Vanessa Shields's Blog, page 56

Here I Am #morningcoffeesessions Day 5

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It’s Friday! We made it through another week…well, nearly. I like Fridays because they still feel like Fridays, and after Fridays are Saturdays and Saturdays mean we can sleep in!

This is day five of #morningcoffeesessions, and I’m happy to announce these brilliant sessions will continue into next week. If you’d like to join us, here’s the link:

Firefly Morning Coffee Sessions

Our prompt today was ‘Here I Am’…

Here is what came out…

Here I Am

Yesterday afternoon I planted an acorn in a field from my childhood.

Before it was an acorn it was an orb, a giant ball of worry and fear,

electric light too big to hold so I put it on my back. I was wearing

my favourite overalls. The worry and fear came out my pores like

sweat and the wind told me I had to let them go at the luscious

mouth of a collection of trees I am still getting to know –

banyan walnut oak chestnut cherry – grand bark-bodied sentients

called me into their cool embrace and held me in their perfect

shadows until the elk arrived. He was agile and patient. His hay-like

fur weighted with oil I could feel because I touched him and we

walked side by side with my hand on his muscled shoulder blade.

He said I had to hold my orb and he’d turn it into an acorn. I did

what he said. He did what he said. On the other side of the wizard-tree

forest the elk and I contemplated the field that used to live across the

street from my childhood home. I didn’t know it was firmly planted and

thriving in the farm of my memories. The elk’s nose was cold on my

cheek as he nudged me to go and plant the acorn. Just be you he said

with a gentle hip-hop lilt to his words.

I admit that I was afraid even though the acorn was holding my

worry and fear. Some of it was leaking out the little top hat.

I fell to my knees in the centre of the field and dug a hole

with my bare hands. The digging was easy. My fingers were

stronger than I remembered. I dropped the acorn in the hole

and covered it with dirt.I watched in awe as my hands curled

into fists and unleashed an Ali-esque flurry of punches on

the ground. After, I was spent so I lay back in the picky dry

grass and colourful weeds of my childhood emptiness and I

stared at the sky.

The sky looked the same.

Alive.

Open.

Confident in its skyness.

The sun’s rays are like light bands on the back of Pages as she sleeps.

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This brings me joy. I want to feel joy.

But sometimes it’s hard.

I asked the Husband when all this will be over. The silence before he spoke said the truth.

And so…one day at a time. One poem at a time. One prayer at a time.

Push out love. Push out hope. Push out joy. Be kind. Be safe.

New Moon #morningcoffeesessions Day 4

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This morning’s session took a different turn. I pulled away from where we began because I couldn’t ignore what was happening in my body. We talked about hugs. And…you know I love me some hugs. So, the poem that came out was not what I expected…but also what I couldn’t ignore. It’s about menstruation, so if that may be something that makes your boat wobble…you may want to read it.

Maybe it’s time #morningcoffeesession Day 3

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It’s Earth Day! Be sure to hug a tree, plant a tree, kiss a flower, plant a flower, go barefoot over grass and let your toes be tickled by the earth! Give thanks to the mother of us all – Mother Nature! – who loves us deeply! Write poetry for earth day! Write a love letter to your favourite plant! Share your love for our incredible planet!

Day three of #morningcoffeesessions with Chris and the Firefly Creative Writing family was very great again! Today’s prompt was the most challenging for me so far. It was about what I want to write about. Basically, Chris asked us to ask ourselves five different ways what we want to write about. My first answer, honestly, was I don’t know! By the fifth time I answered a question about it though…my answer was I want to write about everything! Hahaha! In the middle though, a thought poked her head up. A wee thought with a wee voice but a voice I heard nonetheless. She said: what if it’s time to write about writing.

maybe it’s time to writing about writing

to disinfect the scalpel

make an incision down

the centre of my throat

pull out his words –

lodged in my gullet

since I was 15 –

carefully take each

beautiful letter out

one at a time

Y

O

U

C

A

N

N

O

T

W

R

I

T

E

A

B

O

U

T

W

R

I

T

I

N

G

drop each bloodied letter

into a metal kidney dish

hear each CLINK

like the bullet it is

suture up my throat

put the dish on my desk

where I can always see it

admire the scar

trace my fingers down

the skin-punctured river

and know that I can

write about whatever

I want

maybe it’s time to write about writing

I’ve put in ten thousand hours

and those are just for poetry

I’ve become an expert in the

art of self-expression through writing

I’ve wept and laughed

begged and given up

I’ve faced the terrifying land

of an empty page

been spanked by the

lazy pulse of a smarmy cursor

I have given my soul

to the words

that matters

I have mattered

I have not mattered

I have mattered again

maybe it’s time to write about writing

to get down on all fours

open my mouth

bare my teeth

flail my tongue

GRRAAAWWWLLL

SQUUEEEEEEEE

RAAAAWWWWLL

to protect the knowledge

of the jungle that is

my writing world

I am not a queen

but an elder

sacred teachings

hand-written on my

white eyelashes

white eyebrows

evidence that

I am turning

into paper

to protect a thing

one must know

what it needs

to survive

words survive

because I’ve

protected them

shared my sacred

teachings over time

gently quietly

scattered

writing exists as

the language

for the soul

I am fluent

maybe it’s time to write about writing

The truth is that I’ve always wanted to write about writing…but damn those words that English teacher said over and over…and damn the comparison-monster in my brain who says I’m not a mary oliver a stephen king a natalie goldberg an ursula k. le guin…..there is much to contend with in my brain around the subject about writing about writing…but…maybe it’s not quite time…maybe I don’t have to be anyone but who I am…and I am a writer.

