After three years of intense focus on therapy and personal growth, I'm finally hitting the keys again and will be jumping into NaNoWriMo on November 1st, 2016. Stay tuned for updates!

Friday, 4 November 2016


So... along with NaNoWriMo, I've found myself advocating the female voice this week, which is kind of cool.
For the first time, I decided not to keep my opinions to myself and my inner circle and went public with my post calling out the sexist treatment of women in regards to sex and contraception.  As someone who was taught from a young age to silence her voice, it is exhilarating to finally be exercising it.

Follow along the comment war, where I attempt to use my "mad word skillz" to bash down gender inequality!  #IAmWoman #WillNotBeSilenced (I feel like I'm boxing!)

Friday, 26 August 2016

DAILY SENTENCES: Week of Aug 19/16

This week, my sentences are focusing on describing setting and atmosphere.

Friday, August 19, 2016
The mist hung like a pale shroud over the world. Only the tree was clear. Everything else looked as if it were being viewed through an old, dusty window; distant and ghostly.

Saturday, August 20, 2016
The pages fought to fold back, but were carefully tucked under the plate, so she could eat breakfast without losing a moment with her book. Inspiration was contained within and the need to eat was not going to deprive her of a moment's worth of hunting. Juice from the Govenor's sauce dripped swamp green on the pages, as she pulled the green tomatoes from the jar. "Hard to find green tomatoes. Have to get the farmers to grow them special," the voice of Tom, the owner of the farmhouse that makes her preserves, echoed through her head. Each time she went in, he would tell her the same old stories, but the preserves were so good that she never tired of hearing them. Every once in a while, Tom would drop in a new nugget about his life. He had been a carpenter, until he met Ruby, then preserves became his life. She was thankful they did, she thought as she laddled more of the Governor's Sauce onto her breakfast. The cat howling at the door broke her reverie.

Sunday, August 21, 2016
Sometimes, when the summer has been long and dry, the world exhales at the rain. Everything slows, things stay inside and you all sit and enjoy the rain and the life it brings with it. Last night, Gord Downie played his last concert 20 miles down the road in Kingston. The weather was hot and the breeze was strong and warm. The air was electric. The entire country vibrated. This moring, it wept and sat in comfortable silence as the rain covered the earth in a country's joyful sorrow.

It's these, the quiet moments. The ones that last forever. Silent and still. A pause in time, where you can just exhale. The sound of the river after the storm. Bows and flows of angel hair. The sunset shiloouetting the horizon. Once, right now, just sit. And breathe.

Monday, August 22, 2016
The sssst of the candle caught her attention. Pupils wide. Gaze affixed to the flickering light. I watched anxiously to see if she decides to pounce. Another sound pulls her focus and she is across the room, crawling in cupboards and nooks. She disappears until I call her back again. Who knows what mischief she can get into out of sight.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The sound of crickets and some other humming bug filled the night air, as she turned out the light. A cool breeze wafted through the open window, but not enough to justify the wool socks she wore. 'Don't disturb the cat,' she thought, as her feet began to throb from heat. She longed for an off-switch for the insect cacophony; whoever said 'nautre is peaceful,' lied.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016
It was too early to sleep, yet too late to start a new chore. The vacuum lay in the middle of the living room floor. Cat fur still carpeting the rug. The cat sat atop the luggage, as if to say, "can we go home now?" She looked around at her new woodland sanctuary and pressed the duct tape back onto the wall, where it held the wood panels together. "Yup, this will do just fine."

Thursday, August 25, 2016
The pink heels sat on the shelf above the door collecting dust, waiting for an event that had yet to come. The house smelled of stale cat food. Recent rain had left the air damp and sticky, and ripe with unfavourable odors. Yellow light blanketed the room, coming from an old touch-lamp in the corner. She often wondered why that fad had died out, it seemed so practical. The bed was hard, but she didn't seem to mind. It was a place to lay her head. She wrestled with finding a balance between blankets and sheets in the cool but humid night; she had to account for the 8lbs of fur that would inevitably drape itself over her already bare legs. 

