We’re still in a severe drought here, and with it is coming a lot of anxiety of how we’ll handle this through the winter, but also a sense of melancholy for the things we lost. A part of me thinks, no, the world is really bad right now, don’t dwell, move on, but on the other hand, noticing the small things, appreciating them, are what makes us human. So, a short list of everything I will not be taking for granted next summer:
raindrops on cobwebs
the smell of summer rain
soft rainy days that are so lovely to spend the whole day writing
thunderstorms so close they make your heart flutter
hunting mushrooms after a day of rain
But I’ve also gained appreciation for natural springs, little oases of green that make me ponder fairy wells, water elementals, and naiads.
Because the world’s been awful, I haven’t spent much time on social media, stuffing that time with books instead. I saw a movie trailer that reignited a childhood fascination with the Brontës, which lead to a sidequest tracking down a few books that might be the one I read in my middle school’s library once upon a time. Cross your fingers for me?
On the writing front, I’ve set A Binding of Spellwork and Story to the side for the moment to ready my story collection, Borrowed Wings and other stories. The Lunar edition is being launched as part of the Polaris collection of the Lunar Codex “no earlier than December 2025” and I’m timing the terrestrial edition release to coincide and maybe catch a few Christmas shopping sales.
Which I means I’m looking at how to put this kind of collection together. How best to flow from one story to the next, which ones pair well with the last, that sort of thing. Likewise, I’m writing a few new stories to include, ones to pull themes together, and a few to introduce readers to my story worlds. There will a Little Banned Bookshop story, and also a few stories set in the world of a trilogy I’ve been writing in the background and I’m hoping to release in 2027 (I get excited just writing that).
I’ve ordered my cover, sent it back for revisions twice, and if I can squeeze my hands very tight, maybe I’ll be to share a reveal of that with you next month. Stay tuned!
The garden is almost done. Or maybe I’m done hauling water from the river. The chamomile was my favourite this year, the little ritual of collecting the flat flowers every day sustaining me. But there are still some lovely views:
Sunflowers are remarkably drought-tolerant, I must say. With the exception of a red-tailed hawk that swooped past me one morning and enchanted that entire day with the memory, there hasn’t been much wildlife around. They’re probably staying to water sources. But we did get a visit from Fae, a not-stray who wanders down our driveway a few times a summer to check on us. Sometimes he lets us give him a snuggle, sometimes not. His mood is willful, quick to change, and he has startlingly turquoise eyes that don’t seem entirely natural. We call him Fae because he probably is.
Soon it will be Halloween, and this house is getting excited. Do you have a favorite Halloween-season book? I’d love to read it!
I’m afraid this month’s side quest got a little… obsessive. It might have been the heat, which shuts down my brain in many ways, or stress, or just not having enough time to devote to creativity. In fact, it was an awesome creative outlet that really only took a few minutes a day.
My friend Aimee set me the video that started it all, showing someone making anthotype sunprints (like a cyanotype) with turmeric and fixing it with Borax. “Huh,” I thought, “I have that in my cupboard.” Then I did some internet sleuthing to find the full recipe, which you can find here.
It ended up being the most soothing, lovely bit of creativity. There were just so many variables and things that I couldn’t control that I didn’t have any choice but to let go and enjoy the process. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the chemical reaction of the borax + water developer is an immediate and thrilling bit of magic when you brush it on.
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I’ve spent August printing stories with the sun Jennifer Shelby Aug 21
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Hello Enchanted Side Questers,
I’m afraid this month’s side quest got a little… obsessive. It might have been the heat, which shuts down my brain in many ways, or stress, or just not having enough time to devote to creativity. In fact, it was an awesome creative outlet that really only took a few minutes a day.
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My friend Aimee set me the video that started it all, showing someone making anthotype sunprints (like a cyanotype) with turmeric and fixing it with Borax. “Huh,” I thought, “I have that in my cupboard.” Then I did some internet sleuthing to find the full recipe, which you can find here.
