Starting with the Chair

My son is balancing on the edge of a rocking chair in the corner of my study with a thick red anthology of English Literature on his knee, and he is telling me that these sonnets of Shakespeare\u27s are really very good, especially the satisfying couplets at the end. I am sitting at my desk, where I had been writing a letter until he knocked at the door, and am trying not to show my pleasure, for at his age my approval annoys him as much as he desires it

Why I Write

I started with stones. Smooth stones heavy to my eight-year-old hands and shining black with the cold water of Lake Huron still dripping through my fingers. Wet, the stones gave up their fossil-secrets more easily- back home dry and dull, in bushel baskets stacked behind the furnace, they mumbled and murmured, mysterious and vague, until I spit on them and brought to life those ancient fragments of shell and half-remembered fern. Rubbing my saliva on the stones I would feel sad, for although I loved keeping these stone treasures I didn\u27t know what to do with them. I simply needed to have them

A Discussion About Writing Fiction and Creative Prose with Isabel Huggan

Award-winning Canadian author Isabel Huggan talks to students about writing, with a focus on fiction and creative non-fiction