Thoughts on the Orlando Massacre

Sunday morning I woke up a little before everyone else. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I checked Facebook (like I'm trying not to do) and one of the very first items in my news feed was an article about the Orlando massacre. I read it quickly. I fought back tears. I flipped the cover closed on my tablet and I busied myself with the day. We unpacked boxes of books and toys, I placed pictures and candles and nic-nacs about the house. In the afternoon we planted out some flowers and tomatoes and peppers we'd bought at the market. I kept my mind away from the hurt.

But by late afternoon, I couldn't stay away any longer. I read that the death toll was now more like 50. I read the first snippets of information about the shooter. I felt numb, until I started texting with a close friend who is a lesbian. She told me how hard of a time she was having. She said "they're shooting us." And at that, I remembered that I am in that "us". I identify as queer, though I'm read as straight. I hate how that part of myself is so easily erased, every day. How I forget it, too. It's something I struggle with. You don't have to be queer to feel the pain of this tragedy, of course, but her words brought me back to myself and I finally started to feel it.

I feel it as a queer woman. I feel it as a mother. I feel it as a human being. Like so many, I wonder how many more people have to die for something to change. I am appalled that this man was able to legally acquire the guns he used, even though he was on a government watch list. What is the purpose of these lists, then? Why do so many people insist they have a right to possess these weapons of mass destruction? I'm sure there are those saying that if only someone else in the club had been carrying a gun, the death toll would be much lower. I'm sure that's complete and utter bullshit. It's a part of the lies that gun-enthusiasts tell themselves to make it okay for people to keep dying. It's shifting the blame, it's burying your head so fucking far in the sand that you can't hear the rest of us crying for it to stop.

If this man hadn't been able to purchase a gun, he'd just be a lonely homophobe, quietly hating gays and all of those people who were just celebrating love and community and BEING, would not now be dead.

Though perhaps even bigger than the gun issue is the issue of the hate. If that man hadn't been so triggered by the sight of two men kissing, this wouldn't have happened. If we are all surrounded by love and acceptance, if we are taught these things right from the beginning, if we're taught to live and let live, then there'd be no need for the guns. There would be no fear of this happening. I hope to raise my kids to know this, deep in their core. To know only love, to feel only love for others. I hope they never have to face the agony of "coming out," because they'll know that they can love whomever they choose. And that they never have to face such hatred for that.

I know I'm not adding anything new to the conversation. But I hope that the more people who make their voices heard, the closer we'll come to some kind of reform. There has to be a tipping point. How is this not it? How was the last one not it? And the one before that?

For a several days now I've had the beginnings of a poem in the Notes section of my phone. It's a bit dark, and I knew that generally, it was about parenting and children and sending them out into the world, I didn't know where it was going, really, or what was coming next, which is a bit unusual for me. But I trusted it would come. And last night, this morning, it did. I'm saddened it was this event that gave me the words to finish the poem. I'm grateful I have poetry to help me work it out.


Me, just before the Dawson City Pride Parade, 2007.

Big Things, Little Things, All the Things

I've been quiet in this space for weeks, now. I've got a few draft posts saved, but each one I've sort of given up on with my hands thrown in the air. Truthfully, I've felt unclear on the purpose of this blog, on where I want it to go, what I want it to do. I started it because I just needed to write. But over the last year, that need has turned into a (fairly) regular poetry practice.  In fact, I think I could safely say I'm working on a chapbook length collection of poems focusing on my experience of motherhood. When I have time to write, I want to be working on that, because, let's face it...I don't actually have all that much time to write.  So all of that being said, I've decided to use this space as a place for me to announce upcoming publications and to give my readers regular life and writing updates. Ideally I'd like to get back to publishing once a week, but realistically I'm shooting for twice a month.

