Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Steven Galloway's Masterful Work

I sat down with Steven Galloway at Helen's Café to discuss hockey, the future of electric cars, and the process of writing his internationally acclaimed, "The Cellist of Sarajevo."

"The time after a book’s publication can be an intense, exhilarating, soul-baring experience for a writer. Book tours, public readings, fan mail, critical reviews all come in one big time-compressed period, then the writer returns to isolation and, hopefully, another book. But for Steven Galloway, one year after publishing his third book, The Cellist of Sarajevo, the accolades and demands haven’t stopped." Read the full feature...

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Cooped Up?

Wednesday, September 30 at 8pm
The Brickhouse, 730 Main Street

Wear your plaid, dungarees, overalls, long johns - c'mon people, it's CABIN FEVER.

Join West Coast contributors Charlotte Gill, Jaspreet Singh and John Vigna as we celebrate the launch of CABIN FEVER, the Banff Centre's newest literary journalism anthology.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Cabin Fever

My personal essay, "The Ballad of Big and Small," will appear in the forthcoming Banff Literary Journalism anthology. It's a huge honour for me, as I've long been a fan of the Banff Centre non-fiction anthologies.

CABIN FEVER: THE BEST IN NEW CANADIAN NON-FICTION offers the finest and most daring work by Banff Literary Journalism participants of the past six years. Edited by Moira Farr and Ian Pearson, and published by Thomas Allen, the anthology features the work of: Taras Grescoe, Jeff Warren, Megan Williams, Bill Reynolds, Charlotte Gill, John Vigna, Margaret Webb, Jaspreet Singh, Jeremy Klaszus, Deborah Ostrovsky, Jonathan Garfinkel, Penney Kome, and Andrew Westoll.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Fill 'Er Up

How does an aging logger who loses his wife and daughters in a horrific car crash spend his first holiday long weekend without them?

"Because it’s the Thanksgiving weekend, he hangs around with the others at the end of the shift. They are a new crew, young, earnest, eager to provide for their families. He doesn’t trust them, their big talk and brazen work, sloppy and sometimes haphazard. By the third beer, he’s heard all he can take. He crushes the empties in his fist, tosses them in the slash, flexes his hand, the knuckles gnarled like lug nuts, strands of jagged scars across the top, and shakes out the numbness. He slings the rest of his six-pack, drops it in the cooler behind his seat, slams the tailgate shut and starts the truck. In his side-mirror, through the dust, one of the guys throws a can at his rear. Another raises a rifle."

To read more of my short story, "Gas Bar," pick up a copy of the Dalhousie Review, Spring 2009, 89.1.