Katie Leggitt

I had a very weird dream last night.  DREAM ALERT. It was 2008.  And for some reason Tig Notaro and her daughter were at this employment event (I'm job hunting like crazy right now). Anyway, her daughter gets the job search machine going, which is clearly an old, clunky electronic, but anyway, it's supposed to help me find a job.  And it's so easy to use, a kid can do it. So she spins the wheel or whatever, and I'm thinking in my head, "This is Tig Notaro. I am currently time travelling and have a brief moment to ask Tig whatever the hell I want."  So I looked at her as she was starting to turn away from me, and the lucid moment was starting to lift back to waking life, and I asked her, "what do you wish you did more when you were just starting out as a writer?"  And then I was like Tig?  Tig?  Cuz she was walking away of course... Because the dream moment was too precious... and she turned and said TALK TO PEOPLE.  And then we were across the ha

I can't seem to pump out a blog post anymore.  I'm in a ebb of avoidance I suppose. It's been a challenging several months since I left off.  My grandpa died, I got shingles, and lost my job.  Okay to be fair that was in the span of 3 weeks.  After that, things improved.  I did an internship, finished school, and completed a great spec script for a pre-school show. That one I'm very proud of. That's been the biggest takeaway from my year in school.  The writing process.  It helped build up the creator in me, and I remember when I started I didn't feel like I had any ideas left in me.  But through the support of teachers and my peers, things came together and I feel like the fountain of creativity has returned to me. It was a shock to go back to school.  It was exactly what I needed in order to bridge my love of comedy and my love of working with kids, and so I'm super glad I did it.  It's validated my intentions and has shown me what I'm capa

I've almost finished my first spec script.  It sucks, and I'm not afraid to admit it.  But! The experience of writing a synopsis, then an outline, and then the script, has been super helpful.  It's so much easier to follow than to do what I've done in the past, which is to just wing it. It's too short, and the monologuist in me has written too many scenes that don't involve other people.  How do you convey a story when a character is alone?  I'm all about the inner thinking, but that's not TV.  I'll have to go back and beef up the scenes to flesh out the dialogue more.  I suppose it's a skeleton script for now, and that's A OKAY.  Things have gotten so crazy I've barely made time to write.  I've gone out a few times with the old journal, but I still want to get to 100 posts this year on this thing.  I'm happy to be just over halfway there. I've secured an internship in development which will allow for a lot more reading

Opportunity, as a concept.  Filled with possibilities, stories and missed connections.    I had a GREAT. FUCKING. DAY. today.  I specify the caps and f-bomb because it's been a rare occurrence to feel so connected to destiny like I did today.  Having been so school/work focused for the last several months has been good for me, to get shit done, but it's also exhausting.   The semester is coming to an end though, and we're gearing up for our internships and today it just so happened that I got to dance with the greats. I volunteered to be a jury member for the Independent Producer's Webseries Fund and we met this morning to go over some projects.  It felt great to give honest feedback and to feel like it counted.  That it was heard and possibly even helpful.   After a lovely lunch with a few of my classmates, I headed over to CBC for an internship interview that went fairly well, considering applicants had about 10 minutes each.  Each of my colleagues I sp

It's weird to age.  It's weird to look back at the last 20 years of my life and think about all the ways in which I've transformed, shifted, changed, etc.  Lots of highs, lots of lows, all adding up to me now at this age. It's also weird to think about all the things that have happened that helped to guide me, even though I had no control over them.  Circumstances, job experience, people I've met, all these pings have nudged me a little or a lot, and have influenced the things I do have control over.  I suppose some people call this fate. It's weird to think about how my opinions have changed too.  Spending more time investigating and learning to feel equipped to make intelligent sense of things.  But also my life experiences have allowed for a shift to take place in my thinking. I guess some people would call that maturity. Sometimes I miss the days of being inspired by highlighters and starfruit, but I think those moments contributed to the moments I n

