Well, it has been a while since I have felt the ponderous weight of this blog. And here I am, dear friends again. Much has happened since the publication of the themed Fleur-de-lis. Many other books of prose poetry have followed. If some of you are waiting to get your copies of these slender books of spiritual weight, you can now buy them directly from anywhere in the world through our Potter's Press online bookstore.
My ancient visions see once more the light. I am growing wise quickly but it is a maturity I don't despise (including grey hairs). At 29 I had a mid-life crisis when I realized there was no book by my name in print. The problem was no one even knew I was a writer, as I had not revealed it to anyone. When I was growing up, I simply called creative writing "procrastinating." Alas! My family was shocked when in 2005 I decided to become a full-time writer and said I was writing a book. I even wasted time by sitting at a desk all day staring at a blank page. Then I turned to automatic writing and channeled a lot of dead poets.
When McMaster's interviewed me last year as a Canadian writer, it turned out I was suffering from an undue amount of persecution. I mentioned Ernest Hemmingway as an example of what it feels like.
I started writing down my poems when once of my relatives asked me to put them down for my niece. Now she is nineteen, and does she read? Hardly. She is a cook though. Everyone else reads. People constantly mistake me for my niece; they even exclaim, "You don't look a day over nineteen!" And they think I am a cook.
I am a brand ambassador for a company that takes on contracts from food companies. I have done this for five years now. This means I talk to hundreds of people every weekend. Rarely when I am talking to someone does poetry come up. But there are a few chosen people who see beyond. They want to know what are the books I write. Soon they will find out. We are leaping across Canada this year just in time for the festivities.