My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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the Creative Non-Fiction Collective hooray!

Friday was the start of the Creative Non-fiction Collective’s conference at UBC. I went out early, so I could go first to the Museum of Anthropology nearby. Its stunning building houses a moving, beautifully presented collection of First Nation’s artifacts, but also a collection of indigenous work from around the world. Not to be missed.

Totem poles, bentwood boxes, canoes –

 And – be still my beating heart – the most gorgeous baskets, hundreds of them. On my fondest wish list is a basket like this. Dream on, sister.

The museum continues with a long house and more poles outside.

Thence to the conference. After registration, there was an hour to kill before drinks and dinner, so John Barton, my friend from last year’s conference, and I went for a walk. Discovered the staircase down to Vancouver’s famous Wreck Beach, the nude beach, and decided to see it. It’s quite the hike.

403 stairs, someone told us. But worth it – no naked people but a lovely beach in the sun. Getting back up took some doing.

The conference started with a dinner and cabaret – many writers reading short excerpts from their work, a huge diversity – and continued all day today, from 9 a.m. to nearly 5.30. There was an informal dinner tonight I was going to attend but was just too tired after a full day of talks and talking, meeting fascinating new people and thinking about words. I have made notes and will write about what the day brought forth, but not right now. It was a fantastic conference and a marvel to spend time with my peeps – declared non-fiction writers, a great bunch of people. Love them. And exciting news: next year’s conference is in Toronto. May 4-6. Mark your calendars. See you there.

I am sitting in Bruce’s chair, have just had leftover pizza (brought from Tofino!) and wine and am gazing at the sunset, the sky orange and grey-blue, the ocean rippling blue-black, eleven vast tankers motionless in English Bay with their lights glittering. It’s quiet and I am drained. Tomorrow, my last day, will actually be sunny, and Chris and I will do something. And then, Monday morning, I go home. This spring’s peregrinations are over. Paris, Gordes, Montpellier, Nice, London, Vancouver, and Chesterman Beach … much to digest, much to remember, everything to be grateful for.



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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