A year ago I never would have thought I'd be sitting where I am right now.  Okay maybe writing in bed at night on a Wednesday isn't that big a stretch, but the knowledge I'm filled with is.  I feel so much more equipped, with so much more focus, and a greater understanding of the industry that I want to be a part of.  I have pitch packages, a business plan, a webseries, a picture book and 3 chapters of a novel and I can hardly believe it.  It feels pretty freaking great. We're approaching the internship portion of the program, and it is still unknown to me where I will be in a few weeks time, taking everything I've learned and applying it in the real world.  I'm so excited to get out there, but I know I'll miss these late nights finishing up homework to deliver to my lovely teachers.  Ya'll, my heart is filled with gratitude and warmth tonight, I'm proud that I made the sacrifice to go back to school and do this crazy thing because it has opene

I changed my bedsheets today.  That's a win. Did some polishing on a pitch document tonight, feeling pretty good about it. I started this thing with a lack of a spark and here I am 50 days later with 2 shows that I'm stoked to start pitching.  I think it's been about honouring the inner voice and going after things that, like Marie Kondo would say, "Spark Joy." I've been dealing with jealous feelings towards my classmates who came into the program with passion projects or clear stories they wanted to work on and develop.  Jealousy is ugly, and I don't do well when it's around. But now, after putting some work into my ideas, and fleshing them out, I feel really good about them!  And they currently live in this safe space, my brain, and soon they will have eyes on them and I will have to manage the feelings I have towards them then. I think though, the fact that I've developed them this far, and I have an actual pitch for them, they feel li

Write what you know. Why am I the right person to tell the story? What do your characters want? These questions, and more, haunt me. Here's what I know: I know what it is to love something that, at any moment, could break your heart. I know what it's like to be a role model in a kid's eyes, and I know how to make life fun for them. I know that consensus is hard and awkward, but worth striving for. I know how to make people laugh, and not always at my expense. I know how to help others think profoundly, if even just for a brief time. I know how to step into the unknown and what it's like to see yourself on the other side. I know that vulnerability is a bitch, but can stick up for you when you need it most. I know anxiety. I know depression. I know that idealized romance is so much more fun that dating. I know how to keep at least 5 plants alive for more than a year. I know how to be a project manager. I know that following your dreams can lead you t

I'm working on a pitch document for a teen gameshow.  And this is my 50th blog post this year.  Both those things make me feel real happy. I can definitely vouch that practice makes.. gooder.  I've enjoyed this process and this self-induced challenge, and I hope to continue towards the goal.  I'm going to take a prompt tonight because I'm tempted to write about fluff. "Does your name have a meaning?" Well, I'll tell you what it's been like to grow up and be a woman with the name Katie.  I like my name, I do, and for a while I considered changing it to Kat among my high school peers because it felt more genuine than the little-girly Katie that I am.  I signed my journals with xKatx for a long time during my straight edge years, and I'm pretty sure I even had a pre-Facebook Facebookesque page by that name. My parents were going to name me Kristen, actually.  Adam if I turned out to be a boy, but Katie came along after I was born because I

Here's a fun activity for you to do, that I had fun doing in class today.  I'm told it's a drinking game. Get poetic and... Describe your favourite colour.  What does it look like, how does it make you feel? Describe your favourite animal.  What are its qualities that you love? Describe a body of water that you know, that may be familiar to you. And finally, you're in a white room.  Everything is white.  Describe how you're feeling in there. Ready to find out what IT ALL MEANS?!??? (scroll) Favourite colour: How you see yourself. Favourite animal: How others see you. Body of Water: You guessed it!  Your sex life. White Box/Room: How you feel about death. Wasn't that fun?  :) I love that shit. Katie

Got to dip my feet in the comedy scene tonight, that felt nice. I have this weird relationship with the word comedian at this point in my life and there are conflicting feelings around it. I was telling a friend today over grilled cheeses that I am super satisfied with what I've accomplished thus far in my life, especially when it comes to satisfying my childhood dream of being an actor.  I found a group of people that I could get on-stage with and goof around and make people laugh and I got to do it often enough that it's become this really sacred part of my life.  I'm very proud of it and of all the comedy I've produced or performed or been a part of somehow up to this very moment.  I feel so much gratitude that I have been able to participate. Comedy has become a much less regular part of my life now and while I do miss those times and that feeling, I'm starting to get used to the idea of taking on a more behind-the-scenes type of role. The self-perceptio

Holy god I may live to be 47 years old.  Why does that sound so foreign and impossible to me? Katie looks up from her computer to see her reflection in the mirror before her.  Her winter tuque, a lime green knit, slinks over her forehead but not far enough to hide the protruding second chin at the bottom of her face. I need to start working out.  Blast!  Absolutely nothing insightful to share.  I think I taught my toddler-bud how to say my name yesterday, which was a delight.  I'll test him on Monday to see if he still remembers.  :) KAYYYYY-TEEEEEEE!

