what we did on our (pandemic) summer vacation,

The Museum of Nature

I can't remember now. Did we see anyone? Did we do anything at all? Odd to think I haven't posted a summer report since 2018. I suspect this might have simply been the time all blending together as a kind of temporal-mash, yes? What is time, really?

July saw our wee monsters in a variety of activities, including a five day stretch Christine and her mother took the children to Winnipeg to meet Christine's Oma and two maternal aunts, which I took as an opportunity to attempt to return into my novel manuscript. I took the opportunity to hit a few patios here and there to attempt longer stretches of novel-writing, away from the distractions of household requirements and email. July was all novel. I wrote in the backyard, I wrote at the Carleton Tavern, I wrote at the terrible, terrible sportsbar on Bank Street, I wrote in our dining room. I even managed an hour or two of writing during those afternoons with our young ladies at the neighbourhood wading pool, if you can imagine.

Their flights to and from Winnipeg (I think through Toronto, en route) were fine enough, and now our young ladies think that Winnipeg is a marvellous and even fancy city, given they saw little but hotels and a museum or two (as well as at least one family member's house). We want to go back to that fancy place, Rose says. Well, then. And once they were home, we even managed an afternoon moving through every floor of the Museum of Nature, their first museum jaunt (in Ottawa, at least) since this all began. That part was tough on Rose over the first year or two, the lack of ability to museum. I'm hoping to get her back into the National Gallery of Canada at some point this fall, if possible. Perhaps on one of her PD days.

forest school, Aoife

I think they did a week of bike day-camp after that, and even nearly a week with father-in-law in Picton, which furthered me into the novel. July was all novel. In Picton, I think they spent the bulk of their time in the pool. They attended a week of forest school, something they've both been doing throughout the pandemic, their only (and outdoor) in-person activities through any of this period, until this past summer, honestly. They did a week of day-camp at the school Rose will be attending this fall (in part to get her comfortable in the new space). I did attempt to get them into either our inflatable pool in the backyard this summer (an hour or two to inflate and fill it, for twenty minutes of their attention, before returning inside), but they weren't really going for it. They seemed more eager for such, say, last summer, or the summer prior. I managed to convince them a couple of times over the past few weeks to the local wading pool, the same pool my mother took my cousins back in the 1960s. They weren't always into it, but if I could convince them, we were there most of the afternoon. On the final day of the pool, naturally, it was raining, and the lifeguards weren't letting anyone in. The young ladies were crestfallen. Let's go home, they said.

Why do they always close the city pools so early?

Larry Sawyer

Jim Johnstone

I was in Toronto twice over the past couple of months--once for the Brian Fawcett memorial, and again in July for a reading at Type Books with Lisa Richter, thanks to Larry Sawyer's Milk magazine reading series (and saw plenty of folk such as Margaret Christakos, Jim Johnstone, Mark Goldstein, Kate Siklosi, ryan fitzpatrick and others. I think I'm back in Toronto twice in September for small press fairs, which should be fun. And our young ladies, of course, landing next week in in-person school for the first time since March 2020: Aoife in grade one, and Rose in grade four. Should we be nervous? We are optimistic, mostly. Although it would have been nice to, say, get their first boosters prior to landing back into a school year.

We finally had my great-grandparents' (WWI-era) piano tuned, and Rose latched immediately onto the possibility. I picked up a beginner's book for her, which she burned through in three days. I took thirteen years of lessons (but haven't played regularly since the 1980s), so I could assist her for most of it, but she clearly requires an actual teacher. She's been working through a second book as well. And did I mention that they've been fundraising? Rose has been over a year planning on a family trip to Harry Potter World or whatever through Universal, and has a money jar stashed to save up for such. They even had a flower business at the base of our yard, where I think they made some forty dollars. I was impressed by their work, neighbours clearly wandering by and tossing in change. Forty dollars! This picture is from the original days of such, not long after which Christine built a sign suggesting 'pay what you can' for flowers and herbs, so apparently that worked well enough.

