Friday, July 31, 2020

Online Intensive Creative Writing classes offered this fall


Intensive Creative Writing
Offered at three different times 
Tuesday mornings, 10:30 a.m. – 12:45 p.m.
September 15 – December 15, 2020 {no class Nov 17}
First reading emailed Sept 8
Offered online, accessible everywhere  Spaces still available!
And
Wednesday evenings, 6:45 – 9:00 p.m.
September 16 – December 9, 2020
First reading emailed Sept 9
Offered online, accessible everywhere – currently wait list only.
And
Friday mornings, 10:15 a.m. – 12:30 p.m.
September 18 – December 11, 2020 {no class Nov 13}
First readings emailed Sept 11
Offered onlineaccessible everywhere – currently wait list only.

In-person classes will have limited enrollment to permit physical distancing, participants will wear masks, and hand sanitizer will be supplied – and if the severity of the pandemic changes, it’s always possible in-person classes will be forced back online.

Intensive Creative Writing isn't for beginners; it's for people who have been writing for a while or who have done a course or two before and are working on their own projects. You’ll be asked to bring in five pieces of your writing for detailed feedback, including three long pieces. All your pieces may be from the same work, such as a novel in progress, or they may be stand alone pieces. You bring whatever you want to work on. 
Besides critiquing pieces, the instructor will give short lectures addressing the needs of the group, and in addition to learning how to critique your own work and receiving constructive suggestions about your writing, you’ll discover that the greatest benefits come from seeing how your classmates approach and critique a piece of writing and how they write and re-write. This is a challenging course, but extremely rewarding.

Fee: $229.20 + hst = $259
To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca 

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, teaches creative writing at Ryerson University and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. But his proudest boast is that he’s has helped many of his students get published. 
Read reviews of Brian's various courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See Brian's complete current schedule hereincluding writing workshops, weekly online writing classes, and weekend retreats in, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kingston, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Southampton, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

Thursday, July 30, 2020

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, reviewed by Mary Schulz


A Gentleman of Moscow by Amor Towles, 496 pages, published 2016 by Penguin. Available from Chapters Indigo here.

I think our world needs more people who live their lives with grace and with a philosophy of treating every person they meet with dignity and genuine curiosity. Of all the attributes one might ascribe to Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov in Amor Towles’ novel, A Gentleman in Moscow, these are two of the most endearing.

For those of you who have not yet read this captivating novel, you are in for a treat. In 1922, Rostov is condemned to exile in an iconic Moscow hotel, The Metropol, as a consequence of having written a “subversive poem.”

I realize that being exiled to a luxurious “grande dame” of a hotel, complete with waiters, a renowned restaurant, top flight entertainment and well stocked bar may not sound like a hardship. But we soon realize that Count Rostov is relegated to a closet-sized chamber and stepping outside the hotel’s doors even for the briefest breath of fresh air puts him at risk of being shot. We come to understand that freedom, even when realized in the most humble surroundings, is preferable to imprisonment in a palace.

The novel advances in part through story lines that cleverly bridge Rostov’s earlier life in the genteel company of his beloved sister and grandmother at their country estate with his current life in the Metropol. The reader is advised to pay close attention to Rostov’s seemingly innocuous musings and reminiscences as they tend to have relevance later on in the novel. Nothing is introduced in this story without a reason.

At its heart, the novel is a testament to the strength of the human spirit and of community. Despite bouts of understandable despair, Rostov’s warm and often unlikely relationships with hotel staff and key guests sustain him. And is this not a fundamental truth for most of us? Who among us has not come to see, with fresh eyes, how interconnected we all are?

Rostov’s genuine interest in others enables him to navigate and find meaning in a world replete with apparatchiks and artists, seamstresses and starlets – none of whom is any more instrumental to the plot than another. When a young girl comes into his life, Rostov’s bemused interactions with her highlight how a child is a creature as foreign to him as the prospect of enjoying dinner without a precisely paired glass of wine.

Amor Towles
And just where, as a member of the cossetted Russian elite, did Rostov acquire his varied survival skills? It is here that so much of the magic and charm of this novel rests. We are reminded that the world functions most effectively when good manners, grace and kindness preside. For example, it is proven to us without any doubt that drawing up a dining table seating plan of potential allies, lovers and foes requires at least as deft a hand, and has the potential for at least as deadly consequences as drafting a military plan of attack.

