Yes, it’s true. The fabulously talented Erin Morgenstern (author of The Night Circus) “accosted” me at the Toronto Public Library Foundation’s Book Lover’s Ball. And, of course,  I loved every minute of it. In truth, we were mostly bonding over our love of [...]]]>

The lobby of the Fairmont Royal York in Toronto

Here are a few highlights from my recent trip to Toronto.

Yes, it’s true. The fabulously talented Erin Morgenstern (author of The Night Circus) “accosted” me at the Toronto Public Library Foundation’s Book Lover’s Ball. And, of course,  I loved every minute of it. In truth, we were mostly bonding over our love of sparkly things…me, adoring the stars in Erin’s hair; Erin, loving the vintage gown I was wearing. It was a magical night to be sure, with loads of literati sightings (Linden MacIntyre, Margaret Atwood, Lawrence Hill, etc.) and conversations with facebook author friends I hadn’t met face-to-face until that night (Eva Stachniak, Lilian Nattel, Alison Pick, Linwood Barclay, Kathleen Winter, to name but a few.) Best of all, it was for a wonderful cause, the Toronto Public Library System.

Hanging out at the Book Lover's Ball with my Canada Reads buddy, Terry Fallis (author of The Best Laid Plans)

While I was in the Big Smoke, I also had the privilege of speaking at a Writers’ Trust of Canada Salon. It was a delightful evening of storytelling and lively conversation, all made possible by the hospitality of my hosts and the wonderful people who keep the Writers’ Trust going. We’re so fortunate to have such a fine organization in this country to support and encourage Canadian writers.

Erin Morgenstern and me at Random House Canada

On Saturday, I met up with Erin again and we joined Paula McLain (The Paris Wife) for the Random House Canada Blogger Fest. We were the three “super secret surprise” authors for the day, and what a fun day it was! The energy in the room was, in a word, squee-rific. It was great to have the chance to sit and chat with so many book bloggers. We dished about everything from women’s history to cupcakes, from literary inspiration to our favourite Etsy finds. Oh, and just for kicks, I read my first blog post ( from March 2003) to the group. In the post, I was just about to finish the first (extremely rough) draft of what would become The Birth House. My how time flies. Here are a couple of lines from it. (I’ve chosen not to include the first and only comment the post ever got from the ever prolific “how to increase your sperm volume.”)

March 26, 2003

picked up Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer at the Odd Book used book store. Written in the 1930′s, it’s an incredibly useful tome of information.

getting closer to the end of the novel. I can’t believe that within a month I may be finished with the first draft. The ending is still forming, mixing…all yeasty and warm in my brain. It’s a good place to be. I’m not panicking…

reading my first blog post at #RHBlogfest (photo courtesy of SassyMonkeyReads)

Sunday saw my last event of the trip, a lovely luncheon put on by the Globe and Mail and hosted by Sarah Hampson. Paula was at this event as well as Eva Stachniak (The Winter Palace,) and the three of us took turns talking about the inspiration behind our novels. I loved hearing the behind-the-scenes stories of Paula’s and Eva’s books. Sarah added insightful observations and questions to the mix during the Q&A, so I headed home feeling inspired and eager to write!

the view from inside my car at the Halifax Airport parking lot...yup, that's ICE!

Home…(almost.)

I knew there’d been freezing rain and snow the night before I arrived in Nova Scotia, but I had no idea that my car, parked in the airport parking lot (rather than the garage) would be completely covered in ice. After I was unable to get my key into the lock of the driver’s side door, I managed to coax it into the lock on the passenger side. Lock turned, I jiggled the handle until it popped up. So far so good.

When I tried to pull the door open though, it wouldn’t budge. I ran my key along the perimeter where the door meets the body of the car, and got rid of some of the ice that was keeping the door shut, but when I pulled at the handle again, it opened just enough for the interior light to go on and nothing more. (At least now I had a bit of a gap to work with…about half an inch.)

I hip checked the door several times over and said more than a few choice words. (Did I mention it was really cold and windy?) I pounded at the door with my fist, then hiked up the skirt of my dress (I hadn’t changed after the luncheon) and kicked the crap out of the door with my mighty Fluevogs. The door was still stuck. The interior light mocked me every time I tried the handle…blink, blink, blink.

