QWF Writes

Category: Chronicling the Days

  • Chronicling the Days – Robert Edison Sandiford

    Chronicling the Days – Robert Edison Sandiford

    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 Robert Edison Sandiford, writing on March 18, 2020.

    Illustration: Aeryn Sandiford

    “How does a culture withstand the onslaught of a pandemic? We survive first of all with the presence of culture within us. It is to our inner culture that we turn, the culture we carry in us through years of unconscious osmosis and conscious acquisition.” Ben Okri

    My 13-year-old daughter is afraid to die.  Some days, it’s an abstract fear: the thought of not being here, of being nothing, is an unfathomable void.   There are days—today—it is COVID-19.  

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Jonathan Kaplansky

    Chronicling the Days – Jonathan Kaplansky

    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 Jonathan Kaplansky, writing on Thursday, April 23, 2020.

    The day begins as any other. I can see from the light behind the blind that it must be going on seven. The sun is shining, which augurs a good day for me.

    Meditation, exercises, music, coffee.

    The computer. Check email. Facebook. Ensure there are no work priorities, but they often come in unexpectedly, and I have to answer right away that I’ll take the job, usually responding within the hour.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Denise Duguay

    Chronicling the Days – Denise Duguay

    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 Denise Duguay, writing on Tuesday, 7 April 2020.

    Photo: Denise Duguay

    COVID, Cruiser Cars, the Moon and Me.

    I am standing in the semi-dark on the back trail that swings wide of the lookout on Mount Royal, the little-used back trail to keep my distance, self-distancing. I have forgotten my mask, but that’s not why. I am still in a fit of pique at having read that I face a $1,000 fine if I’m found walking with anyone I don’t live with, even six feet apart; so another month at least of COVID quarantining and not even a walk with a friend.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Tiffany Crotogino

    Chronicling the Days – Tiffany Crotogino

    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 Tiffany Crotogino, writing on 13 April 2020.

    Photo: Tiffany Crotogino

    It’s Monday, again. (It could be Tuesday or Thursday or every second Saturday—it would be the same story.)

    The pandemic has changed my routine only slightly. I get to linger a little longer with my morning coffee and fuss a little less over what to wear (right now, it’s Casual Friday every day). I still pack a lunch and head off to work. The traffic has been exceptionally light, making the commute an easy one.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Amie Watson

    Chronicling the Days – Amie Watson

    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 Amie Watson, writing in April 2020.

    Photo: Creative Commons

    The highlight of my evening the other day was jumping on a cardboard box.

    I’d tried to tear it, but there was a thick layer of tape across the bottom and my nails are short. (To keep feeling as though life hasn’t pressed pause, I’ve kept cutting them even though I’m not rock climbing lately because the climbing gym is closed.)

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Poetry Special

    Chronicling the Days – Poetry Special

    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.

    On Saturday, May 2, 2020, we have a Chronicling the Days poetry special. With thanks to Tanya Bellhumeur-Allatt, Jocelyne Dubois, Jeffrey Mackie-Deernsted, Barbara Kelly, Ann Lloyd, and Carol Katz for their contributions.

    Photo: Barbara Kelly

    Survival Plan – Tanya Bellehumeur-Allatt

    Wake up early.

    Write a poem.

    Let it have angst, but also,

    give the poem hope,

    like a sticky drop

    of maple syrup.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Maureen Marovitch

    Chronicling the Days – Maureen Marovitch

    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 Maureen Marovitch, writing on April 12, 2020.

    Photo: Creative Commons

    It’s the fourth day in a row that the phone rings eight, nine, ten times with no answer.

    A week earlier, the head nurse Debbie had called my husband. My mother-in-law Martha had a fever and cough, she reported. They were testing her for CoVid-19. And they were sedating people on the floor to keep them in their rooms. It’s necessary, she explained, in the Alzheimer’s unit. It’s the one where people wander into other people’s rooms at all times of the day and night, where they mistake the startled occupant of the room for their dead spouse and try to kiss them, or lay down on a bed that isn’t theirs and go to sleep – sometimes with someone already inside it.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Audrey Meubus

    Chronicling the Days – Audrey Meubus

    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 Audrey Meubus, writing in April 2020.

    This morning, I Googled “Is it okay to freeze cheese?” in an attempt to beat the expiration date.

    My partner tried calling Service Canada for the 700th time. The call always disconnects before he’s even had a chance to say a word to anyone on the line. I know better than to ask if I can help. All we can do is wait.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Dan David

    Chronicling the Days – Dan David

    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 Dan David, writing on Thursday, April 16, 2020.

    Photo: Dan David

    Thursday morning. The clock shows 07:14. I wouldn’t care what day it is except today is recycling day. Strangely, my cat didn’t bust into my room at 6 o’clock. Usually, she demands to be fed promptly at 6 AM. Not anymore and I think I know why.

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

  • Chronicling the Days – Aimee Louw

    Chronicling the Days – Aimee Louw

    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 Aimee Louw, writing in April 2020.

    Hill Seeker

    I’m that hill seeker in town

    You may have seen me dressed up for winter on top and summer on the bottom

    Or dressed for spring on top, with yellow gloves and winter boots, good to minus 30

    It’s all possible

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