Focus (Writing)

So it seems to me that I have figured a few things out.

I am meant to write for the rest of my days. Food and cooking loom large in my life and I like to comparmentalize.

Having seen the light recently, I am going to change a few things around.

This blog is going to be about my life - writing and the daily things that occur. Food, although I'm sure it will be mentioned, will remain at either my magazine pan or through my articles. And things that I adore will continue to be reported at the knack.

This here - writerscramp - is where I want to come to write about writing and life and how the two intersect.

I have created a bento box of my interests, I know, but it's what makes me happiest. That, and writing.

Stay tuned for more from the writing front. And more frequent entries.

I'm on a roll.

Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Stephanie (Writing)

It’s been a long time since I checked in. I feel guilty about it, like I’ve been neglecting this part of my life that I really enjoy. But writing has taken over - writing to deadline, writing on assignment, writing for money.

I know. It’s a dream come true. And I’m not complaining, but it has been so all encompassing that I have neglected a few areas of my life, this blog being one of them.

It’s weird to be so out of balance when I am working from home. After all, you would think that I could fashion my whole day however I like. Theoretically this is true. But rarely does it happen that I manage to engage in all of the areas of my life. Usually I am able to juggle 3 or 4 things in a day but that might mean I don’t get around to doing the other 3 or 4 things that need attention as well.

I just finished working at the film festival and while it was great fun and a needed break from my writing routines, it was exhausting. I managed to write throughout the festival but just barely, just enough to get my work to my editor’s on time before falling asleep to visions of Zach Braff and Christian Bale. After the festival, I caught up on opening the mail of the past three weeks, grocery shopping, laundry, and a thousand emails that had gone unanswered while I was at the box office at 7:30 a.m. amidst freshly popped popcorn for the films showing before 9 a.m. That took a couple of days. Meanwhile, assignments piled up as did my library books, emails and calls to be returned.

Now that the festival is long gone, I have resumed my old routine of getting up early and getting to work, but after working all day at the computer, I am still behind, panting to try and catch up.

After the middle of the month, it will die down. Most of my deadlines will be over, at least for a little while and I will be able to breathe again.

In the meantime, I am trying to enjoy this time of working hard. At least I am liking the stories I am working on and the editors have been great. These assignments are all for new magazines so it could have been a nightmare so far and other than the time pressure to get everything done and in one time, it’s been fun.

It’s just like with actors and job offers – no matter how hard you try to spread things out, it all comes in at once.

So I’m going to make it my mission to just take it all as it comes and work until it’s done. Also, I’m thinking that the impetus of all of this might also make me do more in the time I have, because after the festival was over, I was so grateful to have my days back to write and not just little pockets of time to cram my energy into.

So I’m off to write and work and try and do just one more thing each day, even though I don’t think I have the time. It’s a wonky experiment I know, but it’ll be fun. Plus, I can write and tell you all about it afterwards.

pan magazine (Food)

Food is a big part of my life, and hence, a big part of this blog, so it seems only right that I mention my new food website - pan magazine - that I have started with my good friend (and former editor - you might know him from WRITE magazine) Chris Garbutt.

We wanted a place to talk about food and tell a story, the way we wanted to tell it. So we started pan and hope that you will enjoy the personal accounts of our encounters with food.

If you wish to submit something, please see our submission guidelines. And if you have a story you want to tell, write us. Chances are we want to hear about it.

(The site will be available as of September 1st)

2050 (Writing)

Recently I had to look up some book titles coming out next year. I went to a book search engine, typed in the type of book I was looking for and then sorted them all by release date. Because you can’t specify which date you want, it takes you to the date furthest into the future.

So here I am, in front of my computer in August of 2006, and all of a sudden it is 2050 and Mary Higgins Clark is publishing another book.

First of all, my shock of being thrust into the future so quickly took me aback. And then it started to sink in. Mary Higgins Clark has a book coming out 42 years from now. Like black holes and the vast expanse of the internet, it took me awhile to really comprehend the concept.

Mary Higgins Clark is writing so much that her books can be published and republished that far into the future. Wow. I have something coming out in 2008 and I thought that was advance planning.

And this got me to thinking about my own work – I hope to still be publishing by then.

Huh. Imagine that.

It is strange how you just concentrate on the day-to-day business of what you are doing and all of a sudden, someone brings to your attention how much time has passed.

It was just recently that I figured out I’ve been writing and publishing for a decade. That was fast. And I have something coming out not only this month and next month and next year, but 2008.

Suddenly, 2050 isn’t that far away after all.

Location, Location (Food)

The man that I love and live with recently told me of his fondness for linguistics and learning about different language trends and traditions. He said that a person’s locale determines not only how they talk, but what they talk about it.

He’s absolutely right. The same can also be said for food.

A lot of times during the summer months, I don’t feel like cooking. My appetite changes and instead of chicken stews and mashed potatoes, all I want is fresh seafood and green salads. So I graze and drink a lot of liquids and then as soon as September comes, I can be found standing at the stove creating thick soup, ratatouille and succotash, roast chicken, lamb and hearty beef chili.

But it is not just the heat that has me a bit bummed about food. It’s my grocery store. Don’t get me wrong – I am blessed to have a store that is not only reasonable but offers fresh ingredients from Korea, Japan and Sri Lanka. It’s just that I am tired of it.

See, when you cook and eat a lot of meals at home – and now that we are both writing full-time at home, we do – you tend to go through a lot of food and well, shopping at the same store might not mean the same recipe over and over, but it does mean most of the ingredients remain the same.

So this week I am venturing out. I don’t know where yet – I still have a little research to do – but I’m going to find us a new home, I mean grocery store. To use at least for a little while. Come September, I will be at my usual haunt picking up black-eyed peas, lettuce, diced tomatoes, chicken, squash, pita, hot sauce and the like. But in the meantime, I’m going to try on a new store for size and see how it fits.

Something tells me it is just what I need.

The Encyclopedia I Just Can't Get Enough Of (Books)

I am in the midst of completing my last lesson of an intensive non-fiction writing course that I want to do every week for the rest of my life - it is that good.

This last lesson focuses on structure and really emphasizes giving great thought to the structure and format of your work.

With my book, I planned on one thing and it became something else. Something better. And I couldn’t have planned on that, no matter what materials and grid paper were available to me.

My first one was very research-based so it came in huge waves at various points and so, I jumped from crest to crest, letting it take me away. It was a joy, but by book’s end, I knew the next one would be a much more structured affair – something with a beginning, middle and end.

And so far it is. So far.

So, with this lesson, I have been investigating different ways to present your work – chronological, alphabetical, themed chapters, etc.