If you’d like to join the #morningcoffeesessions please do so here:

FIREFLY CREATIVE WRITING IS AWESOME

Carried by…#morningcoffeesessions Day Two

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This is what my writing space looks like. It’s an easy link click into zoom then I join 140+ writers from around the country, and we listen to Chris’ smooth voice, and we are guided to write, write, write.

It is simple. It is generous. It is inspiring. It is an important way to clear my mind and start the day by doing something I love.

I wrote another poem. The prompt: ‘These days I am carried by’…from a quote by a Vandana Shiva.

carried by

these days I am carried by

the bigness of the sky

for her silky colour

for her moody texture

for her humble releases

rain

snow

hail

and the wild vastness of blue

these days I am carried by

the wisdom of the moon

for her shifting shape

for her iridescent face

for her quiet power

quarter

half

full

and the wild newness of less

these days I am carried by

the mischief of the sun

for her languid constancy

for her feathery reaching

for her freedom to hide behind

clouds

trees

buildings

and the wild landscape of time

these days I am carried by

the patience of the seeds

for their strength to unfurl

for their courage to grow

for their curiosity to reach for

air

light

water

and the wild bumbles of bees

these days I am carried by

the brilliance of the stars

for their flickering steadiness

for their infinite stories

for their flirty invitations of

wishes

direction

myths

and the wild realities of distant existence

these days I am carried by

sky

moon

sun

seeds

stars

because they are

big and necessary

wise and patient

bafflingly discoverable

and I am small

trying on my significance

ignorant and impatient

bafflingly discoverable

dangling from the wild mountains of change

I am reading The Overstory by Richard Powers. I started reading it around Christmas…and it wasn’t planting. But now…it’s taking root. (It’s about trees.See what I did there?)

And speaking of Christmas, Jane Christmas will be reading from her new book today at 2pm! Here’s the Facebook Event page so you can get the link to listen in and ask her questions. Thank you technology for connecting us!

Happy Tuesday! Keep writing. Keep reading.

#morningcoffeesessions with Firefly Creative Writing

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DAY 1 – #morningcoffeesessions

I’ve joined a writer’s group through the fabulous Firefly Creative Writing. I’ve always dreamed of participating in writing with the Firefly family. Apparently, it takes a pandemic to get me there. So be it. There were over 140 of us from near and far, coffee or tea or water nearby, paper and pen or laptop at the ready.

We started by hearing the soft gentle voice of Chris as she welcomed us and then shared Mary Oliver‘s ‘Wild Geese’ poem. She read it twice then we wrote based on a line or a feeling that the poem inspired.

Here is what I wrote:

new alone

there is a place

for me in the alone

it waits

wonders when I will return

to its graceful generous

confines

these days I can be

in a room alone but

I am not alone

these days i am told

to isolate … yet

it is more like insulate

squeezed and held by

the art-covered walls

the dog kisses

the kid arms

the lover embrace

all good things…yet

my soul yearns for

a specific emptiness

this time does not allow

that I would never request

because love says

now is for together

love says this new

alone is different

the best constant

is to love

within the limits of

our family unit

in the safety of

our family home

in the privilege of

the gathered things

I do not have to feel

guilty for

there is a place for me

in the alone

it waits for me

wonders when i will

return to its graceful generous

confines

expects that i will

be different

a garden still but…

growing different gifts

a me sprouting roots from

my soul that weren’t

there before

perhaps there will be

a gentle homecoming

a pitter patter of palms

uniting for my return

an announcement

in the space of

a new alone

a new me

there is a rhythm of want

for that specific emptiness –

for a furthering

that can give me

space to take off my skin

lay it in the sun

dry its tears

We’ll be writing together every morning. I’ll be sharing what I write…in an effort to promote Firefly, and to share my writing…and my emotional journey that’s an effer of a journey shifting sometimes every hour. This morning I was yearning for alone. The kind of alone where I am physically and emotionally alone….and trying to figure out what that means in the face of this pandemic that is truly a mirror being held up for each of us to face our deepest selves…if we care to look that deeply within.

Keep writing. Keep sharing. Keep loving. Be kind.

Interview with Stephanie Steinberg, owner of the Detroit Writing Room

[image error]Stephanie Steinberg, Co-Founder of Detroit Writing Room. (Photo by Viviana Pernot Gold)

This world really is full of magic. At just about the same time that I was dreaming up Gertrude’s Writing Room, Stephanie Steinberg, writer/journalist, was having the same dream. She too wanted to open a space where writers could gather to write, read, learn and play. As I was doing research for Gertrude’s whilst writing my business plan, I googled writing and Detroit – and the Detroit Writing Room appeared at the top of the search.

