writing and grief

 It is the monthly meeting of the IWSG.

Our dear pal Bella was euthanized yesterday, at our home, which was the best thing about a terrible thing. We aren't normal and may not be for quite awhile. We miss her every second. There. I didn't think I was going to post today but yesterday I wrote an obituary for her because my natural response to pain is to write. So even though it might not seem like it belongs here, I assure you it does. Writing it helped me make sense of the whole thing.

So here:

Bella Morrison, born April, 2012 in Labrador, died February 3^rd,2026, at her home in Prospect surrounded by her loving people.

Bella was born in Labrador, probably in Sheshatshiu. She was sent by plane with her sister to meet her folks, Jan and Ron, when she was about 8 weeks old. She was a lively girl right from the beginning, but always sweet with it. We called her circus dog because she was fearless in the woods, getting on old logs that were sometimes four feet off the ground, like a tight-rope walker. In the fall of her first year we brought her home to Labrador where we all lived for the next five years. In Labrador she got to experience a completely autonomous life. We’d go off to work and she’d do her day. It usually started by visiting Hector, an elderly fellow who lived next door to us. They’d sit on the porch and discuss philosophy. We only know of other activities she got up to when we were about to leave Labrador. One woman, (someone we really didn’t know – and yes that is possible in a town of 500) told us she regularly took Bella with her in her truck when she went to do errands. Bella had canine friends that I hope she is frolicking with now – three dogs from Sheshatshiu who would come by our house to pick her up – Chopper, Panda, and Junior. When we came back to Nova Scotia she settled in nicely – although she had more constraints naturally, but she was always ecstatic to visit her home province. Here in Nova Scotia she made lots of friends – mainly humans, because the dogs here weren’t so free to choose. She particularly loved Sherri who she considered a pack mate and Sherri’s partner Colin. Bob and Joan were also favourites, especially Joan who always had a treat for her. She also loved her brothers and sister – Jake and Sarah, Jesse and Cal and put up with those young kids, Roric and Harrison, although she got pretty jealous of the attention Ron would pay them.

The love of her life was Ron. Back when she was still a pup he went first to Labrador and Bella and I travelled by plane three months later. When she saw him she became a quivering mass of emotions and had to sit on his lap while he drove us from Goose Bay to North West River in the truck.

As I told her repeatedly as she was leaving today – Bella is a good dog. Ron wanted a dog from Sheshatshiu because they always have a fair bit of native dog in them – and that makes them comical, biddable and ever so loving. Her only sin was that she was mad for vegetables and didn’t see why she shouldn’t pick them out of the garden when she had a hankering. Unlike the brother she never met, Hoagy, she was very good at sticking close to home and only did walk-abouts when she was really bored. She loved playing tug-a-war with Ron and fetch – especially with the so-called Red Bone which was really purple. She loved going up to High Head and running free and that is where we will scatter her ashes.

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Thanks for reading if you did. And now back to normal broadcasting.

2026 Boldness

 Hello all dear writers and those that like to support all dear writers and even those that thwart all dear writers because thwarting makes us stronger.

It is naturellement the first meeting of the Insecure Writer's Support Group - go here to sign up or to find more insecure writers. 

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time - and return comments. This group is all about connecting!

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!

The awesome co-hosts for the January 7 posting of the IWSG are Shannon Lawrence, Olga Godim, Jean Davis, and Jacqui Murray!

I am not answering the optional question because it completely stresses me out.

In the spirit of turning over a new page I will just say I have a lot of unfinished pages that I need to finish before turning any new ones. 

My goals for 2026

1. Self-publish Butter and Snow in the first quarter of the year. In order to do that I still have a few small things to take care of - going over my proofs one more time - deciding on a cover (which is becoming a real chore) - making decisions re who and how I print and so on. Those issues will all be dealt with by the end of January one way or the other.

2. Promote Butter and Snow to the best of my ability - which includes a soft launch, a hard launch later in the year, readings, connecting with book clubs and so on. I need to also include a social media campaign and this is what keeps me up nights. 

3. Organize a reading/workshop of my play Oh Well at the Chester Playhouse. That is in the works.

4. Continue to publish an essay on my weekly Substack - Dispatches. In terms of joy and personal enrichment Dispatches has been my favourite writing medium ever. Don't know why and don't care.

