Writing As Resistance
You are here.
Or is it just me?
I know some of you won’t be able to see the date on this strip, but it’s 2016. Back when it all began. Back when we could have stopped the plummet into kakistocracy.
It’s been another horrific news day and yet, here I sit with absolutely nothing to complain about. I’m safe. I’m housed and fed. And I’m white. I can’t even begin to imagine life in the USA as an immigrant of colour right now.
I also can’t imagine life in the USA will ever go back to “the way we were”. For that, I’m eternally grateful. Because we’ve been harbouring thinly veiled fascists, racists, rapists, and murderous criminals. And now they’re in charge of dismantling the US government in their own image. I don’t ever want to go back to a system that actively protects the worst of us, so long as they’re part of the jetsetting rich.
In whatever way you can, RESIST.
Ekphrastic Prose of the Week
Photo PJ Donison, Aug. 6, 2025
Tart cherries bursting
Herald summer’s slow turning
Inward for the fall.
About this haiku: These cherry trees live on the boulevards on my street and I couldn’t resist taking a pic this morning. The cherries are so plump, ripe, and juicy. And soooo tart! A bit farther down the block, a mother and her two daughters were picking cherries off one of the trees and I immediately imagined sour cherry jam on a hot scone with clotted cream and a cup of tea. Perfect for the coming fall.
What I’m Reading Now
Before I Go To Sleep, SJ Watson, HarperCollins
This 2014 domestic suspense is very good, particularly for a debut author. I read it in one sitting, because if there’s one thing I love, it’s an unreliable narrator. And how much more unreliable can you get than a woman with amnesia who also has no ability to form new memories, making each day a shocking dunk into the pool of her tragic past?
What saves her is a devoted young neurologist and a journal. The suspense and tension are palpable and I found myself so immersed in the story that I joined Christine in beginning to doubt everyone.
Now, it’s not perfect. There are some vague and pretty sketchy medical “facts” that go along with Christine’s amnesia, but that’s part of poetic license and suspension of disbelief, I guess. Despite it’s flaws (which I know you’ll spot), I’m gonna say yes, you should read this book, particularly if you’re studying the art of suspense and how to weave in little clues that lead to big revelations.
Works In Progress
The Accidental Assassin
Diana Chasseur (PJ Donison, Leina Pauls)
Excerpt from Chapter 2, Good Day Sunshine
I ran cold water onto a washcloth and pressed it against my eyes before brushing my teeth in a futile attempt to scrub off the lingering taste of too much lime juice and more booze than I was used to. Filling a glass with water, I staggered out of the bathroom and fell clumsily on my bed, watching the ceiling spin and hating myself. At least I didn’t have to go to work.
Oh, shit. I didn’t have to go to work.
I was hungover, and I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. I was officially without purpose. I didn’t like the feeling one bit.
As I took tentative sips of water, the room eventually stopped spinning and, better still, so did my stomach. And that’s when I realized I was starving. Other than the bland Canadianized nachos from last night, I hadn’t eaten anything since early yesterday morning. I got up and walked slowly to my closet, dug out a pair of baggy yoga pants and Curtis’s ‘Elbows Up’ t-shirt. It wasn’t my best look, but I was just running down to the nearest coffee shop for a breakfast sandwich and a black coffee. The chances of anyone seeing me were minimal because most of my neighbours would be where I should be right now. At work.
“Frankie!” The overly cheerful and much too loud voice was like a fist to my pounding head as I left my unit. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”
I closed my eyes and stifled my sigh. “Morning, Moira.”
Why does it have to be her?
As an added bonus, Jeff Carter, Moira’s obnoxious husband, stood between me and the elevator. Briefly I wondered if it was too late to duck back into my condo. But, no, that would be too obvious. I was going to have to deal with my overly curious neighbour and her overly loathsome husband before I could make my getaway.
About The Accidental Assassin: When Frankie D’Angelo rashly walks out on her job as a court reporter, it feels like the end of the world, especially after losing her devoted husband, Curtis. But when she befriends her nosy neighbor, Moira, Frankie finds new ways to fill her time. The only hurdle is Moira’s controlling, abusive husband. Sure, Jeff’s imminent death was inevitable, but only because Moira and Frankie decided not to intervene. When Moira’s daughter approaches Frankie with a family dilemma involving a ruthless son out to plunder his mother’s estate, Frankie realizes she is moving into a new vocation: avenging angel. This book is about 1/3 written in collaboration with Leina Pauls. I am thoroughly enjoying Frankie’s world -- it’s a fresh take on women’s rage and revenge, featuring a main character of a “certain age” (like me!).
Thanks for hanging out and I’d love to hear what you have to say about anything and everything.
See you on Serotonin Sunday!
Pamela