QWF Writes

Author: john@qwf.org

  • Chronicling the Days – Mark Foss

    Chronicling the Days – Mark Foss

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Mark Foss, writing on Sunday, April 5, 2020.

    Photo: Mark Foss

    I am in a fallow period with my writing, awaiting one of several ideas to take hold, unwilling to force-feed my imagination. So when I wake in early morning, I don’t rush to the computer. I lie flat in the dark, but get restless after a few minutes. How do I remove sleep from my eyes without touching my face?

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Writer’s Block in the Time of Corona—By Carolyn Marie Souaid

    Writer’s Block in the Time of Corona—By Carolyn Marie Souaid

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    In mid-March, COVID-19 was getting out of hand, according to Premier Legault. There was too much handholding, not enough handwashing. I was sent home on a paid, two-week hiatus while they rejigged my job to allow me to work from the confines of my condo.

    Wait, what?

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Surehka Surendran

    Chronicling the Days – Surehka Surendran

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    What’s the story of your days?

    Emergency Nurse Surehka Surendran

    As an ER nurse, everyday I wake up asking myself how my day is going to be. Will it be a relaxing day at work? In what section of the ER will I work? Will any of my patients end up being intubated? When is the apocalypse coming to the hospital?

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Louise Carson

    Chronicling the Days – Louise Carson

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Louise Carson, writing Monday, any Monday, April 2020.

    Louise Carson: couch and cat

    8:20 a.m. Large male ginger cat scratches at bedroom door. Snuffles.

    8:21 a.m. Piercing yowls from small black female cat.

    8:22 a.m. Sigh. Rise. Assess back stiffness, pain. Open door. Greet cats. Shuffle to bathroom. Ablutions. Cat box duty. Cats jostle for position waiting to use clean box. Feed them.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Jen Deleskie

    Chronicling the Days – Jen Deleskie

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Jen Deleskie, writing on April 2, 2020.

    Photo: Jen Deleskie

    I don’t know how many stairs there are between the Boulevard and Summit Crescent, even though I’ve climbed them at least ten times over the past two weeks. If I did, I believe these stairs would feel more rooted in my world, like a poem committed to memory. I’m not present enough these days to count stairs or memorize poetry. I used to run on the Mountain, but now I stick to my neighbourhood, which is less familiar to me than I thought. Today I saw Frère André’s chapel for the first time. Today I watched a woman sweep her postage-stamp front lawn, making a small and meticulous pile of last-year’s leaves.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Lea Beddia

    Chronicling the Days – Lea Beddia

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Lea Beddia, writing on Friday, April 3, 2020.

    So close.

    My daughter wakes at three a.m for the third time this week, calling out for her grandparents. I rock her back to sleep, but she’s up again at five. I’m used to sleepless nights, but my daughter is too young to understand why we can’t see loved ones, and her anxiety is affecting her sleep.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Muriel Gold Poole

    Chronicling the Days – Muriel Gold Poole

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Muriel Gold Poole, writing on April 1, 2020.

    Wednesday is the day I lead my Writers Workshop in St Petersburg. Florida. And I had been forced to abandon them. Not so fast. One of my writers (there are 20 of them) suggested I run the sessions from Montreal. Not through ZOOM or SKYPE or FACETIME, G-d forbid . Luckily a few of my participants are just as technologically challenged as I am so we decided on email as the method of communication.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Byron Rempel

    Chronicling the Days – Byron Rempel

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Byron Rempel, writing on April 1 & 4, 2020.

    Sainte-Adèle – April Fool’s Day, 2020

    Stores have installed large plexiglass fronts on all their cashiers’ posts. Probably some of these things will be that way for months, years, some will keep them always. Air-borne paranoia spreads through my village. There is a greeter at each Gate of Entry, dressed in a long hooded black cape and clutching a scythe. But it’s all right, I enter with my Plague Doctor’s mask, the pointed beak stuffed with aromatics and Trudeau’s Essential Services Cannabis, all to protect me from the Pest.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – April Ford

    Chronicling the Days – April Ford

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by April Ford, writing on Friday, April 3, 2020.

    CoffeeAprilFord

    Dear next Monday: I will conquer you. It’s only Friday, so I have the whole weekend (and this evening) to mentally prepare. The first thing I’ll do when I wake up Monday morning is write for two hours. Nothing will come between me and new words except for a shot of stovetop espresso. Made with my single-cup Bialetti, which I should probably clean—like, really scrub—now that I have time. Usually I just rinse it after each use, which, in light of the pandemic, seems kind of gross and maybe even dangerous. I really can’t say, because Trudeau can’t seem to say. Legault, though, he’s pulling for us. (Never imagined myself saying that.)

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic

  • Chronicling the Days – Nora Loreto

    Chronicling the Days – Nora Loreto

    In April 2020, we invited writers in Quebec to submit a story of a single day during the strange, uneasy time of coronavirus and pandemic, of social distancing and self isolation, of lockdown and quarantine.

    We’re thrilled to announce that these stories have been gathered in Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic (Guernica Press). To learn more and buy the book, please visit https://www.guernicaeditions.com/title/9781771836579.

    Please also join us on the QWF FB Community page, and let the authors know if their words resonated.

    This piece is by Nora Loreto, writing on Friday, April 3, 2020.

    NYX

    I have the most lucid dreams between 8:06 and 8:11 every morning. My alarm signals to my brain to re-start the dream I’m having, but to make sure I can remember it.

    This morning, I was in what I imagine a cigar den might look like. There was a bar and low-rise tables everywhere, made to seem even more low thanks to the high ceiling of the room. It was bright. There were people sitting closer than two metres together.

    To read the rest of the story, please support our community and check out Chronicling the Days: Dispatches from a Pandemic