The risk of being vulnerable

Originally posted on the Monkeytree website @ http://monkeytreecreative.com/2011/10/on-blogging-and-sharing-my-writing/

Sean reminds me, when I forget, that a blog is only useful when you actually write something in it. At the same time, I’m not sure blogging is something I’m going to enjoy. I write prolifically, but I’m picky about sharing what goes on in my head.

Nevertheless, I was sitting in a coffee shop in downtown Toronto last week, having coffee and conversation with a friend who I have a great deal of respect and affection for. We were talking about the many ways a person can get their voice out if they feel something they’ve written has value. He actually had his little black book with him (not THAT book, although I imagine he has one of those somewhere too). 

Health Workers Lead Alternative Medicine

Originally published in Common Ground Magazine, September, 2011 @ http://www.commonground.ca/iss/242/cg242_healthworkers.shtml

A recent study by Johnson, Ward, Knutson and Sendelbach suggests healthcare workers (at 76 percent) are more likely than the general population (at 63 percent) to use complementary and alternative medicine. This is an important step forward for CAM; doctors and nurses regularly rate in the top five most trusted professions in Canada and their willingness to embrace and endorse CAM as a positive add-on to conventional medicine promotes the acceptance of this important field.

In the footsteps of very short giants

Mount Ngauruhoe (aka Mount Doom)

The only good thing that came out of the university course I took entitled “Forms of Fantasy in Literature” was the addition of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy to my bookshelf.  Not that I read it during the class.  Nope.  I bought the Coles notes, grabbed a few quotes from various parts of the books, and submitted a very mediocre essay about the “eternal battle that is waged between good and evil”.  I aced the course with very little effort, which was my whole reason for taking it in the first place, but I sure didn’t learn anything, except perhaps that Coles notes were created for lazy butts like me.

Several years later, in a moment of boredom, I picked up the first book and began reading.   How had I ever found these books boring?  I plowed through the trilogy over the Christmas holidays, unable to put it down and missing numerous family dinners and events in my quest to find out whether Frodo made it to the fires of Mount Doom and saved the world.

The Final Victory Goes to Great Big Sea

I owe Great Big Sea a great big apology.

For us Vancouverites, the past two weeks have been a blur of events, ceremonies, celebrations, street parties, houseguests, lineups and mayhem. It’s been fun. At times it’s been exhausting.

When the Barenaked Ladies took their final bows at last Monday’s Victory Celebration, I was relieved. Their performance was one of the highlights of my year as I cheered the rebirth of a great Canadian band, complete with the Fabulous Four logo on the drumkit (in case any of us should make the mistake that they are somehow less now that Steven Page has moved off into obscurity).

I Hate Myself for Loving You

I'm not sure what I think of Geneva. In some ways, it feels like a typical European city. There's the lovely old historic areas where the elite go to dine on fondue and chocolate; the rows of trendy designer stores with names I don't recognize because "these designers are so exceptionally funky their names are uncommon" (little ole me didn't know you could purchase a mini-skirt for a mere $40K); and right outside my shitty little hotel, the red light district with it's late night brawls, scantily clad hustlers and blank-eyed druggies. This part of Geneva I understand. This part of Geneva I embrace.

Speechwriting: The fine art of not putting words in other people’s mouths



My favourite politician and

good friend Colin Hansen,

who taught me how to get

people on their feet.

I sorta kinda hate to do this but... if this is a site where I post things I publish, then it shouldn't matter if it's actually fascinating reading or... well... not so fascinating reading. Right? 

This is an article I wrote for Ragged Right which is a publication of the International Association of Business Communicators. On speechwriting. It isn't that it's bad, it's just that... you know... when you're given a topic and so many words, there's only so much you can do.

Anyway, published it was, so blogged it is. And for those who actually wish I'd write something original soon, rest assured I'm working on it!
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A month after writing my first political speech, I was asked to transcribe the audio for a website. I was halfway through the first page when I realized there was no similarity between what I had written and what the Minister said. In fact, at one point he paused and mentioned someone had written a speech for him - but it wasn’t very good. At the next event I unwittingly stomped all over protocol by marching up to the Minister and asking him why he didn’t like the speeches we were sending him. The answer? No one had ever asked him what he wanted to talk about.

If the angels knew us better, maybe we wouldn’t have to scream

Vancouver is strange… you can brush your cells off on thousands of other people daily but never touch another soul.

Sitting in the corner of a dirty coffee shop on Hastings, Arrie pulls stories from inside her with the speed and accuracy of machine gun fire. Her eyes rarely focus, darting instead to the tired waitress manning the cash, or the washed-up pimp playing solitaire in the corner. Her fingers endlessly worry the frayed seam of her tattered shirt, but I’m not expert enough to know if she’s high or nervous or both. She’s throwing stories at me one after the other, and it’s all I can do to keep up.

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He follows. She rides. They are energy rushing down the hallways of invisible waves, owning the moment until it fades. Adrenaline. Fire. War. She jumps up onto concrete and keeps running, looking back occasionally to watch the railroad police become smaller and smaller and blend into the graffiti art. He laughs crazy disaster laughter. His bones shake when he laughs and then he coughs and spits up blood on the concrete next to her. She hopes it infects the whole city with his virus so that he doesn't have to die alone.