5. Work on my memoir if I feel like it! Nuff said.

as I'm working on Butter and Snow edits

I'm thinking of all our lovely time there.

How about you all? Plans for this year or even just the winter? How do you keep motivation high? What are your obstacles to getting done what you desire to? 

the paradox of the solstice

 Welcome to all participants of the Insecure Writer's Support Group and wanderers!

Go here to sign up to this group 

The IWSG meets monthly to support each other in our writing - both to offer cheers and to encourage the writers to keep on keepin' on. It has been going for ages and ages and it simply the best thing of its kind. 

This month the question is - As a writer, what was one of the coolest/best gifts you ever received?

Hmm. . . I don't think I ever received a gift as a writer. Or I receive all gifts as a writer. I'm wrestling with the question and while I think I know the intention I still find it awkward. Have I received gifts as a woman? Or as a feminist? Or as a secretary? Or as a Buddhist? You see the problem.

I'll just go with what I think the intention is. The best gift I ever received that helped me with my writing was my copy of The Elements of Style by Strunk and White. It was my dad who gave it to me and it meant that he believed in my ability to write and get better with it. When you are perceived as an artist you get all sorts of gifts with that theme in mind, some of which are grand and some which are not so great, because how should someone know what tools are helpful if they aren't themselves an artist, or even if they are - they are a different artist. But when you are a writer people don't know what to get you. A pen? Maybe a great gift (a huge gift) to a writer might be a retreat in a cabin somewhere or a course that they've been dying to go on. Or a standing desk might be good but again - so personal. Probably it is just that my closest people gently ask me how it is going with my writing. That's good.

my fella getting our tree when we lived in Labrador.

I entitled this piece The paradox of the solstice. My birthday is on or near the winter solstice (and the summer one if you live down under) and people say either 'ugh - the shortest day of the year' or 'ah, the return of the light'. Both are perfectly true but like when people mark something we must know it such a slight thing, this turning of the seasons, the days, the planet. It is the shortest day by minutes. It is the return of the light ever so slightly. Yes, we've reached the top of the slog but does it feel like winter is over? No it does not. It feels like it is just beginning for most of us. You'd think as a person who has really only experienced a four season climate and has no desire to live in one that only has two seasons, I'd be okay with this time of year, but that isn't true. I definitely have to fight the dark. What I'd like to do, and this has been true since I was in my thirties, is go to bed in November and wake up in March. I don't see why we humans can't hibernate. Oh well. 

Writing News : My newest book Butter and Snow will be published in February of 2026. It is part of the Nell Munro mystery series (the first was The Crooked Knife). Constable Nell Munro, an RCMP officer, works on a First Nation's reserve in Labrador. Nell is getting fed-up with the slowness of the RCMP to deal with missing and murdered Indigenous women. Her boss puts her on a short leave with the orders that she is to make up her mind if she is in or out. While retreating to her cabin in the tiny isolated community of Butter and Snow she comes upon a murdered Inuit woman. As she begins to dig further it seems the crime is connected to a possible human trafficking ring. Her sergeant is reluctant to let Nell in on the case but she is determined to make sure there is justice for the victim.

Stay tuned for more publishing news!

It's time for the Insecure Writers Support Group

 Insecure Writers Support Group - sign in here

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

This is a picture of me and how insecure I am with the publishing world!

I'm in limbo. Not a creative limbo mind. I'm zooming along painting and quilting and making a phenology wheel (what? you don't know what that is? Well, I invite you to look it up - especially at Marion's World on YouTube youtube.com/@MarionsGarden

I'm also figuring out the yearly gifts for my coven of women friends - affectionately called The Babes. Every year I make them all something for Children's Day, a Buddhist holiday that usually lands on my December birthday. I think I have this year's figured out but not sure. I did a proto-type and I think with a bit of tweaking it will work out fine. I've never made a prototype before - not for anything - I might watch a million youtubes or read books for hours but usually when I start I just start. I think my DNA is changing. I made a prototype for the phenology wheel too. I will begin in earnest on the first of January but I want to make sure of the size and materials. 

Maybe for my next book I'll start with an outline. No I won't. If I do - come and get me, for it means I've been taken over by the BORG. 

November 5 question - When you began writing, what did you imagine your life as a writer would be like? Were you right, or has this experience presented you with some surprises along the way?