I was all: WHAAAATTTTTT!

I nearly fell out of my chair in excitement – there’s a writing room in Detroit too?! I quickly searched the site and found Stephanie’s email. I wrote her a message to tell her about Gertrude’s and to share the fact that we’d both had the same dream! She responded right away! In August, it will be a year that we’ve been connected. Though we haven’t yet stepped foot in each other’s spaces, we’ve talked and we’ve done yoga and written together! Last Saturday, I joined a Yoga & Writing workshop that the DWR offered. Of course, pre-COVID this would have been the opportunity to do the workshop in the space, but life shifts and we adapt. It was a lovely workshop. I did Yoga, which considering I hadn’t done it in ages, was a real accomplishment; and I had the time to write in my journal and share my thoughts with the other gals in the workshop. We are also offering a cross-border Yoga & Writing Weekend workshop in August – more details at the end of our Q & A. Here’s hoping it’ll be able to happen by then.

In any case, I’d love for everyone to get to know Stephanie and the amazing work she’s doing at the Detroit Writing Room. It’s a beautiful space in the heart of Detroit, complete with everything a writer needs to be productive including a kitchen, tables, comfy chairs and sofas, and private nooks and crannies for quiet writing.

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Shall we?

VS: When you were a child – did you love to read? Or write? Did you ever think that someday your career would be about writing?

SS: I actually knew since I was in second grade that I wanted to be a journalist! I know, it’s unusual to know what you want to do in second grade, and actually do it. It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was on a local kids TV show called “Kid Stuff.” I was a “cub reporter” and would interview locals. For example, I interviewed Detroit Zoo zookeepers, Santa Claus at holiday parades and the owners of a local cider mill. I also did book reviews from Borders. I had so much fun telling stories and interviewing people. I knew I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. I just went the print route, instead of the broadcast route, as I discovered in high school that I loved writing for the school newspaper.

VS: You’ve been a journalist for many years. Can you give us a bit of info about your writing life?

SS: My high school journalism advisor, Nikki Schuller, inspired me to further pursue a journalism career. She really showed me the power of the pen and how your words can make a difference in the world, even if you’re only 16 or 17. After high school, I attended the University of Michigan, which doesn’t have a journalism program, but it does have the greatest college newspaper in the country: The Michigan Daily. I truly learned everything I needed to know to pursue a journalism career from my peers (there are no adult advisors at the student paper). I also had tremendous mentors at internships, including CNN, USA Today and the Boston Globe. I majored in Communication Studies, but I often say my degree is from The Michigan Daily.

After graduating, I got a job at WTOP Radio, the main traffic, weather and news station in Washington D.C.. I edited their online content for a few months and then got a job at U.S. News & World Report in Washington D.C. as an assistant health and money editor. (It was fun working for a radio station where politicians and celebrities often stopped by for interviews, but U.S. News was a better fit for my editing and writing pursuits.)

Fast-forward a few years and I met my husband-to-be Jake Serwer in Washington D.C.. He happened to be from Metro Detroit and a Michigan Wolverine. We started reading about Detroit’s resurgence from afar, and we both couldn’t resist being a part of it. Thankfully, I got a job at The Detroit News as a features reporter and came back in 2016 to report on Detroit entrepreneurs, arts & entertainment and whatever cool story I stumbled on.

VS: When did you start thinking about the writing room as a viable dream to make come true? (What is the origin story of your DWR dream!)

SS: While interviewing Detroit entrepreneurs  — many who were my age — who had started restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques and art spaces, I caught the entrepreneurial bug and wanted to do something that would help uplift the city. At the time, there were few co-working spaces downtown. The ones that existed catered to the tech or entrepreneur fields. I felt there was something missing for creatives like me who needed an inspiring, quiet workspace to write, design or create. Coffee shops didn’t cut it, especially when you feel guilty about sitting there all day and only ordering one cup of coffee.

I also felt the lack of spaces to give book talks. I had produced a book in 2015, , that was a collection of essays by journalists whose careers started at the Daily. I had gone on a 15-city book tour, and when I arrived in Detroit, there was nowhere to give a book talk downtown that made sense. So I wanted to create a space where local and national authors could stop to give a book talk when they’re in Detroit.

Lastly, as a journalist, I’m often asked by friends and family to look over a college application, or resume or other piece of writing. While reporting, I discovered many entrepreneurs also needed help with writing content, but also graphic design and photography. I started to think, what if there was a one-stop-shop where people could go to get one-on-one help with editing, design or photography? And what if there were coaches, who were the best in their field, that anyone could sign up with? So I gathered 25 of the top journalists, authors, photographers and graphic designers in the area to offer hourly coaching sessions for anyone in the community. (These are typically at the DWR, but they’re all virtual right now).

VS: How long did it take you to find the space that is the DWR? What was it like when you walked in – love at first sight?

