Up close and personal

Life is good. It is filled with family, friends, and furry critters. There is yoga four times a week; I wish it could be more. That is, I know, a wish I could fulfill.

There are wonderful times in the hot tub with the snow falling and bubble baths in the other times when the weather says it’s wisest to stay inside and soak.

Professionally, I’m transitioning from corporate writing and editing to doing more developmental, copy editing, and proofreading for writers. That is a joy.


That’s an interesting question. As a freelance journalist, I wrote on everything from intellectual property to the armoured truck industry to eel grass. Accuracy was paramount as was engagement. However, the most difficult piece I ever wrote was for “Lives Lived” in The Globe and Mail. It was a tribute to my mother following her death in 2020. It was so difficult to write because it was so personal. I had no perspective, and I feared I would not “get it right.” The only thing I know for sure: Mama, would have told me not to worry. And there would have been a hug.


I relish reading. I was a judge in the Crime Writers of Canada’s most recent Awards of Excellence, and I got to dive into more than 40 fabulous – and very diverse – books that kept me on my toes and my eyes glued to the page. When I was younger and I was discovering the wonder and wow of the mystery genre, I devoured authors like Tony Hillerman, Martha Grimes, and Ruth Rendell. More recently I have discovered writers like Richard Osman. And Delia Owens’s Where the Crawdads Sing was nothing short of joyous.


When I was about eight or nine, a next-door neighbor tossed me a Nancy Drew book. She thought I might like it. I sat on the curb between our two houses and read the entire book cover to cover. I loved the puzzle, figuring out who dunnit, and being propelled into a world outside my own.

That same year someone gifted me Charlotte’s Web, and my life was forever changed. Not only could words transport you to new worlds, they could become a part of your heart, change you in ways you could not have imagined. I wanted to do that.


My mother taught me to love language – and to respect it. She cared about words and getting the words right. She was my greatest influence.


Write. This sounds simple. Many days it isn’t. Some call this dedication, others devotion. I’m not sure it matters what it’s called as long as it happens. You will never be a better writer, you will never write another book if you don’t sit down in front of your computer screen and begin to put words in front of you.