Just got home from watching The Barr Brothers play their album, Sleeping Operator, in full at the Mod Club.  My first time there, and while I wasn't too crazy about the space itself, the sound was on point and my soul is satiated after almost two hours of beautiful music. Concerts have always been something I enjoy doing, with others, or on my own.  Ever since I was a teenager, I remember moshing in a pit and feeling a spiritual unison with the people in closest proximity.  Over the years, that diminished as my musical interests calmed a bit and I found myself growing cranky over the constant interference of tall men.  I pictured bringing stilts just so I could watch my favourite bands, uninterrupted and without any neck pain.  Tonight I lucked out with a perfect spot on the second floor with an all-access view of the stage.  I bopped my head and caught up to the person standing next to me, also bopping their head.  And it makes no sense at all, but as I bopped my head with the

I watched almost the entirety of Michael Cohen's testimony today.  It was kind of the perfect thing to watch to de-stress and relax.  It was possibly the opposite experience for Cohen, but kind of hard to tell really.  I managed to do a load of laundry and deal with the intensely cluttered kitchen table that I've been ignoring for the last 2 months. Day 2 of my 3 day vacation has been exactly what I'd wanted.  Yesterday I bought a VCR and set myself up to watch a whole bunch of old home videos except I realized I do not actually have any.  At least not here, I must have left them in Montreal.  I do however have a few tapes from my theatre school days that are almost 20 years old now.  It was a riot to watch my first monologue performance and to see the short-haired version of myself dance with total glee in another video.  I was watching her, this energized, pixie-cut young woman roll her hips and make funny faces and I remember feeling confident while doing it.  It was

I am so totally sick of this Winter. Congrats, Winnie, you won.  You made yourself known and WE GET IT.  YOU'RE GOOD AT YOUR JOB.  WE ARE NOT WORTHY.  Now go away and please let the warm weather return. I remember sipping smoothies in a tank top in early March not that long ago.  Perhaps that was unusual, now that I think of it, but geez I miss those times. Been thinking about stories and how we develop as storytellers.  Kids are growing up with YouTube, which has a very different way of telling stories than traditional television does.  I think my earliest memory of creating a story was when I couldn't fall asleep, I'd walk my fingers up either side of my belly like people, and they would meet each other, and fall in love.  I can't figure out why I don't write romance novels for chrisssssake!!!  That's probably my calling isn't it.  These two people would be out walking at a park, that had a hill and they would cross paths with each other, start t

There's a monster in my head. He lives in there, and he wants me dead. He tells me I'm no good, He tells me I'm a queer, He tells me things to make me Want to disappear. There's a monster in my head. And she's always lying to me. She tells me I'm too fat to live And that my face is so ugly. There's a monster in my head And you tell me to go get help I wonder if you knew how long It's been since this is all I've felt. There's a monster in my head And maybe there's one in you too, Let's sit down and chat awhile And put those monsters to bed.

I debated cats and cars today with my 18-month old nephew/cousin.  My cousin's kid.  Feels like a nephew. I have the pleasure of hanging out with him twice a week and it's been a joy to watch him interact with the world.  My sister and brother's kids are 10 years and older now, so it's been a minute since I spent this much time with a toddler.  He's learning two languages at home so I've begun studying his vocabulary and I think he calls things that move "meow."  He definitely identifies cats as "meows," but also calls cars meows too, which I think is hilarious.  We sat by the front window today and meowed at cars this afternoon.  I'd remind him that they were indeed cars, however the clown in me enjoyed the sounds we were making altogether. That's the most joyful part- letting loose and getting goofy with a very dedicated audience member.  I don't get up on stage anymore so it's nice to make someone giggle uncontrollabl

