A riot broke out at the Marcel Marceau School of Mime when it was announced that white makeup would be severely rationed. This dangerous problem was soon defused when an anonymous donation of twenty cans of white latex paint arrived at the front gates under the cloak of midnight. The donor remains a mystery, although the school's principal may know more than any of us could imagine. Since that chaotic day, a quiet peace has reigned at the school. How long this peace will last has been thrown into question as rumours persist that a worldwide shortage of invisible boxes is looming. Caution is advised. There’s nothing more dangerous, nothing more frightening, than an angry mime.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Spontaneous Writing
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Writing's Mad Scientist

Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Playing the Dictionary Game
So, here I am, flipping open the dictionary, closing my eyes, and BANG! I point to a word. And that word is . . . stunt, as in stuntman. Switch on the imagination, and let the words flow. Here's what I've come up with . . .
Stefano had a dream. That dream was to become a stuntman. One day, his big chance arrived. A movie was being filmed in town, and there was a call out for people who were interested in taking that first step into a career in the movies.
Stefano waited up all night outside the door of the movie director’s office, desperate to get a part in the movie. As he waited through the night, he dreamed of driving a Porsche at high speed through town, swerving around invading zombies while dodging machine gun fire. Or maybe they’d ask him to wrestle an alligator that had escaped from a zoo and was terrorizing the town. Could it be he’d be shot from a cannon, flying through the air and landing right on top of an escaping bank robber? The possibilities of Stefano’s role in the movie were endless, and he was ready for anything.
Finally, at eight in the morning, the door to the office swung open, and a scruffy looking man in a sweat suit covered in coffee and ketchup stains looked out at Stefano.
“Yeah? What do you want?” the man said.
“I’m here for a part in the movie!” Stefano shouted, jumping to attention to show his eagerness. “I can do anything! I’m not afraid of fire, loud noises, man-eating animals, or going really fast in a car! I don’t even mind jumping from trains or being shot from a cannon!”
“Have you done any of that stuff?” the man said, looking quizzically at Stefano as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“Well . . . not exactly,” Stefano replied. “I mean, I have ridden my bike really fast, and I’ve jumped from an awful lot of swings in my recess career. I figure those experiences have really prepared me for a career as a stuntman.”
“Is that so?” the man replied. “Well, the role we’re looking to fill in our movie isn’t exactly that dangerous, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay,” Stefano said. “I’ve got to start somewhere!”
“Okay,” the man said. “If you’re keen, the job is yours. Come on in. We start filming in an hour.”
Stefano spent the rest of the day on the set of the movie dressed up as a giant ice cream cone. The movie’s director gave Stefano only two instructions– “Just stand there! Don’t move!”
Stefano’s first job as a movie stuntman wasn’t exactly thrilling. Even worse, Stefano was allergic to the giant ice cream cone costume. When he took it off at the end of the day, he was covered in strange purple dots.
But even worse, the director decided to cut the scene with the giant ice cream cone from the movie. The whole experience was one great big disappointment for Stefano. As a result, he decided not to become a stuntman.
“I want something with more danger!” he declared. “Something where I’m risking my life!”
So if any of you hear of someone looking for a lion tamer, please give Stefano a call. He’s busy in his backyard practicing with his tabby cat named Snickers.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Jumper Cables for the Imagination

What’s the greatest fear of every writer? Illiterate zombies taking over the world? Loss of use of the left pinkie finger, thus necessitating the use of words that exclude the letters ‘q,’ ‘a,’ and ‘z’? Probably not.
I’m talking about Writer’s Block– the sudden inability to put words to paper. More accurately, the inability to create ideas which spawn words. I have a particular fascination with this phenomenon. Don’t ask me why.
Over the years, I have taken on this dreaded condition, developing a variety of methods for its remedy. They don’t always work, and some work better than others.
The first one I’d like to mention is what I call . . .
“The Dictionary Game”
If you’re stuck, and can’t think of the next sentence to write, grab a dictionary– a dictionary of slang is my favourite. Close your eyes, open to a random page, and jab your finger on a random spot on the page. Open your eyes and read the word. Challenge yourself to include that word in your next sentence.
It sounds counter-intuitive. Here you are, forcing yourself to fit a word into a sentence when you can’t even think of a sentence in the first place. The strange thing is, it often works. For some reason, when your mind is backed into a corner by being forced to use a particular word, this is a call to arms for the imagination. The random word is like a jolt that gets the mind rolling again.
Give it a try. Think of it as a game. If it doesn’t work, you haven’t lost anything. Let me know how it goes.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Getting Lost in Lunenburg
Oh, the joys of getting lost! Last week, we were driving around Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, looking to head out of town when we took a turn and AMAZING! We came upon this very old school. I recognized it immediately as the inspiration for Eric Wilson's Ghost of Lunenburg Manor. Plus, right next door was the grave yard that is an important element of this fine book.