But never before have I been so impressed by both a book’s structure and content than Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life.

This is one of those books that you hold even when you aren’t reading it, because it just brings you so much joy. I can’t stop telling people about it, reading entries from it, begging friends to read it and promising that they will love it as much as I do.

I am what you might call an Amy Krouse Rosenthal evangelist.

Because she has done something so incredibly bright – I can’t stop thinking about it:

She went out and wrote a biography about herself in encyclopedia format, A-Z, and while it is all about this woman whom I never heard of before and whom you learn the most intimate details about, she manages to make it a non-egotistical venture AND her name is not a part of her book’s title.

She is smart AND funny, a simultaneous feat that is near to impossible for mere mortals, and I could read 22 volumes full of her life’s details. Make that 220.

I think about her all the time and now, when I am considering what to make for dinner, I actually say in my head – “Would Amy like Chinese broccoli?.” Throughout the day I might wonder “Would she enjoy the movie Three Kings? Does she use an electric toothbrush? Does she have a childhood toy atop her desk?

She is a woman I would love to have as a friend in my life, one of those fun people who you are constantly telling friends and family about. She loves books and buys them for friends when they invite her over – who DOES this? She is many things, but she is neurotic in a completely logical (and hysterical) fashion. This is just one example (yes, I am trying to get you hooked):

ESCALATOR

One would think that by this point in my life, I would have outgrown the feat of getting my shoe caught in the escalator.

See also: Anxious, Things That Make Me: Fears

And this brings me back to structure. A.K.R. has taught me to go for what is fun for me, not what I think people would like.

And that’s why my next book will appear in a series of bubblegum wrappers, complete with the pink dusty stick of chewy goodness, whose flavour lasts just as long as you can walk to the garbage and throw out the wrapper. No, wait! Don’t throw it out! See, I wrote something on it! It’s funny. No, really.

Maybe I’ll just sign up for an extra lesson or two.

p.s. - When I was trying to convince my friend Chris to get the book, he asked me if I was reading it in book fashion (front to back) or flipping around all over the place. I was stunned. What do you mean? It’s a book, a story of her life. It is not chronological, yes, but it is alphabetical. Who would bound around like that? I was astonished he could think about flitting around the pages.

A day later I came to see how someone could. But not me. I stand in front of the subway door that will open in front of the exit I need to get me where I want to go. I don’t want to waste time walking down the platform, stopping and looking up for the sign of where to exit, holding up people like me who have planned out their route.

Chris and I are still best friends. And I applaud his ability to think of reading the book out of sequence. He makes perfect poached eggs, is running a 10K in a couple of weeks and is much more adventurous than me. He can teach me a lot. A.K.R. too.

Stranded (Observation)

Today we were without internet – for the whole day. It has happened before and though it only happens intermittently, I find that it causes within me, a kind of adrift helplessness that worries the cat and leaves the man whom I live with and love staring at me for long periods and then asking, “Are you okay?”

I should be all right. After all, I wrote longhand for years. I can read and do research without the net. Well, at least I thought I could. But then I tried. Sure, I could read my books for review, but any research I wanted to do would've taken forever without the net. Ten years ago I could have managed, but not now. I've been spoiled.

So I started to make notes, but really, I just wanted to get my work done - on the computer. So I sat.

And I stared at the cat.

And stared.

And wondered what the hell to do.

Getting up, just wanting to do anything at all, I found I had a sudden surge of energy that I didn't have 10 minutes ago. It was the lightbulb going off - I suddenly had all of this time where I didn't have to do work, couldn't do work, so now what was I going to do with my time. Just sit there?

No way.

I made a pot of spicy chili. I cleaned the bathtub. Then I went at my desk, clearing out all of the mounds of paper that had been piling up. See, I’ve been spending this last while working my ass off, writing to deadlines each day. So the pile of paper I knew was only temporary. And I would rather be writing to deadline everyday than have a clear desktop. However, my usually tidy desk was quite a sight. It was nice to attack it fully and feel like I had the time to really go through everything.

And in going through the pile, I saw how many ideas I have come up with the last month or two – I could seriously write for the rest of my days and not run out of ideas. That’s awfully comforting.

So, while I panicked internally about not being able to email and do my research that can only be done on the internet, I accomplished a lot.

Huh. It’s too bad that it took the net not being available for me to realize that.

And I’d like to say that this will happen on a more regular basis, that I will take stock each day, do the things that matter most, not get tied down by my laptop. But let’s be honest. We’re conditioned. We’re addicted.

And I don’t mind all that much.

Because I can email and make chili at the same time.

Ebb & Flow (Writing)

Being a writer is never boring.

You are constantly learning and figuring things out. It is like being an archeologist, brushing away layers until you hit something solid and make a discovery.

And I am one of those few people who believe that writing is fun. I mean, why else would you do it – go through the rejection, the uncertainty, the staggered paychecks that arrive after publication (one piece I did late last year isn't being publishd until 2008!).

But it is not always easy.

Each day I go through tremendous ups and downs. Every morning, emails arrive saying that my work wasn’t accepted here, an editor wanting a whole piece changed despite instructing me otherwise, all the while going through computer glitches, email server problems and other daily life occurrences.

But in the same inbox, I might receive an acceptance to a publication that I have been wanting to get into for the last couple of years or that a piece that I wrote 4 years ago and forgot about just got published, without me having to lift a finger.

Over the years, I have become used to this daily ebb and flow of yeses and nos. And living with a television writer, having a father who is a film extra and a good friend who is an actor, I know that this is not exclusive to those who write. Thanks all of these people, including my own experiences, I have learned that:

- The work always comes in at once
- There will be times where you consider whether you should take a “real” job, just to get you through the quiet periods
- You are always striving to get one more piece or move up to something better
- There are days where you feel like you are the best at what you do and then there are days when you want to do anything but.

I am grateful each day for these experiences, for I am learning so much.

Yesterday I found out three pieces I have worked harder on than anything else may not get used at all, as the editor has left and the whole project has fallen apart. But today I got accepted to a publication that I am excited to be writing for and I handed in a big magazine piece a day early, which feels great. So the ebb and flow continues.

Each day brings interesting challenges. I am grateful for all of them. Even the nos.

Sometimes it takes me a day or two, but I get there.

And so will you.

The Name Game (Observation)

I get called Jennifer a lot. An unbelievable amount, especially when you consider that it doesn't sound like my name - hell, it doesn't even rhyme.

