and ends at 3:45 in the afternoon, in which case, I go for a walk. The school year begins June 8th, and ends... whenever I can get back to my job.

Another addendum, I walked to and from school every day, and I went back and checked how long a trip that was last night. Twenty minutes if I dragged my feet. So, to kinda draw on the structure of my day from back in the day, I will go for a half hour walk in the morning and afternoon.

To be perfectly clear, I am not nostalgic for my high school days. They were damaging in ways that I'm still recovering from. I do miss the learning. And I really miss the structure of it. I'm not built for long days of doing whatever whenever, I guess.

Right, I have to go and get stuff sorted and work done.

​Ciao!

So, the 30 Day Song Challenge is all done, and I had a lot of fun with it. There are so many songs that I love that I didn't get the chance to share, so I'll include them below in an honourable mentions list. They're amazing songs and deserve some love.

​So, in no particular order, my honourable mentions:

Okay, that's way too many, but the list of good music is endless.

So, it's been a month of music. Of course, I'll keep sharing any music I find that I fall in love with. As always. For now, though, that's it, that's all.

​Ciao!

A Song The Reminds You of Yourself

I feel like this one is more aspirational - the myself I want to be - than a true reflection of me. Though, I have fought my way through a lot of things, and I'm still on this publishing journey despite a bunch of rejections, so I'm not waving my white flag, no.

A Song You Remember From Your Childhood

My parents had Carole King on cassette (I think it was the Tapestries​ album). I remember listening to it during road trips.