It’s been a month since Pejorative left my desk and entered the noise. The algorithms have already decided who should see it and who should not. Every click feels like a vote of confidence, or a funeral rite.
Every story starts with a spark. For Pejorative: Echoes of a Nation, that spark was a question I asked on my blog, just a few “what if” scenarios about Alberta leaving Canada. At the time, it felt like speculative fiction. But the more I followed the rhetoric, the clearer it became that the lines between reality and fiction were blurring.
Dystopia isn’t arriving, it’s already here, just unevenly distributed. For some, it’s daily survival; for others, a new shock. This memoir fragment explores how silence becomes complicity, why endurance is not apathy, and how writing can stand as witness.
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.