Towles has studied hard to understand not just the history but the very soul of Russia and her people. Key figures in Russian art, music and history such as Pushkin, Tolstoy and Chekhov are brought into conversations as though they were characters being invited to pull up a chair.

Readers might notice how similar Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov’s name is to that of Leo Tolstoy’s character in War and Peace, Count Nikolai Ilyich Rostov. A coincidence? I think not. There are no coincidences in this finely crafted tale.

Now if all of this sounds quite heavy and ponderous, take heart. The novel is leavened with humour. One of Rostov’s most charming qualities is his ability not only to laugh at himself, his country and fellow countrymen, but also to note the absurdity of so many events that transpire around him.

This novel has it all – a tableau of diverse characters whom we come to care about deeply, historical people and events as signposts for daily life, life and death struggles, humour and pathos.

Count Rostov challenges us to reflect on how we would fare if put in a similar situation. Would we be as determined, disciplined, accepting, gracious and yet driven to orchestrate our best possible life? This is a quietly hopeful novel with much to teach us about the power and grace of the human spirit.
***
Mary Schulz is a Social Worker by background and has enjoyed a rich and rewarding career in virtually all areas of health care, focusing primarily on the care of older adults, including those living with dementia. Now that that period of her life has come to a satisfying close, she is figuring out what the next phase of life may bring. Happily, books play a huge part in this, as entertainment, escape, instruction and catalyst for reflection.


Quick Brown Fox welcomes your book reviews – or any kind of review of anything, of anywhere or of anybody. If you want to review your favourite coffee shops or libraries, babysitters or lovers (no real names please), go for it.  I have an essay about writing book reviews here, but don’t pay too much attention to it; you can write a review in your own way. See examples of book reviews here (and scroll down); other reviews here (and scroll down).
QBF also welcomes personal essays about a favourite book or about your experience of reading or writing. Read a few such essays on the blog to get a taste of what other writers have done (see here and scroll down). Submit to: brianhenry@sympatico.ca
Include a short bio at the end of your piece and attach a photo of yourself if you have one that’s okay.


See Brian's complete current schedule here, including writing workshops, weekly online writing classes, and weekend retreats in Algonquin Park, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kingston, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Southampton, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.


Tuesday, July 28, 2020

Trending – Kira Vermond’s latest nonfiction book for middle-grade kids is available now


Trending: How and Why Stuff Gets Popular by Kira Vermond
Fads and trends: How do they start? Why do they spread? And how deep can their impact be? Although trends might seem trivial, if you dig deeper, you’ll find that our desire to chase the next big thing can have an even bigger impact than expected.
Established middle-grade author Kira Vermond and cartoonist Clayton Hanmer team up in this fun and accessible nonfiction look at fads. In four short chapters, the book explores what a fad is, how the latest crazes catch on, and what makes us jump on the bandwagon. Finally, it looks at the fascinating and even frightening effects of fads both modern and historic. Who knew the beaver pelt craze in 17th century Europe would change ecosystems, start wars, and disrupt life as people knew it?
Comic-strip illustrations, an upbeat tone, and reader-friendly text make this a fun and timely tool for young readers who are building critical-thinking skills in the age of fake news and a world gone viral.

Trending is available from OwlKids here. See details of all four of Kira’s four books with OwlKids here. And see details of Kira's last book, Why Don’t Cars Run on Apple Juice, at Annick Press here.

Kira on stage for the Forest of Reading Awards
Reviews:
“If you’re lucky, you’ve heard Kira as a guest speaker at one of my Writing Kid Lit classes or workshops. If you’re even luckier, you’ve read her books and given them as gifts to the young people in your life.” – Brian Henry
"Complex material is broken down into accessible language and explained with lively example stories, allowing for a surprisingly sophisticated overview." – Kirkus Reviews - STARRED REVIEW
"Vermond cuts through the hype and presents a level-headed investigation into the under-lying economic, psychological, and marketing forces that enable a fad to catch fire... [She] employs sharp-witted and thoughtful analysis to demonstrate that fads are not all fun and games." – Quill & Quire
An entertaining, enlightening book on an unusual topic." Booklist - STARRED REVIEW
"The stories of the high-profile fads are entertaining and concise, and sidebars add information on related research and terminology used by social scientists to study fads."  Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books
"Vermond cuts through the hype and presents a level-headed investigation into the under-lying economic, psychological, and marketing forces that enable a fad to catch fire... [She] employs sharp-witted and thoughtful analysis to demonstrate that fads are not all fun and games." Quill & Quire
"Trending: How and Why Stuff Gets Popular will be an opportunity for everyone to share and learn more about this interesting and stimulating subject." Canadian Review of Material

