New Den/Office.

I have already begun to work here. Lovely view, quiet spot. Around the corner, is the ebb and flow of the city.

FLASH FICTION

Now is the time to start to write again after all the upheaval of downsizing and moving. So last evening I went to my Writers Group to be surrounded by others who pursue this lonely passion. Think about it! Isn't it more appealing to connect with one's colleagues than to face the blank screen. It could sound like avoidance, but the hope is it will increase my courage and stamina to face the hours of work that writing demands. There are so many distractions at any time and during my recent move they took over.

Last night at the Moosemeat Writers' Group we reviewed flash fiction. Some members brought pieces for critique of 500 words or less, our word limit for stories that are complete but brief. The format for critique around flash fiction is different from our regular meeting (which you can see at www.moosemeat.org) and allows immediate feedback. Copies of the piece are passed around and as the writer reads aloud, the rest of us listen and mark up our copies to return after discussion to the writer. We do this in preparation for our annual chapbook which we launch with a reading, This year the launch will be at the Arts and Letters Club on Friday, June 1sr  at 7 p.m. One of the co-hosts is Jerry Schaefer. Last year the other co- host was Isabel Matawawana. At the moment, Is is teaching English in South Korea, but she will undoubtedly be cheering us on. The other co-host this year has yet to be formally announced. Stay tuned.

Life of a Writer. #5. On the Verge of Moving. Too Much Stuff. .

 I love the view from this window. It faces west and in the evening, I can see the sun set over the city. I imagine how well I will write there. Once the leaves on the trees are out, it will be beautiful, still with glimpses of the street and people passing by below. 

At the moment, I am shredding paper and getting rid of as much as I can so as to fit into my new space. If there is too much stuff, my brain will feel as cluttered as my environment. Not conducive to writing. So before I leave this house where I have lived for such a long time, I am trying to leave as much clutter as I can behind. How exciting this all is, albeit exhausting. Moving date fast approaches.

New floors, new paint job

My Brother's Blue Jay

 

My brother John fed the birds outside his home in Ste. Anne, Manitoba. He loved to watch them come to the feeders outside the window. So did his seven granchildren. This jay is snatching peanuts in shells that we put out in John's absence. My brother died on February 15th, 2012. I call this photo John's Blue Jay, not only because he loved birds, but also because watching them when I was there this past weekend for his funeral evoked many stories about my brother. I saw him only every year or so as he did not fly and Winnipeg wasn't on my agenda too often unless there was a wedding of one of his children or a birth or some other occasion. I was glad that my sister, her husband and I were able to visit our brother in January. This last trip was to go to his funeral service where it was apparent that this good man and his loving family have many friends. I said a few words about my brother after his son, Jim, spoke so movingly. A few stories about the early days before any of them knew John. I was two when he was born, I don't remember a time when he wasn't there. It is very hard to accept that he isn't any longer. Such a colossal loss. 

My brother was not a complicated man. He was a man of few words and quite quiet. But it did not take long to know that he was a kind man, filled with love. He will be sorely missed.

Storm on the Horizon.

I was fortunate enough to get an Aeroplan ticket to go to Winnipeg tomorrow for my brother's funeral on Saturday. Will I get there? At the moment, there are Travel Alerts for Toronto with snow predicted to begin at midnight. There will be, apparently, 5 to 10 cm. overnight. I know the drill. Chaos on the highway, chaos at the airport. Still, I am hopeful. There was also snow predicted when I went there a month ago to visit my brother, increasingly worried about him as he spent weeks and months in hospital. It was a good visit so if my flight is cancelled tomorrow, I know I saw him when he was still with us.

 

Life and Loss.

My brother died in hospital in Winnipeg on February 15, 2012. Everything shifts. The brother who was always there, from the time I was two, is gone. He was such a gentle man and as a child what one heard so often was what a nice boy he was. A nice boy. Well, he had his moments, ganging up with my younger sister to fight with me. What did we all fight about? It's hard to know now, so long ago were those days. We also played together and either protected or admired each other.

The paths of children raised in northern mining towns often diverged as we grew up and went away to school, to work and/or to get married. Very few returned to live in the place where we shared our childhood. Though many of us have visited and remarked on how things have changed. The underground mine that has become an open pit. The houses that have been torn down. How the town thrives through an economic downturn because of the discovery of more gold..

If someone has a brother or sister there, they are just as likely to have another in some other part of Canada. Or elsewhere. Thus I happen to have a sister in Vancouver and until yesterday had a brother in Winnipeg. Stretched out across the continent from where I live in Toronto. Nonetheless we three siblings have grown closer again in these later years when we could travel more and had also the benefit of Skype, email, Facebook, etc.

It is a sad day. Such a nice boy, yes. Such a gentle and loving man.

The Life of a Writer. #4 .Moving.

I was going to write about Christmas Day and what happens when left alone to cook a turkey for the family who call from their out of town home on the morning of the festive dinner that they are ill. What happened then was that two friends came and a good warm festive air circled us and the next day the grown kids came and enjoyed turkey soup, fitting as stomachs were still settling for them. Aside from those few words, it is old news now.


Now I have moved into another reality. One of decluttering and preparing a house I have lived in for over 40 years for sale in a week or so. It is time for moving into a new phase of life. And during all of this, how does one find time to write? I don't know the answer. Maybe there isn't any  time for that. However, I am prepared to enjoy this transition at this stage of my life and get back to writing in earnest once I am settled in a new and smaller place. A place where my friends who have already made this move assure me I will feel lighter. As junk disappears, I already do and rather imagine that it happens in stages.

How to move with the least amount of stress? Share with me! All suggestions welcome. I am well underway already, but it does seem daunting. I can work from morning to night and then look around and wonder if I've actually done anything. Where did all that stuff that is now in the garage ready for pick up by a man with a truck go? Nothing looks particularly different in the house. Although when my sister visited last week, she said she could see a big difference. Still the question remains, how to shoehorn what I want to take with me into a small kitchen, a small coat closet, a small linen closet and one rather large closet in the bedroom. Where will all the books go? All my papers? Well, some of the books, over 50%, have already gone to a refugee committee at a church for sale to raise funds for the committee's work. And the papers I continue to sort and shred.


In the meantime, I think it is time to read a book and go to a movie. Wouldn't you!!!