SS: Finding the space was the hardest part. I had the idea for the DWR in late 2016. We didn’t open doors until June 2019. I looked at many spaces in Detroit that were too expensive, too dark or just needed too much work. I have to give my amazing husband credit for finding our space. He saw it listed online in March 2019. I was actually about ready to give up at that point, but he encouraged me to take a look. The irony is it was located right across the street from where we used to live (we had since moved), and you could see the space from our apartment balcony. Perhaps it was destiny. We went to take a look, and I’ll admit, I didn’t immediately see the potential. It was a former headquarters for a veterinarian, and there were medicine cabinets with needles and old medicine still left inside. But I did love the natural light throughout the space, and I hadn’t found that anywhere else. Not to mention, the space is a short walk from bars, restaurants and shops, which I wanted so people could go out after co-working, coaching sessions or DWR events. So we took it (and removed all the gross medicine cabinets). This week, it will be exactly a year since we signed the lease.

VS: It’s a large space – who cleans it?! That may seem like a silly question, but cleaning takes time! I just wonder about the day-to-day practical things like cleaning, getting food/supplies – is this all your job?

SS: Haha, I’ve never been asked that question! Only someone who has a similar space would think to ask that

Let’s Start With the Good

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Good beautiful sunset evening, friends. I’ve got tears crawling up my throat, so I’m gonna start with some things that are motivating the happy tears…

An Interview With Me from my good friends at Black Moss Press!

It’s #NationalPoetryMonth and so many folks are doing incredible things with poetry – from live-streaming poems on demand to sharing beautiful poetry written by friends and family, the socials are flooded with extra poetry, and the world can always use more of it! Assistant to the Publisher at Black Moss Press Alicia Labbe sent me some questions to answer about poetry in my life. It was really special to write about poetry…haven’t done that in a while! Thanks Alicia, for the thoughtful questions. To read the interview, click on the link below (and be sure to check out the site for more interviews with other poets!)

Vanessa’s Interview about Poetry

2. Shout-outs

My dear friend and *best-selling* memoirist Jane Christmas and I, have shared many-a-thought over the last month not only because her new book ‘Open House – A Life in Thirty-Two Moves’ released to the best-seller list, but because she’s an amazing human who’s been a huge mentor in my life, and it feels good to write about writing during this strange time. Well, she’s pumped about her ‘socials’ – and she’s rampin’ it up on the interwebs with a new Insta account and a robust author website…so robust (isn’t that a fun word?) that she’s written a shout-out blog to little old me! Shout-outs are hugs, that’s the damn truth of it. So thank you for the embrace, my friend!

Read the shout-out here – and then take a looky-loo around Jane’s site and BUY HER BOOKS. (Please.)

3. Upcoming interviews

I’m super grateful for the folks who I ask to participate in email interviews for this blog – everyone keeps saying YES! Upcoming interviews include: Stephanie Steinberg, owner of The Detroit Writing Room, gets down and deep with me about opening up her dream writing space; author Lindsay Wong ( writer of The Woo-Woo: How I Survived Ice Hockey, Drug-Raids, Demons, and My Crazy Chinese Family, and the upcoming My Summer of Love and Misfortune) answers twenty questions about writing process, vulnerability, mental illness and more; and local sci-fi writer Ben Van Dongen talks to me about his new book, Broadcast Wasteland, living through COVID and other cool things. I’m hoping that when I ask Ami McKay about her new(ish) book Daughter of Family G, (I’m reading it right now!) a memoir, she’ll say yes to an interview too! Stay tuned!

4. Emails

I’ve never written so many emails, but it’s turning out to be such a fine way of staying connected with family and friends – honestly, vulnerably, humorously…I spend hours writing emails nearly every day. I mean…consider these golden quotes…

I like mischief.  I chum everything I write with just enough confusion to make it unsolvable.

The feelings of loneliness and loss are somewhat mitigated by technology… but not entirely. It’s possible to stay busy (since I’m working from home) and still feel as though I am staggering through the day, just distracted enough to keep the total collapse into grief at bay….When this is all over, I will commence a nightly crawl around Windsor and Detroit that will likely last for several weeks so that I can go and venerate my sacred spaces all over again.

Today it rains hard and cold and of-course I want to be the hero.

Hi how are you? Can you give me a hug please?

I mean…golly. And there are so many more treasures…

5. The Journal

I started a new journal Saturday, April 4th, 2020. Writing in my journal helps keep my ‘collapse at bay’, as they say…I’ve filled twenty-four pages since then…the opening line of the first entry? Welcome dear colourful friend! I say welcome to the sweet madness that is being alive in the year 2020. 

And just last night…Certain….patterns continue to emerge even though my experience of time is completely different…I’m like a zombie who doesn’t know how to be a zombie.

The good. There is much good. There always is. In the world. In our communities. In our families. I’m still watching John Krasinsky’s (yikes, pretty sure I spelled his name incorrectly the last time I mentioned him) Some Good News, and I’m still having sexy dreams about him…and also dreams about Tom Hanks; yes, Tom Cruise, and a real-life friend and it was totally inappropriate (!!!). My dreamscapes are hot and passionate, and typically following the narrative of an action film. I don’t mind. I wonder though, if that’s why I wake up so exhausted…

I’m reading a lot.

