The panel at the Prince Edward County Authors Festival went well; the whole festival did.
I liked hearing about the methods different authors use to summon their muses. And how they approach the craft.
I was fortunate to be on the panel with such a great collection of Canadian talent. It was humbling and inspiring.
Special thanks to Books & Company in Picton, Ontario, co-owner David Sweet, and to all the organizers.
And to Alexandra Bake for opening up her home for the afterparty and providing the starving writers with a wonderful Turkish meal. I do love food, from every corner of our magnificent planet.
There was, of course, some local wine available for our enjoyment.
From the backyard, we had a perfect view of the Glenora Ferry crossing the Bay of Quinte with a back drop of the setting sun.
I really do live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world.
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Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Poetry at the Pub went well last night. I read a couple poems from the collection that I've been working on. They went over very well. The dark humour plays much better live I think.
The writers’ panel this morning was engaging. I always love to hear other authors speaking, let's me know that I'm not alone and not crazy (not completely anyway).
I'm a little nervous about appearing this afternoon.
I'll let you know how it goes.
The writers’ panel this morning was engaging. I always love to hear other authors speaking, let's me know that I'm not alone and not crazy (not completely anyway).
I'm a little nervous about appearing this afternoon.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Friday, May 28, 2010
On Saturday, May 29 at 4 pm, I will be on a panel discussion, on the writing life, with Roz Bound, Sarah Selecky and Paul Vermeersch. It's being moderated by Susan Olding and will be held at Books and Company, in Picton, Ontario. It’s part of the County Authors Festival.
For tickets or information, call: 613 476 3037
Sorry for the lack of links to the different authors. I still can't figure out how to do that.
For tickets or information, call: 613 476 3037
Sorry for the lack of links to the different authors. I still can't figure out how to do that.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Graphic Novel Workshop
I will be in the Teen Room at the Picton Public Library on Friday March 28th at 2:30 with artist and illustrator extraordinaire Teresa Westervelt. Together we'll be exploring the art form of the graphic novel. It's part of the Prince Edward County Authors Festival.
Admission is free, so come one, come all! :)
Admission is free, so come one, come all! :)
Pleased as Punch.
I'm pleased as Punch, though to be honest I have no idea how pleased Punch is really, or what reason Punch has to be pleased about for that matter, but I have a reason, which is that I'm mentioned, and even quoted, in the 2010 Insider's Guide to Prince Edward County, Ontario, Canada!
Special thanks to fellow writer and CANSCAIP member Lian Goodall.
Special thanks to fellow writer and CANSCAIP member Lian Goodall.
My Dad
My Dad
Three different ministers came to see my dad on his final day; two were friends, one came to anoint him with oil, reading Psalm 23 when she did (The Lord is my Shepherd . . .) Dad had been asleep for some time when she came in. He was in a lot of pain and was heavily medicated, but when she read Psalm 23 he woke-up and recited it with her, from memory. I never really thought of Dad as being religious because he never really spoke of it much, or, at least I didn’t think he did; but as St. Francis said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.” In that hospital room I could see how much comfort it gave him, what it meant to him, and that he wasn’t afraid, at all, of what was coming next.
After I lost my Dad I started reading the bible. I found, in the pages of the Old Testament, a lot of the wisdom he used to pass on. Ecclesiastes, “Cast thy bread upon running waters: you will find it again in many days” is one I remember the most; he’d usually only say the first part, “cast thy bread upon running waters”, and he'd say it when someone did something they shouldn’t.
When I was young, I had no idea what he was on about; I just kept thinking, why would you throw bread on the water? Wouldn’t it dissolve or be eaten by fish or birds? It wasn’t until I was older and learned to not be so literal and realized it was about Karma.
My dad had a very mimimalist life style. But he knew how to live and how to let live. He wasn’t judgmental but he had no problem expressing his opinion. These things I found in Christ’s teachings. Dad left me many things, but by leaving me this legacy he allowed me to grow closer to him even after he was gone by learning from some of the same teachers who taught him. It gave me a rock to stand on when the world got shaky, something to cling to through his death, becoming published, my wife’s affair, my divorce, and so forth; it also gave the faith to never stop trying.