What did I have in my bags that I could use as a lever? I thought. It needed to be strong, but slim. Opening my suitcase, I took out my curling iron. It’s been threatening to fall apart for ages, so I decided to try wedging the thin part of the metal clamp between the door and car.

The curve of it was too deep, it wouldn’t fit.

Meanwhile, my husband is texting me with welcome home messages and updates on the current episode of Downton Abbey I was missing. I texted back my parking lot woes, a few more colourful words, and told him I hoped to get home before dawn.

Pacing to keep warm, I tried once more to think of what I could use to get into the car. In desperation, I started digging through the swag bag they’d given me at the Globe and Mail event. Chocolate and Books. The chocolate would come in handy if I had to wait at the airport for a ride…

“OK book,” I said, as I pulled it from the bag. “Don’t fail me now.” Flipping the font cover of it open, I slid the edge of the hardcover into the gap and began to pry at the door. Working my way around the door, I finally heard a blessed “pop” and I was in! I made it home by 1am.

There truly is nothing like a book.

"after the ball is over..."

A few of the people and places mentioned in this post:

Erin Morgenstern, The Book Lover’s Ball, The Writers’ Trust of Canada, Sassy Monkey Reads,  and my mighty Fluevogs.

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

- Emily Dickinson

Libraries hold a special place in my heart. The public library in my hometown of Lebanon, Indiana was the place I spent most Saturday mornings as a child. My mom [...]]]>  

The Carnegie Library in Lebanon, Indiana

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

- Emily Dickinson

Libraries hold a special place in my heart. The public library in my hometown of Lebanon, Indiana was the place I spent most Saturday mornings as a child. My mom would drop me off on her way to do her grocery shopping, and by the time she returned, I’d have a stack of books piled high on the librarian’s desk, ready to bring home.

The children’s section, with its giant, 1970′s coloured floor pillows was where I first discovered the power of words. Sinking into the orange corduroy softness of my favourite pillow, I’d soon be transported to another place and time – a secret garden, the land of Oz, a boat race in Central Park (where I’d cheer with every page turn for a spunky mouse named Stuart.) Reading was nothing short of magic.

(And yes, it’s true…another kind of magic happened there for me as well. I had my first kiss in the reference section of the Lebanon Public Library at the tender age of twelve.) Just thinking of the Dewey Decimal classes still makes me blush.

In the last few years, I’ve had the pleasure of visiting libraries near and far, sometimes as a guest speaker, but more often as a writer who can’t seem to stop chasing after stories from the past. While writing The Birth House I read through countless historical volumes and documents at libraries and archives throughout Nova Scotia. Then, while writing The Virgin Cure I took several trips to New York where I’d spend entire days at the New-York Historical Society Library, lost between the pages of 1870′s newspapers and guidebooks.

Now that 2012 has arrived, I find I’m chasing after a new tale that’s already got me rushing back to the stacks and to my desk. For the time being, my Canadian book tour is finished, and I’m happily falling back into the world of words. A million thanks in advance to all the librarians I’ll be asking for help as I chase this story down, one call number at a time.

Have you thanked a librarian lately?

little me...about the time I started making Saturday trips to the library.

Here’s a window into my world of libraries, research, and family ties, that might be of interest.

I was recently featured on CBC Radio’s The Next Chapter with the wonderful Shelagh Rogers. It was lovely to chat with her and discuss the history and the research process behind The Virgin Cure. The interview is now online and includes big shout outs to the Lower East Side Tenement Museum and the New-York Historical Society Library! If you missed it on air, you can read more about my chat with Shelagh, and listen to the interview at CBC Books.

 “I like to think that she was a rebel. She cared very deeply about the social problems of the time, she cared about the huge gap that existed between the wealthy and the poor…She made a choice to go in a direction that by and large most women wouldn’t have even thought of taking on.” - Ami McKay on Dr. Sarah Fonda Mackintosh, her great-great grandmother (and the inspiration behind The Virgin Cure.)

I’m sorry.

Your husband put me up to it.

He said it was for your own good.

Please forgive me.

During the first part of December, I made several appearances at bookstores and malls in Nova Scotia. My last obligation of the season took me to the Chapters store in Dartmouth, where I [...]]]>

Dear Cookie, I'm sorry...

Dear Cookie,

I’m sorry.

Your husband put me up to it.