Here are some terrible ideas for kid's series: -Jujubes take over the candy industry and fire all the other candy. -A documentary about the mice that live in your cupboards. -A social media app that literally traps people in your phone. -Reptiles at a dinner party -52 x 22' of a single fern, slowly growing. -Crafts, come to life -Baseball: fans vs. all-stars -Things that can fit inside a keg -Upside-down paintings; the new way to hang art -Burger's Bobs -When sleeping bags strike -Errol the elliptical eel... a show about proper grammar! -Barbie, Uncensored -Who's your daddy?  A heritage docuseries -A show about clowns that features many extreme closeups of live action clowns.  Clowns. -Stephanie's shoe show by the seashore -Super Cali Fragile Mystic (<-----PROOF OF CONCEPT, SORRY) -Seinfeld, but for kids!

Goals.  What of em? It's weird to be approaching 40 and feeling like I've accomplished a lot of what I set out to do in my youth.  I feel like middle age puberty is hitting and now I have to face my future, wrinkles and all, with a new set of goals. I feel old as fuck.  Let's just get that out of the way and proceed with even more honesty. I'm satisfied with my life.  I think I did 'er well so far, and now I have to re-evaluate where I'm at in terms of hopes and dreams for the futche.  Fewtch. I could say I want babies and a husband.  I could say I want a house, and a porch, and a fence that doesn't have to be white picket, but that will be high enough to hide me from my neighbours g-damnit. I could say those things, and maybe somewhere in me I do want them, but it's not what comes to mind.  I'm still focused on career goals, creative goals, and life dream goals.  Publishing goals.  I want to publish shit.  Quality, shit.  Good stuff.  Thin

So it's turning out to be less and less consecutive days of writing, but happy to be jotting some thoughts down nonetheless, and am determined to do it another 60 times to get to 100.  Learned a bit about literary agents today, that was helpful.  Turns out you need a completed manuscript to submit before even having a chance at getting one!  Huh!  Who knew?  Makes a lot of sense.  So I guess I should finish something now. We have an assignment in my publishing class to write a query letter, novel synopsis and 1-3 chapters of a middle grade or YA novel.  I'm revisiting something I started writing several years ago about a group of kids that get up to no good one summer.  I've started so many projects but once I hit a couple thousand words I'm like... well that's all I can think of for now so I guess I'll just wait til another bout of inspiration comes, and then it just doesn't. But I like this story I have, and I like the idea I have for it, I just don&

How could I forget Radiohead? I feel like a bad teen of the 90s. Radiohead kept me level-headed throughout my late teens, helped me fall asleep and calm my nerves when they got too frayed. The Unkle song featuring Thom Yorke, Rabbit in your Headlights , was part of my favourite mix VHS of music videos that I loved from that era.  It makes me wish I was more of a pack rat than I am, I wish I had held onto those tapes, filled with my favourite music. When I was 19 I bought a pair of tickets to see Radiohead play a huge outdoor show.  I gave a ticket to a close friend who was moving to Oregon that same summer, and we got separated just before RH took the stage, and I spent the concert on my own, which maybe was just the way it was meant to be watched.  There is something isolating about Radiohead's music, maybe it's the languid tunes or the haunting voice of Thom Yorke, I remember enjoying the show but still dismayed that I'd lost track of my friend.  This was pre-ce

Sang a single line from Stone Temple Pilots' Plush to my dog and she lost interest immediately. STP was one of those bands I heard about at a younger age because my sister was into them.  But then the radio overplayed them (I listened to 99.9 THE BUZZ) and I also lost interest.  They were a great band, and Scott Weiland, for all his demons, was a genius no doubt. Still having trouble narrowing my teens down to a single song.  It's a task I must accept but to do it right I have to gather up my memories and summarize them with a blanket song so as to acknowledge each and every facet. Looking at my list from the other night, there's still so much more I left out.  I omitted Pearl Jam entirely, and I'd say I've been the most devoted fan to them than any other band.  I saw them live twice. Violent Femmes, PJ Harvey, Live (yes, Live), NIN, Wallflowers, Hole, a shit tonne of others.. I am really stuck.  The one song that keeps coming to mind though is Bush's Gl

