1. "From Stage to Page" - panel discussion on publishing for writers, spoken word artists and storytellers. Moderated by Shauntay Grant and including guests George Elliot Clarke, Sue Goyette, Lesley Choyce, and Wanda Robson, this is an easy pick for all the writerlies!
When: Fri., Feb. 4, 6:30pm- 8:30pm
Where: Art Gallery of Nova Scotia
1723 Hollis Street (Windsor Theatre – Bedford Row entrance) Halifax, NS
2. "Connecting to Africa Spoken Word Show" will feature some of the provinces' best spoken word artists, including iZrEAL, Andrew Abraham, Verena Rizg and Martha Mutale.
When: Fri., Feb. 4, 7-10 p.m.
Price: $5 to support CTA
Where: The Company House
2202 Gottingen, Halifax, NS
And now if you're wondering why anyone would bother writing to a dead woman, check out my letter to Virginia Woolf below. . .
You were so right! We writerlies all need a room or space of our own.
For me anyway, creativity is separate from the real world. It’s more like a magical world! When I’m there, I get this wonderful sensation that there are no limits, that anything is possible (though some would argue I’m always in that world:)
I know that what I crave is harmony. I want to feel that I’m part of whatever I create whether that’s planting flowers, developing a new course, writing a novel or even putting together a photo album.
But creativity is more than that—it’s my place of refuge. I feel truly protected inside its arms, trusting. All those bad things that happen, whether global injustices or very close personal tragedies that simply don’t seem fair—they disappear whenever I go to my refuge. This is nothing akin to what I feel once I emerge and share whatever I’ve created with others; then, I feel naked and become afraid again.
Yet while I am there, being creative, it gives me the chance to become one with something larger than myself, larger than life’s routines which can rob us of the memory of this unbelievable gift that is this life, this breath I take in and exhale so casually, as if it weren’t the greatest miracle. I love to allow myself to be taken over, even consumed by it.
In my most fantastic dreams, I’d retreat to a little hut like the one in the photograph. A simple one-room cabin by the ocean. The side you don’t see in the photo (facing the water) would be a wall of windows. This is what my eyes would fall upon whenever they lifted from the page, or the laptop.
I often look at this photograph before I start writing. It makes me dream of freedom, the kind of freedom I experience whenever I am creating something new.
I remain in awe of your astute and timeless observation,