I woke up this morning with a knot of words and got up right away hoping to unfurl them into a sort of typed-out rollercoaster so here I am buzzed on coffee and opportunity. In the words I was driving beside Lake Superior and felt something on my cheek which turned out to be lichen and then I picked something from my hair and it was a triplet of pine needles which made me think I was either dreaming or dead. I was unsure if I was in Kenora or Chapleau or Marathon or Thunder Bay. I was in love here I thought, which was true of all places.

Image credit:Markus Spiske
Sherry Cassells

I write mostly short stories, the kind I long for but can rarely find. Some have been published here and there in journals, literary presses, anthologies. Also, and this is where I get rich, a new website called litbit.ca