Note: Kira will be one of the two guest speakers for my Writing Kid Lit course {for adults} this fall. Details here. ~Brian

See my complete current schedule hereincluding writing workshops, weekly online writing classes, and weekend retreats in Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kingston, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Southampton, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

Sunday, July 26, 2020

COVID-utilization by Christine Michaud



Stage 3 is on the horizon; people are emerging from their homes. I watched Marcel leave this morning suited up with mask, sanitizer, wipes.  We’ve done it! After months of lockdown in the same space, both of us are still living, no major bloodshed. Everything’s going to be all right. Isn’t it?

Now it’s just me and the fur kids at home.  I’ve just poured a coffee, sat down on the couch where I sat every morning in COVID lockdown until it was time to go sit somewhere else. I’m not as eager to jump into the germ warfare as Marcel is, I’ve made a safe nest inside our home.

Speaking of home, it has come to my attention that the state of my house has been the topic of conversation around this place for a while.  Certain residents appear to have a bone to pick with the staff, and by staff, I mean me.

The dog has begun holding daily meetings in the kitchen corner with the cat and what might either be a mouse or that olive I dropped last night. (I really should look for my glasses.) Anyways, I’m pretty sure the discussion is about me.

Whatever. They can have their dumb meeting, I’m the only one out of all of us that can open the fridge door.

Who’s laughing now.

Speaking of the fridge… it’s nine o’clock, breakfast was like forty-five minutes ago, a little early for lunch – I need a snack.

It’s a small struggle to lift myself off the couch.

“What is there to eat?” I chant my mantra out loud.

The dog’s ears prick at her favourite word – meeting adjourned.

I give her the stink eye as I head over to the kitchen.  I pull open the cabinet for a plate … and the cabinet’s empty.

“Crap.”  I turn around and the sink is full, a teetering stack of dishes threatening to plummet to their demise.  Immediately my brain flies into high gear, calculating between my level of hunger and the chore of wading through those dirty dishes.

And this is why the cookies are always the first to go.  I just stick my hand in a box, pull out a cookie – need a plate?  Nope.  If I’m feeling crumbly, I can get away with a paper towel – don’t have to wash them. 

Alas, all the paper towel snacks are gone.

I look back towards the leaning tower of meals gone by.  You know, I’ve been meaning to get new dishes.  My eye wanders over to my laptop, open to Amazon’s homepage.  We’d have to eat like animals, straight off the counter for a bit, but with my Prime membership a setting for eight could be here in two days.

Guilt and my bank account bring me back to the sink full of dishes.

While Marcel, has been working long, physically gruelling days, I really haven’t been doing that much.  I’ve devised a schedule full of nothing, curiously without any spare moments left over.  I’ve sunk into a strange dimension where time whirls by while the minutes drag.

I have eyes; I can see the mess surrounding me – I have to pick the dog hair out of my morning coffee, just like he does – he really doesn’t need to verbalize it.  But he does, our earlier conversation still ringing in my ears…

“What do you do all day?  Seriously Christine, I thought I had grown a beard overnight till I wiped the dog hair off the mirror.”

Huh.  I could have sworn he had a beard.  I really should pay more attention.

“I gotta head out.  Maybe you should try to clean up in here today.”  He shut the door behind him before I could respond – chicken.

How has he not figured out the more he nags, the less I’ll do?  I was just going to start cleaning.  I can’t do it now – he’ll start thinking he can tell me what to do.


I sigh.  “Fifteen minutes till I Love Lucy comes on,” I warn the disbanded assembly of furry mutineers (and possibly an olive).  I’ll clean for fifteen minutes. Then I can relax with a tea and … not a cookie.   “Damn it.”  My entire day is ruined.  I consider running down to the store on the corner to pick up a little something to enjoy with my tea, but then I’d have to put on shoes, a mask, and I guess, brush my hair – so much work.

I look at the sink.  I open the fridge door again. Stare sightlessly. Hmm, I’m going to need a pan if I’m going to make something to eat.  I look at my shoes – too much effort.  I groan.  So many dishes.  It’s almost impressive he managed to cram them all in there.  For all the energy it took him, Marcel could have just washed them.  Okay, maybe that’s not fair, I might not be equally contributing to the household these days.  I guess I could do the dishes without complaining. I’m good like that.

