Lisa Young

Heart Strings , written by Reynold Nathaniel, is essentially a love story. Love is the prevailing emotion. Love of family, love of friends, romantic love and love of music. Set in Ireland in the summer of 1908, the majority of the cast are called upon to perform with an Irish brogue. The actors do well with the accents and there are plenty of Irish references from whiskey to stew. The costumes create a sense of the period. It is inspiring to see a cast give their all to a new piece of Canadian theatre. The play is directed by David Ludwig, a seasoned actor who has appeared at Stratford Shakespeare Festival. Heart Strings is Ludwig’s first directing job and he directs with skill and ease. The play flows smoothly, the blocking is crisp and the actors are clearly guided by a sure hand. Lead actor Garth Wigle re-located all the way from Cornwall to perform in the show. He did so out of his love for the theatre. Wigle plays Sir William, who orders the prized Phonolistz Vi...

I’ve caught the reading bug lately…ferociously consuming books like so many handfuls of candy. I’m glad to get back to this kind of diet. (I’d been depriving myself unnecessarily.) The whole “e-book” versus “real book” discussion has flared up again in the media.  I have to say, for me, books are it! Yes I want an e-reader – but I want my books too. I love the idea of a book almost as much as the story waiting inside. A book is simply a divine thing. It really is and I seriously can’t see the book not being in my future. I mean, aren’t record players coming back? Even if the book went away – it would come back – of course it would. Books are my friends. I remember one summer I went up north to work in Muskoka. Along with packing my fluorescent bathing suit (this was the early 90s when the 80s’ fashions were still kicking around), I brought a huge cardboard box of books. Books were my security blanket. Who knew if I would like my new job? My co-worker was a “he” and ...

This Christmas I'm giving my niece and nephews short festive tales by yours truly. Stories as gifts? Why not? Certainly you cut down on your shopping time and increase your writing time. Writing for children is exciting new territory for me. Of course my stories' main characters happen to be about the same age as my niece and nephews and have the same interests. Before I began writing, I made lists of all the exciting events, activities, and customs associated with Christmas/winter. Then I made lists of all the ideas, questions, skills and facts associated with my niece and nephews' favourite hobbies. I then wrote two separate stories  –  one for the girl and one for the boys based on the most intriguing items from the lists I'd made. I never would have tried writing for children if I wasn't an Aunt...and I'm really glad I did try. It feels like a breakthrough of some sort. It pays to experiment with different genres! Even if I don't succeed in ent...

Where do ideas come from? Woody Allen apparently has a million ideas coming to him 24/7. If one idea gets some feet and starts running – well, he has a screenplay in no time. Ideas must be lining up right outside his brain waiting to get in and get their chance. I’ve never been one to buy into that whole “what if” exercise – the famous writer’s tool.“What if” never yields a thing for me. But it’s been a while since I tried – so let’s see. A Brainstorming Session of “What Ifs”: What if the floor lamp keeled over and the bulb busted and glass went everywhere? I’d have to get up and clean it and I’d probably end up going to bed as soon as I was done cleaning up. What if time stopped? I’d be stuck living a Monday night for the rest of my life. What if this house started growing and an attic appeared and I went up into it and found a world where everything was just as I wanted it? What if sports were banned? What if TV were banned? What if it were illegal to go to a movie?...

Novelist   Heather J. Wood shares the benefits of limitations... Heather J. Wood One often thinks of creativity in terms of the blank canvas or the blank page—i.e. the freedom to be able to write about anything one's imagination can conjure up. Some writers chafe at the thought of restrictions. Yet, having set limitations can also be an immense source of creativity. For myself, at least, boundaries have allowed me to go in unexpected directions. I would not have imagined myself writing a teen-oriented novel involving roller derby. In fact, I would have thought the idea was ludicrous a few years ago. Yet when I was offered the opportunity to write "something about roller derby", which eventually turned into my recent book, Roll With It , I was given a wonderful creative gift. The project turned out to a liberating rather than a restricting experience. For one thing, I wasn’t worried about being "literary", so I felt free to write more naturally a...

There are no travelling adventures in my future. But while I stick at home  –  friends are preparing to go to India and beyond  –  and one is already on a year long trip around the world. This is when the imagination must kick in, so that I too can have a taste of other worlds. I was editing an art book this weekend, and many of the photos that will be included in the book are thought to be some of the most sacred works of art in the world  –  they are said to contain hidden knowledge for anyone who is open and ready to receive it. The Sphinx is one such work of art. Staring at a photo on a computer is not going to cut it. You have to be there in person to feel the impact of the Sphinx  –  or so I've been told. People have been known to weep in front of great art  –  like Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night. The Chartres Cathedral is another work of art that I've been told I have to see before I die. Exactly when do my travel a...

Novelist Lisa de Nikolits tells us how she gets story ideas and how these ideas evolve… My brain is an attic filled with psychotic people. And each of these crazies has one thing in common; they’re all obsessed with words. They scurry around with their buckets and pails, pushing wheelbarrows that spill words and fragments of sentences, and each word or sentence is umbilically attached to the embryo of an idea. They’re ravenous, these crazies; they have an aching need for these words and ideas to take shape – they long for me to relieve them of the burden of the tiny letters and they beg me to shape the fragments into coherent sentences and thoughts. I feel the weight of these madfolk in my head; their rat claws bite the undulating surface of my brain as they run, they twist little ankles in their haste to push their way to the front line, and they’re not shy to give my skull a good thwack either, when they’re feeling particularly insistent.   They get their...