He said it was for your own good.

Please forgive me.

During the first part of December, I made several appearances at bookstores and malls in Nova Scotia. My last obligation of the season took me to the Chapters store in Dartmouth, where I sat for a couple of hours at a table – stacks of my new novel artfully placed to my left and right; and a helpful staff waiting in the wings to see to my every need.

On the whole it was a pleasant affair. I met some wonderful readers for the first time. I also caught up with a few dear friends. Stephens Gerard Malone (author of Big Town) even stopped by – on his birthday, no less!

During my conversation with Stephens, a man stopped by the table, picked up a copy of The Virgin Cure and then stealthily slid it across the table towards me. He looked all around before he spoke, and then whispered, “Make it out to Cookie, and please make it quick. I don’t know how long I’ve got before she catches up to me.”

I scrawled my best wishes to Cookie, signed my name and then handed the man the book.

“Thanks,” he said, still whispering. “It’s her Christmas gift and I want it to be a surprise.”

I nodded at him and smiled. Stephens smiled too.

“Oh, and you’ll help me out, won’t you?” the man added. “She’s sure to come over here at some point to say hello and get a book. My wife’s a BIG fan. Tell her something to keep her from buying it, please. I really want to surprise her with it.”

“I’ll do my best,” I answered, while thinking to myself…
’cause that’s what authors do best, right? We tell people whatever we have to, to keep them from buying our books.

Ten minutes later…

Stephens and I were commiserating about the best way to consume the over-sized sugary delight that is the Cherry Blossom, when the man returned, Cookie at his side. She picked up a copy of the book and clutched it to her chest. Giving me a shy smile, she said, “hi.”

What have I gotten myself into? I wondered. How could I possibly turn away this lovely young woman?

Luckily, her husband played a bit of the heavy to get me started. Taking the book from Cookie, and flipping to the back jacket flap, he shook his head at the price and grumbled, “When does the paperback come out?”

Jumping on his lead, I pretended to give Cookie the inside scoop. “No later than a year from now, but possibly as early as late summer.” Making a desperate attempt to sound helpful I added, “Not too long a wait if your bank account is stretched during the holidays.”

She sighed as her husband put the book back on the table. He gave me a sly wink.

Afraid I might give her husband’s secret away if I conversed with her any longer, I turned to Stephens and did my best to ignore Cookie and resume our talk of Cherry Blossoms. “I nibble away at the bottom edge first, all the way around, until it comes off, like a lid. The cherry and liquid centre are left in a chocolate shell like a little cup…”

Out of the corner of my sight, I saw Cookie walk away. Although I took joy in knowing I’d helped her husband pull of his grand Christmas scheme, I still felt like a bit of a jerk. I wanted to chase after the woman and say, “Cookie, Wait! I’m really a nice person. I swear…” (But then she’d say, “How’d you know my name?” and the whole thing would go to sh$&, and, well, you get the picture.)

And so it’s January 4th, 2012 and we’re at the start of a new year, a time when most of us are making pledges and resolutions that will hopefully turn us into better human beings. Sure, I want to be stronger, put less crap in my pie hole, be a better mother, wife, sister, friend, and writer…but I also want, so desperately, to get this message to Cookie.

To the beautiful, kind soul who stood in front of me at the Chapters in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia,

I’m sorry.

I hope you found your book waiting under the Christmas tree and that despite this author’s bad behaviour, you enjoyed reading it. Perhaps we’ll meet again one day so we can have a real conversation about books and words and life.

Yours truly,

Ami McKay

Under the mentorship of sister physicians Drs. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell, my great-great [...]]]>

One square of the AIDS quilt at Kiehl's on Pear Tree Corner - in support of the Youth AIDS Health Initiative.

In 1870, there were over thirty thousand children living on the streets of New York and many more who wandered in and out of cellars and tenements as their familes struggled to scrape together enough income to put food on the table.

Under the mentorship of sister physicians Drs. Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell, my great-great grandmother (Dr. Sarah F. Mackintosh) and her classmates worked tirelessly to care for such children. They faced fierce opposition from the medical establishment as well as from society. Riots formed outside the doors of the infirmary, and funding was difficult to obtain. It was their mission to give health care to all women and children, no matter what their station or income might be. As the population of the city rose at an unprecedented rate, the ravages of disease were felt most keenly on the Lower East Side. Outbreaks of typhoid, diphtheria, and small pox rose alongside the continuous spread of tuberculosis and STDs such as gonorrhea and syphilis. As the “lady doctors” of the infirmary worked to increase awareness of the plight of the city’s poor, the young boys of the tenements were shoved out the door to find work, and little girls became a commodity.