I’m not writing though. At least, not my own things. It’s very, very strange – creativity in covid. Two weeks ago, I was a machine, my brain and fingertips bursting with new projects and ideas…but it’s been days since I’ve written something that’s all me-related. Hence: Certain….patterns continue to emerge even though my experience of time is completely different. Hence: putting my personal writing at the back of the to-do-train…or not even on the track.

The nasty voices in my head rage: what are you doing to ‘give back’? how are you helping? why aren’t you writing? you should write better, more! you’re not good/brave/helpful enough!

Yesterday after dinner I was pacing back and forth in the living room…anxious, aimless, scared, exhausted, lost – a zombie without her zombie-ness. So I took a bath to submerge my skin in something other than fear. It worked enough to change my heart’s thorny temperature.

Today was better. I have no idea how I’ll feel tomorrow. How many emotions will overcome me within a speck of time…when I’ll be a revolving door of I-don’t-know and I-don’t-know-why-I-don’t-know…

It snowed today. I cried twice.

This is ‘life’ right now.

I know it’s not forever – that I know and believe.

But ‘normal’ – and getting back to it? *She shakes her head* No. Impossible.

And what does that mean?

I don’t know….but maybe…start with the good?

I’d like to start the #embraceforaweek hashtag. When this is over…we need to give ourselves time to hold each other, cry, eat, cry more, laugh and share everything that we’ve learned. Reflect together. Create a new way of existing…right?

BEST-SELLER! Follow-Up with Author Jane Christmas

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I friends! I just had to do a follow-up email with author Jane Christmas because she got some HUGE news just days after her book released! Also, I’ve received her book and read it and LOVE IT. You can order it through online retailers or request a copy from our local bookstores.

Here we go!

VS: So your book release day came and went like a virus on an isolated wind. okay, maybe that’s a bad metaphor…thing is, it was quiet, and you felt the difference that this weird human pandemic is creating. what you didn’t know was that folks all over the world were quietly ordering your new book and BAM! In its first weekend, Open House – A Life in Thirty-Two Moves is on the BEST SELLER LIST! How does that make you feel? Did you celebrate?

JC: I had just finished a Zoom Pilates class when the ping came in. As soon as I read the email I hurried downstairs with my laptop and yoga mat and spread the news … to The Husband and my dog. They were thrilled. I immediately sat down at my laptop and wrote to my squad of cheerleaders (you were among them, Vanessa!) telling them the news that Open House had made the national bestseller list, and also thanking them from the bottom of my heart for their emails of support, some with photos of them holding my new book. At this time of enforced isolation, the support has especially meant a great deal. After I hit SEND, I had a glass of wine and a small bowl of potato chips to celebrate, got a hug and kiss from The Husband, and then it was into the kitchen to get dinner ready.

VS: What does it mean to be on best-seller list? Can you give us the inside scoop on how this is possible?

JC: I have no idea how one gets on the list. Sometimes it’s the result of data collected from a particular book store, sometimes it’s aggregated data from a few sources. This is the first time one of my books has made it onto a national bestseller list so I’m not sure what it means in terms of sales or how it’s treated by a publisher’s promotion department. I guess I’ll find out. From a personal perspective, it feels like a warm hug. It’s a validation of your work. And the key word there is “work”, because this is my fifth memoir so it’s not like I’m some instant success. It’s taken five books and 18 years to make that list!

VS: Readers have been sending you photos of themselves with your book – how does that make you feel?

JC: Fantastic. First, it’s great to see their smiling faces, it’s a connection with them. And then to see them holding my book, well, goodness, it is just the most humbling feeling; some days I’m almost moved to tears.

VS: Are reviews from readers starting to flow in? What are some of the responses? Has anything surprised you?

JC: I’ve had a couple of reviews/comments from friends on Instagram but that’s been all. It’s too early to expect anything on some of the sites like Goodreads or Indigo or Amazon. I’ll wait a bit longer before I dip into those. I’ve actually started to read my book—it is a long gestation between writing and publishing so I need to reacquaint myself with what I wrote.

VS: You’ve hopped back onto social media…onto Facebook and Instagram (links will be below!)…what prompted you to do this…and why did you stay away so long? Does it feel different now?

JC: The truth? I’m petrified of social media, and I also do not have (or want to have) the time to spend on it. I had forgotten I had a Facebook page – before the release of ‘And Then There Were Nuns’. So that was weird to stumble onto that. My agent, publisher, media rep, friends …. everyone has told me to get on board to boost the visibility of my work. And it’s been a learning curve. I’m still leery of Facebook and if someone I know posts a note to me I respond via email. Instagram? Such a new world! I’m surprised at the people I find there. Two friends in Toronto have been super helpful: Last Monday they spent two hours on Zoom with me walking me through the set up of Instagram and Facebook. Now I have to get a YouTube channel. That’s next week’s lesson. It’s just so much info to take in, but I’ll get the hang of it. My rationalisation is that it’s good for the brain!