It ended up being the most soothing, lovely bit of creativity. There were just so many variables and things that I couldn’t control that I didn’t have any choice but to let go and enjoy the process. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the chemical reaction of the borax + water developer is an immediate and thrilling bit of magic when you brush it on.
I soon dug out my old microwave flower press (a terra cotta beast I picked up at a yard sale decades ago because it was pretty) and put it to use, drying pressed flowers and vegetation in minutes rather than months or years.
I started appreciating the shape of things in a new way. My eyes tend to hunger for colour and texture, but caterpillar damage and flaws were suddenly beautiful because they could create such visual interest in the prints. A pristine feather is beautiful, but a raggedy one has drama. Yesterday’s squash flowers became candles, petunias became dresses, and a skeletonized leaf became one of my most prized treasures.
“What are you going to do with those?” asked my youngest, as my pile of prints got unweildy.
And… I don’t know. I want to frame some of them. I want to look at them. Like drying herbs, storing squash, pickling cukes, and the flowers I grow because they dry so pretty, it’s another way to save a bit of summer for the dark winter days when you need the reminder of green plants and flowers and a sun that can print a story on a page.
We’ve been in an extreme drought with forest fires cropping up left and right. The trees are suffering, the bottom leaves shrivelled green and falling off in gentlest breezes. It’s been hard, and autumn is happening very early as trees are choosing dormancy over the risk of remaining for what little summer is left.
I have checked the springs in the enchanted forest, and some are still holding out, providing much needed water for the wild critters. We put out an extra hummingbird feeder after the population at ours exploded. I researched why and it turns out flowers can’t produce as much nectar in a drought, natch. Wow are they entertaining, aggressive little creatures.
Since our rain barrels went dry, we’ve been loading the truck with containers and filling them at the river for the garden, which it has been thriving on. And because it is a little oasis of green, the bees are bumbling happily, pollinating everything without any help from us.
Still… we would very much appreciate some rain. Days of it. Just pouring on the roof while I stay inside and read or write and do lovely, forgotten rainy day things.
Work continues on my Binding novel, made possible by a grant from artsnb. It has grown and stretched and tells me “I think I’d like to be a duology” now. I think it might be right.
The ‘fictional essay’ I mentioned in July’s newsletter, written from the perspective of Binding’s main character, has been accepted for publication! I will share those details as soon as I am able. It’s a nice little boost for my novel, and also a lovely marketing opportunity.
Happily, they don’t require an exclusivity period, so I can also include it in my short story collection that I’ll be putting out to coincide with the Polaris launch of the Lunar Codex in (hopefully) December 2025, in which some of my short stories are being archived on the Moon. The Binding book should be done by then, so it will give me the chance to share that world with a wider audience. I’m also hoping to tuck a Little Banned Bookshop short story in there, the reason being that I think some local reporters will be interested in a local author’s work going to the Moon. Fingers crossed!
That’s all the news I have to share in this letter, friends. I hope you are able to get away from the news cycle and make some magic to protect your heart and creative spirit. Did you find any new side quests this month? I’d love to hear about them!
You know it’s summer when you lose track of the date, then look over and realize you missed sharing your newsletter to the blog until it was almost time to write the next one *nervous laughter*
Anyways, there’s owl pics in the Nature Notes this month, so don’t skip that. I’ve mostly spent my month tearing my hair out over my Binding of Spellwork and Story book, which I’m writing thanks to a lovely creation grant from artsnb.
I’ve rewritten my first chapters multiple times and just couldn’t get them right. The typical advice I get in this situation is that I should just leave them and go back and fix them later, and that’s good advice that never works for me. When I get blocked and start mentally fretting over a section, there’s a reason. And until I figure it out I’m that ridiculous fly that keeps bumping into the window when there’s an open door right beside him.