I've been getting into my former teen headspace. I was definitely cooler then than I am now, and I just have to accept that.  I know it was mostly hormones, but I felt everything more vividly then.  Love, anger, music, it was made more intense by my lack of life experience and my determined attitude towards it.  Friends, school events, shows, and the budding internet connections were at the forefront of my 15 year old life.  Walks in the rain and postering my walls with Hit Parade posters topped the list of my favourite things to do.  Filled, to the brim, with as much knowledge as I could possibly emit, I had a confidence that was timely and unlike anything I've felt since. I suppose that's an issue of time.  The more time you have on earth, the more crap has to get filtered by your brain, before it seeps into your ego.  I think my filter has gotten a little weak, though I hear it gets a lot stronger the older you get.  That's nice.  I look forward to giving les

I'm fascinated, and totally terrified by sinkholes. There's a story I'm trying to write involving one, and I'm using it because it's so fantastical (and so rare) that it kind of creates a buffer between the survivors and the "sinkers." Many years ago I dealt with a very sad death of a student.  I was involved in the grief counseling among his peers and the school memorial service thereafter.  It's a terrible event, and one that luckily many kids evade but death is a very real part of our existence and kids are not immune to its effects. This death had a profound effect on my life, and it is still something I draw upon when thinking of childhood.  Most kids may experience the loss of a family pet or a grandparent, but rarely of someone so close to them. The absence - the empty desk, the missing laughter, the shoes that kicked a soccer ball that linger behind.. it's a weighted space that no longer exists but yet is present. Kids are resilie

We have an assignment for one of my writing classes to bring a song next week that really captures our adolescence, something that meant a lot to us in our youth, around 14-16 years old. I'm hoping we'll be able to listen and write so in preparation for that here are my top 11 song from my teens: -Bush - Glycerine -Portishead - All Mine -Bjork - Army of Me -Silverchair - Freak -Deftones - Be Quiet and Drive -Weezer - The Sweater Song/Anything from the Blue album -Offspring - Self-Esteem/Come out and Play/Bad Habit -Smashing Pumpkins - Zero/Bullet With Butterfly Wings -Green Day - All By Myself, lol -Nirvana - Heart Shaped Box (Also, the entire Unplugged album..) -Moist - Tangerine And then a little later -Slipknot - Sic -Kitty - Brackish (Spit album) Other memorable favourites: Geggy Tah's Whoever you are, Tripping Daisy's I got a Girl... god so many... Beck's Loser, Korn, ugh the list goes on.  How can I narrow it down to one?  It'll probab

Wuh-oh... this Spotify playlist kicked off with an LCD Soundsystem tune and you know what that means... deep thoughts to come. I've been in school since September, contemplating who I am as a creator and it's been an eye-opening experience.  This time last year, I was working with a writer to hone a couple of animated shorts scripts of mine and now I'm putting pitch documents and bibles together, and I can hardly believe it all. But that's part of the problem. I can't believe it all. I went into this program thinking it would open the creative tap and I would have nothing but solid gold pouring forth.  It would be easy, it would be fruitful, and I would not have to worry about how to build my career. The tap is open, but I'm finding a lot of rusty water is spilling into my cup.  But I feel as responsible for the rust as I do for the water.. is this analogy making sense? Hot Chip's on next- perfect segway. Part of my growth since moving to Toron

I was thinking about words today, and words that sound silly.  Pickle is a damn silly word, and apparently it's a popular in kid's media. Twinkle is pretty ridic too, when you think about it.  Twinkle.  Like, it means something lovely but it's one of those words where the more you say it, the more it loses its meaning. Someone had a question about potatoes today (I work at Organic Garage).  The sign said Yukon, but that bags said PEI.  This was very confusing, and so I went to get help from the produce dude, and I opened with a "someone has a potato question."  And he responded with "a potato question, eh."  And it just felt very silly. Potato.  It's such a perfect word to describe what it is.  Potatoes are silly AF.  Now, if you dare, you throw two silly words together, and you've got something magical.  Twinkling Potatoes.  Right?  Potatoes never twinkle!  But I bet they'd love to!  It makes me imagine what goes on in the grocer

