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Sweetwood Secret Excerpt

Sweetwood Secret Excerpt

As soon as Holly landed in Chattanooga, she took out her phone to text Max. Anything?             He’s not at the cabin, Holly. And I didn’t see anything suspicious. Okay. Thanks for looking. I appreciate it.             Are you still coming out here? Yes, of course....
Congrats.

Congrats.

At precisely 7:55, I begin to close up the gallery. For the past eight hours, I have had one customer (an elderly woman asking to use our washroom) and one phone call (wrong number). This has got to be the least successful art gallery in Canada. But why do I even...
To the Girl

To the Girl

So here I am this morning in my sweats, complete with greasy hair, taking a mirror selfie because I don’t give a shit right now. And, as it turns out, I think not giving a shit is the most helpful thing I can express. Having tween/teen girls in our house means...
Clarity is a Love Language

Clarity is a Love Language

*excerpt from my novel-in-progress, The Lonely People “I don’t have the energy for her,” said Sarah with a flip of her thick brown hair as she and Manfred walked a local, heavily-wooded trail on a mild February afternoon. The sun was high above them,...
How Life Feels

How Life Feels

It’s five minutes before I have to wake the kids, and I don’t want to move too quickly because the dog will wake up, and I want those five minutes desperately. I even tell my bladder to get lost so I can have them. I can hear my son singing in the bathroom...
Follow

Follow

She moved through the trees with ease as if it was where she came from—as if she had been rooted and born here. Her long black hair draped gracefully over her dark green cape, and her worn brown boots made the barest of thuds against the mossy floor of the forest. He...
Baby Girl

Baby Girl

I gathered her hair in my hands and attempted the braid she requested. My daughter, now nine years old, was keenly aware of her appearance and valued it. She was particular about colours (bright) about pants (tight) and about jewelry (never too much). To me, this...
Seeing the Man

Seeing the Man

Bending to kiss him goodnight, I whispered: “I love you exactly as you are.” His ten-year-old face relaxed at that. My son—at once gentle, kind, destructive and dreamy-eyed-—held a real depth of feeling behind his cool, blue eyes. The nighttime routine was...