Channeling Marvin Gaye …

Being a city dweller I either walk or take the subway most places. I never think twice about it. But thepolice other day I noticed something new and I have to admit it gave me pause.

It was just a few days after the terrorist attacks in Brussels. The second I entered the subway station I noticed two police Continue reading

What really matters …

Sometimes it feels like we spend so much time on the things that don’t birthdaymatter we lose sight of the things that do. I was reminded of what really counts last Sunday.

It was my birthday. I don’t make a big deal of it. I never did. My mother used to tell me that even as a child I Continue reading

Sometimes I’m a mystery even to myself …

How weird is this? Right in the middle of walking to meet a friend for coffee a book title popped into myShangri-La head. James Hilton’s Lost Horizon.

Out of nowhere. Why? That’s my question to you.

Why?

I first read Lost Horizon back in grade school. Don’t make me tell you how long ago that was. In those days, we were given a required reading list at the very beginning of the school year. And each time we finished a book we had to Continue reading

I’m in unfamiliar territory …

At the risk of jinxing myself, it’s not often I find myself with nothing, or very little to say. But here I am. wordsNo words. It’s not writer’s block. Thank God, I’m not having any trouble with client work. Those words and ideas are flowing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Same with my book. As I told you last week, it is going really well. If anything, I’m having trouble typing fast enough to keep up with the thoughts and memories and sentences and words screaming at me, inside my head, Continue reading

Back in the saddle again …

Well, not literally. I’m talking about the book I’ve been writing on and, more specifically, off for the lastmoleskin nine years.

When my mother was ailing I was struck with an idea for a book about her and me. I tucked it away in the back of my mind for later. I said nothing to anyone until the day after she died, when my closest friend and I were headed back to Montreal for the funeral.

As the words literally started pouring out of my mouth, my friend handed me some paper and a pen and I spent the rest of the trip writing. This
went on for the next three months. It was amazing, the book was literally writing itself.

Seven chapters in, I hit the wall. No, not writer’s block. I’d been Continue reading