Not two minutes into honest housework and a nauseatingly familiar odour insults my senses.  I let the bowl in my hand plunk back into the sudsy water as I sniff furiously around the sink.

That is when I see it.

“No…”

I pick up Marcel’s favourite spatula, (not that he cooks), holding it over my head, ready to strike the hideous green sponge skulking behind the dish detergent if it moves.

It’s back.

That green and yellow, bacteria-laden, disease-infested, odour-permeating, half-disintegrated sponge.

The bane of my existence.

He’d found it in the garage where I hid it, probably sniffed it out, and brought it back into my kitchen.  For a guy who doesn’t do the dishes, my husband has developed a very strong opinion on how to do them and, most importantly, with what.  Before lockdown such opinions didn’t exist.  But rest assured, I have supported his stand on dish scrubbing as any loyal wife should – by telling him he can wash the dishes with anything he chooses, whenever that fateful day might come.  I’m not holding my breath.  I look back at the sponge – yes, I am.

Whether he holds stock in the Scotch-Brite company or he’s psychotically stubborn, every time I turn around, there’s that stinking sponge contaminating my kitchen and smelling up my house.  I can’t explain my husband’s attachment to this disgusting rectangle of stank. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.  But, for richer or poorer, healthy or sick, sane or insane, he’s all mine – and for the life of me, I can’t toss that vile sponge in the garbage. 

I hear the car pulling into the driveway.  There he is, sitting behind the wheel, his mask hanging to one side, swinging from his left ear.  I watch him reach behind him and grab a grocery bag.  My eye immediately goes to the yellow and green package sticking out of the top.  He’s bought reinforcements. 

Using Marcel’s inexplicably favourite spatula, I maneuver the offending sponge, balancing it precariously on the tip, careful not to make contact, and toss it out the window.  I don’t have great aim, if I had been aiming for him, I’d never have hit him square in the side of his head.  That’ll give the critters something new to discuss at their next meeting.

COVID has been said to alter our perspectives, show us what is important, re-align our priorities.  We’ve all had the chance to get to know the people we share our lives with in a new light.  Some days I wish our life was on a dimmer.  But that’s okay.  Everything’s going to be all right. Isn’t it?

Christine at socially distanced beach
Christine Michaud currently resides on a few acres with her very understanding husband and three dogs.  While waiting to be able to travel again she spends her time reading, writing, and kayaking on the creek that runs through their property, thoroughly annoying the wildlife with her camera.

See Brian Henry’s schedule here, including Saturday writing workshops, weekly writing classes, and weekend retreats in Algonquin Park, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, New Tecumseth, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor,  Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

Friday, July 24, 2020

Online course: Welcome to Creative Writing, Thursday afternoons, Sept 24 – Nov 26


Welcome to Creative Writing
10 weeks of discovering your creative side
Thursday afternoons, 12:45 – 2:45 p.m.
September 24 – December 3, 2020 {no class Nov 12}
Offered online on Zoom and accessible from anywhere there's internet 
Note: “Writing Kid Lit” and "Intensive Creative Writing" are also on offer this fall. See all classes starting in Sept here.

This is your chance to take up writing in a warm, supportive environment. This course will open the door to writing short stories and writing dialogue, writing in first person and writing in third person, writing just for fun and writing all kinds of things. You’ll get a shot of inspiration every week and an assignment to keep you going till the next class. Best of all, this class will provide a zero-pressure, totally safe setting, where your words will grow and flower.

Fee:  $176.11 plus 13% hst = $199
To reserve your spot, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada's most popular blog for writers, teaches creative writing at Ryerson University and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John. But his proudest boast is that he’s has helped many of his students get published. 
Read reviews of Brian's various courses and workshops here (and scroll down).

See Brian's complete current schedule hereincluding writing workshops, weekly online writing classes, and weekend retreats in, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kingston, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Southampton, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Two new books: The Light Temple of Yash by Nicolette Uma Smith and The Captain's Lady by Robecca Austin


