Finding fresh ways to write timeless truth.
I can’t order proof copies of new unpublished books from Amazon KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) because of COVID and the fact that I’m in Canada which, of course, in the grand scheme is insignificant but in my little world is an annoyance. It also makes absolutely no sense. I need to get creative to do
I sit down to free write one afternoon. I am tired of thinking about the pandemic. I’m tired of writing about it. I’m weary of its curled tentacles reaching into every aspect of life and leaving a sticky residue. I’ve had enough of the polarization—over the pandemic, but also politics and the best breakfast cereal
“My copy of Linda Hoye’s The Presence of Absence is studded with bookmarks so I can return to some of my favourite passages in her wonderful new book. I had to smile when she buys a new Moleskin notebook—then decides she needs a new desk to go with it! (87) I recognize myself both in
I'm a checklist person through and through. Sometime late last year I began drafting a project plan for launching The Presence of Absence to capture all the little details I needed to tend to before releasing my baby out into the world. I have been tweaking it, making adjustments, and getting things done but I
One year ago today I posted this photo on social media with these words: “I’ve been at this pretty much all day and haven't made it past the second page. Whose idea was it for me to write another book anyway?” I was buried in revisions of The Presence of Absence: A Story About Busyness, Brokenness, and
I have a few questions. How . . . ? Is it . . . ? What . . . ? I scratch them on a page in my journal. One after another; they keep coming. Through writing comes understanding. Not answers but illumination. I scribble prayer. (I wonder: is it okay to use such
The sun shone a few days ago. It was noteworthy because it’s been gray so we packed up our cameras, grabbed some coffee, and went for a drive. It was glorious. We talked, looked, and didn’t click the shutters on our cameras once. No matter. The sunlight did what it does so well. It revived
We went to see A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood yesterday afternoon. It was perfect. In a time when the world seems loud and angry it was a respite. Some thoughts as I watched the movie I’ve carried with me into a new day. I wish I was more like Mr. Rogers. He had a
My Christmas cactus is in bloom. Pretty and pink on my kitchen windowsill, it is a spark of joy in the dark and early morning as I wait for the Keurig to do its very important work. I saw something that explained, based on the shape, the difference between Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter cactuses. Maybe
I read Buechner first thing and, as usual, I’m enchanted with the way he dances with words. I’ll never be able to write like him, but that’s okay. I was never meant to. According to developmental psychologist Erik Erikson’s stages of human psychological developmental, I’m in late adulthood. I found it jarring, and somehow hard to
I spend a good part of the day on the sofa in the den, heating pad on high, surrounded by books. I can’t even muster the strength to go to the garden, so I send Gerry to water and harvest tomatoes and Swiss chard for supper. It feels like a wasted day. Countless things, indoors