VS: The house you’re living in right now is the last house you renovated and moved into in the story of the book, is that correct? How long have you been living there now?

JC: We’ve been in the Bristol house for three years – in fact we got the keys exactly three years ago this month, and moved in six months later once the renovations were pretty much done. I won’t lie: I’ve got itchy feet.

VS: One of the things I learned about you whilst reading this book was your apparent love (is it love?) for research. I learned so much about the history of Victorian Terrace houses…and the old farmhouse your parent’s bought…is research something you enjoy when writing?

JC: My degree from university was in English and History so I’m surely working those two streams! I love history, and yes, the research part of any book is fascinating to me. It totally adds context to everything, a vital dimension. I’m fascinated in history in all its forms—architecture, literature (historical fiction), social history, the formation of cities and empires, the works!

VS: I’ve been drinking more and more tea – and I drank double as I was reading your memoir. What is your favourite make/brand tea? How many cups of tea do you drink? What is your favourite coffee?

JC: I need to explore more kinds of tea. I fall into habits fairly easily. We buy Yorkshire Gold: when I first heard the name I thought was a type of cannabis. It’s a good full-body everyday tea; The Husband likes it so that’s what we drink. I also love Earl Grey—it’s probably my favourite—but he doesn’t. And there are some herbal ones—ginger and lemon—that I enjoy. It’s not quite 10am right now and I’ve already had about three cups. I’ll probably go through the day having another four more. Have you found yourself drinking more tea during this isolation period? As for coffee, The Husband and I gave it up for Lent. One more week to go and we’re back on the drip!

VS: So, ghosts. I’ve had my fair share of encounters as well. You were so brave to handle the ghosts as you did (no spoilers here!)…are readers sharing their ghost stories with you now?

JC: Not yet, but I’m certainly keen to hear them! Care to share your ghost story? I think when you are a sensitive person you can feel another dimension. I’m good with ghosts. After the one in the Herkimer home I’ve become bolder with ghosts.

VS: Since you are back on social media, have more ‘old friends’ been reaching out?

JC: There are a lot of people who I don’t know who are populating my social media, and it feels weird. I’ve only been on it a week so I’m still building my community.

VS: I can’t believe you knew The Friendly Giant! That blew me away! I’ve no real question here…just wanted to say that the little girl in me is jealous. :).

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JC: Yes, lucky me! Friendly was so friendly! One anecdote I left out of the book was the day that my mom, who was a newspaper columnist, had to interview the helicopter traffic reporter. I think his name was Eddie Luther. She asked if she could bring us along and he said yes. And so there we were early one morning, flying over the city of Toronto in a freaking helicopter. This would have been around 1963. It was amazing. At some point my mom mentioned that we needed to get to school, and so the heli-reporter flew us to our school, landed in the field behind Rippleton Road school, and my brother and I got out of the helicopter. Our school friends were there, and just stood staring: they could not believe it. And we just kind of shrugged it off and went to our classrooms. You wouldn’t be able to do that nowadays.

VS: And, I know it’s only been about a week since our first conversation, but how are things going in Bristol as far as the virus is concerned? How it it affecting your daily routines?

JC: It’s going OK. To be honest, the life of a writer is one of constant isolation. But it’s never been as fraught with fear as it is now. We are allowed out for one hour each day to exercise/walk the dog. I go around 6:30/7am each morning. Bristol is a busy city, and yet I see no one. At the grocery store, the layout has been changed so that shoppers are funnelled through the maze of aisles. And there is not a lot of stock on the shelves. Probably for good reason—too many greedy bastards hoarding all the loo roll! The store, which is a big Tesco, looks like Russia in the 1970s. It’s awful. But we get what we need. The Husband goes with the list alone, as they have stopped couples from shopping so as to limit the number of people. Every Thursday now, everyone in the country steps outside their front door at 8pm to clap for the NHS (the National Health Service)—doctors, nurses, care home providers and support staff—and for shop keepers and cashiers and delivery folks. It’s amazing that most of our lives these days are propped up by people earning minimum wage. I foresee a shakedown when this is all over – the meek and low-paid might indeed inherit the Earth! What concerns me is the pent-up mental health of people forced to isolate. I fear that some folks just won’t be able to handle it. I can’t imagine what this must be like for people who live alone. My heart goes out to them. And for families who cannot be with their dying moms, dads, daughters and sons, and cannot give them a funeral. It’s horrific and cruel. We’ve never known anything like this.

My kids are fine: they are out of work but they are fine. My daughter is at school and so her classes are continuing online. It’s been great FaceTiming with them, but as time goes on their stoicism is going to crumble, and I don’t know how we’ll manage that. My other prediction about the aftermath of this pandemic is that more families are going to consider creating mini compounds where, in the case of future pandemics (and there will be more of these now) they can safely isolate with their entire family. For now, I can’t even think of when the next time might be that I can see and hold my kids again. It’s like a punch in the stomach.

