Dear Fireflies,

I’m here to say goodbye. And it’s so hard to do.

This is like one of those surreal…

I used to run a workshop called “Writing While the World is on Fire.”

The idea was to bring together people who were working for a better world…

Growing up, I hated writing.

I couldn’t spell. I didn’t have ideas. I didn’t believe that anything interesting might happen on the page.

Hello Bright Hearts!

Asifa, Kim, and Mari here...

Hi hi! Kim here, one of the writing coaches at Firefly.

There is this thing that happens to me every September.

Fall is in the air, and we’re taking a big breath and stepping into a change.

Here’s something we hear a lot at Firefly — “My writing needs structure.”

Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to belong.

By “belong," I mean — to walk into a room of people and feel basically okay, without performing, or hiding, or trying to be perfect.

I remember the first time I saw Facebook.

I was in my sister’s little apartment in Montreal, looking over her shoulder at that cheeky blue font.

There’s a deep misconception I hear all the time about being a writer.

Hello big heart.

At the end of Grade 11, my very sweet boyfriend wrote in the back of my yearbook, in tiny script, as if no one could read it but me…

On our staff website, where we keep class plans and training notes and resources, we have a big doc called, “Just Because It’s Beautiful Doesn’t Mean It Belongs.”

We were so excited for our Community Bonfire tonight. We’ve been watching the weather like a bunch of bandits since Kim first noticed yesterday that it wasn’t looking good. Now here we are, turning this train around.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the word “welcome.”

It comes from two Old English root words: “Wil” which means pleasure, and “Cuman” which means to arrive.

Coach Kim here, to talk to you about rhythm.

Sometimes I hear writing compared to exercise, especially a marathon…

A couple of years ago, Britt said to me, “When I make it to 10 years at Firefly, I want a party.”

I loved that gusto and I held her words close to my heart.

What comes to mind when you think about yourself at your most awkward?

For me, it’s that picture right there. That look, like I have no idea what the world is. That tea towel, tied around my neck like the biggest bib on earth.

Last week, I woke up with a small tug, clear as a sunbeam. It was the urge to write.

It had been a while since I’d felt it. This winter has been a mess of stresses, and I’ve been racing around with my little bucket…