I hosted a book launch party to celebrate the publishing of “Other People’s Problems.” The venue had a maximum occupancy of 50, so that’s how many people I invited. The gathering was mostly women around my age, my readers, but a few husbands tagged along… perhaps for the free appetizers and wine. Following the event, I received this email from one of those husbands.

In his book “Consider This”, Chuck Palahnuik suggests that readers do not enjoy the 1st POV because the use of “I” reminds them that they are not in the story. He suggests writing narratives without the use of “I”. Instead of saying, “I think she is annoying,” you would simply say, “She is annoying.”

Hannah clutched the smooth stone securely as she shifted to face the squall. Viewed from the battlement, the hillside curved like a reclining woman. To the east, it dipped from hip to waist then rose to ribs and the cliff of a shoulder. To the west, it became a gently sloping thigh, curvaceous calf, then spiked ankle as land met sea.

I met her at a cocktail party.
She arrived fashionably late,
a slim figure, wrapped in black,
her sharp edges and tight posture

I am writing in response to your recent comments on my son, Jeremy’s, mid-term evaluation. I know that you have many years of experience mentoring the education of young children, and that the grade 3 curriculum for Canadian 8 year olds is, in fact, your specialty.

“I don’t think I’ll get the job.” Teresa sighed as she tapped her tablet to open her resume. “The interview team was very nice, polite and pleasant, but they didn’t give any indication of their decision.”

“Emily. It’s so good to see you. So, what are you having?”

“Gee. I don’t know, Dianne. There are so many choices.” Emily scanned the chalkboard menu. “What are you ordering?”

It was the life-style Joe chose, yet he didn’t know what to do with it. He was a hoarder. He’d come to accept that. His neighbours told him, his estranged siblings told him, the town’s by-law officer gave him formal notification, and now… his wife had left. Joe sat amid his hoard and decided to take action.

When Pam arrived nothing had been done. A stack of empty liquor store boxes filled the living room, but other than that, the apartment looked the way it always did. “Today is your moving day, right?” she asked.

“You want me to hang a corpse around my neck?” Jenny touched her bare throat. Her collarbones protruded from her smooth, pale skin. The neckline of her low cut blouse was gathered with a string in peasant fashion.

Aside from the occasional social gathering, Tanya always wore workout clothes from that trendy designer label. She never actually exercised, did not attend yoga, had given up on dance fit, and only pretended to jog in the park.

Amy lept up and moved a chair away. She set it against the patio’s fence, leaving a tiny gap so the chair back would not bang against the railing.

Everyone should have an Italian grandmother. A Nonna, whose backyard jungle of edibles was just two laneways away. 

So… this spring I travelled to Paris, France, and locations in Italy. I know, it sounds very glamorous, but I was travelling with 30 teenagers, so… it was actually a working holiday. I’m sharing this experience with you, not to make you jealous.

Who is that beautiful woman? Do I really look that good? I know you’re skeptical, and rightly so. When it came to getting an image for the back cover of my book, the pressure was on.

I fell in love last summer, on a downtown street. The street was closed for an annual exhibition. A village of tents held pottery, jewelry, one-of-a-kind clothing, and handmade images of all kinds. It was, as they say, a feast for the eyes, and a painting stole my heart.

Several of the stories in my book, “We Drank Wine,” began their lives as writing prompts. Some sprung from writing courses, other prompts were found online. All of them were unexpectedly fun.