It arrived today. My contributor’s copy of Impact:Women Writing After Concussion is now sitting on my Grandmother’s kitchen table (aka my writing desk). My essay “Appearing and Disappearing, A Poet Gets Up From Her Table” weaves my memories of Grandma sitting at this table with my own transition back to writing poetry after my head injury. She would be proud of that. @other_jane @eedeemorin @UAlbertaPress #concussion #TBI #Recovery
Category: Jane Harris
More Publications
I have had a few poems published over the last few weeks including Electric Sky in iPoetry this morning.
Joy & New Horizons
Here is a poem I wrote about a year ago in a workshop. It is not part of my poetry collection WIP. However, I thought I would share it to you. Spring is the time to transcend our grief. June 22nd will mark eight years since I was attacked in my own home. Click home to read. I have posted it on Meddium.
Victoria Day Post
I have added a new post over at Medium. This is part of a series I am writing on Contemporary Canada.
Canada’s the Friend You know nothing About: A Primer on Victoria Day
It was 7:30 last Thursday morning when I felt the ground rumble. Screaming backhoes and monster trucks roared past my open window. An arctic wind barged in through the screen. I stood up to see sheets of sleet — snow mixed with rain — covering the ground. It looked like I would have to change my plans for the Victoria Day weekend. Not a chance.
Two things unite Canadians: our the hope that summer will arrive by Victoria Day and our determination to find a way to celebrate when it doesn’t.
We like to call the Queen’s official birthday the unofficial start of summer, but it comes too early, especially here in Alberta. In a few hours, we can go from 28 degree celsius patio lunches to huddling under quilts as blizzards shut down highways. The first rain mixes with snow and brings along wind that rips branches and pulls shingles off the roof.
Spring is unstable. So, whether you are planning a camping trip or a royal tour you need a back-up plan. Even the Queen knows that. The last time she celebrated her official birthday in Alberta, she got drenched in a six-hour downpour. The bureaucrats cancelled live entertainment for the province’s Centennial celebration.The rest of the party went on in the rain.
The Queen of Canada is a good sport. She has to be to put up with the weather. But maybe you didn’t realize there is a Queen of Canada until I mentioned it. That’s because Canada is the friend you’ve known forever, but know nothing about.
Read the full story here:https://medium.com/@canadawrite2/canadas-the-friend-you-know-nothing-about-a-primer-on-victoria-day-ce86177e9810?sk=02082d371c60b29d25f0bb4e8b080c63
Pandemonium
I used to have a hard and fast rule: Never write anything without a solid assignment from an editor. But living in the middle of a pandemic in the Province of Alberta has changed that. Our Third Wave is a Tsunami – the worst in North America at the moment.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I ran into a street preacher who told me it was awesome when people died of COVID-19. I had to write this essay knowing it didn’t fit the Op-Ed pages or any editors’ scheduled turn around times.
I present Pandemonium: Snake Handling the Pandemic in Alberta.
My Tribute to Canada Day:
This came to me when I was brushing my teeth this morning and I heard Leonard Cohen’s voice on the television:
The Land of Poets
I come from the Land of Poets
Just south of the timberline
Where northern lights flourish and imaginations dance
On cold winter nights as storms rage
I come from the land of gardens
Where summers are hot
and the sun forces the sleepy from hibernation
I come from a nation born on the first of July
When they said it couldn’t be done
and we were doomed to oblivion
Because our neighbours were too strong for us
I come from the place where magic reigns and miracles are our birthright.
I come from Canada.
Jane Harris: 1st July 2019
Happy Birthday Canada! Happy Canada Day.
New Year, New Beginning
New Year, New Beginning
2018 was a year of major change for me. July 12 the police came to tell me that my husband was found dead. As anyone who has read my work knows, his mental health and addiction issues made him too dangerous to be around, but we were still married. No one deserves to die alone, addicted, broken, and confused as he did. Too many do.
Sadly, the RCMP did not find my brother, William Harris, alive last fall. His funeral was November 9.
So, while I did write, I didn’t send my work out. The only big writing news I had last year was being published in Waiting, an Anthology of Essays (University of Alberta Press). More about that in another post.
This year, I intend to make the most of every day. That means getting through these massive piles of novel notes, poems, and essays I wrote last year and sending out them out into the world. I made good progress this weekend on the novel. A few magazine queries are brewing in my head, too.
I hope you are also planning to make your 2019 productive, too. Live now. The train of life is rushing toward the station.
Bring William (Bill) Harris Home to us
This is not my usual writing news. This is an urgent request. My brother is missing and we need to find him. He has significant health issues and will likely need medical attention when found. William (Bill) Harris has difficulty speaking due to multiple cancer surgeries and is very thin. Some people may mistake him for a homeless person. He has a whole family that loves him and needs to bring him home.
Please view the poster below, and if you find William (Bill) Harris, please call the local police detachment or the RCMP and seek medical assistance for him him:
The Deeper Truths in Fiction
For the last several months, I have pretty much abandoned non-fiction to write a novel. Now why would I do that? I have zero track record with fiction and I have always been able to sell my non-fiction. Why take the risk to try something new?
The answer are simple. First I have a story that has begging me to let it unfold itself into a manuscript, and it refuses to be pushed aside anymore. Second, fiction allows us to speak the truth in a deeper way.
In short, writing fiction is my safe place to face the monsters and say the things I am still afraid to say aloud. We all need a safe place.
That said, once I get the first draft done, it will be time to resume work on my book of essays and send out a few non-fiction queries. And the long process of revising and editing the novel manuscript into the book I have always wanted to right will begin.
Jane Harris, Author 