VS: Why is it important for readers to post reviews/comments on Goodreads or Amazon? How does that affect you – the author? (*Hint here, readers – be sure to post your ‘stars’ and/or reviews on these platforms!)

JC: It’s hugely important. Not everyone knows about a book release. At some point, once you’ve read that stack beside your bed, you start looking for recommendations from other sources. Goodreads and Amazon provide that ranking system and unfiltered reviews. So does Chapters-Indigo. And personal reviews and recommendations sell books. It has a domino effect that can really help establish an author. I’m certainly grateful for all the reviews my books have received. Thank you, everyone!!

VS: Do you think you’ll do some online things like a reading or a q&a for your new book?

JC: I sure hope so. I’ve got a few things in the works. Just need to figure out how to record myself doing a reading and upload it to my YouTube channel! If you’ve got any tips or ideas, I’m all ears these days!

VS: I know you’ll let us know you’re new book tour and trip to Canada will be. We can’t wait to see you!

JC: Aw, thanks Vanessa. I can’t wait to set foot again in the Great White North. I will surely let you know if things get rescheduled. We are supposed to come to Toronto for a wedding in October so I’m setting my sights and hopes on Thanksgiving!

JANE’S SOCIALS INFO:

Instagram: janechristmasauthor

Facebook: Jane Christmas

Website: www.janechristmas.ca

Here’s my review of Open House – A Life in Thirty-Two Moves (posted on Goodreads and Amazon. Be sure to copy your review after you write it so you don’t lose it, and can then paste it into different places to share it!)

Jane Christmas is my favourite memoirist. Her clever, vulnerable, sassy voice stands the test of time and is always offering poignant stories that educate, include and entertain. Her newest book, Open House: A Life In Thirty-Two Moves is no exception. Perhaps her most revelatory thus far, Jane brings readers into her past through bedrooms, bathrooms and boxes. Jane opens the doors to houses past and offers readers a seat the dinner table and into the moving vans and shows us what it was like to live nomadic lifestyle as a child…scooting from house to house. It is clear that as Jane reflects back on her childhood, she cannot escape the way she learned to escape by moving over and over again. Along the house-studded mosey down memory lanes, Jane shows off her skills as adept researcher, essayist and detective. There are vast sweeps of history she dives into to better acquaint herself and her readers with the historical significance of the places she chooses to live in – from curb appeal to racism to teatime and real estate prowess (or not), Jane holds nothing back as she raves and rants. Open House is Open Hearted. Jane’s opinions are steadfast and steaming – both examples of a deep bravery she is just beginning to recognize in herself, though to her readers, it’s been evident from the start when she whisked herself and her daughter to a tiny island for her first memoir, The Pelee Project. Jane is sweet, but Jane is also sassy. She weeps but she also swears and fights ghosts. Open House – A Life in Thirty-Two Moves is Jane’s newest literary gift to the reading world, that perhaps now, as we’re all facing confinement to our ‘homes’ in the horrific wake of a pandemic, is quite the perfect book to snuggle up with and read. Jane’s journalistic abilities juxtapose homelessness with hope, and frustration with patience. We learn much about Jane Christmas as she unwraps her past full of boxes and battles, but can also learn much about ourselves and our own relationships to the walls, stairs, rooms and ghosts of the places we call ‘home’. It’s no wonder Open House: A Life In Thirty-Two Moves is climbing up the Best Seller ladder. It belongs at the top of the heap with the best tea pots, best top-notch reality real-estate shows and best corner-bent home decor magazines. Jane is movin’ in – make way! 

THANK YOU JANE!

Thank you readers! Keep reading! Keep writing! Keep loving!

Instant Poetry #NPM2020

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Did you see the beautiful morning light? It came in like a hug from the sun, and oh how it lifted my spirit!

That was some post yesterday. I hope you’re still my friends! I promise the bull has gone back to pasture…away, away, away. Please don’t stop sending me things on socials! I am reading and liking and loving what is there, I promise.

It’s April! April is National Poetry Month. Soooo exciting! Today as part of school for Miller, she worked in a fine little book called Instant Poetry. (Hit up your local bookstore to order it!)

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Here are some of her poems.

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If you’re on Facebook – be sure to follow Windsor’s first Youth Poet Laureate, Samantha Badaoa. She’s reading a poem every day this month!

Congratulations to Sam and another Windsor poet Laurie Smith on their brand-spankin’ new collections of poetry that ‘virtually’ launched on March 29th (Black Moss Press).

Watch their video here!

Have you written a poem today?

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April’s Fool

Today I come at you like a bull. Hoof ripping apart the dusty, dog-haired floor. Head hung low to abate a cough-that-won’t-stop. Ears pushing out steam and liquid (remnants from the congestion). Throw open your red carpets, friends, and let me barrel towards you with my hearty bitchiness.

Remember how my ‘words’ for the year were ‘enough’ and ‘refine’? Well, I’m feeling like – eff these words. Eff what they mean.