My name is S-t-e-p-h-a-n-i-e. When I was go-go dancing my heart out in clubs during the nineties, the roar of the crowd would often interfere during introductions and I ended up with being Tiffany, Melanie, and sometimes even Annie , which while I was at a club, I didn't mind. I was wearing silver pants and could be anyone I wanted to be. Why not Tiffany? But in the real outside world, I couldn't have let it go uncorrected.

I spent my dreamy teenage years wishing with eyes tightly shut for someone to use my name in a song. There were lots about girls, so I kept hoping. 'Amanda' by Boston and 'Sherry' by Steve Perry stand out. Then there’s Kiss’ ‘Beth.’ Sigh. I felt like my time would never come. I looked to stars. Maybe there were some famous Stephanie’s that could show me the way. Stephanie Zimbalist. Stefani Powers. No offense, but not the most inspiring list.

There were years of whiling away time in stationary stores, spinning racks of pens and pads of paper that were emblazoned with the first names of seemingly everyone in America but Stephanie. They now make the items with my name but the Stephanie slot is always surreptitiously empty, showing only Steve, Stephen and sometimes even Stella.

Everyone has name horror stories. Scott can’t stand the Scott Paper dispensers in public bathrooms. They bring up bad memories of public school. So much so that when we moved in together, he made me swear to steer clear of any Scott Paper product. And Chris’ isn’t so much a horror story as giggle-inducing: His mom named him Chris back in 1960 because she thought it was a truly original name. Yeah, like Mary, Tom or Sara. Poor Chris, but at least he doesn’t hate his name.

I have tried to understand why people think Jennifer when they see me. Is it something in the name Stephanie that is innocuously a proponent? Maybe I just look like a Jennifer. When I tell the story of being constantly called Jennifer, people say that I could be a Jennifer. I sincerely hope not (no offense to all the Jennifer’s out there). It’s not the name Jennifer that I object to; it’s that I feel very much like a Stephanie. I don’t want to be anyone else. Ever.

I didn’t always love it. Because after all, most people don’t make the effort to call me by my full name, so to most people, I am Steph. My parents have never called me Stephanie – I am only known by the short form. So, in my dreamy teens I wanted to be called what I considered to be ‘sophisticated’ names like Ashley or Marilyn. I also wanted to be a famous rock drummer. You can see how that all worked out.

Now that I am embedded into my early thirties, I love my name. There are rarely more than one of me at a party. I like that it’s nine letters long. It shows a real permanence, a dedication to my moniker. I think it’s pretty. And the love of my life always calls me by my full name. I am finally the person I’ve always wanted to be, partially thanks to him. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I knew a guy named Gord Henning. He was a relative of former magician and Green Party Leader Doug Henning. Even if he just introduced himself as Gord and the person was unaware of his last name, they would undoubtedly call him Doug later. Even though there was no apparent family resemblance, something was compelling people, a lot of people, to call him Doug. Maybe it’s because Doug backwards is practically Gord? It’s a stretch, but what else could it be?

There are crazyass names these days. There’s Jayden/Jaden, Addison and Caden/Kaden for boys and Madison, Riley, Mackenzie and Cadence for the little ladies. Not only are these names crackerjack crazy, they are from the top 20 names from 2004 compiled at the BabyNames.com website, so now they’re popular as well.

Spellings, as you can see, have become insane. Take Rachel, for example. It seems like a fairly innocuous name. Not much you can do to it, right? Wrong.

Rachael, Racheal, Raechel, Rachell/Raychel

And it gets bad. Really bad, after this. Check these out:

Kaylee, Kailey, Kayleigh, Kali, Kaylie, Kaleigh, Kailee, Kaley, Kayley, Kayli, Kalie, Cali, Caleigh, Cailey, Caylee, Kayle, Kalee, Kaylea, Kaeli, Caley, Kalei, Kaili, Kaily, Cailee, Kaeleigh, Cayleigh/Caylie, Kaeley, Kaelee/Kaylei, Kaely, Calie, Kaelie, Keilea, Caeley, Keily/Keylee, Keile, Cayli

and

Jacqueline, Jacquelyn, Jaclyn, Jaqueline, Jacklyn, Jackeline, Jacquelin, Jackelyn, Jacquelynn, Jaqueline, Jaquelyn, Jacklynn, Jaclynn, Jacquelyne, Yacquelin, Jakelin, Jacquline, Jacqulyn, Jackelin, Jacalyn.

Even my own name is not immune:

Stephanie, Stephaney, Stefanie, Stefani, Stefany, Stephani, Steffany, Stephenie, Stephaine.

Then the not so crazy - I know a singer called Aruna, which I think is pretty and evocative. A long time ago I fell in love with a sexy guitarist named Basil, but he was ‘Baz’ to everyone who knew him. It summed him up perfectly – different, edgy and artistic. And I think Roshanda is one of the most beautiful names E-V-E-R.

As a result of my research, I recently discovered that Lou Reed has a song called 'Stephanie Says.' And then I remembered kick ass drumming mama for Kid Rock, Stefanie Eulinberg.

It was worth the wait.

Sincerely,

Stephanie Dickison

Lights Out (Books)

I am currently reading 7 books for review. I thought it would be a lot of pressure and it is, but it’s a good thing.I used to read 10 books a month. That’s when I was single and I read before going to bed and a lot of evenings after finishing writing for the night. Now I am lucky to read 2 or 3 a month. It’s changed because now I read more magazines and am online more – due to my work – and now it takes me a much longer time to get through a book because I usually only get a couple of pages read before falling asleep or Cosmo, my cat, curling up on it, letting me know it’s time to go to bed.

This bothered me for a long time. It’s like reading is oxygen to my blood and for awhile there, I felt sapped of energy, depleted from not getting my reading in. I even started to feel less intelligent.

I know I am not the only one. My friend Victoria listens to books-on-tape during her long drive into the city for work and I’m sure they help to quell her road rage and need for speed. You should see this girl in traffic.

My Mom too, listens to books-on-tape. Something to have on while she’s ironing or sewing, cleaning or cooking. It relaxes her, like a warm oil massage. A couple of months ago, her little ghetto blaster that she takes room to room with her while she works broke and it was about 10 days before she had a chance to get a new one.

The poor lady was on edge and didn’t know why. She couldn’t relax and was all fidgety. It was like she was a whole different person.

10 days later she got another tape player and all was right with the world. I guess the same thing happens to me when I don’t have time to read.

Now I am reading like a demon, just trying to keep up, taking notes as I go along. But it’s different when they’re for review. It’s like I can’t quite ease into it, I have to pay attention.

But it’s great. I get to read a lot of books I wouldn’t read otherwise and I have found some incredible writers along the way. Not every book I review is something that I would highly recommend, but lately, I have been really excited about the writing talent that is emerging. It makes me want to write – except I can’t. I must go read.