When I began seriously thinking about being a poet (as I started writing books when I was in grade two) I imagined that I would move to Paris, live in a garret and be surrounded by other writers. We would live off wine, cigarettes and ideas with the odd baguette thrown in. I would be published in small journals perhaps, though that was a bit fuzzy. 

When I began writing plays I believed it was only a short matter of time before I lived in NYC or London and lived in a flat with other writers, actors and stage designers. We would live off beer, spliffs, and ideas with the occasional pizza thrown in. I would have a play on off-off-Broadway or far-West-End London perhaps, though that was a bit fuzzy.

When I began writing novels I believed it was only a short matter of time before I lived where I lived (but nicer) and had both an agent (a kind bespectacled female agent who adored me but was somewhat strict) and a publisher. I would meet the latter for long conversations around a table at the Algonquin in NYC. I'd live very well indeed off huge advances and hang around with other writers sipping our Dalwhinnie scotches and eating steak frites. 

My writing life, needless to say (and yet I do) is nothing like any of this. I like it fine. Those were all just romantic dreams and like the kind of men I imagined when I was young - the one I've lived with for 23 years is different and much better. The writing has stayed pretty much the same. I try and finish things and then I try and flog those things. Same. My community is quite different - with moments thrown in here and there that remind me of those old dreams - especially being around people who like to talk ideas, but mostly it's me slugging it out by myself and coming up to the surface now and then to get some feedback from the fella or friends who tell the truth. 

How about you? Are your dreams packed up with your old manuscripts in a cedar trunk somewhere, or are they refashioned into workable plans?

Fall Colours

 It's another meeting of the Insecure Writer's Support Group! 

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!

Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG.

The awesome co-hosts for the October 1 posting of the IWSG are Beth Camp, Crystal Collier, and Cathrina Constantine!

 

Remember, the question is optional!

October 1 question - What is the most favorite thing you have written, published or not? And why?

Hmmm...

I'm not sure. I think it is usually the most recent thing I've written. But that sounds kind of lame. Though honestly if you don't feel passionate about what you are writing then it is hard to go through all the hard work of getting it published. So there's that. 

I'm loving writing my weekly essays on substack  - Dispatches. I'm just working on my 88th one so that is 88 weeks of them. I like that format - much like this only not just about writing but about everything that skitters across my brain pan. I find it quite satisfying and I do believe it keeps my writing for any project sharpened up. 

I like my published novel The Crooked Knife. And I am quite fond of the novel that I'll be publishing early next year Butter and Snow. I love a play I wrote this year called Oh Well,  but it needs some work. I think it is quite special and quirky and I hope it finds a stage. I love all my poems, especially the quite mad ones born of rage and sorrow over the world's weird turning.

This is a photo from my nephew's wedding that happened four months after I got a new hip. That's me - the wild woman in black. I honestly don't know who my dance partner was but he was lots of fun and totally willing to dance with an older broad. 

I sound quite besotted with myself. I really don't know why anyone would write if they didn't like what they wrote. It is such a hard slog. A friend of mine was at a book fair recently where a local and very proficient novelist was reading from her newest. After, at the signing, my friend asked her how long it took her to write a novel. She said 'three months'. Gasp!

It's hard not to feel like a slacker when you hear something like that. But then I think about books like The Catcher in the Rye or To Kill a Mockingbird from writers who didn't have great output but who wrote amazing books that I can't imagine living without having read.

Next week I'll be in Paris and I'll haunt the places my heroes have been - Colette and Hemmingway and Proust and Wilde. Oh my giddy aunt!

This has been one of the toughest years of my life so ten days in Paris just seems like a balm for my soul. It is with a pal who's weathered the same storms and we are so looking forward to not having to put down our conversation to go home or go to work, but to just let it weave through our days. Going on a trip is a bit like putting a piece of writing out in the world - you do everything you can to make it the best  possible thing, but you don't know. A friend of mine just went on a walking tour in Ireland. Four days in she was laughing in a pub and aspirated a pea into her lung. Put her in a hospital for four days. You just don't know! I love Butter and Snow,  but will others? Will they even find it? 

me and my second grade class in Sheshatshiu a few years back.

Happy October everyone. Hope you take whatever leaps you need to take in order to feel happy with your work.