So after a solid week of fretting, I took the problematic character by the arms, shook him, and begged him to tell me what he wanted. “I wanted [REDACTED] to remain a secret until a later part of the book,” he admitted, mid shake.
“Oh.” I said. “Huh.” I crossed my arms. Paced a little. “You know, that could work. It would take care of that cringe-y part that was bothering me, too.”
“I know.”
My eyes widened. “Oh, wow, you know, that adds so much potential drama to your connection with that other character, too.”
“I know.”
So now that I’ve got THAT figured it out, I took the original and the rewritten chapter, and sort of frankensteined the best parts of them together into a new chapter, without revealing character’s secret. All the fretting evaporated and my mind has given me the green light to proceed. Phew.
had a bit of a mini side quest when I wrote a writerly advice article written by one of my witch characters in the Binding book. It was actually a really fun little exercise that let me push the envelope of my theme. It was inspired by a submission call, and I sent it in, so we’ll see what happens. If it’s not accepted, it will absolutely be a fun freebie to send out with the book, as bonus contact, and I’m thinking it could also be a fun little tiktok series that would give me a fun excuse to dress up like witch to promote the book.
The typewriter is a lawn ornament at my friend Tiffany’s house. Someone welded the old beast to a base with legs, which is a pretty creative use of an old typewriter. But I’m not showing this to my beloved old Underwood just in case it gets offended.
I got to see a barred owl up close and learned that they are absolutely fascinating:
Those grippy feet! I’m going to imagine dragon skin is textured like this from now on. Also, these owls have feathers with hearts on them:
I wrote a poem about barred owls a while back. Rattle Poetry has a “Poets Respond” feature whereby a poet can submit a poem based on a news article released in the past week, and every Sunday, they publish the best one online. I’ve never had one published with them, but I like that the possibility gets me writing a poem about a news article that strikes me in a particular way.
The following poem was written in response to a news article about a culling of barred owls in the U.S. It’s a bit of a complicated conservation subject, but when I read the number, half a million barred owls to be culled if this plan was approved, the number just staggered me. Here’s the poem I wrote, unpublished as it was except for on my social media, but heed the subject matter as a CW:
Half a Million Owls
Barred owls call back and forth across the forest
And something inside me stills
Something reverential, primal, superstitious,
That insists this is a mystical moment
Maybe it’s the darkness, the gleaming of the stars,
The way the rummaging sounds in the leaf litter cease.
“Half a million owls will be culled…”
My mind stumbles over the number. Glitches.
Stops rummaging through the litter of my thoughts.
“Hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo,” call the owls, all unknowing.
“Who cooks for you?” I learned as a child,
The same barred owl call I’ve taught my children,
“Who cooks for you? Who cooks for y’all?”
Half a million dead barred owls. Shot.
I try again to grasp the scale and fail
Instead, I imagine feathers scattered across a clearcut
“Who kills for you? Who kills for y’all?” the corpses call
And something rummaging through bullet casings stills.
That’s it for this month’s newsletter, Enchanted friends. I’m currently working on a quilt square for the Nova Scotia Grief and Solidarity Quilt for Palestine, a bit outside my wheelhouse, so hopefully I’ll be able to share that next newsletter. I’m stitching a poem onto it, which is proving the most challenging aspect, naturally.
Welcome to the not-quite summer solstice edition of Enchanted Side Quests. Summer is arriving a little late hereabouts and we’ve only been spotting the fireflies for the past two-three nights, while off the coast, they’ve been out for weeks. I was relieved to see them, worried some unseen pollutant had disappeared them like so many insect populations you hear about. They’re an important source of magic for children and writers.
I am steadily plotting A Binding of Spellwork and Story, for which I received a grant from artsnb to write, and I know what you’re thinking, “Still?” and yeah, I am not fast at this. Plotting for me includes multiple notebooks filled and every scene broken down to the very best version of itself. I end up with a very messy not-draft of some 50 000 words, and then I get to writing in earnest.