We butted heads on many issues, especially politics, though in the last years we learned to discuss and not argue. We both respected that each person should be allowed to do what they felt was right as long as it didn’t hurt others. We just didn't always agree on what that right was.
He only had a grade eight education, was never even on a plane until he was in his 60’s, and never left the continent, but he was one of the wisest, most open minded and generous people I've ever known. He could travel anywhere, for any length of time, with just one small suitcase. He was witty, quick with a joke, or a comeback, but never cruel. He remained as sharp as a tack right until the end.
He cursed about a lot of things, at the Blue Jays baseball team, or at the news, and at a wide variety of inanimate objects when they wouldn’t work the way he needed them to. And at me a few times, mostly for things I hadn’t done. Then again, most of the things I did do I never got caught at, so it all worked out. But I never remember him raising his voice to my mom; or ever putting her down, not once.
I miss my dad. He wasn't a rich man, but he was wealthy. The things he left behind are priceless and eternal; they won't rust or be eaten by moths, if only I can become wise enough to truly treasure them, and to learn grow in and through them.
Three different ministers came to see my dad on his final day; two were friends, one came to anoint him with oil, reading Psalm 23 when she did (The Lord is my Shepherd . . .) Dad had been asleep for some time when she came in. He was in a lot of pain and was heavily medicated, but when she read Psalm 23 he woke-up and recited it with her, from memory. I never really thought of Dad as being religious because he never really spoke of it much, or, at least I didn’t think he did; but as St. Francis said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.” In that hospital room I could see how much comfort it gave him, what it meant to him, and that he wasn’t afraid, at all, of what was coming next.
After I lost my Dad I started reading the bible. I found, in the pages of the Old Testament, a lot of the wisdom he used to pass on. Ecclesiastes, “Cast thy bread upon running waters: you will find it again in many days” is one I remember the most; he’d usually only say the first part, “cast thy bread upon running waters”, and he'd say it when someone did something they shouldn’t.
When I was young, I had no idea what he was on about; I just kept thinking, why would you throw bread on the water? Wouldn’t it dissolve or be eaten by fish or birds? It wasn’t until I was older and learned to not be so literal and realized it was about Karma.
My dad had a very mimimalist life style. But he knew how to live and how to let live. He wasn’t judgmental but he had no problem expressing his opinion. These things I found in Christ’s teachings. Dad left me many things, but by leaving me this legacy he allowed me to grow closer to him even after he was gone by learning from some of the same teachers who taught him. It gave me a rock to stand on when the world got shaky, something to cling to through his death, becoming published, my wife’s affair, my divorce, and so forth; it also gave the faith to never stop trying.
We butted heads on many issues, especially politics, though in the last years we learned to discuss and not argue. We both respected that each person should be allowed to do what they felt was right as long as it didn’t hurt others. We just didn't always agree on what that right was.
He only had a grade eight education, was never even on a plane until he was in his 60’s, and never left the continent, but he was one of the wisest, most open minded and generous people I've ever known. He could travel anywhere, for any length of time, with just one small suitcase. He was witty, quick with a joke, or a comeback, but never cruel. He remained as sharp as a tack right until the end.
He cursed about a lot of things, at the Blue Jays baseball team, or at the news, and at a wide variety of inanimate objects when they wouldn’t work the way he needed them to. And at me a few times, mostly for things I hadn’t done. Then again, most of the things I did do I never got caught at, so it all worked out. But I never remember him raising his voice to my mom; or ever putting her down, not once.
I miss my dad. He wasn't a rich man, but he was wealthy. The things he left behind are priceless and eternal; they won't rust or be eaten by moths, if only I can become wise enough to truly treasure them, and to learn grow in and through them.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Happy Mother's Day!
A mother's heart is the soft spot
that keeps us from hardening.
A mother's love is the warmth
we wrap around ourself
when even the sun feels cold.
For that, and for life itself,
Happy Mother's Day.
Copyright © Colin Frizzell 2010. All rights reserved.
that keeps us from hardening.
A mother's love is the warmth
we wrap around ourself
when even the sun feels cold.
For that, and for life itself,
Happy Mother's Day.
Copyright © Colin Frizzell 2010. All rights reserved.
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