If I only had an acorn for every time I heard those words, or a version of them, over the past year… Eleven and a half months, to be precise. That’s how long it’s been since I wrote my last blog post. What in God’s parched valley have I been doing all this time? Let’s…
When I first set out to write professionally, many years ago in Toronto, I did all the necessary things one does when starting a new enterprise: set up a website, order business cards, and begin networking. A sidewalk encounter from those days recently came to mind, which now strikes me as worthy of some storytelling.…
“They’ve been here, and here… and here…” I was almost on my hands and knees, my eyes glazed over with purpose, looking for any evidence: sweaty foot smudge on the hardwood, greasy fingerprints on the dark granite countertops, doors left half open, furniture askew, and staging pillows out of position. I was out to glean…
You never really know someone’s story — that is, until they have the courage to stand in a room of strangers, wrestle with fear, and turn the visceral into the verbal. Such is the remarkable human spirit I witnessed last month at 97 Street Pub when I attended the fourth monthly Storytelling Tuesday (STT), hosted…
Your breathing is shallow, your back already clammy with sweat, and your face muscles are tight as though to gird the eyes from the threat of contact with another subway warrior. You struggle to lock your feet to your hard-won space, numbly counting the passing stations, begging that nothing mechanical or electrical goes awry, and…
Eighty-seven. That doesn’t directly answer the above question. I think 87 was my resting heart rate some days at my last job in Hogtown (Toronto). Also, 1987 was a fantastic year at university; I had so much fun. But the new association I have in mind is much less fun than parties every weekend. I’m…