I started taking photos of my plot board so I can SEE some progress beyond notebooks filling up. The one below is from a few weeks back and wow, it’s very heartening to know how much fuller it is already. And maybe I can sequence them all in a video for social media purposes? Like a time lapse of a slow motion plotter.
There is no rhyme or reason to the colours involved, I just like chaotic colour. What DOES matter is the order. Here you can see I have a lot of beginning, a bit of a middle, and some ending stuff.
Life is still chaotic and some family members are still in crisis, but I’ve forced myself to spend a few hours every morning working on my writing despite it all, and it’s helped a lot. My mental health is better and my anxiety lower, which makes me an all-around better parent and better equipped to handle the day’s crises as they come.
I felt a nice inner glow when I saw someone post about my book Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop on social media with a caption that read “I think of this book whenever I see a little free library.”
Now I’m grinning again, thinking of all the little library magics in the book and outside of the book, like when a friend of mine took a copy of Bornstein’s Hello Cruel World that I sent them to put in a Little Free Library in Florida during a visit. That book plays a pivotal role in Care and Feeding, so this felt like making magic. I’ve also had friends buy copies of the book specifically to put inside Little Free Libraries, knowing how magical it would be to read this book if that’s where you found it.
Writers, I tell ya. We can’t get enough of that magic.
Which brings us to this month’s side quest: my chipmunk rescue adventure.
So. We all know (one hopes) that if you have a big tub to collect rainwater in, that you put a stick in it in case any critters or bees fall in, they can climb out. For some reason, I put in one of the kids’ snow shovels this year, thinking it would suffice. It didn’t, I think the plastic was too slippery for wet paws. This is important.
I was on the phone with my friend from BC (because I am old and still use the phone for such things) and outside because we tend to get loud and silly when I wandered to our rainwater tub. And there, floating, was a drowned chipmunk.
My heart got heavy with dread. (Please put a stick in your tubs if you haven’t already).
I put the phone down, cursing the shovel for not doing it’s job, and then I took the shovel to remove the small, furry corpse before the kids could see it, which is when the little fella blinked.
Shovel be damned, I scooped the little critter up in my hands and put him on the grass, where he lay there, shivering or maybe shaking with shock. I told my friend I’d call her back and picked him back up to hold against my chest in case he was cold and went around to the front door to ask my partner for help finding something to put the poor thing in.
The chipmunk was moving significantly more already, which was a really good sign.
Mike brought out a box with a t-shirt to hold him and the chipmunk immediately flopped over, probably from exhaustion.
Then came the internet searching of nesting material and food. The kids picked him some wild strawberries to eat while Mike found some clean sawdust and old grass. Little chippy was started to move more still, made himself a cozy nest to hide in, and rested.
Its hard to get closure with stuff like this, because it does have deep affect on the mind to experience this with a wild critter. Last summer I found a baby snowshoe hare in rough shape that we took to the wildlife vet and I still wonder what happened to her. This time, success is waking up to an empty box and a hope that our chipmunk returned to his forest home.
But when nature give you the opportunity to be kind, you also get the chance to rescue yourself a little bit, too.
It has been a WILD month. The hummingbirds have returned, the garden is planted and happily growing, and the critters are out and about.
You can imagine my shock when I was at my desk, working through my morning plotting hours, when I saw something dark through the window, out of the corner of my eye. Was that a bear?
I went around to the front of the house, going out into our mud room which has the only place with windows facing the direction the bear went in. Sure enough, there was the bear, sauntering over to our compost barrel. And then INTO our compost barrel.
Where he pulled out the remains of a half-rotten squash rind covered in coffee grounds.
He then lost interest in the rotten squash rind and compost entirely, choosing to saunter over the vehicles, give them a sniff, then wandered up the driveway and into the woods.
