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Writer’s Choice

Birthplace

It was the hayloft’s aerial devilry— stench of rot in the heat, barn boards strewn with excrement, swallow and bat, littered with too many winged corpses for a child to revive— that compelled her

Whispers

There are whispers. They call like echoes in empty space, So that we may find a semblance of shapes amongst the darkness. Only here, on the precipice of passing, are we forced with the honest truth. Like rivers, we ebb and coil and stretch far beyond the measure of our bodies.

moon

Motherhood in the Plague Year

Sometime between the murder of George Floyd and the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett, I started to think about killing myself.

Code of Escape

Ethan sees an empty highway. Prickly green trees squeeze the highway from both sides. He kicks a pebble. Sometimes there’s a chirp from a bird or a buzz of a fly. He glances down the road behind him, hoping for a car. Nothing. Hours of nothing.

A Sunset or a Sunrise?

I knew Max would be proposing when, under a low, gray sky, my mother herded me to get a manicure. I’d never even stepped into a salon, never showed interest in anything remotely feminine growing up. Except for the sake of ring photos, I couldn’t see any other reason why she’d take me now.

The Monster and the Mirror, K.J. Aiello

On Unflinching Honesty

Toronto-based author K.J. Aiello brings The Monster and the Mirror to the public, unabashedly announcing K.J.’s status as an award-winning and mentally ill writer who wishes to share a history of mental disturbance, depression, and the ultimate recognition of an inability to hold regular jobs.

In the brain of the blind dog by Logan Ward

In the Brain of the Blind Dog

She walks on four legs, and they are weak. She makes her way towards the steps. She cannot see where they start, where they fall off. She doesn’t need to; she hasn’t for a long time.

Fireside Writing Retreat

It’s simple; a set of prompts, a loose structure, and time set aside to move through it at your own pace. You can follow it closely or not at all. There’s no expectation to produce anything finished.

Dreamers Writing Farm

Dreamers Writing Farm is the physical home of the Dreamers community, a quiet, creative space on the Bruce Peninsula in Ontario. Writers, artists, and travellers stay here throughout the year in simple, literary-themed cabins, tents, and studio suites.