To be honest, I often ask myself this question, as I am sure we all do. Sometimes, it's crystal clear -- other times, it's all too vague. That's when I only know what I am not.
One minute I'm a terrific person, a great lover, a fabulous gourmande, a loving, generous and compassionate human being who wouldn't dream of harming a gnat.
Then, the Evil Twin emerges and all bets are off. And why?
Because I am a writer.
I began my formal career (i.e. money exchanged hands) in the 1980s, the culmination of thought, deed, desire and imagination that sprang from a childhood love of reading. The only things that piqued my longings even more than running a chubby finger over the vaunted names on book spines like Doubleday, Grossett & Dunlap, Simon & Schuster, Random House, G.P. Putnam's Sons, and Puffin Books etc. were Romanian Turkish Delight strudel, Cadbury Milk chocolate, Peek Frean Playbox Biscuits, and rounds of Laura Secord fudge.
I began my formal career (i.e. money exchanged hands) in the 1980s, the culmination of thought, deed, desire and imagination that sprang from a childhood love of reading. The only things that piqued my longings even more than running a chubby finger over the vaunted names on book spines like Doubleday, Grossett & Dunlap, Simon & Schuster, Random House, G.P. Putnam's Sons, and Puffin Books etc. were Romanian Turkish Delight strudel, Cadbury Milk chocolate, Peek Frean Playbox Biscuits, and rounds of Laura Secord fudge.
In combination, I reached Nirvana. I decided I wanted to continue to indulge my sweet tooth and grasp for the "sweet spot" that only comes when you write the perfect words in one perfect sentence.
This insatiable quest to arrive on a page with the same music in one's brain is so terribly elusive, it can make you crazy and if you don't believe me, go ahead and try it. Or talk to other writers for confirmation. I'll be listing their blogs soon.
Today, Evil Twin is in the kitchen basting a Thanksgiving turkey. It's the Canadian version of how to stuff both yourself and a bird silly, savour the flavours of orange, red and yellow pumpkins, squashes, sweet potatoes and wine. Canucks are sneaky. We realize that by having such festive feasts so soon into the "eating" season, we can run off our weight, or store our excess fat in plenty of time to avoid food aversion, thereby lunging greedily again at all the goodies of the Christmas, Channukah and Festin de Noël groaning boards.
"Not true," says Evil Twin as I write this. "You know damn well, that in this house we also celebrate American Thanksgiving in November."
She's right. I'm a glutton.
But, she's also cooking and letting me sit here to introduce my neuroses to the world at large.
So--who am I?
A writer with three projects on the go -- more about one of them in my next post, because I want you to be part of it -- who has decided to make her latest journey-times-three public.
Stick with me, please. As Bette Davis once said, "It's going to be a bumpy ride."
But not without its charms. Of course, I say this over high-pitched cackling coming from the kitchen....
Today, Evil Twin is in the kitchen basting a Thanksgiving turkey. It's the Canadian version of how to stuff both yourself and a bird silly, savour the flavours of orange, red and yellow pumpkins, squashes, sweet potatoes and wine. Canucks are sneaky. We realize that by having such festive feasts so soon into the "eating" season, we can run off our weight, or store our excess fat in plenty of time to avoid food aversion, thereby lunging greedily again at all the goodies of the Christmas, Channukah and Festin de Noël groaning boards.
"Not true," says Evil Twin as I write this. "You know damn well, that in this house we also celebrate American Thanksgiving in November."
She's right. I'm a glutton.
But, she's also cooking and letting me sit here to introduce my neuroses to the world at large.
So--who am I?
A writer with three projects on the go -- more about one of them in my next post, because I want you to be part of it -- who has decided to make her latest journey-times-three public.
Stick with me, please. As Bette Davis once said, "It's going to be a bumpy ride."
But not without its charms. Of course, I say this over high-pitched cackling coming from the kitchen....