While cautious, I’ll admit it was exciting to be able to watch a young, wild black bear explore from a safe location. It was also a good opportunity to teach the kids some safety stuff and while I was worried we’d have to stop composting, the bear hasn’t come back a few weeks in. We do live in nature’s home, and big wild animals come with the small ones.
That said, I do prefer the smaller ones when it comes to my kids, who have asked to keep thousands of snakes and toads as pets so far this summer.
And with this flurry of pet requests, there is a small feeling of finally. THIS is why we wanted to raise them here, amid the fireflies and the toads and the sometimes bears. My youngest is terrified of snakes, UNLESS the snake is being held by my eldest, who has suddenly started channeling Steve Irwin for reasons unbeknownst, but welcome.
That’s it for this month’s newsletter, Enchanted friends. What adventures have you been having? Have you read any books I should add to my TBR?
Do you ever decide to ignore that little voice in your head that says “I’m not sure this is how the story is supposed to go” and plough ahead anyway? I know better, but I do it anyway. Sometimes I think I need to shake the story loose, but all it seems to do is make the story hide deeper in the shadowy depths of my mind.
That’s what happened with my “Binding of Spellwork and Story” novel that I’ve committed to write AND received a generous grant from artsnb to do just that.
I wrote about 22 000 words, hemming and hawing, poking and prodding. Maybe it’s too writerly. It probably is too writerly. This is a word I use that intend the same way that the art world uses “painterly” for techniques that makes the painter real and present in the final artwork. Painterly gets a whole term in art, while writers are not supposed to present in the finished “product” (here the quotations are to represent me cringing because I referred to art as a product). Writers are told things like “never break the fourth wall.” As a reader and a writer who delights in any sort of authorly asides, I co-opted the word painterly back in grade 11 art history class and wrote things are writerly as my rogue heart desired. Look at my brush strokes! An author was here, a human, a (gasp, horror) WRITER wrote this.
Then I had to stop that if I ever wanted to get published. There’s a whole thing about this, “first you have to learn the rules before you can break them,” but you also have to PROVE you know the rules, which is a whole other thing.
Then along comes AI and I’m thinking it’s time to get writerly AF. Forget about creating a story where the writer is ignorable, now is the time to make writers a FEATURE rather than a bug.
So when it came up when I workshopping those early chapters, I got quiet and paid attention to what was being said. “I’m not sure how appealing this will be to non-writers,” one writer told me, “but I like it.” This gave me pause, because that’s the trick isn’t it? Convincing non-writers to like something deliciously writerly.
And I think I need a challenge like that to really lose myself into a project. So these past weeks, I’ve been dismantling the story that was starting to feel forced and stalled, and instead, I’ve been gently coaxing the story it wants to be, and I want it to be, to come out of hiding. Some writers call this plotting, but it feels more like trying to soothe a feral cat so they come out of the hole they’ve hidden themself in after I tried to pick them up before they were ready.
Which requires I put my ego aside and learn oh so much patience. Bless the writers who don’t need to plot before they write; they clearly sacrifice to very different gods than I.
As I write these words, the feral story has started responding to my pleading mews and is revealing itself, however slowly. It nibbles the food I’ve left out for it when I’m sleeping. Patience. We’ll get there.
Last month I mentioned that my first ever book fair was coming up and on this side of time, I’m happy to report that it was a smashing success.
It wasn’t without its tense moments. The first few hours, as readers trickled past, not interested in me or my book and the smile on my face started to ache, my heart began to sink and oh gods what if I don’t sell a single book. But then the cozy fantasy readers, who had apparently just slept late (very cozy of them, if I’m honest), arrived and everything got much better after that.
The real stars of the spring ephemerals are the fawn lilies (aka trout lilies or dogtooth violets) and trilliums, followed by the tiny white violets that grew in the Lover’s Lane of the woods where I grew up and now, my lawn. But this year, I was all about the inedible cinnamon fern fiddleheads.
