Monthly Archives: April 2014

Don’t be precious

Don’t be precious…

…with TIME

Sure, it would be nice to have three hours of uninterrupted writing time. But chances are that’s not going to happen. You have to steal time. 10 minutes. 15 minutes. Early morning. Late at night. On your break.

Don’t be precious…

…with SPACE

Sure, it would be nice to have an office. Quotes from your favourite writers pinned to a cork board. Piles of books. Top of the line computer. But chances are you don’t have the space. Write anywhere. On the subway. In a coffee shop. Waiting in an impossibly long line. Use a (paper) notebook. Scrap paper. A receipt.

Don’t be precious…

…with your first DRAFT

Sure, it would be nice to be perfect… but you’re not. Neither is your work and especially not your first draft. Cut it. Rip it to shreds. Make it bigger. Make it better.

Don’t be precious…


See “Don’t be precious with your first draft.”

Don’t be precious. Just write.

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Book City now a Ghost Town


“It is with great sadness that we have to announce the closing of our annex location.” So reads the first line in the letter taped to the door of the former annex location of Book City. “…The onslaught of the e-reader and the relentless on-line book business have made operating a general brick and mortar bookstore more challenging.”



It’s hard to fight the convenience of an e-reader. You don’t have to lug hard covers on the subway. No extra weight in your suitcase. You don’t have to drop off the ones you no longer like at Goodwill or sell them at a garage sale. But when I see another beloved bookstore go out of business it makes me want to spend every last cent I have on real books. 10 reasons real books are better than e-books and here are 5 more.

Reason 11 – The Slow Movement
Just as the slow food movement promotes the joys of cooking from scratch, the act of browsing in a bookstore is much more soulful than scrolling through books online. There’s something meditative about picking books up off the shelf and leafing through their pages.

Reason 12 – Book Seller Recommendations
Book sellers love what they do. They want to introduce you to their favourite reads. Hearing them speak passionately about their favourite author is much more satisfying than reading online reviews.

Reason 13 – Other People’s Bookcases
You’ve been invited to someone’s home for dinner and they insist they don’t need any help in the kitchen. So you cradle your glass of wine and look at their bookcase. You make a note of the books you’ve already read and the ones you have yet to read. You browse.

You’re not going to pick up their e-reader.

Reason 14 – Cover Art
There are so many gorgeous book covers. Having books on your shelves is the same as having pictures of your loved ones on the wall. They’re beautiful and comforting.

Reason 15 – Crushed Dreams
If the world goes digital, if every bookstore goes out of business, my dream of entering a bookstore and finding the spine of my book on its shelf will be crushed. Do I love my blog? Yes. Do I love reading articles from other bloggers? Yes. Is it the same as seeing my published work on the shelf of a bookstore?…

No. It’s just not.

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Who Lives Here?

Every room in my house has books. The kitchen, the living room, the dining room and the bedroom. You can tell I’m a reader. But where is the writer? Where does she live?

She used to live here.


This is our desk and my husband’s laptop. (My desktop recently died)

I had an office in our old place, but we don’t have a spare bedroom in our current home so the desk went into the kitchen. Not exactly an Inspiring Workspace

I do have some fun pieces of me here…




Hard copies of my past work live here.


Our dog especially likes pawing at the paper inside. (One of the reasons I get more writing done on the subway to work than at home)


My writing isn’t anywhere else in the house. There are no notebooks, no scraps of paper, no sticky notes. Is that to avoid clutter? Is it because I’m still dreaming of a Writing Hut? Or is it because I’m hiding the fact that I’m a writer. And if so, from who? My husband? (I think he knows) House guests? Myself?

I think I’ll go throw some paper around…

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