Dear friends,
I begin this issue of Me Who Writes with a peaceful shot of April trees. No reason. I just like it.
I make lists. The process calms me. When I have a host of things to do and feel like I can’t do any of them, I sit down and make a list. It’s like taking the unruly forest of thoughts rampaging in my head and imposing order on them. The imposed order is a temporary fiction of course, but it does give me a place to start and the illusion of a plan to follow.
I have a notebook dedicated to lists. I think of it as a list of lists. I started it back in 2019 and it still has a few empty pages. Inside its covers are several daily schedules (all crossed out and revised several times), a page of quotations I like (“Half a poem is a po,” Amy Poehler), eight ways to make a difficult conversation go smoother (they didn’t work, it went as badly as you can imagine), a series of non-invasive questions for a reluctant interview subject (I cannot for the life of me remember who I was planning on interviewing), six photo tips for iPhone users (I should put this list on my phone), ideas for my current and past and future writing projects, and fourteen tips on living a ‘Zen’ life. I’d forgotten about that one. “Do one thing at a time” is the first item on that list. That’s hard for me. I like multi-tasking. One of my favourite things is sitting down to write after I’ve started the washing machine, the dryer, and the dishwasher. With them all running in the background, I feel like I’m getting so much done.
What my book of lists doesn’t contain are grocery lists. Those I make on scraps of paper. If I go to a grocery store to pick up a few things without making a list, by the time I get there, I won’t remember what those few things are. But if I’ve made a list, even if I’ve forgotten to bring that list with me or it falls out of my pocket once I’m there (both these scenarios happen on a regular basis), it doesn’t matter. I no longer need the list because I can still feel the writing of those words on paper. In my head, I can see the words on the list I don’t have in my hand.
Before I leave my house on my weekly errand day, I make a list of the places I need to go. One of the places that’s often on that list is my favourite local bookstore (Hello Mosaic Books). I never make a list for a bookstore: it would be too long. Instead, I set a time limit for myself. A parking spot that expires in an hour ensures that I don’t emerge sometime after dark.
Last Thursday, I went to Mosaic to pick up a book I had ordered: the newest, and sadly the last, from the late great Steven Heighton, Instructions for the Drowning. I’ve already read and re-read the opening stories and Steven’s magic is evident from the first sentence. What a huge loss his sudden death almost exactly one year ago now is for Canada, for readers everywhere, for our writing community. I had the great good fortune to get to know Steven at the Sage Hill Writing Experience back in 2016 and I am very grateful for those memories. Steven left us with twenty books. Pick up any one of them. You’ll be glad you did.
Not only did I meet Steven at Sage Hill, I also had the opportunity to work with the fabulous Alissa York on that retreat. The novel I was working on then is the same one that’s coming out this summer—She Who Burns. Alissa and everyone who participated in her fiction workshop that year helped set me on a path to finish one of the earlier drafts of that project. In the ensuing years, I’ve read every book Alissa has written, and I can’t wait to dive into her new one, Far Cry. It’s on one of my lists somewhere.
I rarely leave a bookstore with only one book and this week was no different. My latest treasures are shown above. Ducks by Kate Beaton, is a graphic memoir set in the Alberta oil sands. It’s big in size and price, but I decided to treat myself. Kerry Clare, (of Pickle Me This renown), has a new book coming out in the fall (Asking for a Friend) and I still hadn’t put my hands on her last one, so I was delighted to find Waiting for a Star to Fall. I’m working on some poems about grounded goddesses, so I couldn’t resist Madeline Miller’s Circe. And for my regular hit of psychological research, Julia Samuel’s Every Family Has a Story leapt into my hands.
Missing from my bookstore haul this week was an addition to my Tarot book collection, a category that has grown almost enough to require its own shelf. When my novel project started me on my Tarot research journey a decade ago, I fortunately found Rachel Pollack’s Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom early in that process. I was somewhat overwhelmed by the Tarot at first, trying to decipher the history of the deck and each card in it, while also leaving myself open to experiencing fresh views of the story each card offered. Some Tarot books left me feeling more confused than I already was, but Pollack’s book offered a great balance between history, mythology, and modern interpretation. Over the years, I have reached for it again and again.
This week, I was saddened to learn that Rachel Pollack has died at the age of 77, in her seventy-eighth year of wisdom. While reading about her life, I discovered that there was so much about her that I didn’t know. To me, she was my esteemed Tarot expert. But she was also a science fiction writer, a creator of comic books, as well as a transgender activist. I am filled with even more admiration for her. After arranging my Tarot books to take the above photo, I started flipping through Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom and I’m now absorbed in it once more.
To feed my reading habit, I buy some books and borrow many more. I don’t always buy five books on my weekly errand excursion (although I want to). I actually spend more time in libraries (both physically and online) than I do in bookstores. I support Canadian writers from all our diverse communities by buying and reading their books. Still, I read widely, globally, and seek books from around the world.
I keep a log of books I want to read and the ones I’ve read. That is one of my most satisfying lists. Like most writers, I’m a reader first. I read actual books and e-books and embrace the advantages of both formats. I like the feel of a book in my hands, but I also like the convenience of reading on my device, especially in bed after dark. I have been known to buy a physical copy of a book I like after reading the electronic version. Some books I want to have on my shelf, so I can pull them down and revisit those pages whenever I want. I have a lot of old friends sitting on my bookshelves, and a chair with a pillow. My shelves need some tidying up at the moment. I’ll add that chore to my next list.
Thanks for reading Me Who Writes. If you enjoyed this piece, please share it with some friends.