As they grow, they huddle together, a tightknit little fern family. Encouraging each other, no doubt, as they gather their bravest thoughts and slowly unfurl.
My family’s been doing a lot of this this spring. Leaning on each other, supporting each other through difficult things. It hasn’t been easy, but we’ve got each other.
And of course I have one of those brains that sees faces everywhere and cheerfully assign characterhood to just about everything so the horsey little fella eyeing us in the picture above while his hair flops downward and a line of drool escapes him unbeknownst, well, that’s just joy.
That’s my news for May. The leaves are just about half-sized here and I get a lovely gasp of green delight still when I look out a window or go outside. The hummingbird feeder is up and my laundry basket is full of tomatoes and petunias traveling inside and back out again while we get through the final frosts of the year. I’m excited to get the garden in and welcome the fireflies this June. What are you most looking forward to this summer?
Until then, keep writing, keep reading, keep dreaming.
The book fair upon us! I’ve been busy getting ready and planning out my table. I’m very excited about what I’m calling my ‘Cozy Reader Packs,’ in which I’ve packed some Easter eggs (very appropriate for an Easter weekend post, amirite?).
If you’ve read the book, you might notice the key and the mug right away. But if you haven’t, and you happen to have them on hand while reading THAT particular book, well, I think you’d be in for a treat.
And, of course, if you have read it and you loved it, you might just want them for story reasons.
I actually designed the mug when I was still writing the book, because I wanted one. Then I had them made to say thank you to my beta-readers (and to have one to smile over), so it was just a matter of ordering them again. There’s another image on the other side featuring Toebeans:
The other goodies include a packet of apple cider, a Little Banned Bookshop bookmark, bookish stickers, and a gift bag. I think people will like them and I will have ten with me at the book fair. The keys themselves vary in style, but otherwise they’re all quite uniform.
I had a friend reach out to me from the States who mentioned that their friend fell asleep with Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop in their arms. And all of the sudden, the psychological struggles I’ve been having with the sequel (what if I ruin the magic?) cleared up. That is the point of the Bookshop: to give comfort.
To the reader, to whomever needs it, and even to the writer, who is going through all of this too.
I think as long as I hold onto that, the sequel, however plural that may be, will be everything it needs to be.
The marsh is a lovely escape this time of year. I have to drive there, which makes it feel like an Event, and it’s usually a lonely place, which I prefer. I like to walk the game trails looking for all the secrets that piled up under the snow, and it’s so lovely to hear the birds singing again. I haven’t spotted my beloved red-winged blackbirds yet, but I have heard them.
I came across several thousand frosty feathers on one of my walks, took far too many pictures, and thus I have to restrain myself from sharing all of them. What is it about unkempt feathers highlighted with frost that captures my imagination so?
The other side of that coin, of course, is feathers of frost:
This newsletter feels a bit thin for my liking, so tell me, what are you reading? My current read is Sarah Beth Durst’s The Spellshop and it is such a lovely, cozy read.
How are you keeping your spirits up in these troubled times? I am peering into nature, limiting my time online, and following creative urges when they appear. Does that work for your spirits, too?
Until next month, keep dreaming, keep writing, keep reading.
I know, right? This month’s side quest was *cough cough* a new kitty. We adopted him from our local SPCA/PAWS facility. We thought a snuggly new buddy would cheer up our sick daughter and, well, I’d rather not talk about the mouse that ran over my foot a few weeks ago.
Our plan sort of worked, mostly by offending our senior cat, Blizzard, so much that he ignores the rest of us completely and devotes his every waking moment to sick kiddo. She is thrilled about this, so our plan worked, just not the way we expected.
New kitty is outrageously cuddly, and what’s lovely is that he doesn’t seem to prefer any of us in particular. He’ll snuggle with anyone available. Which is perfect for our family.
We named him Captain Pickles, because he’s a big dill.
