There’s a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from context switching—jumping from writing fiction to analyzing sales dashboards to scheduling posts.
Why don’t Canadians call ourselves patriots? Because our pride sounds different. Born from Loyalists, peacekeepers, and quiet builders, Canada’s strength has never been in shouting, it’s in showing up. From Confederation to Canada 150, our patriotism has stayed humble, civic, and collective. In an age of loud nationalism, that restraint isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom.
The road wound higher than I remembered, climbing through high hills with just enough guardrail to suggest safety. On one side, forested hills stretched into layers of green and shadow. On the other, a drop, sharp and unforgiving, reminded me of gravity’s patience. Above it all, a clear sky stretched like a promise.
Coffee in one hand, edits in the other, the rest of the cottage still asleep.
Proof copy in hand. Red pen out. Beta readers circling. This book’s a risky one, fractured timelines, testimonies, and media scraps stitched into a story I hope makes sense outside my skull.
Hit a wall, and tore it down. After finalizing layout and hitting the halfway point in edits for Pejorative, I circled back to Chapter One and knew it had to go.
