Let’s face it; Canada doesn’t have the best reputation for literature, aside from the stuffy fodder of literary academics. Our world-famous authors are few and far between, so unless you love Margaret Atwood or Yann Martel you might be SOL for discussing Canadian fiction at cocktail parties.
Some consider it an art; to others, it’s a lifestyle. For many, it’s nothing but an annoying and difficult requirement that you want to do as little of as possible. Regardless of how one feels about the act of writing, it’s done by almost everyone every day in some form.
A woman is wheeled into the emergency’s trauma room on a stretcher. Although she’s conscious, she’s been in a car accident and is bleeding from several injuries. She whispers to one of the paramedics that she’s HIV-positive.
Recently, my best friend of 10 years moved to Toronto to attend the University of Toronto on a full scholarship. Her high school GPA was around 3.8, in the accelerated program. Ridiculous, right?
Patrick Vaillancourt is a political essayist, and is seasoned in the arts of non-fiction writing. His first book, a memoir, is scheduled for publication later this year. He is participating in National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo, for the first time.
The authorities have bombarded us with messages that marijuana is the gateway to more illicit drugs. You might tell yourself that once you’re inside the gate, you can still get out, but there’s no guarantee you’ll still have the power to control yourself—the key to get back out when you’ve had enough.
Fall is here and winter is coming, which means tasty seasonal goods are everywhere. A personal favourite of mine is a ginger molasses cookie. For those who haven’t tried this drug—I mean, snack—it is heavenly.
Halloween is over, which means one of two things: either you’re one of the people taking to social media to bemoan the existence of Christmas decorations cropping up in stores so early, or, like me, you’re overjoyed that we can finally drop all that spooky black and orange in favour of some festive and cheerful red and green.
I’m not a very good cook. My impatience is such that cooking is usually tossing a can of soup on the stove and heating, on extra-high heat, for all of five minutes. Do you smell that scorched butternut squash soup? That’s the pre-packaged scent of young adulthood.
Homemade gifts are beautiful and thoughtful, and always an excellent option for a cash-strapped student. It’s win-win: you get to save money on lovely gifts, and during the countless hours that you spend creating your crafts, you’re not out there spending your student loan on Jägerbombs and shoes you don’t need.
