Fireside Community for Writers opens for registration today ✨
A black and tan, mixed-breed dog, lazing in the grass with his teeth showing. Anyone would tell you he’s smiling and saying, “Join me in this summer walk.”
Hey Lovely.
Here we are on September 4th, a day we’ve been talking about a lot on our little team. That’s because our beloved membership site, Fireside Community for Writers is open for new members for the next 10 days.
We started Fireside back in January and we’ve been in awe of how it’s grown.
We started off thinking we’d just offer a monthly “Writing Reset” session to help writers refocus and recommit to their writing, and some resources for writers to access anytime.
Then, because the response was so enthusiastic, we added:
Live writing sessions sprinkled through the month on different themes
A community forum to share ideas, discuss the questions and ask for help
Quiet co-writing hours 2-3 times a week
“Rush seats” and early bird discounts on Firefly workshops
Author events and community panels
This fall, we’re also adding:
A “Writing Marathon Day” in December
Handmade care packages mailed out mid-fall to all members who would like one.
As you can see — we’re in our element. And we’d love for you to join us. It’s $34 CAD a month, and of course you can cancel anytime if it’s not for you.
If you’re feeling curious, come check it out.
This all makes me think of how writing is about writing, but it’s also about so many other things. Recently, a tiny dog reminded me of this.
Sunday afternoon, full sunshine, I was walking my dog Marshall around East Toronto, and a minuscule white puppy scampered up behind us, all fluff and freshness. No collar. Here we go again.
Lost dogs find me.
Sometimes I think I have a pheromone that tells them I’ll take care of them if they just find their way to my ankles. This doesn’t always go great since Marshall can be nervous and protective, but this time it was fine. It was impossible to have a problem with this little cartoon character.
It was glued to us, so I decided to do a slow lap of the block looking for its owners, and we ambled along, Marshall ahead, scanning for danger, me behind, scanning for gates, and the new dude running back and forth between us, licking my ankles and sniffing Marshall’s butt. A strange little parade, in a leafy green neighbourhood, in no hurry.
There’s a funny thing that happens when I find a dog.
At first, it’s over there. I don’t know it, I don’t want it, it’s not part of my plan. But somehow — I can’t put my finger on the exact moment — that all changes. I notice the hair on its sweet little paw-paws. I find myself softening into the universal lostness of its predicament… of all our predicaments.
Then someone gives me a look for not having it on a leash, and I say, “It’s not my dog!” But we all know, at this point… it kind of is.
This is what it’s like when a writing idea finds me too.
At first, it’s over there, not mine at all. But at some point, if it brushes against me just enough, the space between us shrinks and it becomes clear, I’m going to go the distance with this idea. I’m going to find the language it needs to build a home in this world.
Here’s the thing though: This only happens when I’m open to it. When my thoughts are making wide enough circles. When I’m feeling inspired, connecting to others, remembering what’s possible on the page.
I can’t be — as I often am — hammering my to-do list like a woodpecker, or mentally rehearsing stressful conversations over and over.
Yes of course, writing needs us to sit down and write. But it also needs us to feel connected to our creative life force in all the ways that call to us — crocheting weird little aliens, making care packages, folding poems into the pages of library books, wandering around quiet summer neighbourhoods in no hurry at all.
That’s what I’m hoping for you this fall.
I’m hoping that things find you — ideas and ice cream, songs and strange metaphors, new friends, new snacks, new questions. Fluffy little dogs that look like heaven.
Maybe that involves taking a workshop or joining a writing community. Maybe it means taking more naps or making more quietness in your day. I just hope there’s space for you to take it all in, and find yourself over and over, in little parades of the unexpected.
Fireside Community for Writers is open NOW!
Registration is open for the next 10 days, then will close again until January.
If you want a glimpse of fall programming, you can see that here.
We’re planning so much good stuff and we’d love to share it with you!
$34/month, no commitment, we’d love for you to come check it out.
We have room in these 4 small-group writing workshops starting in September:
Lift Off — Thursday evenings with Mari
Letters to Courage in Uncertain Times — Thursday evenings with Asifa
Short Story in a Weekend — October 23–25 with Kim and Nina
City Sanctuary: The BIPOC Edition — in-person on December 6th with Asifa and Kim
Push Week is coming up!
Unlike the workshops above, Push Week is designed for a big group. It’s a distraction-friendly space that you can swim in and out of as it works for you.
Low pressure.
Joy driven.
Lots of choices.
Sliding Scale.
Come stand around a fire with us.
Sometimes it feels like we’ve all forgotten how to just hang out.
So, October 3rd, Withrow Park, come do that. We’ll have a welcome committee, a coffee cup exchange and marshmallows galore. (Yup, vegan ones too.)
The space is barrier-free and includes a wheelchair-accessible washroom.
Free of course! We’d love to see you there.
And a poem for you.
This little gem “The Light Continues” reminds me of all the quiet, simple ways that life can reinvent us, and reconnect us with wonder.
In case you were worried about that pup…
We found the owner.
Her face flooded with relief and ran towards us, arms out. By then the dogs had bonded so completely they didn’t want to say goodbye, but they exchanged a few last sniffs and licks, and we all walked home feeling a little bigger inside.
In it with you,