Sold into prostitution at a young age, many girls from poor families were brokered by madams, (or even their own parents) as “fresh maids.” Men paid the highest price for those girls who had been “certified” as virgins.

At this same time in New York, syphilis was an overwhelming, widespread puzzle of a disease and it was this taboo topic that my great-great grandmother chose for the subject of her graduation thesis. In her day, there continued to be much argument over how the disease was spread and there were many unsuccessful (and sometimes destructive) forms of treatment. Worst of all, along with the human wreckage of a disease with no remedy, was an even greater tragedy, a horrible myth that preyed upon young girls.

The myth of “the virgin cure “ (the belief that a man with syphilis could “cleanse his blood” by deflowering a virgin) was without social borders and was acted out in every socio-economic class in some form or another. In fact, the more money a man had, the easier it would have been for him to procure a young girl for this unthinkable act.

As one physician of the time, Dr. James Devon stated, “I have been surprised at discovering the existence of this belief (the virgin cure) in people generally well informed as well as among the comparatively illiterate. I have tried to find evidence for the theory that it is a belief traceable to certain districts but I have discovered it among people of different places and of different occupations – so different that now I should scarcely be surprised to come across it anywhere.”

“It is a ghastly, deadly business, this untrammeled oppression of women in so many countries on the planet.” - Stephen Lewis, former Special Envoy to the UN on HIV/AIDS

In my research for writing The Virgin Cure, I found many parallels between the lives of girls on the streets of 19^th Century New York and the lives of girls in the developing countries and even the world’s major cities of today. The challenges they face are all too similar – lack of equal rights, lack of education, lack of heath care, lack of employment with fair pay, poor working conditions, as well as the constant threat of sexual abuse and of being sold into a life of prostitution.

My great-great grandmother, (“Dr. Sadie” as her patients called her) and the other women who first practiced medicine at the New York Infirmary for Women and Children were devoted not only to healing the sick, but to bringing the lives of the women and girls they treated into the light of society as a whole. They became a part of the community, establishing trust and friendship along the way. At a time of great social and economic strife, the infirmary became a haven as well as a force for change, bringing health care to all, even if their patients couldn’t afford to pay for it. Sadly, our world is not immune to their struggles.

Today, the United States is in the middle of a health care crisis. The number of people (most notably children) living without health insurance grows every day. Many senior citizens have to choose between buying food to put on their table and paying for their prescription drugs. From a global perspective, more than 10 million people around the world are still waiting for treatment for HIV/AIDS. Not unlike the critical mass the Blackwell sisters were faced with in nineteenth century New York, we have reached a breaking point and things will undoubtedly change, hopefully for the better, in the next decade and into the future.

Much like Dr. Sadie and other doctors of her time longed to find a cure for syphilis – scientists, doctors and researchers today are desperately trying to find a cure for AIDS. Sadly, “the virgin cure” of the 19^th century is still being acted out in parts of the world today, (in sub-Saharan Africa, India andThailand, to name but a few places)  with an alarming number of child rapes occurring in the last few years, because of a growing belief in the myth. I feel it is important for us in Western society to remember that the tragedy of the myth of the virgin cure is part of our history as well. In an era when those who are on the front lines of fighting the AIDS crisis are saying the pubic seems to be “burnt out on AIDS,” perhaps a page from our own history will bring us back to the conversation – fostering a sense of global community and the desire to take action.

“The virgin cure myth is thus no mere artefact of an ignorant past, but a very real and present problem. A taboo within a taboo, it is difficult to discuss and more difficult to prevent. Merely entertaining the possibility that some people might believe the virgin cure possible, much less attempt it, is so unpleasant that many people take refuge in denial, or blame it on the ignorant, on the poor, and on parents too incompetent or wicked to protect their children from such a fate. Such claims hold up no better now than they did in the nineteenth century. The virgin cure may, these days, be more a pressing concern in black townships in South Africa than in predominantly white communities in the United States or northern Europe, but this is no excuse for smugness…or false security. As the historical record shows, when desperate situations make it seem reasonable to think about doing desperate things, interest in the virgin cure knows no ethnic or cultural bounds.” From Virgin, The Untouched History by Hanne Blank (Bloomsbury 2007)

Please join me TUESDAY, November 29th at 7:30 pm in the Al Whittle Theatre for an evening of storytelling, reading, Q&A-ing and book signing! Tickets are $2 and can be purchased in advance [...]]]>

An umbrella? Seriously, what was she thinking?