Aoife in cousin Paul and Carla's Orleans pool

There was Greg Kerr's memorial, which I found a bit rough (although I saw a bunch of folk I really hadn't seen much of since the 1990s). We visited Christine's cousin in Orleans, and managed their pools a couple of times. We went over to visit Jason Christie and his family. We caught a few visits with people in the backyard, distanced. Bardia Sinaee came to visit. David O'Meara came over to visit. Natalie Morrill came to visit. The children met Natalie's brand-new (nine weeks!) puppy, Gus. I saw Amanda Earl randomly at Staples. I went over to Monty Reid's backyard for an afternoon. I had a drink at the Carleton Tavern with Jason Christie. Stephen Brockwell and I launched poetry books at his local establishment. I attended a Michael Blouin book launch at a brewery I didn't know existed, mere blocks from our house. I went over to visit with brother Darren and his wife Trish, attended by birth mother (the first time we'd all been together, which was curious). And we even managed the Glengarry Highland Games for the first time during this period as well, during which one of Christine's cousins (her father's cousin Frank, to be precise: who kept referring to himself as Uncle Frank, so I've been calling him "Cousin Uncle Frank") organized an extended McNair gathering, which was fun.



And yes, I wore my kilt. See?

Over the past few weeks, the children had a variety of swim lessons behind the RA Centre by Billings Bridge, which was interesting. I didn't even know that was back there! It's a huge building (and apparently my parents had their wedding reception there). I hadn't actually been in or near the building before, so that was curious. And Aoife and I even saw a very impressive rainbow (we had to stop the car as we were leaving to look at it properly). Oh, and Christine had a car accident less than two blocks from our doorstep (she was en route to a rare massage, which had to be rescheduled). We have yet to find out if our car is a write-off or repairable, according to insurance. Bah and bah. So close we could see Christine from our front yard, awaiting the police. She is fine, but she's irritated and slightly achy (which she has been attending, don't worry).

And why is this delightful Gary Barwin book out of print? That seems terrible to me.

12 or 20 (second series) questions with Natalie Morrill

Natalie Morrill's first novel, The Ghost Keeper (2018), was recognized with the Canadian Jewish Literary Award for Fiction and the HarperCollins Canada/UBC Prize for Best New Fiction. Her poetry and fiction have been published in Canadian literary journals and included in The Journey Prize Stories anthology. She is the former Writer-in-residence for the Northern Initiative for Social Action (NISA), and edits fiction for Dappled Things magazine. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia. She lives in Ottawa.

1 - How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work compare to your previous? How does it feel different?

Maybe it takes the pressure off a little – not that there was ever pressure from others, but I put a lot of pressure on myself to take my writing seriously and do work I was proud of. It was a big project I saw through to the end, and that felt really good.

The first (& recent) book, as well as the new novel I'm working on, are both historical fiction, which I'd never really done before I started my first book. I do really like the research. I hope I'll be able to shift to contemporary stuff soon enough. Sometimes it's harder getting a good feel for the shape of problems that are so immediate, though.

2 - How did you come to fiction first, as opposed to, say, poetry or non-fiction?

Fiction has always been what I've primarily read and enjoyed. I've been imagining characters and making up stories since I was a little kid. I've made tentative forays into poetry; I also like writing little vignettes of things I see and hear around me. I'm really hesitant to write seriously about my own experience, for reasons I probably couldn't articulate.

3 - How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious notes?

Oof, it depends. Some short projects have come out in one go, with minimal revision. For longer stories, I have to carry them around in my head for a long time. For the first book (The Ghost Keeper), I did some very rough outlining, and then plowed through a first draft, a lot of which was discarded or changed. It took, I'd say, about two and a half years between the end of the first draft and the finished version of the manuscript you see in the book (not that I was able to work on it full time). For my new project, I've done much more detailed outlining. I don't know that that's always better, but for this project, it seemed imperative. We'll see how much revision it ends up needing.

4 - Where does a work of prose usually begin for you? Are you an author of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working on a "book" from the very beginning?

Usually when I have an idea, I can tell whether it's book-length or short-story-length. That said, a lot of my potentially book-length ideas aren't really worth investing in for that long, so sometimes I end up scavenging them for short stories.

5 - Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?

Hard to say. A significant part of me would much prefer just to attend others' readings. But I typically do end up enjoying my own readings when I'm there – there's just a lot of wind-up and wind-down (inwardly) I'd as soon do without. It takes a lot out of me. That said, I think I do have certain responsibilities towards the wider reading and writing community, though maybe I'm still figuring out exactly what that ought to look like. And since writing can be this very isolating activity, and one which doesn't always challenge my more selfish tendencies (speaking for myself), I think it's probably a good idea for me to do readings, even just for the state of my soul.

Probably my most clear-headed answer is: It's incredible that folks would want to hear me read from a book I wrote. And I really do enjoy getting to meet readers and writers.

6 - Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the current questions are?