Hi, Brian.
Several years ago you and I spent some time trying to find an open Tim Horton’s in Collingwood to discuss your evaluation of my futuristic novel about a world that had experienced a far more deadly virus then Covid 19. Several rewrites later, which included most of your suggestions, the e-book has finally been published by Shusia Publishing as The Light Temple of Yash. 
It is a good book to read in these times of Covid 19 because it offers a way forward to a better future.
The book begins with Eban who lives in Nuwess, a country where all young men have to do military service. That does not sit well with his desire to heal others. When Eban discovers that his missing mother is alive and that he has a younger sister, he leaves to look for them in Yash, a country where guns are prohibited and people live in harmony. His search becomes easier when he contacts his sister, Jiyoti, by using computer-assisted dreaming to send visions. She too is searching for their mother.
All the best,
Nicolette Uma Smith
The Light Temple of Yash is available as an ebook or Kindle through Smashwords here, as a Kobo ebook through Chapters/Indigo here, as a Kindle through Amazon Canada here and through Amazon U.S. here.
Since publishing Light Temple of Yash, Nicolette has also put out Hopeful Steps, a memoir of her time in Guyana, again with Shusia Publishing.

Hi, Brian.
I’m pleased to announce that I’ve self-published my first regency romance novel, The Captain’s Lady. This novel took root in your workshops and over the years your feedback has played an important part in shaping my stories. Thank you!

Lady Isabella Pennington’s life is knotted in rumors.
London’s gentry, like most high societies, pounce on scandal. Not willing to risk another disastrous engagement, Isabella is determined not to love the wrong man again and plots her re-entry into high society. However, she has never forgotten the rogue Captain Nicholas or their passionate afternoon years ago. Nicholas is no aristocrat. He’s a handsome devil who does not abide by society’s rules.
No sooner than she agrees to be the lady society insists upon, then Nicholas makes bold promises of marriage that startles high society and awakens desires in Isabella that she’s never known before.
In this marriage of convenience story where prestige trumps passion, will lady Isabella abandon title for love?

Available on Amazon and Kobo

All the best,
Robecca Austin
P.S. Coming soon: Champion of the Isles, a steamy Scottish Romance.
See much more on Robecca’s website here.

See Brian Henry's schedule hereincluding writing workshops, weekly online writing classes, and weekend retreats in Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kingston, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Southampton, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.

Wednesday, July 22, 2020

“Living on a Prayer” by Robyn Morris

Robyn and her son Lucas aboard a helicopter

My eyes sting with the spray of sea water and my nails dig sharply into my wet palms. So long as I can feel the pain and the bite of the wind, I know I am still alive. I tighten my grip on the ropes and brace my abdominal core as the boat takes on another wave. And I pray. My God, I pray to everything, everyone there is: God, Jesus, archangels, Buddha, Mohammed, my very soul.

I never wanted to come on this trip, but being the only female in an all-male family, what I want is quickly over-ridden. They sold me snorkeling in the sunshine and porpoises and dolphins in the surf, the rugged Na Pali coastline that I saw in movies like Jurassic Park and Pirates of the Caribbean and sea caves with ancient Polynesian petroglyphs. When we arrived at the harbour and the Captain asked whether anybody had any back or neck injuries and any fears about going fast, I realised with that familiar thud in my stomach that this was not all sunshine and canapés.

With puffed-up pride, the captain showed us her boat that would take us around to the Na Pali coast – the Zodiac – a rigid inflatable boat with two gigantic engines on the back, the kind of boat that Navy Seals use and that you see in action movies sweeping dramatically onto a beach. While some of the group became excited and clambered to the front, I tried to hold back the urge to vomit.

Now, clinging onto these ropes with my head tipped down against the wind, my sunglasses shielding little but the sheer terror in my face, I wish I had, for once, been honest and walked away. So I saw a few dolphins and a turtle, and a school of yellow stripy fish. I didn’t see any damn cave drawings. She drove so fast, I barely saw the cave walls! And no, I don’t need to chalk it up to experience. I’ve had plenty. I wish I could laugh, but I want to cry. We laughed once, hysterically so.

I let the memory of that take me to another place in my mind…

Getting suited up
It was that time we were celebrating the completion of our Day Skipper exam. My two best friends and I had taken the exam in preparation for a sailing trip we were going to take all the way across the English Channel to Jersey and then to France. My husband (then my boyfriend) was completing a Yachtmaster course so that he could skipper the boat.

As we clinked our flute glasses, Tammy said to me, “You know, you’re going to have to do this for the rest of your life. We just have to do it this one time.” And then they both chuckled. I think I joined in.

