If I had to describe myself at twenty, this is what I would write. A hyper-verbal, defensive, funny, and skinny skate betty. A poet, thin-skinned and capable, ambitious and in love with the idea of love. A lonely girl from a big family who was open to everything and...
Before reading this essay about accessing appropriate health and wellness care as a sex worker I’m going to ask you to reflect on your own relationship to othering—perpetuating, witnessing and surviving it—and how it has impacted your health. 1. Trust Exercise One...
I attended the University of British Columbia from 2008-2014. I spent four of those six years in the Creative Writing Department, first to get my Bachelor’s degree, then my Master’s. I was raped twice during my time at UBC, once by one of my classmates in the Creative...
Our 2015 CNF Contest Honourable Mention. It’s my job to iron the napkins. There’s hundreds of them, enough to do two back-to-back weddings in a single weekend, or a three-day golf tournament without re-washing. I don’t mind. It’s quiet down here in the basement...
Mom says she doesn’t know how to twist her tongue in half. Mom says she doesn’t know how to twist her tongue in half. “It’s genetic,” you say as you fold your tongue and stick it out so she can see it. You are sitting at the kitchen table in Brampton. The light from...
Read the Honourable-Mention Winning Entry From Our 2015 CNF Contest “Let’s blow this joint!” Dad said, and stuck the key into the Oldsmobile’s ignition. Mom rode shotgun; my brothers and I had all crammed into the back. Popcorn, our shih tzu, panted nervously at my...
Any writer can give you an angst-filled list of reasons why writing didn’t happen (again) today: there were the kids. Or a special meeting, or the first sunny day in months, or … Rarely do we mention, “Oh yes, and I was afraid.” Any writer can give you an angst-filled...
In truth, I’m not a poet. Nor do I, as a rule, pester strangers with chitchat. In truth, I’m not a poet. Nor do I, as a rule, pester strangers with chitchat. And I’m stingy with friendship, keeping it tucked tight to my chest like a baby chick. Not often showing it...
The honourable mention entry in Room's 2014 Contest Creative Non-Fiction category. Sitting on the edge of the tub I look at the large, red sore on my stump—the edges of its oval shape roughen in the heat of the shower, small bumps push to the surface. “What do you...
I learned how to pick locks in prison. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon; the adults were drunk and some had paired off to have sex in tents pitched on the lawn. I was sitting on the scratched wooden pew of a picnic table, playing backgammon by myself. I shuffled the...
ROOM 47.4 FULL CIRCLE
Step back with Room into the past, to parents, to childhood homes, and to people once known and loved; dig into themes of grief and healing; and ultimately explore what it means to come full circle in literature.
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