So, I now read a lot, but it isn’t like the old days where I read to escape and learn. Now I am reading for work. But it is still reading and for that I am grateful. And I still manage to squeeze in a couple pages of my own choices before bed. That is, before Cosmo flops down and it’s time to turn out the light.

Food Chain (Food)

There is a pervasive notion about being cool. There are certain rules that you must adhere to, like:

- Jazz is the coolest music you can have in your collection. It shows your maturity and depth.
- Pesto, like George Costanza duly noted, is forever the class choice for pasta.
- Reading Paris 1919 is a must. If you don’t, you simply can’t call yourself a reader or a writer.
- Getting rid of your television shows how serious you are about life’s passions.
- The pointier the toe on your shoe or boot and the smaller your purse, the cooler you are.

And I agree with almost none of them.

Except when it comes to food. Then it’s oven mitts off and if you can’t see how great paella is, I can’t help you.

Nah, just kidding, but its funny how in the world of food and cooking, it’s quickly revealed how much of a food elitist you are, just by where you shop and what your pantry must-haves are. Take my friend Chris, for example. He only buys organic, free-run eggs. 5 bucks a carton. Are you insane? I mean, I admire the guy, but I do think it’s a hefty price to pay. However, we all have our own little food idiosyncrasies.

Take me for instance. I cannot get enough of Sunflower Kitchen’s Spicy Hummus. All hummus pales in comparison. And up until one month ago, I hated hummus. The dry texture, the pasty consistency… It wasn’t until this product that I came over to the hummus side. And that’s just the beginning.

We all have the products we can’t live without. For Victoria, it’s canned chicken broth and Alissa likes her hot sauce. But it’s the quality of the product and how expensive it is that gets you higher on the food(ie) chain.

If you are buying no name, God help you. If you are shopping at The Big Carrot, you are edging closer to Godliness. And if you are getting a box of organic shipped to your door every week, get down and prostrate – we’ve found our new leader.

Now, I know that you think I’m exaggerating, but this is the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Here’s an example:

I am all about the canned bean. I know the difference in taste and texture when you take the time to soak lentils or yellow peas, and I love a good lentilles du Puy, but for cooking on a daily basis, I love to crack open a can of some kinda bean and make a meal happen. Now, I know that a lot of you reading this might never want to speak to me again. I understand. That’s how it is in the food world. And I have to admit, that sometimes upon learning about a friend’s cooking methods or contents of their pantry, I think, can I still be friends with you?

Of course I can. It’s just a momentary lapse into 1990 mindset, when Belgian endive, stuffed olives and gin martinis were where it was at, and if you weren’t there, you’d get left behind.

And the food world isn’t that harsh really. I mean, we have Rachel Ray cooking up 30 minute meals and every women’s magazine has a page of a pictures that include a spaghetti package, a tray of boneless chicken breast and a jar or can of some kinda sauce and voila – dinner in a hurry. So let’s not get all Nigella and think that everything must be just so - or robin’s egg blue.

Nah. I eat pepperoni and bacon pizza off the cardboard pie just like the rest of you. It’s just that the whole time I dream of adding hearts of palm, shredded pork, leeks and Portobello mushrooms.

But that’s just me.

Pacific Mind (Observation)

Last night I went to Pacific Mall, a walk simultaneously forwards and back in time.

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to move to Japan – the only place where everything is not as it seems, and not as it should be. A country filled with dichotomies – shrines filled with storey-tall wood penises and stores dedicated to one little white cat, Ms. Hello Kitty.

Pacific Mall was no different and that’s what I was looking for.

Upon entering, friends took us to a Pan-Asian department store that offered beautiful dining pottery, three aisles of house slippers and pens and markers that practically went into the negative, they were so fine. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary, but such fun!

On our way to the major part of the mall, walking by kiosk after kiosk, it soon became apparent that I would not be disappointed – the weird was everywhere!

How have you been living this long without a mosquito bat? It is for your family’s health and wellness, after all. And what about some refreshing arctic surf clam? Nothing says refreshing on a hot summer day like clam!

There was that kind of stuff everywhere, too much to simply write about here. Vinegar drinks, fish tofu (“New idea!”) and infrared blood circulation massagers. It is an endless giggle from the moment you enter to the moment you let the mall door close behind you and read “Crocodile Profusion” on a little kid’s t-shirt.

But let’s talk about what really important. The food and the food court. The one thing that Asian society has smartly claimed is the picture menu. Everywhere you look, you can see what you will be eating – and unlike consumer packaging in Canada and the U.S., what you get highly resembles the picture. This is always helpful, though it will not be of service in trying to distinguish whether that is indeed chicken or eel on your dish.

Because I write about and live food, I like to think that I know most things that cross my plate. When sitting down with friends in the food court that resembled a Chinese Square with red-lacquered peaked roofs and gold trim, I sat beside a couple most definitely experiencing young love. They shared curry fish balls and smiled and laughed the entire meal, touching hands whenever they could. On a plate of what looked like fava-size baked beans, lay grey-green artichoke hearts. Or, at least that’s what I would have said, had I not been in an Asian food court. The other thing that tipped me off was the stench of urine emanating from it. I didn’t have a chance to ask them what it was, as that’s when our platter of sushi and maki arrived. It was some of the best we’d ever had and we kept remarking about how fresh it was. Pretty inexpensive too. It was worth sitting next to urine.

Having been there for a couple of hours, we didn’t see anywhere near the entire place. The streets, as they are deemed by the signs above – Washington and 125th – intersect, yes, but it is hard to simply traverse up one and go down another. It is of course, much more complicated and takes a real mall pro to circumvent the gridlike system in place.

So, I will go back. I may not see the whole thing, but it will be fun to try. Maybe I will play Dance Dance Revolution or go to the supermarket and stock up on lemongrass or get those wonky boots that I saw with military stripes up one side and fringe down the other. One thing is certain though.

I’m going to get me some urine soaked beans.

Looks Like Hell With the Lid Off (Observation)

There is currently a pervasive notion that our society has sunk to the very lowest of the low. This is apparently because of reality television, celebrity culture and obesity taking over our streets.

While I do agree that we’ve had our embarrassments and that it doesn’t seem to be going away (Britney’s still procreating, there’s a new Hooter’s MasterCard, and both Teri Hatcher and Eva Longoria will soon be deemed “authors” along with “sexy,” “pretty,” and “way too thin”), there is a lot to be grateful for right now.

The “information overload” as it is now known is not simply an influx of useless data and trivial matters. Some of it is not only informative, but engaging.