I think the questions are always secondary to the story, or have to arise from it – which is not to say they aren't essential, but I don't want my characters just to exist at the service of a problem I'm trying to solve. That being said, a lot of my work comes back to questions of forgiveness, faith, and living in light of mortality. Coming to terms with reality, I think. Meeting concrete, individual people, recognizing them as such, and escaping abstraction. That's a big ethical thing for me.

7 – What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Does s/he even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?

Could there be different roles? There's always something prophetic about it, I think – less in the sense of predicting the future; more in the sense of clearly articulating truths that might otherwise be obscure or fuzzy. Honestly, I think it's a hope-giving thing. Just to state things as clearly as possible is a service to the community. And to stop and think slowly and well, perhaps. Our world doesn't exactly nurture that tendency. It's something a writer might be able to preserve within a very rushed culture.

But simply telling stories – I hope no one ever downplays the importance of that role. That's a deeply human service, I think.

8 - Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or essential (or both)?

Both! Ha. That might be the clearest answer I can give without writing an essay.

9 - What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you directly)?

About writing or life? If the former – make art about the things you care about most. If life – I don't know. Try to interpret people's actions charitably, perhaps – as in, be willing to believe they're generally doing their best.

10 - How easy has it been for you to move between genres (short stories to the novel)? What do you see as the appeal?

Initially, I had to realize I didn't know how short stories worked. I'd spent most of my life with novels and I approached short stories like little novels. They aren't. They're their own thing, perhaps more like a screenplay or a poem than a novel. But it's been very educational for me to have to learn all that – you become so conscious of structure. Novels are my natural habitat, though. They tend to be far less efficiently designed, more like an old house with multiple generations of additions tacked on. Perhaps it's a presumptuous thing to say when I've only published one, but I feel very at home with novels.

11 - What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one? How does a typical day (for you) begin?

Oh boy. I need to get better at this. Ideally I'd have, say, a whole afternoon to write, and I'd head off somewhere where the internet can't tempt me, and I'd go at it intensely for a few hours. But life isn't ideal, and more and more it's looking like I'll have to carve out spare half-hours between other tasks. That's easier said than done. I find transitioning between activities a bit tough. I need a lot of time to let my brain refresh in the midst of this – a substantial amount of my “writing” time is spent staring at a wall or out the window, and I wouldn't say that's time wasted. It's just how my mind works (and perhaps how most minds work).

12 - When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of a better word) inspiration?

Art of any kind is a huge one. Amazing books, yes – but sometimes something completely different, like a dance troupe, or a podcast, or a new band. Conversations with people are also very helpful – not necessarily about books, but about what they care about. Those tend to make me think more clearly and deeply. Going for a walk is the classic one that tons of folks talk about, but yes, that absolutely helps me.

13 - What fragrance reminds you of home?

Wood smoke, for reasons I couldn't definitively state.

14 - David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual art?

I'm sure there are. Sometimes it's hard for me to articulate the connections. As I said above, music and dance and visual arts all help me think about the world and how to make art about it. I also need my prayer life, but that's a whole other thing.

15 - What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your life outside of your work?

Carol Shields, Jean Vanier, Kazuo Ishiguro, Iris Murdoch, Flannery O'Connor, A.A. Milne, Alan Jacobs, Jane Austen, George Eliot, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Helen Oyeyemi, Lydia Davis, Italo Calvino, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Gerard Manley Hopkins, T.H. White, the Moomintroll comics and the Calvin & Hobbes comics, among reams of others.

16 - What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?

Build something I could theoretically live inside. Could just be a shed. I think that would be so great.

17 - If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or, alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a writer?

I was headed in a biology (specifically ecology & evolution) direction for a time. Getting to do weird science like that but also spend time outdoors – that's just marvellous. Alternatively, possibly something in faith-based ministry or counselling. I've done a lot of mentoring and pastoral support-type jobs and loved those.

18 - What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?

I don't know! Stories are so great. I always want more of them. But I'll do other things, too. I don't think I could write if I wasn't also doing other things.

19 - What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?

Last great book – I just read a great book on religious icons called Doors of Perception, but if we're talking fiction, probably the last big win was Wolf in White Van by John Darnielle. Holy cow, that book.

Last great film – Uhhh this is where I embarrass myself. I barely watch films. (Not an “I don't have time for TV” kind of thing. I waste time constantly. It's just rare that I really enjoy a movie.) Maybe What We Do In the Shadows (2014). That is a delightfully re-watchable movie.

12 or 20 (second series) questions;