I've got two more poems forthcoming online in June and August, and I'm still sending my best work out as it's polished. Recently I've decided to try submitting to some of my "dream" markets: they're print (as opposed to online) publications, they have a wide readership, and they pay. They also have very small acceptance rates, but I've got nothing to lose. And in a further effort to get paid to write poems, I've submitted a poem to Room's annual poetry competition. I'm working on a batch of three poems right now, and I think two of them are good enough to send out. It's tricky, learning to critique my own work. Over the winter I met with the University of Western Ontario Writer-in-Residence several times during her office hours at the public library. It helped me to hone my inner editor: by the last time we met, she didn't have much to suggest--in a good way. Writing continues to be the keystone to my mental health. It is so hard to drag myself to the page some days, but I keep doing it.

If you've read this far, you might be wondering about the "big things" promised in the title of this post. It's truly very big. Are you sitting down? Good. Make sure you don't have a mouthful of coffee (or wine.) Ready? Okay. We're moving back to Dawson. I know, right? It's pretty huge. I am at once excited and heartbroken about this. But the reality is that we have a business there. And it needs our attention, more than we can give it from here. Thankfully we've still got our log home (with our outhouse and our limited running water) so we'll live there for the summer with a plan to move into town by the fall/winter. My parents have very generously offered to do some needed repairs on our home here in London, and then we'll likely list it at the end of the summer. P is in Dawson now, and he'll come back in the first week of June so we can all travel up together.

It all seems a bit surreal, at the moment. Two cross country moves in less than two years. It's exhausting to think about. But we're taking it one day at a time, and it really is the only thing that makes sense right now. I look forward to seeing my dearest friends again. I look forward to the fresh air, the mountains, and the river. Northern themes abound in my writing so I'm curious to see what sort of inspiration pops up once I'm living there again. I try not to think about how much we'll miss our family here. It's going to be really hard.

So there you go: all the things. What kinds of things are happening in your world these days? Have you ever moved across the country? Twice? Did you survive? Tell me all about it in the comments!

Two Poems in Rat's Ass Review

I've got two poems up in Rat's Ass Reviews on going "Love and Ensuing Madness" series, "Parents' Aphrodisiac" and "The Girl from St. Eustache."

The first of these, "Parents' Aphrodisiac" went through many drafts. There are 7 different drafts saved on my computer, and there were countless smaller changes made along the way. I really believed in this poem; loved the tension between being a mother and being a partner and lover. I think it's important to view mothers/parents as the multifaceted, many-hats-wearing people they are. This poem was rejected a half a dozen times before finding its home at Rat's Ass Review. I got lucky: I think that's actually not that high of a number, but I was close to giving up. After some encouragement from other writers, I submitted it one more time, and it was accepted almost immediately.  I hope you enjoy it.

Rat's Ass Review: Love and Ensuing Madness

Two Poems in Mused Literary Review

I am so thrilled to have two of my poems appearing in the Spring Equinox issue of Mused Literary Review! It's available in three formats: an HTML version, a downloadable PDF file and a full colour, glossy print magazine.

Though I've been out of the darkness for months now, much of my poetry seems to be processing some of the saddest, darkest times in my postpartum experience. These two poems take me right back there, both emotionally and geographically. I'm grateful to be in lighter place now; however, I think it's so important to share these experiences, so we know we're not alone.

Thanks for reading, friends.

Mused Literary Review

4 Ways to Get Through a Creative Slump

It's a strange thing, to finish a poem. I think other writers, or creatives in general, would agree that the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that accompanies a finished piece can be coloured by fear. Will this be it? The Last Good Thing I Create? Will the muse never visit me again, am I done now? Dried up?

I often feel a bit of anxiety, especially if I don't have something else brewing. Specifically, I've finished that tricky poem I mentioned last week.  It ended up being longer than I'm used to writing, but still about 75 words short of the minimum for the CBC Poetry Competition. Maybe I'll try a different competition.

But even though I've got a few ideas swirling, themes I see emerging that I'd like to explore more, nothing is coalescing for me right now, and that's frustrating. So I've been thinking about, and practicing, a few different ways to get through this slump. I wanted to share them with you here today.

1. Read

I've often seen the advice that reading should be a writer's primary task. Reading other works in our niche helps us to see what's already out there. Through reading we see what others have done before us, what they've done better than us. Completely immersing ourselves in poetry, or short stories, or novels or personal essays, whatever the genre, makes it possible for us to be deeply rooted in our craft, so that we can grow as writers.