Every day before I begin work, I read the headlines. Not just the daily newspaper headlines, but those of specialists – the internet, science, librarians, et al. I feel like I’ve learned more staying at home and working on the computer than I did all those years at the office. Some days, I feel overloaded, yes, but in a good way. Many times, the sexy man whom I love comes home and I unfurl a list of fascinating things I learned that day - poor guy!

This can be a problem for someone like me, though - a writer. Sure, there is a plethora of information from which to extract an idea and write about, but there is so much that it can be overwhelming.

This week, I met a fellow writer for lunch and we talked about having various notebooks filled and yet, not enough time to either flesh out or research the idea (4 notebooks of varying sizes lay before me, and that’s just what I have brought out here at the kitchen table). That’s what people forget about – it’s not just sitting down and writing about it off the top of your head. Unless you are lucky to have a column (and I am lucky enough to have a couple), your ideas must be flush with other content, not just your own opinion.

So, while everyone is complaining about their inboxes overflowing, having a nightstand full of books that they’ll never get to and generally moaning about the state of the world – 200 channels and nothing on – I continue to scour the globe for ideas and then write about them.

For me, this is the best time of our lives. Just look around and you’ll see. You may have to look past things like Dan Brown, So You Think You Can Dance? and this week’s top movies which included Nacho Libre, The Lake House, The Break-Up, and Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties, but television that has you leaving in the middle of conversations like The Sopranos, The Wire and Entourage; books that you email your friends about (see previous blog for titles) and a world of information that will have us writing about, discoursing on and arguing about for the rest of our days.

To me, it doesn’t get any better than that.

So, moan all you want to about the digression of society. I'll be over there, lapping up the information of all of the good stuff because really, there is a ton of good stuff.

I guess you just have to be willing to see it.

Stories of My Life (Books)

Lately, I have been reading the best books.

Usually, when the warm weather arrives, people default to choosing “light reads” which usually translates to something pithy and almost always something that they are slightly embarrassed to possess, but blame it on the weather – “You know, just something fluffy for the cottage.”

I have never understood this. Just because it is hot doesn’t mean I don’t want to dive into a 320 page account of the oyster (The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell) or read an in-depth study of someone (Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee) or somewhere (A Year in Japan). But everyone is different, so I continue to read what interests me and not what drives the best seller lists.

This month, I savoured Susan Orlean’s My Kind of Place: Travel Stories from a Woman Who's Been Everywhere, one of the best reads of my life. Susan is one of my writing heroes and this book is an excellent example of why – from cover to cover, Susan tells us about ordinary people or places but in an extraordinary fashion. I come away from her essays wanting to do nothing else but observe people, write and travel. A similar book, The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup is also incredibly inspiring and so well written, it should be an English textbook.

Another I-can’t-put-it-down-I-don’t-care-that-it’s-dinnertime book that I just finished is Last Chance to Eat: The Fate of Taste in a Fast Food World by Gina Mallet. And not only did I take pages of notes and discuss egg preparation methods with anyone who would listen (the first chapter is all about eggs), but somehow it made me a better breakfast cook. Soon after reading this book, my omelets were almost perfect. I have always loved to cook, but never been interested in baking or any breakfast fare and here I am, making good to great omelets. I swear Gina had something to do with this…

I have been reading Jay McInerney since I was 13 – 1984, that’s when Bright Lights, Big City came out! And since that time, there have been many misses and a couple of hits (Story of My Life, for one). So, it is with great interest that I picked up The Good Life. You never know what Jay is going to throw your way, which is why I enjoy at least giving it a whirl. It is the same with his contemporary Tama Janowitz (Slaves of New York), though I haven’t liked anything she has done as much since then, which either means I am stuck in the Eighties or she is. The Good Life has been great right from the beginning, but it is still early yet. I still don’t know where it’s going. I’ll let you know.

On tap I have a pile of books for review and then a couple of treasures that I am waiting to celebrate with after I’m done. I’ll tell you all about those then, but I can say this – I am so excited to have so many amazing books awaiting my attention!

In the meantime, don’t think that you have to read “light fare” just because it’s hot outside. Sometimes the best thing for a foggy mind on a hot day is something you have to really lose yourself in. That and a hot cuppa tea. It really does the trick.

Time for a New Kettle (Writing)

Yesterday I bought a new kettle. It is fantastic! It’s not high end and is almost exactly like my old one, except its black instead of white and it actually boils the water.

See, my old one wasn’t broken and it hadn’t stopped working. It had, however, stopped boiling the water in a reasonable amount of time. It also had a yellow build up around the spout that no amount of cleaning could remove. This could not be adding to the nutritional values of my bancha green tea. But nothing was broken so I kept using it.

It was while I was buying some undies that I wondered if the store would have a kettle (I have been known to go into a department store only twice). See, to make an extra trip for an item that didn’t necessarily need replacing seemed ludicrous. But if was already in the store…

As you can see, I have trouble with rationalization. And it’s not just with small appliances either. Now that I am writing at home full-time, I don’t get up from my desk unless it’s to eat, pee or make a cuppa tea. I also don’t go out during “work hours” unless it’s for a meeting, it’s work-related or I’ve run out of vegetables (Emergency! Emergency!).

It’s a common occurrence that my guy comes home at 6 or 7, after a full day of writing himself, and see me still at my desk, head down, keys tapping out an article about Meyer lemons or the new installation at Magic Pony.

Yes I am disciplined when it comes to working at home. Sometimes too much so.

And this brings me back to the kettle. I should have replaced it a long time ago. My cups of tea since have been heavenly – more timely and way hotter than I ever remember a cup at home being. And I must keep this in mind when I am hard at work at my desk, pitching and writing, editing and polishing. Just because I can keep on going doesn’t mean I should.

Every kettle needs to be refreshed from time to time. It’s time I take that advice and use it on myself.

Dinner with Friends (Food)

Going to Freshwood Grill is always a good thing. The food invokes mach-speed searching for enough superlatives to last from the first round of drinks through to the last smidgen of garlic mashed potatoes stuck to the plate.

But last night it was the best yet. We were meeting friends that we don't see nearly enough of but now see about once a month thanks to the informal supper club we started. Freshwood Grill was our choice, as we had been there 3 times and each time was like a tiny sliver of culinary heaven that carried us through the more pedestrian meals of the day. Next time they choose. It is a wonderful way to get to know neighbourhoods and restaurants outside of your own usual suspects or that was recently selected as the "reader's choice." And, we get to see two of our favourite folks, which is, to keep the food terminology going, the icing on the cake.