Due to a SNOWFALL WARNING for the Annapolis Valley and other parts of Nova Scotia, my event in Wolfville has been RESCHEDULED.

Please join me TUESDAY, November 29th at 7:30 pm in the Al Whittle Theatre for an evening of storytelling, reading, Q&A-ing and book signing! Tickets are $2 and can be purchased in advance at Box of Delights Books with all proceeds going to Because I am a Girl Canada.

I’ll also be signing books (no reading) at Box of Delights books this Saturday, Novemeber 26th from 11am-1pm. Stop by if you like, or attend both events if you can! I’d love to see you.

Questions? call Box of Delights at 902-542-9511

Don’t forget to put your shovel on the porch, and I’ll see you soon!

New-York historical Society photo of the 1888 NYC Blizzard. (let's hope this storm isn't that bad!)

I posted a blog entry about my part in that story a [...]]]> At this years Read for the Cure event in Toronto, I spoke of the importance of storytelling. I shared a tale about how a story a seamstress once told a doctor in the late 1800′s led to a breakthrough in modern medical research.

I posted a blog entry about my part in that story a few years ago, but I thought I’d repost it now, for those who might be new to my web site.

This was originally posted December 4, 2006

The year is 1895 and Pauline Gross, a young seamstress, is scared. Gross knows nothing about the double helix or the human-genome project—such medical triumphs are far in the future. But she does know about a nasty disease called cancer, and its running through her family. I’m healthy now, she reportedly confides to Dr. Aldred Warthin, a pathologist at the University of Michigan, but I fully expect to die an early death.

At the time, Gross’s prediction (she did indeed die young of cancer) was based solely on observation: family members had succumbed to colon and endometrial cancer; she would, too. Today, more than 100 years later, Gross’s relatives have a much more clinical option: genetic testing. With a simple blood test, they can peer into their own DNA, learning—while still perfectly healthy—whether they carry a hereditary gene mutation that has dogged their family for decades and puts them at serious risk. Ami McKay, 38, whose great-grandmother Tilly was Gross’s sister, decided she wanted to know for her children’s sake. In 2002, the answer came back: positive. It changes who you are, says McKay.

- from Peering into the Future, by Claudia Kalb, Newsweek, December 11, 2006

Tilly in the wedding dress that she and Pauline made.

A few years ago, I wrote and produced a radio documentary for the CBC called Daughter of Family G. The piece documented the path to my decision to undergo genetic testing and it has since re-aired on NPR satellite affiliates in the US.

Claudia Kalb heard the piece and sent me an email to let me know she was working on a year-end article for Newsweek that would deal with the real-life choices surrounding genetic testing. She had a big task ahead, interviewing families with histories of diseases such as colon cancer, Huntingtons, IVA, breast cancer, etc. When she asked me if I’d mind talking to her, I was more than happy to help.

It’s a timely article and I was glad to be able to give her a bit of perspective from my experiences. Speaking with her also reminded me how personal my original documentary was and how much my life has changed since then. I first started working on the doc. in September 2001 and I never could have imagined that I’d have traveled so far in such little time, both physically and emotionally. Long story short, (I’ll leave a link to the doc. at the end of the post if you want the long version…) peering into my DNA did indeed change me.

As you might imagine, it caused me to take an immediate inventory of my health…I became vigilant about making doctors appointments and setting up annual screenings. But the results also infused my life with a curious sort of fearlessness. I watched my mother battle colon cancer (not once, but twice) and wondered where her strength and courage had come from. Finding out that there’s an enormous potential for a battle of my own one day, I decided to tap into that vein of strength sooner rather than later. While I try not to feel that cancer is inevitable, I do feel that putting things off is no longer an option…this goes for everything in my life, especially my art, my writing.

