Stephanie Domet

Author: stephaniedomet

  • Now is the time for all good men to get out of the way if they can’t lend a hand

    I have been broken open this week, a thousand times, a thousand different ways. The news has been bad, and so soon after other bad news that also broke me open. I have had a lot of thoughts as I’ve watched this most recent, more personal-feeling bad news. I thought of the women involved, the…

  • Fall in

    My goodness, what a wild and exciting Giller list. And amazing news about the doubling of the purse. It’s a great day for Canadian writers, listed or not. My own fall, those less wild and exciting, is nonetheless beginning to take shape. First up is a retreat, to the beach house in Tatamagouche this month…

  • Come say hello and help say goodbye

    Sorry it’s been so quiet around here. I have chronic tendonitis in my left wrist and typing is painful for more than a few minutes at a time. Which sucks when you know you should be writing. Or doing dishes, hanging out laundry, cleaning the fridge, or doing a proper yoga flow. Anyhow, a quick…

  • Blog tour, only a little belated

      Sarah Mian, who dolls out tough love to me every time we’re together, and then smothers me in love after, just the way I like it, invited me to be a stop on a writing blog tour. You can see Sarah’s typically ballsy, take-no-prisoners, yet somehow sweet answers here, then come back for mine!…

  • Spring, forward

    I’m in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island for the East Coast Music Awards. Atlantic Airwaves taped a great show here last night, which is why I wasn’t at the announcement for the Atlantic Book Awards shortlists in Halifax last night, though my heart was there. I am so excited to be nominated for the Dartmouth Book…

  • Bex it is

    She’s harsh and angular and so very guilty. She thinks I’m frivolous, a fool, adorably naive. Or maybe just naive. She is coming into sharper focus, and I do mean sharper. I don’t know much more about her than what I’ve said here, but I am waking up in the middle of the night thinking…

  • Ankle deep

    That was the diagnosis last night, from Sue Goyette. You’re ankle deep in it, she said. Before you know it, you’ll be swimming.  Honestly, I’m not sure I’m totally ready to swim again, but hey, if the water’s rising, what choice do you have?  I have yet to make actual sentences. But all I think…

  • A long winter’s nap

    People keep asking me if I’ve started another novel and the truth is, I have. I have five hundred terrifying words I wrote in November and have been backing away slowly from ever since. I am bone tired, if you want to know. The last twelve months took everything I had to give. Between writing,…

  • Ears burning

    Or just one, really. The infected one. Yes, the raw throat I developed on tour developed into a sneaky cold, then a hugely painful earache that was the harbinger of my current misery: an ear infection. What am I, four years old? Feels like it. Nothing like an earache to make you cry for your…

  • The ever important voice

    Voice is one of those things you have to find as a writer. Find your own voice, find the voice of your characters, the voice of your story. All that feels easy in comparison to preserving my voice on tour. The first night of my southern Ontario book tour was raucous and fun, and I…