What did I learn about writing today? I thought a lot about "that book" I want to write.  I thought about its perfect title and the subsequent perfect pages that would follow it.  It would be tongue-in-cheek and enticing.  I debated between the use of a subtitle and the inevitable cliche that brings. Now I'm sneezing.  I'm still undecided on the matter, but will hope that I can begin tackling the loose outline I created for it.  It's like it never dawned on me before that writing a book takes so much fucking work.  I think I expected to spew it out one weekend, like it would be easy and the flow nearly unstoppable.  This exercise is showing me that yeah dude, it takes a fuck tonne of dedication and self-discipline to write and to write regularly, especially if you want to produce an actual thing that's not just a brain-dump. So I'm grateful so far.  I can't even call this writing except for a written organization of my nightly thoughts as I con

1 third!  Done! Ish! I brought my little cousin to a drop-in centre today and we both played with homemade play dough for an hour.  It brought me back to my youth immediately... The smell, the texture, the way my hands felt dry after, it was glorious. The drop-in centre is stacked with toys of all sorts, but I must commend them on their selection of play dough accessories. There were moulds, there were kid-sized wooden rolling pins and even the tube pusher that exacts spaghetti and things of that type.  The open play thing is big with tykes.  Allowing their imagination to roam, open play is said to be the best option for toys.  Blocks are a good example, where you get to build whatever the heck you like, without a necessary pattern to create.  The creativity and the freedom that goes into this type of toy is where it's at.  No prescribed outcome, just you, creating, making, doing.  Little 3 year old ran around the room claiming there was a big monster in the playhouse the

Thinking about the stories we make up as kids.  When I was 3 years old, I was at the kitchen sink looking out at the yard and Toucan Sam descended from the sky to surprise my brother and sister who were sitting at the picnic table outside.  They seemed to have a really great exchange and then he must have left because that's the extent of my memory.  My very real, very vivid memory of this happening, only confirmed by my older siblings later on. I couldn't sleep one night, my tummy was hurting me.  Probably around the same age - 3 or 4, and I walked into my parent's room to wake them up for help and just then I felt the pain in my belly surge.  I looked down and there was a bug coming out of my belly button.  (Sorry, that was gross.)  It looked like a green worm, I know, gross right?  No one believed me.  These things still to this day feel like very real, very lived experiences, but common sense tells me.. nah they probably didn't happen. Fixations, kid thought

Trying to nail down human dialogue these days.  Paying attention to people talking to each other is quite an education!  It's super tangential.  Ugh.  Script-writing.

It snowed today.  A lot.  It snowed so much that we might get a snow day tomorrow and I get to stay home from school.  As an adult, that feels extra cool. Snow days were the best growing up.  Pure freedom awaited.  My dad would often sculpt the best slides for us to tackle and keep ourselves entertained.  I had a long driveway so when the snow plow came, we had a naturally huge mountain.  The kids from my street would all pile onto it with their crazy carpets and GT snow racers like bad asses.  Occasionally he would put a snow bump down the slope to make it extra exciting.  Hours upon hours of entertainment, followed by the occasional hot chocolate, made from real cocoa... the best kind.  As I was walking to the streetcar, completely covered in scarves and feeling icy bits of snow hit my eyes, a man took a break from shoveling to chat with his neighbour.  After a brief complaint, his neighbour went "yeah but it's Winter!"  It's true for me that it feels like a p

Beginning, middle and end.  That's a story.  Protagonist, want, antagonist, conflict, climax, end.  Once upon a time there was a very small but mighty pebble.  This small but mighty pebble had been tossed into the bush by the side of the road after a speedy kid biked over it with his 1985 Raleigh Special.  The pebble had spent his whole life surrounded by his pebble pals, and this was the first time he'd been on his own.  He was the size and shape of a kidney bean, tiny enough to go unnoticed but strong enough to survive the worst of climates.  Small, but mighty. He looked around him.  He was in the thick of the grass that lined the road.  He could hear his pals calling his name, "Pablo!" over and over again.  The impact of the fall had damaged his ability to respond.  A line of ants were transporting grains of sand to strengthen their home just a few centimetres away but they didn't notice this misplaced pebble and went about their business. Suddenly, it

