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Life
story, right? Hopefully in short.
Born and raised in Winnipeg, Manitoba by working class folks with tremendous
energy and a great sense of humour. Bad at sports except for gymnastics,
which
I excelled at. Still do cartwheels, round-offs and flips all summer
(on the beach,
where the ground is soft). Skied like a pro – a
really novice pro. Still ski. That’s it.
Grew up. Left home at
16. Had my first son at 19. Lovely boy. Still is.
The boy made me want something more than the endless series of crap
jobs that
I’d had since the aforementioned leaving home. School
seemed expensive and
unlikely, until a university boyfriend taught me
how to fill out a loan application,
write a cheque, and find the registrar’s
office at the University of Winnipeg. Thanks, Ter.
Went to university.
Through out it all, home growing up skiing cartwheels boy cheques, always
wrote
the stories. Took theatre at school, though. Boyfriend was an
actor.
Published my first story in a newspaper, Christmas eve, when the boy
was about
2. Ran down the hall in the apartment block proclaiming it.
Did so. It was about a
home for unwed mothers (which the unwed mother-hero
of this story had never heard
of until someone suggested I was just
the right sort to tell their story).
University didn’t make me CEO of anything, but hey, great contacts.
One of said
contacts gave me a job writing scripts for a news magazine
show for teenagers. Did
that three seasons. Great money. Thanks, Rich.
What then?
Long, long unemployment. Worked as a clown for awhile. Thanks, Jack.
Sort of.
Oh yeah, forgot. Took a couple of years at a community college studying
journalism.
Then I edited a not-for-profit arts magazine. Serious good times. Discovered
happy
hour, communism and boys. Wrote stories about other writers. Travelled
a bit.
Learned to drive a car. Bought a lot of cars (8). Met a boy I
decided to keep. Married
him moved away to Manitoulin Island in Ontario.
Lived there for awhile came back
to Manitoba and here I am.
Wrote three books.
Oh, yeah, and I actually dated my husband in two spurts, two years apart.
Met him
when I was out with my other boyfriend. Thanks, Ter.
Oh yeah, had another kid. Boy Two. Lovely boy. Still is. Thanks, Mick.
And that’s that.
