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Eggheads unite

I feel like I’ve forgotten to flip out over some lit-related stuff. First off – Canada Reads. I’m so so so psyched for the picks this year. I’m not a huge fan of biographies and memoirs unless I have a pre-existing interest in the subject (a la Dance on the Earth) and even though I tried to get fired up about last year’s roster, it was to no avail. I didn’t read any of the books for the first time in years. This year though, I’m already knee-deep in Indian Horse and looking forward to the rest of the reads.

Speaking of which, I have a poem in current issue of The Antigonish Review. It’s about cycling and regional cuisine and the way that you only remember where you’ve been on a bike trip in relation to what you ate in any given place. Truly. Any touring cyclist will admit this. The wide beautiful country is just like a series of dinner plates when you’re on a bike because you are always starving.

Finally, I was nominated for a Hamilton Literary Award this year for a short story I had in Room in 2011. The ceremony happened while I was away hunting and I was quite bummed about that, but very excited to hear that I’d won and that Colette Kendall gave an amazing reading on my behalf.

So thanks to the Hamilton Arts Council, Collette, Epic Books (who sponsored my award) and fellow writers including Jean Rae Baxter who was my running mate for the Hamilton Arts Awards.

Finally, on a non-book-related note, I made some new earrings from the antlers I brought home this year. Check them out.

Studly, yes? Like pearls. But wilder and tougher.

I should mention that while I’ve made earrings from antlers in the past, I got the idea for these particular studs from Lorna Woods, whose place I hunted at this fall. She gave me a pair of tiny delicate studs she’d made and I thought “hot damn, this is what I’ll do with my spikes.”

Hopefully, when I know a little more fancy silver footwork, I’ll be able to set these as studs and rings.

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Reading, writing, screw arithmetic

This is the price of a poem:

You can read $10 worth of writing in an upcoming issue of The Antigonish Review.

Also, I’m nominated for “fiction – short story” at this year’s Hamilton Literary Awards. Super sadly, I’m not going to be able to attend the awards evening (I already bought a dress for it too), but super happily, it’s because I’ll be up in Dryden hunting.

I’m pretty psyched about this year’s hide haul. There are already four in my freezer (donated by others) and I’m going to have them tanned by local pros this year which means they’ll be supple and floppy and I should be able to make more varied pieces this winter.

Now. How can I incorporate a sparkly 60’s shift into my hunting uniform…? Or should I save it for New Year’s?

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Wash, Submit, Repeat

On any given day, I love the mail.

But I love it even more when it contains things like this…

A poem I’ve been submitting here, there and everywhere over the last few months is going to be published in an upcoming issue of The Antigonish Review.

I’m quite psyched about it, not only because I love this journal specifically, but also because this is one of the first poems I’ve ever submitted anywhere and, until yesterday, I’d never had the kind of feedback that gave any sense of whether or not I was even “doing poetry right.”

As such, I’d been feeling a little flounder-y about the art because I’ve never studied it in an intense academic fashion and I only read a handful of poets’ work and I haven’t written much of it (with the exception of a number of angst-filled teenage years during the 90s when I was at least prolific if nowhere near proficient) besides the collection this one came from – a series of pieces about Canada’s national parks and natural spaces.

So yes. This is hugely exciting. And hopefully indicative of the fact that I’m not wasting my time if I write more. And I will try to take Sean’s advice and remember it the next time I am rejected, rather than sighing and concluding that this most recent rejection means I’m a no-good, unpublishable, sad-sack sorry excuse for a writer.

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