Enough? I’m feeling ever more like I’m not enough these days. I’m busier than ever. How the cuss is that possible? I feel like everyone in the industry (writing/teaching writing) is taking technology by the bull horns (not mine) and creating virtual classrooms, adding how-to videos, sharing non-stop about writerly things and prompts and books to read and so.on.and.so.on. Refine? I’ve cleaned out every drawer, dusted every surface. A new website is nearly done. I’m making lists and checking them twice…but none of it feels better.

I don’t want to teach on-line. Sure, a one-to-one session with a writer via skype or facetime, I’m into that. It’s still intimate. I still feel close to the writer, to his poetry, to her heart-felt creativity. But I’m sitting at my dining room table. There are dishes in the sink. There is dog hair on the floor. I more than likely have not brushed my teeth. I may or may not be wearing a bra. It feels like cheating. How could I possibly set up a workshop and do that for three hours? It just doesn’t feel right. Does that make me a bad small business woman? I feel the burn of nearly fully stopped income but I just can’t put my face into a video to teach anything right now.

I feel bullish in a way that surprises me. When I receive a ‘virtual hug’ gif in my messenger I want to poke it in the eye and flick it away. Tagging me to post a picture of my ‘isolated, natural self’ so I can support women supporting women being nice to each other as we’re being ‘natural’ at home? Um, EXPLETIVE NO. Why are these things bothering me to no end?

My son told me I ‘had to’ watch John Krazinky’s ‘Some Good News’ network/online episode. He said it’d make me happy, but also make me cry. *HEADS UP* EVERYTHING MAKES ME CRY. We watched it together. Damn right I cried. I sobbed. Snotty-sobbed all over myself. My emotions are bat-shit crazy. Watching good news gives me joy but more than that it makes feel…like, what am I doing to help people during this pandemic? Little.Old.Me? Nothing. I can’t do anything because nothing I think about doing feels like it measures up. It’s not authentic. Because authentic me, right now, is a hot-flashing bull, remember?

I seriously contemplated stopping our daily school/work schedule so we could, as a family, come up with some cool song/video we could make that would go viral so we’d get just a little famous. Maybe John K. would notice us and add it to his Good News Now network. I watched a (nother!) shared video of a woman and her husband (I assume?) doing a workout video clad in cheesy, shiny 80s work-out clothes to coughing into arm bends, scrubbing hands, spraying disinfectant. It was well done. Funny. Hilarious, probably, but do you know what I was thinking? I was thinking – damn, that woman is so thin. Clearly, she’s not on the eat-everything-in-sight isolation diet I’m on. Definitely scrap the workout video idea for our go-viral, get-famous video. For balls sake. I can’t escape my body issues ever.

My comparison monster is at the top of her game. She’s dressed like a bull and daring me to step in the ring with her. Today, I’m in the ring, baby.

I want to stand in the middle of a g-d Roman-empire-esque ring (wait, isn’t that what Facebook is?) put my hands to my cheeks (yes, I touch my face! I can’t stop freaking touching my face!), and scream STOOOOOOPPPPP!

Can we just have one day with no live ‘breaking news’ from Prime Ministers and Premieres, Presidents and another government ‘p’ word that fits? Can we just have one day with no ‘sharing’ of creepy gifs and pass-it-on emails meant to spread love and hugs and joy? I do not want to be a part of the virtual koombuyah (spelling?) that is spreading across the world. Not. Today.

WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. ME?

I feel so guilty.

A million voices in my head telling me how to think, how to feel, to give up my privileged complaints, to stop my first-world panicking, stop eating bread, exercise more, be grateful for frontline workers, sidewalk chalk my driveway, clap for doctors and nurses, read the news, watch the news, wash my hands, cough into my elbow, keep working, work harder, fit in, be like her, do what he says, be a good mother, do yoga, don’t forget to breathe, pick up the dog poo, what the hell is for dinner, pay this bill, don’t pay that bill, apply for EI, be put on hold for three hours, eat another Cadbury Creme egg, feel fat, feel ugly, feel sad, sad, sad…don’t feel sad, be brave, share the love, show my support, donate here, don’t leave the house, I miss my mother, I miss my grandmother, we’re all in this together…but it is different for each of us, her father died of COVID and she’s not allowed to see his body, she needs a mastectomy but surgeries have been put on hold, more beds, more masks, Elon Musk is making ventilators – but don’t put them in a warehouse if you want them from him, my chest hurts, this cough is bad, it’s not COVID, what should I write, what do I have to say, when will this end, what does it mean, who am I?

And that…is like, one minute in my head.

It’s April first and I feel like a fool. And I love the word fool. It so perfectly fits what it means. My lips and tongue like saying it out loud. Go ahead, say it out loud. Fooool. See? It’s a great word.

This post is not what I wanted it to be.

I was going to show you pictures of food, art, me and Miller’s shaved heads. I was going to tell you all the amazing things we’re doing to stay healthy, happy, educated…

But no.

I’ve turned into a raging bull.

And there are only two Cadbury Creme Eggs left in the junk food bowl. This is a problem. This is not a problem.

Excuse me while I pause to dance to ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ with the family.

Okay. That was helpful.

Last week we danced so hard for so long, my calves were on fire for four days post. #complainingaway

I am a mess.