We started with a pitcher of sangria, as it had been a cold and rainy long weekend and suddenly brightened into the kind of evening where you want to throw caution and jacket to the wind. The wine was buoyant and the addition of juice, ice and fresh fruit was the perfect start to a summer's evening feast.

To begin the meal it is impossible to not get the sourdough chips with guacamole (or tapenade - they are both divine). The sourdough is not a chip so much as a triangle of hot, soft grilled pita that had been delicately brushed with oil and perhaps sprinkled with salt. It is tremendous on its own, and that says a lot, considering that the guacamole and tapenade are so voluptuous you just want to scoop it out with your fingers.

Luckily, we all chose different entrees, which meant that when our dinner arrived, we were an intersection of arms traveling from plate to plate, fish traversing kitty corner and short ribs nearly bouncing off the table amid the frenzy.

The maple salmon was tender but not mushy, flavourful but not overwhelming. The short ribs were meaty and chewy and a helluva lot of fun to eat. They also tasted damn good. The catfish was done perfectly and delectably, but it was the veggie burger that surprised us most.

Its soft liverwurst consistency was at initially shocking, but before we had a chance to comment, the spiciness and crunchiness set in and we were agog. It was quiet for a couple of seconds and then we all rushed to try and find the words for it.

It is rare that a restaurant does its sides and condiments as well (and/or better) than their mains, but it is a fact here at Freshwood. It was hard to decide which was better - the chipotle or curry mayonnaise. It was decided and voted upon that that were both amazing and one was not better than the other, only different.

My soy broccoli was so enticing - crisp and green grass fresh - and my garlic mashed potatoes so sinfully addictive (neither whipped nor lumpy, the perfect potatoes for any occasion) - that I practically forgot about my catfish, like the cousin you went to prom with and then only remembered because they drove.

I have gone on and on about the food at Freshwood because it's what you do there. It is simply impossible to not "ooh" after taking a bite, or exhale repeatedly while looking through the menu (just thinking about it makes me salivate). But for one night and one night only, it was the company that topped my list. And for a place like Freshwood, that’s simply the cherry on top.

Saturday (Books)

So, I'm reading this book, Saturday by Ian McEwan. He's the guy that wrote Atonement, which received a lot of accolades. He is what you would call a "good writer." His descriptions are not only apt, but well thought out and sometimes completely engaging. His story, however, is not.

The book takes place over one day - Saturday - where a neurosurgeon in England is spending the day doing chores, getting into a little mischief and meeting family for dinner. A nice short story this would make, but not a sizeable novel. It wasn’t until page 206 that I found its inner core, the meat of the book. Most people I know would have given up before that, but because I read books from front to back for each review I do, that rule seems to have shifted into my leisure reading as well.

This makes me consider the space of a book - sometimes a magazine article would do, I think. And since I have just completed my first book and am at work on a second, I have thought about this a lot. I certainly wouldn't have chosen the ideas I did unless I thought they were worthy of a 330 page discussion. And this brings me to Bill Maher's new book, New Rules: Polite Musings from a Timid Observer. Bill Maher is both smart and funny, so he can write a book on anything, as far as I'm concerned. But this new book has a lot of big pictures and is filled with mostly two to five line paragraphs. He says what he needs to in this amount of time, and that is way more difficult than espousing on the trials and tribulations of Kevin Federline's existence in 800 words. Trust me.

So, with length in mind, I have purposely kept these entries short. Blog readers want something light and breezy that you can flit in and out of. You don't want my discourse on the Crimean War or a 3,000 word rant on Patrick Dempsey's comeback (okay, maybe one on "Dr. Dreamy"). You want a pithy couple of paragraphs about the day's events and that still leaves time for you to investigate the penis enlargement patches available and to view that anime that you claim is just about superheroes. Yeah.

Thank God these puppies are short. Because I could easily write 2500 words about Dempsey. And then I'd have to kill myself.

Every Week (Writing)

Every week I panic about all of my deadlines. I hyperventilate that I won't get it all done. But I do. And it still just magically seems to happen. I don't have a method, except that the fear of not getting it done seems to be a sufficient propellant.

I am currently taking an 8-week non-fiction writing course that I always dreamed of doing and then by some miracle, I found a smart fella from St. John’s, Newfoundland who was willing to take me on as a student. I set it up to begin a week after I finished my book, thinking that the break from deadlines would do me good and then I could sink into writing just for me.

Because this was my first book, I didn't take into account all of the editing the book would require, the time it would take to format it, and then letters and submissions to agents and publishers. There was no break and of course, I panicked.

This is the worst time to be doing this, I thought. I need to be concentrating on getting my book published. But as I whined to friends and colleagues, I realized that there was no 'perfect' time. And if I waited for that time, I would never take the course.

A couple days after I received my first lesson, I received a huge and prestigious assignment for a magazine that I had been trying to get into for the last couple of years. Great. No. Really. Great.

But great. Now what I am going to do?

A woman who I spoke to a university class with a couple of weeks ago knows what I'm talking about - and then some.

She is a columnist at a big paper while holding down a full-time job as a lawyer. And did I mention that she has a 3-and-a-half year and an eighteen-month son, along with a handsome husband, all while she is catching a plane to Napa, California and chasing down a story about chickens.

Compared to this lovely lady, I have all the time in the world. Why I am stressing?

And it's not like I'm Lindsay Lohan, who I imagine has got only two full night's sleep since The Parent Trap (and that was only in the hospital when she was treated for "asthma exhaustion").

So, I take a deep breath and try and readjust.

I can do it. I will find time somewhere. I always do, even during the time that my Dad was in the hospital with pneumonia, when I had a piece due the following day and had to secure an interview with someone during opening night and write it up in a matter of 24 hours. I made the deadline and managed to cook a pretty good dinner too.

I can do this. So I will write a large entry for a music encyclopedia, do my fifth lesson for my writing course, edit my three author biographies of 3,000 words each, write this month's arts column and article, figure out the focus of this month's home design column and write it up, and write up the five articles, all due this week.

I can do this.

I hope I can do this.

Joyful (Food)

As you know, I am mad about food – cooking, restaurants, reading about it, anything and everything foodwise. Recently I have been fortunate to have done some restaurant reviews, but it is not these venues that I am writing about here. It is the everyday places that I have been eating in that have been most intriguing.

Recently I met one of my favourite people at Joy Bistro on Queen East. It was exciting, not only because I love Andrea more than words can say, but it was only the second day of the new seasonal menu. Spring was really here – at least inside the restaurant and according to the menu. Outside was blustery, and though it had been 20 degrees the day before, my thin tank top and tight jeans were not sufficient in keeping out the cold.