Managing expectations - an important lesson in life, and something I'm always obsessing over. When I started this blog 8 years ago, I was on a high.  I had just begun to discover the joy of whole foods and the satisfaction that writing and eating healthy brought me was unlike anything that I had previously experienced.  It felt as though I had finally found the secret to happiness, and that I would never again have to look down a dark path.  I was nourishing body, mind and soul.  It felt great. As stress began creeping in, and the blog entries grew more sporadic, so too did my health-conscious meals.  Eventually I was sinking into old habits and fueling my stress rather than my health, and that became a nasty habit for a long time.  Long enough until I was too broke to do so, and suddenly this slimmer body emerged and I felt as attractive as I did at 22, which was over a decade before at that point.  When the scale spoke to me, it whispered loving encouragement as I was losin

Rose are red Violets are purple I'm going to name my cat Nermal Nermal Nermal. *** My friend told me a story yesterday and I think it's really cute. Her sister was visiting from Chile with her 3 kids and husband.  Her two oldest, ages 5 and 3, have grown up there and this was their first time in Canada. One day when they tasted a banana, they noticed it tasted very differently than the ones they eat in Chile, for reasons you and I can ascertain.  Grampa Bear told the kids, "these are Canadian bananas.  They grow only during the Winter and we have to eat them right away."  And the next morning, Grampa Bear got up very early and used fishing wire to tie a bunch of bananas to a tree in their backyard for the kids to discover. "Canadian bananas!" the 5 year old cheered. The family went outside to "pick them" and then Gramma made banana bread. Canadian bananas!  It's so silly. hehe Katie

I'm taking this one class on publishing children's books and I cry every class.  Inevitably.  I'm not sure if it's my teacher's soft-spoken voice or the fact that I'm finally in a place to figure out how to do something I've always dreamed of doing, but it's an emotional process. It's conjuring up some interesting stuff, some tough topics that are hard to address with kids, like loneliness and death.  We did this one exercise where you write about an object from the POV of a 5, 10 and 15 year old. When I hit ten, and I was writing openly, the death of a little boy I once had at a school came up.  I found myself writing from the perspective of one of his broken-hearted friends, and the simplicity of the language contradicted the complexity of the emotion that was behind it. Kids are resilient, it's an incredible thing to see in action, and as I expanded on that 10 year old's inner monologue, I was reminded of just how much strength they

I pitched 3 shows in a class today and each one started with the letter S.  I wonder what that says about me?  Here's something stupid: If your favourite letter is ___, then... A- you feel a lot of inner conflict, but you're always trying to do what's right. B- you're a cheerful person who appreciates pop art C- you're reclusive and tend to keep to yourself D- you make an entrance and tend to dominate conversation E- you're fragile and a people-pleaser F- you're a go-getter and a leader G- you read a lot and enjoy the company of others H- you're a gifted mediator I- bit self-explanatory?  (self-centered?) J- very loyal and friendly K- you have traditional roots but a creative exterior L- very diplomatic M- you bring a calm to those around you, great listener N- goal-oriented, willing to cut corners O- you focus on self-fulfillment P- you spend too much time with your thoughts Q- you are one groovy human, super unique R- direct, but e

One fifth of the way there!  When I was five, my mom ask me to tell her a story and she wrote it out and I drew the pictures.  I have no memory of making it except for a vague satisfaction over drawing a mirror and an old lady reflection.  Like I really thought I nailed it. I used crayons, naturally, and my mom hand wrote the story I dictated.  It made no sense and involved a house burning down but it's my earliest work- the spark of my potential. In about grade 6 I was invited to attend this young authors conference and I was so flattered to go, still to this day I think about how that impacted my desire to write stories and reignited the little spark in me to keep at it. But high school was different.  Writing was harder, there were more distractions and tough teachers, but I found a zest for public speaking and enjoyed the opportunity (any opportunity, really) for performance.  I'll never forget going to the regional public speaking "championships" and show

Ideas.. They wrestle with your ego Turn fat into fit They distill the most important Just when you're gonna call it quits It's all so confusing When you think you've got a good'un The doubt becomes a laughter And it's all so quite confusin S'pose I'll go one way Til another comes around Ideas are callin shots Like they're the best that's ever been

