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In the homestretch
Well, here we are, just a few days of writing sabbatical left. Big sigh. At the farmers’ market yesterday, the clerk at Fox Hill said, that went fast. I said, yeah, if you think it went fast for you, imagine how fast it went for me. I can’t believe it’s almost over, but I’m so…
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Life imitating art
Or the other way around, or maybe both. I am on the road right now, as Kev takes living rooms and basements around Ontario by storm. He earned a Home Routes tour and so we’ve spent the last couple weeks together in the car, touring around, playing a concert in a different house each night.…
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Waiting for the plot to thicken
So I’m cruising along, enjoying the time spent with my characters, dealing with Dacey Brown’s unexpected revelation of bipolar disorder, generally digging being a full-time writer and then this week, blammo, I come up against the brick wall of plot. It’s all well and good to have funny characters who are clearly defined and well-thought…
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You think you know someone…
So, lately, I’ve been struggling with Dacey Brown. I thought I knew her, and then I sit down to write her, and she comes out all robotic and weird, making snap decisions about things and refusing to smile pretty for the camera. I got super frustrated with it all today and had a very short…
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Writing is hard
Not for me today, but I’m not the only one writing in this house. As I type, Kev is trying to write a song and it is not going well. There’ve been muttered performances, punctuated by cursing and discordant slams on the piano keyboard. The song, I should point out, is not actually being written…
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Eleven
Eleven pages seems to be comfortable to me. It feels like not very much, but most days, it’s where things settle out. Today, eleven pages took three hours, though those hours were broken up with laundry, making baked beans and some staring out the window. Plus, I figured out some things about Dacey Brown. It’s…
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Perchance to dream
I could do this, I could. I love my job, I do love it, but I could do this forever. I get up when it seems right to, and I make coffee. Maybe I read the paper or maybe, if I woke up with a sentence in mind, I write first. In any event, at…
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The handwriting is on the wall
So, it’s going. Not at the pace at which I’d hoped it would, but it is going. We went to Moncton and Amherst last weekend for a belated Christmas visit, and Kev’s step-grandmother died while we were there, and so the visit was extended and expanded and hugely emotional. I’m glad we were there, but…
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Where is Stephanie Domet?
Nope, not a TV show for kids, nor a book featuring me in a striped shirt and a dopey stocking cap, lost among the madding crowd. It is, however, a popular google search right now. Perhaps it’s what you used to find your way here. If so, welcome! Here I am! I am taking two…
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Day One
Well, I don’t think I wrote anything that’s gonna change the world today, but I did squeak out my allotment of twenty handwritten pages. Amounts to somewhere between two and three thousand words. My hand is aching, and I’m FREEZING (I am a heat miser and keep it cold in this house during the day,…
Stephanie Domet 