Reading can also inspire us in many ways. When we read something that is so beautifully crafted it makes us ache, we can take that ache and turn it into our own attempts at beauty. Though if I'm being honest, my first reaction to reading something deeply beautiful is to despair that I'll never write like that. But it's important not to get caught up in that despair. Instead, we have to try to turn that into our own attempts at crafting with our own unique voice.

Reading can also inspire us in the sense that something we read can become a jumping off point. Maybe a line in a poem gets stuck in your head, and you find yourself starting a new poem from there. Maybe you've read a non-fiction piece that you'd like to explore further from your own perspective.

Reading exposes us to new words, new ideas, new ways of using language. It is absolutely the most important thing we can do as writers.

2. Take yourself on an "artist's date".

In her book "The Artist's Way", Julia Cameron prescribes weekly artist's dates as a way to unblock your creativity. This is meant to be something fun that you do on your own, something outside of your usual experience. Something that appeals to your inner child, your muse.

If you've got kids in tow, like I usually do, every day can be an artist's date. It's easy to be in touch with your inner child when you're surrounded by children.

So take all the kids, your inner kid included, to a museum, an art gallery, the aquarium. Go for a hike. Buy a disposable camera and take some pictures (and get them developed!). Build sandcastles at the beach, swing at the park. The idea is to experience new things, things that inspire your creativity in different ways. And in the process, we might be inspired by a painting, a conversation overheard, the feel of the sun on our skin.

Last week we took our kids to the aquarium in Toronto. It's led me to reading up on horseshoe crabs, and I feel like it might eventually lead to a poem. If nothing else, I've learned something new.

Getting out of our heads, as artists, and as parents, is really important. Because the act of creating is often a solitary one, just like the act of parenting. We get into our routines so easily (and having a routine is great!) but sometimes we can get stuck there. I feel like that's especially dangerous when we're between projects. When I'm not working on something, I end up sitting at my desk, staring out at the same trees, the same street, the same dog that walks past at the same time every day, and feeling like I'm in this loop. A really uninteresting, uninspiring loop. So an artist's date can help to lift me out of that. To see things from a different perspective, or even to try something completely new, can be magic. It takes a bit of mental gymnastics to turn your everyday with kids into an artist's date, but it can be done.

3. Journal or Freewrite.

I try to start all of my writing time this way. Personally I aim to fill 2-3 pages with freewriting: I just write what's in my head, no matter how dull or uninspired it might be. Sometimes what I write is related to what I'm working on creatively; sometimes it's just a bunch of complaining about what I have to do later that day. But just getting that pen moving across the page can be a surprising thing, because occasionally something really interesting comes out. Often my freewrites have led me to a poem, as I flesh out an idea or a thought or experience, and really explore where my mind wants to go with it.

Some people like to do this using a prompt. If you Google "writing prompts", there are endless resources available out there. You can sign up to get writing prompts delivered daily right to your inbox. What comes out of your use of prompts might just be practice for you, a way to flex your creative muscle a little, a way to get you thinking about something in a new way, or it might turn into something really wonderful that you take further. Either way, at least you're writing something, doing the work of creating and using that part of your brain.

4. Connect with other writers.

This is something I don't do enough of, and maybe that's why I'm adding it here. Talking to other writers and artists is a good way to realize that you are not alone. We all get stuck, we all have downtime. I'd be willing to bet that even the best have these moments of despair.

So reach out on Twitter, or on blogs, or better yet, in person, if you're lucky enough to have a circle of writers near you. Commiserate a little bit. Remind one another that this will pass. That last poem will absolutely NOT be The Last Good Thing You Create. There will be other poems, essays, stories. You are not a one trick pony! We have to remind ourselves, too, that writing and creating is our life's work. It is easier to write than to not write, There will be a next thing. We just have to do the work of showing up at the page, being patient, and listening.

What's your favourite way to get through a down time? I'd love to hear your tricks in the comments!



This post is a part of the What I'm Writing link-up. Please click through the link to visit the other participants!