It was difficult to choose what to have (this is always a good sign), but after our giggle fits and the waitress’ patient strolls near and around our table we decided on Pad Thai for Ms. A and for me, the Soft Shell Crab Club sandwich because I can never refuse seafood – even if it’s for breakfast.

Andrea and I had a wonderful time catching up and then the food arrived. At first, I had been a bit surprised by the prices. I mean, this wasn’t Bistro 990 or Scaramouche, but for $16 an entrée, I certainly had expectations.

The Pad Thai came in a beautifully orchestrated nest, but a small one. It had a slow heat that was wonderful at first, but built to such heights during the meal that it soon became the topic of conversation.

My sandwich was good. It came with a silky spicy mayonnaise that was incredible. The soft shell crab was tender and meaty, and combined with bacon, lettuce and tomato should have been table-thumpingly good. There was only one problem - it came on whole wheat toast. It didn’t allow the crab to stand up and get noticed. Sourdough, foccacia or even fresh French bread, I envisioned, not the bread that comes with a greasy spoon breakfast or kids peanut butter sandwiches.

Should I hold the bread choice against them? No, of course not. But for $16, I was looking for a grander wrapping than brown paper, I mean, bread.

p.s. Andrea and I still meet for brunch and the meal is never as important as that.

Writing Isn't the Hard Part (Writing)

This is the first chance in a couple of days that I have had to sit down and write for writerscramp. Not because I have been to the lovely Caribbean for a vacation or because I have been immersed in cooking classes in Northern Ontario. Nope. I’ve been writing to deadline.

And usually this is my favourite part of the writing life. Writing under a little bit of time pressure, having to get the story across quickly, making time to eat only so that you can write into the night. This is what makes me happy. Usually.

But then comes the rejection. The rewrites. The emails flying back and forth trying to set up an interview or event. This is the stuff that comes along with the writing life and because of it, some days are easier than others.

So, today, amid the wait for changes to come in, I am trying to get comfortable with this awkwardness. And maybe a little time for reflection is just what I need. My whole career is centered on writing about people and events – sometimes I include myself, but I don’t leave much room for thinking about it - I just write it.

So, while today is a harder day than others, I take comfort in the fact that I still have a ton of stuff waiting to send out, a number of assignments due next week and a notebook crammed with new ideas ready to alight from my desk drawer at any moment.

And maybe next week or next month, I will be writing about the success of a story or the ease in which a pitch was accepted.

There is always tomorrow.

Today, I close my eyes and wait.

I'm Not Crazy. Just Quirky (Observation)

I am not quirky in the way Kathy Griffin is (she has to drive when in a car, and recently has become addicted to plastic surgery), nor am I quirky in a Kathie Lee fashion in that I married a man old enough to be my father and God is not who I want to dance with to “Get Up Offa That Thing” by James Brown.

I am curious to a fault. I stare at people and think quickly about their clothes, what that implies about their personality and I try and figure out what they do for a living. This is quirky yes, but it embarrasses anyone that had the bad luck to be with me while I am assessing this person’s worth via their velour sweatpants and “C’est Hot!” t-shirt.

Food looms largely in my life. My favourite dessert is a large bowl of lettuce, and my favourite breakfast is cooked vegetables. This is what I have at home, so it does not mean I am a not a perfect house guest or that I will wake you up at 6 a.m. to ask where you keep your eggplants.

I would rather eat out than go to the opera. Eating out for me is like getting a new sweater for most people. And this is one of the many reasons why I am a good food reviewer – I am forever enamored by food.

I am the only person I know that non-fiction figures so largely in her life. I would rather go to the library than have a drink and book clearance places for me are like Jimmy Choo’s for most women. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.

I have crazy fantasies. Not like sleeping with Isaiah Washington or anything, although now that you bring it up… My fantasies are more, well, quirky:

I am in love with Steve Martin.
My dream is to have a large dog (maybe a Great Dane?) to wrestle with.
I think about having a pool on the edge of a cliff in L.A. a lot.
I pretend to interview Diane Sawyer all the time.
I know my Oscar speech inside and out.

The only question remains – what will I win it for?

The New Old (Observation)

It seems so long ago when Subway made the v-cut in your sandwich, your Big Mac came in the nifty styrofoam box, and Horoatio Sanz used to make Jimmy giggle like a glittering, glossed tween, no matter what the occasion.

But the future is now, and while it is exciting, it is already old:

I am so used to TV on DVD (and the internet) now. Same with people taking pictures with their cell, instead of waiting for the click of the shutter. I am practically blase about soup-to-go, celebs gone wild, orange cauliflower and purple potatoes, and pinkie size mp3 players.

And the incessant need for white people to use crunk and shizzle over and over again - it's tired, but I'm used to it.

The world of my youth has disappeared and made way for Baile Funk, Adam Brody and organic recycling. However, this doesn’t make me feel old. It renews me. I have to learn all over again and this is definitely how I want to spend the rest of my days.

So, it is with this outlook that I am going to tackle morsels, pork belly, Dreamweaver 8 and Syrah wine. Memorize all of the lyrics to Sean Paul’s “Temperature,” too.

And maybe get a small place in Buenos Aires…

Moving Out Of Your Writing Box (Writing)

You are undoubtedly a certain kind of writer. You are a crime fiction writer or a screenwriter or a novelist. And this is what you end up writing 90 % of the time. This is not a bad thing. It is wise, as the writing books tell us, to specialize.

However, every once in awhile, it is good to move out of that writing box and do something that you don't normally write. But please understand, I am not suggesting you become a fiction writer if all you do is write articles for magazines such as Woodworking Today.

Like everything in life, it is good to get out of your usual routine and maybe write about something that initial doesn't sound like something that appeals to you, or writing in a fashion that is slightly foreign to you.

Recently I did two things that are totally unlike my present day writing - I entered a contest and wrote a creative non fiction piece for it.

Both of these terrified the hell out of me, as does anything new and unfamiliar. But man was I pleased when I had completed it. Usually I pump out 800-1000 word articles and essays. And while this is never an easy feat, I couldn't believe how hard it was to write the minimum requirement of 2000 words. It took me two and a half days, much longer than I usually spend on anything outside of book entries or edits. And there were times when I thought I would not be able to complete it. My abilities as a creative person would fail me and I would be stuck at 1259 words and nothing else would come to me. Ever.

But I did it and it was one of my favourite days in my writing career, and that's why I wanted to tell you about it. It feels good to do something scary.

I don't care about winning the contest. I am just thrilled that I took the chance and entered - something I would have never done before now.