With every subsequent glass of bubbly, we giggled some more and it became the standing joke amongst the three of us. On my hen night, it was the subject of the speech given in my honour. They all agreed I was set for a lifetime of adventure – of the high-octane, death-defying sort that a bookish person like me generally tries to avoid. Our honeymoon was a safari, but my husband was most excited about micro-lighting over Victoria Falls in Zambia. Yes, micro-lighting. They call it an aircraft. Really it’s just a go-kart with a lawnmower engine. Once up in the air, the engine is turned off and it glides. Just the memory of it makes my heart come to a stop. 

The pilot had to do two or three attempts at take-off. I recall him over the radio saying to his buddy, “Abort, abort, abort. Passenger is strangling the pilot. Coming around for another try.”

On each try, he pleaded with me to keep my hands around his waist and not around his neck. I tried. Really, I did. Victoria Falls is twice the size of Horseshoe Falls. It’s spectacular. I closed my eyes for most of it.

Next came snowboarding. I might have mentioned that I tried it once while trying to impress a boy. That was all the encouragement he needed. A group was assembled and a ski chalet in France was booked. Because who doesn’t want an audience to witness your complete ineptitude on a ski slope? Having grown up in the sunny climes of South Africa where it snowed every ten years or so, I was unlikely to ever master skiing. I guess he figured if I could surf (he assumed), snowboarding wasn’t far off. I have never been so ecstatic to discover the positive blue sign on the pregnancy test that I snuck off to do in the après-ski bar. I returned the board the very next morning and spent the rest of the week reading in a coffee shop.

Pregnancy and child rearing afforded me a short respite, but by the time the child could speak, boating holidays and ski trips were planned out with eager precision. And soon, even my child was saying, “Faster, faster, Mummy!”

One thing I do love is flying – in aeroplanes. Large Boeing-type aeroplanes that serve you food in bento-shaped containers and miniature cans of pop. Not tiny Cessna’s where you walk on together with the sack of mail and have to duck your head as you manoeuvre your way into your seat. And certainly not helicopters, where you don’t stand a chance if you – well, you can’t say the word when you are talking about flying. 

Ready for take-off in a Tiger Moth, or as ready as possible
Being married to my husband, I’ve had to endure small aircraft a handful of times but I drew the line at helicopters. Helicopters are not safe, and my Last Will and Testament needs to be locked down and watertight before I’ll climb into one. Which, of course, it wasn’t when my kids and husband voted for seeing the volcano on Big Island in Hawaii from a helicopter, because all the reviews said that young children could not manage the hike out to see it. The helicopter was in fact safer. Relatively.

I stayed up all night researching the company my husband had booked, studying each pilot on the team. My exhaustion won out in the end and I accepted defeat. At least we would all go down together. On the day of the flight, we lucked out with a pilot who had flown in Africa and knew many of the places we had lived and visited. It was something. Secretly, I did feel a sense of accomplishment once we’d completed the trip – and survived!

But here I am, soaked and scared to my bones on a Zodiac speedboat. I vow that I will never, ever agree to another excursion, that I will spend the rest of the week on the beach with my book, lost in a safer world that I can control. Having been married for fifteen years and done countless terrifying adventures, I wonder just how long I will hold onto that promise. And just then, I see the speed limit sign, signalling our entry to the harbour and the Captain slows the boat.

As we walk back to the open-top Jeep Wrangler (I know!), my husband says, “She was a bit crazy, I didn’t like how she drove that Zodiac, she went far too quick across the water. I would never have done that. Maybe I’m getting too old for it.”

I nod. “Really honey? I thought so, too. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would.”

“Hmm. Maybe we’ll just rent kayaks next time. I think I can figure out how to get to that waterfall. We don’t need a guide.”

I freeze.

I rub the nail marks in my palm and reflect for a moment on all the extraordinary places in the world we’ve seen on these full-throttle holidays. I say a quick thanks to the universe for keeping me safe and I lean in to him and smile. “How about a Mai Tai at the pool bar, and then we decide?” 

"Sure! We'll see what the boys say."

When he gifted me a flight in a Tiger Moth for our very first Christmas together, I never imagined it would be a metaphor for our life together.  But so far, we’re surviving pretty damn well.

Robyn Morrris keeps busy making up stories in her head, attending Brian's writing classes, and working at a local hospice. She loves to find a quiet corner in her loud and crazy house to lose herself in books and to champion her favourite authors online. 

See Brian Henry’s schedule here, including Saturday writing workshops, weekly writing classes, and weekend retreats in Algonquin Park, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton, Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton, Jackson’s Point, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, New Tecumseth, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Sudbury, Toronto, Windsor,  Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.