Different worlds …

Last week I was having an email conversation with someone I knew years ago in Montreal and have re-connected with on Facebook.

We started off talking about libraries. One thing led to another and libraries led to our shared love of books. Books led to e-books and e-books led to tech and tech led to cursive script, which led to future generations.

Trust me, it made sense. You had to be there.

First she told me about her granddaughter, who’s a junior in University, and all the techie equipment the school expects her to

Are all writers a little weird … ?

… or is it just me?

Since moving to Toronto in 1985, every house or apartment I’ve either rented or owned has had an office, or at least a dedicated space for writing. One that’s properly outfitted, with a desk, a comfortable chair, a filing cabinet, storage for books and supplies, good light, everything one would need.

I have never sat, or worked, in any of them.

When I got to the part, in the book I’m writing, where my mom died I couldn’t write at home. It took me about six

Day 60. A Milestone

It’s been two months, since I first had the crazy idea of attempting to write something new, every day, for a year.  Sixty days.  Sixty stories.  Sixty different topics.  Six hundred and twenty-one tags.  Forty-four thousand, seven hundred nineteen words.

And sixty grande Pike’s to keep me going.

Damn!  That’s half a novel’s worth of work.  That’s one mother load of a blog.  And I’m not even close to being done.  Done in, occasionally.  But not done.  I’ve written on more subjects I could ever have imagined, from aging to atoning.  From beauty to books.  The Caribbean to cycles.  Distractions.  Entertainment.  And fantasies.

On googling.  Health and history.  From ignorance to intentions.  Joy and love.  From mischief to  music and naturopathy.  Politics and prejudice.  Refining to rituals.