So today, after I finish this entry, I am going to sit down and think of the things that I would like to do or try, but have been afraid to start. I think it's time to put aside my "to do" list and start crossing off items on the one entitled "to don't."

To Market, To Market (Food)

I have come in search for yellow tomatoes, but I momentarily forget their importance upon entering the market. The overwhelming crush of exotic fruit, tender meats and full-bodied condiments takes over my senses and I am swept away by planning long-range meals for each item I see - plump chicken breasts accompanied by a pomelo salsa, fresh beet bread served alongside roast tomato soup, and perhaps some homemade herbed fish cakes. One rule to follow before heading to the market - have breakfast first or you will be walking around like a sap with a Carousel Bakery peameal sandwich in one fist and a breaded veal sandwich from Mustachios's in the other.

Most Saturday mornings, I can be found here at the St. Lawrence Market along with the other foodies. I am not here as early as the city's chefs, and I have not come to shop for just this evening's dinner party like most of the couples here. I am in for what you call the long haul. I come and shop for ingredients that I may not use tonight or even for the week. My cupboards brim with bran pasta, canned cherry tomatoes and anchovies rolled into perfect circles awaiting rest atop of a pizza, but I cannot resist the allure of the fresh and new of the market each week, and so, I come home with bags in hand and hope that my fellas don't mind me taking over the kitchen for the next 4 hours.

~~~

Today I saw the most beautiful little Italian eggplants. So small and elegant. This is how eggplants should be - shiny, dark purple bocconcini-sized pearls. I was tempted to string them, to bring them home and hand them.

And my yellow tomatoes are here! I am so excited! If you have never had them, I urge you to give them a whirl. They are subtle and quite un-tomato-y, yet add so much oomph to a meal. I got mine from Sovereign Farms, as I do every year. But to my surprise, a lot of vendors carry them now, in the cherry version as well. And for the first time, I saw orange cherry tomatoes two vendors over. That is on my must-have list for next week. But for now, I am going to savour my yellow fellas. My first dish will be Cajun catfish with yellow tomato and red onion salsa. I'll let you know how it turns out.

My favourite last stop is always Domino's. They are downstairs in the very back corner.

Located at the north end of the lower level, Domino's specializes in bulk food, including a wide variety of candies, nuts, grains, flour, coffee, spices and other foods sold in bulk.

The description above (found at the Market's website) emphasizes their bulk goods, but it is their canned goods, pastas and condiments that draw me into their store every week. And their prices are excellent. Today, I just picked up youth mix and Italian tuna in olive oil, which sounds rather ordinary and awfully dull, but the youth mix was so incredible that it was gone by the time dinner was on the table ("This is the best mix I've ever had!" the judges cried) and three cans of this exquisite, tender, but meaty tuna was only $3.49.

It doesn't get any better than this.

Driven to Email Distraction (Writing)

Part of being a writer entails email. There are conversations with editors about story ideas, pitching to magazines about upcoming topics, and applying for positions at various publications. It becomes a part of the job that you accept, and like most, eventually get pretty good at it.

But then there's the part no one tells you about. The part where a work email intermingles and swishes around with every other email that you receive. In one day, you can receive a multitude of tasks and requests that may or may not need your attention right away. The forwarded joke from your in-laws. The person that your friend told to email you about a mutual friend. The writing newsletter that has an upcoming contest that you may or may not enter, but haven't decided on yet. The Land's End email confirming your order but that you left out your inseam length and they cannot fulfill your order until you do so.

And so it goes.

Fast forward to three months later or six years later and you will have what everyone else has - a billowing Outlook that cries out to be tended to, but the task is too overwhelming. You'll take care of it tomorrow. Or when you have more time.

Eep.

This is the bane of the writer's existence. There are good days, where you get a lot done. Then there are those when you have 67 messages in your Inbox and can't see your way out.

I have found through my writing career that it is best to look at it this way - one thing (email) at a time, one day at a time. It is the only way to get through it all, without losing your mind and your patience.

I have tried various methods and organizational tools and really, it just comes down to do a little bit each day and accepting that there will always be more mail than you can handle. I'm sure that there are organizational gurus out there that will tell you that they have the method that will take care of everything, but you would have to spend a lot of time and money to make that happen. And the end result will be the same. So save yourself a lot of cash and energy:

- One thing (email) at a time.
- One day at a time.

The Great Escape (Books)

Reading for me is not about escape.

You always read in interviews or memoirs that a person read to escape the world around them. For me, it has always been to learn more about the world, to investigate, even if I have been reading fiction.

And that’s why I usually lean towards non-fiction.

Though during the time of writing my book, it was fiction that saved me. I read as salvation. To get away from the facts, from the monotony of writing and rewriting something that had been with me for five years. And so I too escaped. Into some of the best books of my life.

I thought you might want to give them a try too. And for whatever reason you are reading, I wish you a pleasant journey.

Books I’ve Read So Far This Year

The Year of Magical Thinking
Joan Didion

Somerset Maugham: A Life
Jeffrey Meyers

Play It As It Lays
Joan Didion

Escaping Into the Open: The Art of Writing True
Elizabeth Berg

Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story
Chuck Klosterman

The KGB Bar Nonfiction Reader
Edited by Mark Jacobs

Everything Bad is Good For You: How Popular Culture is Actually Making Us Smarter

The Lovely Bones
Alice Sebold

Lucky
Alice Sebold

The Book of Lists: The Original Compendium of Curious Information – The Canadian Edition
David Wallechinsky, Amy Wallace, Ira Basen & Jane Farrow

Library: An Unquiet History
Matthew Battles

The Brooklyn Follies: A Novel
Paul Auster

Adultery: A Novel
Richard B. Wright

Books On My Bedside Table

New Rules: Polite Musings from a Timid Observer
Bill Maher

Natasha and Other Stories
David Bezmozgis

Re-Reading Popular Culture
Joke Hermes

Saturday
Ian McEwan

Global Vegetarian Cooking
Troth Wells

A Year in the Life (Intro)

Welcome.

This is an attempt to document my days as a full-time writer.

As of December 2005, I left my job after almost a decade and all sources of security, in order to embrace the writing life 24/7. I had no idea what to expect as I had never had the full day to write before. All articles, columns, essays, features and reviews were written between jobs, events, and dates. This is how most people I knew wrote - I know because they were sitting across me on the subway furiously writing in their notebook, or beside me in the waiting room at the doctor's office. I noticed this, in the short glances that I took to look away from my palmtop, as I madly tried to finish a column to deadline.

This is my story of leaving everything I knew behind in order to complete my book and jumpstart my writing career full-time.

Thanks for reading.

Stephanie