I finally finished Stephen King's On Writing tonight.  Took me 20 days to get through it, which, by my standards, is a pretty short amount of time.  I'm happy, proud even, that I finished it. Some great tools are found in the book, and the thing that will stay with me is how important reading is- you've got to read more to write more. It's making me think about my reading habits; how I tend to lean on non-fiction and self-help books, or at least I have for the bulk of my adulthood.  I'm someone who ruminates about the meaning of life and how to achieve happiness.  I feel validated when I read about others' struggles and feel inspired when they move past their shortcomings. I suppose there are enough stories out there that I could find the same sense of satisfaction among some fiction titles, but this worry-wart doesn't seek it out enough.  I often feel I can't concentrate or forget pretty quickly when I attempt to read a book outside my comfort zon

My dog gets all freaked out when I sit down to write.  I'm not sure if it's because I have my back to the room or if it's she can sense A GENIUS AT WORK. Ha. I'm finding this 100 Day Challenge I've given myself to be super helpful in terms of practice.  I rarely exercise the creative writer in me and enjoy the comfort zone of journaling and putting personal essays online.  Look I'm doing it again. I've written a lot of monologues and a couple of scripts, but generally tend to avoid ensemble writing, or multiple points of view.  I also get intimidated by trying to advance a story based on everybody's wants and forget about acts.  Basically I have no idea what I'm doing but it feels great to work through this awkwardness and let the creative writer in me grow. *** Margaret stared at her reflection in the mirror.  Her face was covered in a Moroccan mud mask, imported on a whim after reading about it in Glamour magazine.  It smelled like roses an

Lorraine was digging through old photos when she came across the perfect image to post as part of the #10yearchallenge.  Something of a humble relic from her past, this photograph from 2009 had all the fixings for the post: great lighting, the right side of her face, straight teeth and most importantly, a defined chin. See, Lorraine had put on a few pounds since then, and gravity being the skin-sucking beast that it is, had contributed to a, well... looser neck area.  She often contemplated liposuction and jaw enhancement, but she could barely afford to feed her cat on her meagre teacher's salary. She practiced chin exercises, like Jim Carey had around the time that photo was taken, where he reemerged an apparent "new man" after a stint in the shadows of Hollywood.  Were she a man, she would have a well-loved beard to cover up her insecurity. Lorraine watched what she ate, and eventually came to determine her neck glands would swell at the very sight of gluten so af

Dear Diary, It's my "Sweet 16" and everybody bailed on my party last minute.  It's Friday night and I'm literally home alone in bed.  This sucks.  I keep waiting to get a Snap that actually makes me smile but so far it's been lazy "HBs" and heart emojis. What did I do?  Seriously.  What did I do?  School was boring AF as usual today and when I got to my locker to go home there was just this one sad balloon tied to my lock.  I'm pretty sure Kristy took it from Cassandra B's locker, it had clearly been slowly deflating and her birthday was Monday.  FML.   I get it- everybody's got their own shit happening but like... isn't today supposed to be about me?  I fucking baked a cake for Kristy's sweet 16 last month, the least she could do was like, post on my wall, tag me on Insta... SOMETHING. I don't even think people are capable of caring anymore.  Not just about me but about life in general.  It's like there

Janice took her dog Beatrice, a spunky 7 year old Maltese, for a walk one Saturday afternoon.  It was January, and cold, so she was surprised to hear birds chirping in the distance.  She followed the joyful sounds along the street until they quieted down as she approached the evergreen tree they had gathered in.  Beatrice, a naturally curious pup, sniffed out their presence and quieted down to assess.  For a city sidewalk, it was fairly quiet save for the random chirps coming from the little brown birds in the tree. Janice stood there and admired the sounds as the chirping grew louder and louder. "What the heck are they chirping about?" She wondered to herself.  There must have been two dozen brown chickadees having the gab of their life in that tree that Saturday afternoon.  Each one sounded joyful and energized.  Janice admired their beautiful song but was stumped.  There were lots of trees on the street, so why had they chosen that one to hang out in?  And what i