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

RANTS & RAMBLES - The 2 Word Rule

I don’t know about you, but I often find it hard to develop good writing habits, especially because I work contract work, so my schedule varies greatly from week to week.  It is impossible for me to set-up a consistent writing routine. 

Recently, I have been trying what I’m calling the “2 Word Rule”.  Less a rule and more a commitment (yay, semantics!!!).  I have decided that each day, I just need to add two words to any piece of writing I’m working on.  If I do that, then I have been successful and can celebrate my accomplishment for the day.

I’m sure there are some writers out there reading this, scoffing at the idea that a “true writer” would settle for only two words per day.  How amateur… Well, to those people I say, “shove it!”  Writing is hard and the easiest thing for a writer to do is to crap all over themselves for not achieving as much as they thought they would or thinking that what they’ve done is garbage.  Writers are notoriously hard on themselves (more so than any critic could ever be).  Often writers tank themselves before they even get started.  I know, I’ve been there, I’m still there.  I look at the number of things I’ve written and still think I’m a hack who doesn’t know any better.  Then, I read a bunch of published garbage and get down that I can write better than that and still I’m not published.  I don’t need any more help to tell me that I’m not a writer.  What I do need is the encouragement to keep writing – and not necessarily from other people, but from myself.  This is when I made the two word bargain with myself.

Tuesday, 23 June 2015

SPIDER WARS: Episode #4

On the Last Episode of Spider Wars:
Septimus had conquered the O’Hare homeland after the invader Rufus had drawn the O’Hare army to the north.  O’Hare had retreated to regroup in the Rainy Plains, while Rufus was smitten by the beast of the Underworld.

Today on Spider Wars:

Wasting away in the Rainy Plains, O’Hare appeals to the mercy of the Beings of the Underworld to purge O’Hare territory of the usurper, Septimus, before the rains return.  Hearing his pleas, the Beings send a gale force wind against Septimus’ army.  Septimus, angered by the Beings’ wrath, charge for to the Underworld only to be met by the guardian, Ripplestiltskin.  After an intense battle, Septimus returned to the Ceiling, bruised and bloodied, eventually succumbing to his wounds.  O’Hare, weak from enduring the Plains’ storms, passed, leaving his army in the charge of his daughter, Twyla.

SPIDER WARS: Episode #3

On the last Episode of Spider Wars:
Septimus had retreated to his own territory on the other side of the mirror after a crushing defeat by O’Hare’s army.  The O’Hare homeland was once again secure.

Today on Spider Wars:
Another intruder appears in the washroom, encroaching on the outer limits of no man’s lamp into northern O’Hare country.  As O’Hare leads his army to fend off Rufus’ invaders in the north, Septimus regroups and launches a full scale siege of O’Hare homeland.  O’Hare, left without the strength to reclaim his native soil, retreats to the Rainy Plains.  Suddenly, a great earthquake shook the ceiling and Rufus was crushed to death and wild beasts fed on his remains.

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Thursday, 28 August 2014

GLOBAL MINDFULNESS - Or Why I Won't Be Participating In The Ice Bucket Challenge

Recently, I re-shared this photo on Facebook:

I received some backlash from friends about it, emphasizing the need for ALS to receive charitable funding and that I shouldn’t be promoting one charity as more deserving of funding than another.

I can see how this could be the perception given from this photo, but in fact it is a statement of statistics – open to interpretation.

First, I would like to state that ALS is a shockingly horrifying disease that strips the sufferer of all dignity and causes extreme hardship on the families of those affected by it.  It DOES deserve funding and a cure!  Never have I begrudged the donations being made to research into the disease.  For more information on ALS or to make a donation, go to

The reason I posted this image was because it provided an opportunity to raise global mindfulness. 

When is the last time you flushed your toilet and thought “I just defecated into 3.5 gallons of fresh, clean drinking water”?  If the answer isn’t “all the time”, then that is why I posted this photo.  The argument can be made that because of our plumbing, we can’t choose to exclusively have dirty water go to our toilets, but much like my reasons for posting the image, that is not the point.  The point is awareness.  We should be conscious of the impact our actions have on the planet.  We need to think about what we are doing as we do it!