Hi all So if everybody could hear me from last night meetings, I said a few announcements that may have sounded like blah blah blah boring talk blah 😐 So let’s go through everything I said again with WhoWhatWhereWhenWhyHow like a reporter on meth Who: Why you of course, and please do come. The more … Continue reading Summer Social 2014
Edited by: Paul Vermeersch
Publisher: Harbour Publishing
I first heard of Al Purdy in a title “Sitting Quietly with Al Purdy” a poem published in Descant #161. Notwithstanding that poets are generally not known outside the poetry community, Al Purdy is a name that will at least make you cock your head and think ‘yeah that name sounds familiar’
FYI for all you head cockers, Al Purdy is one of the greatest poets Canada has produced, and the greatest Ontarian poet ever produced. “Sitting Quietly with Al Purdy” is written proof that this guy’s so awesome that poets are writing fan-poetry about him.
He’s also awesome because he peed on Margaret Atwood’s car, “to mark his territory” as the librarian who recommended this book to me joked. Of course this was back when Margaret was a doe-eyed token female who visited Al Purdy in his cottage, along with many other writers, some of whom have contributed pieces to this anthology. Wait “doe-eyed” Margaret Atwood? Okay I may have misheard it in oxymoron terms, but from 1957 and intermittently to his death, Al Purdy, along with his wife Eurithe, did live in a cottage they built for themselves in Ameliasburg Ontario (for those who want to know where that is, Google it).
If, really there is no if, excuse me, when I win the Nobel Prize for Literature, I will accept it with a beer in one hand, my speech notes in the other (and seeing as I still have the armspace, a hooker under each arm). After taking a swig from my glass, I would begin my thank you’s to my creative lit professor, myself for being awesome, and the funny voices in my head that give me all my wonderful ideas as well tell me to set the mailboxes on fire. Then having brought the room to an awed awkwardness, maybe a couple chuckles from the cooler suits and dresses, I’ll say just kidding, silly voices be damned, it was Orson Scott Card who taught me how to write.
Yeah let’s hear it, Ender’s Game was the shit (no it wasn’t, I’d give it B+ at best), but it wasn’t Ender’s Game that makes him one of my literary heroes, no it was for “Elements of Fiction Writing: Characters & Viewpoint”. Yah, reading How-to-Write guides do work, but not in that I-m-a-millionaire-and-you-can-be-one-too kind of way, but in the way how I learned nothing from 11th grade Chemistry except that potassium when exposed to air explodes (hilarious to watch though). Continue reading “Wordplay: The Q & A”