That’s my great-grandmother in her wedding dress – a dress that she and her sister, Pauline fashioned together before Pauline died. They were part of a vibrant, well-known trio that also included another sister who was a milliner. Their skills as seamstresses were often in demand and that’s how Pauline came to know Dr. Aldred Warthin. He respected her artistry and her intelligence, and she felt compelled to confide in him her worries about her family’s medical history and her fate.

Pauline died before she reached the age of 30.
Whenever I think of hesitation, of saving my imagination for another day, I think of Pauline.
Share yourself – your soul, your hopes, your dreams, your stories – it can change lives and possibly the future.

Listen to Daughter of Family G

I’m often asked, how much research goes into your historical fiction? And more specifically with this new novel, was it difficult to write about New York City, (even the New York of another era,) while living in Nova Scotia?

The answer to the first question is loads. It takes a tremendous amount of [...]]]>

I’m often asked, how much research goes into your historical fiction? And more specifically with this new novel, was it difficult to write about New York City, (even the New York of another era,) while living in Nova Scotia?

The answer to the first question is loads. It takes a tremendous amount of research before I feel that I can even begin to create a world that will not only satisfy readers, but hopefully make them feel as if theyve been transported to another time and place. (good thing I love libraries so much.)

The answer to the second question is, I couldnt have written this novel any place but home.

I took three wonderful trips to New York for research, where I spent much of my time burying myself in pages from the past, but I couldnt get down to writing until I was settled back at home. There is something about the landscape here that allows my imagination to fly. Theres something about being surrounded by laughter and love that gives me the confidence to carry on with putting my pen to the page.

Now its time for me leave my nest so I can give this new story a proper send off. To those at home, I miss you already. To those Ill meet on the road, please forgive the ramblings of a homesick author.

And so I give you…

The Virgin Cure

The editors at Chatelaine have regularly shared their favourite books with readers in the past, and their online books discussion forum has been a fabulous part of their web site for years, so it’s [...]]]>

Introducing the Chatelaine Book Club!

I’m thrilled to announce that The Virgin Cure has been chosen as the first pick in Chatelaine Magazine’s inaugural book club!

The editors at Chatelaine have regularly shared their favourite books with readers in the past, and their online books discussion forum has been a fabulous part of their web site for years, so it’s truly exciting to see them bring these elements together to establish an official book club (in true Chatelaine style, of course.)

To have my novel be their November pick is quite an honour. The November issue of Chatelaine is making it’s way to mailboxes, newsstands and stores as I type…it’s the one with a smiling Kate Middleton (Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge) on the cover. Which, I have to say, is kind of a thrill for me as well, since I clearly remember waking up bleary-eyed, four days after my thirteenth birthday to watch Charles and Diana get married. And, yes, I freely admit, I set my iPhone alarm to ring bells in the wee  hours of the morning so I could see Prince William and Kate do the same.

pgs. 165 and 166 of the November 2011 Chatelaine Magazine

I absolutely love that Chatelaine books editor, Laurie Grassi begins her description of The Virgin Cure with:

“Think female Oliver Twist.”

The article itself is a great jumping off point for readers – summing up the plot and suggesting talking points for book club members without giving anything away. (Thanks Laurie!)

During the next month, I’ll be sending missives from the road, tweeting up a storm, and posting on the Chatelaine Book Club Blog. The editors at Chatelaine will be posting as well and I’ll even pop in to answer their questions and dish about my book tour. I hope you’ll consider reading along and joining in the conversation. (There may even be a giveaway or two, so stay tuned!)

Websites mentioned in this post:

Chatelaine Books Forum

Chatelaine Book Club Blog

I thought I’d share some [...]]]>

a victorian planchette

When I’m working on a novel, I tend to gather music, quotes and images from various sources to inspire me as I write. The walls of my studio quickly become covered in photographs and words from the past, and my ipod gains new playlists based on setting, plot and characters.

I thought I’d share some of this ephemera online this time around- make a little peephole into the world of The Virgin Cure.

So far there’s a bit of everything – a quote from my writing journal, a snippet of dialogue, a little music, and a favourite photograph where the word “inspiration” links to an essay about how the novel came to be.

There will be more odds and ends added in the days to come, but here’s the humble start of my offerings, a Tumblr page simply called Pear Tree Planchette.

I hope you’ll take a look and let me know what you think.