Spring has sprung, the maples are tapped and maple syrup is being bottled, and I feel like the winter accumulation of sludge has been wiped from my brain. It’s been a tough few months, for the world, for my family, and I fell deeply into zombie mode for a while there.
I kept writing through the parts of Little Banned Bookshop 2 that I’d already plotted, but now I can feel the gaps begin to fill in. I’ve also been picking at the plot for A Binding of Spellwork and Story, which I received an artsnb grant to write, after setting it aside in frustration because my brain refused to story. All this comes with a deep sigh of relief because it’s almost emotionally painful when I can’t escape reality. Its like all the magic bleeds out of the world. And this is not the time for that!
As previously mentioned, the sap is running and the local sugar shacks are in full swing. I dialed it back this year, tapping far fewer trees to keep myself from getting overwhelmed. The pace is just right and I’m thankful for that.
The enchanted forest is slowly waking up. The hobblebush is growing wings:
and sometimes the raindrops still freeze,
but the forest folk are returning.
In spare moments, I’ve been prepping for my first ever book fair-the Greater Moncton Dieppe Riverview Book Fair on April 26th at the Riverview Lion’s Center. I’m nervous and excited. There will be another newsletter before the big day, so you’ll probably hear about this again. In the meantime, please enjoy this wee bit of table decor I’ll be thrilled to keep on my bookshelf forevermore:
That’s it for this month, Side Questers! Please soak up all the good mental health vibes of spring every chance you get.
It has been a difficult month. I hope you are well and finding escape in art or music or something that lets you escape. Escape is Resistance!
I’ve been deep into research about Germany in WWll, and specifically the way everyday people resisted. The similarities are brutally astounding
I’d always known that people hid Jews in secret places, but I didn’t realize that they had nowhere else to go. That even the ones who made it out of Germany were turned back. I didn’t know the Pope granted them asylum in the Vatican and even encouraged the creation of false identity papers to help some families remain safe. It makes me realize the plight of refugees everywhere, that even now refugees and immigrants are looked down upon, hated and feared (even in Canada). Its not something that will change when we become the refugees, fleeing fascism and authoritarianism. Is it better to hide in someone’s attic for four years or risk escaping, only to be sent in some official capacity that ensures the baddies catch you and put you in your camps.
It’s a lot. But I do believe reading is resistance. I think we can learn from the past. Even fictionalized accounts of WW2 resistance, of which I’ve realized there is a LOT of. Our imaginations appear to have been collectively caught by the Holocaust in a way that leads to me to wonder, did we know this would happen again?
In contrast, I have a very well-educated friend in the U.S. who mentioned having just learned about the Reichstag fire. Our educations have not been the same, which sent me digging to discover where I learned so much about the Holocaust, because it wasn’t in school.
The weird thing? It was actually from growing up in the fundie cult. This was a big part of their story, and part of this was based in proving faithfulness via enduring persecution. This is a big part of cult psychology, making you separate and “better” than the rest of the world. It’s BIG red flag that’s been showing up in contemporary mega-churches in the U.S. and, increasingly, in Canada.
Okay, getting back to the point. They held up the cult members destroyed in the concentration camps as the example we needed to follow. We needed to suffer for our faith, so that the deity would love us. Job, all the way down. Thus, little bits of persecution were just practice for the Big Persecution to Come and over time, this gets embedded into your identity and whoopsie, turns out that’s exactly how socialization and propaganda works.
As a result, we had buckets and buckets of historical literature about the Holocaust that I was allowed to access (my reading was fairly restricted so this is a big deal). I’m struggling to realize that not everyone received this education, and I think it’s a big part of why this level of fascism-and following the exact same goshdarn pattern-has come ‘round again.
Remember during the BLM protests in the States when Antifa became a bad word and a lot of us were wondering how “antifascist” could possibly be considered a bad thing? Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that a lot.
At this point, you must be wondering, cool Jenn, so are you writing some sort of historical WWll fiction? Sort of. The Little Banned Bookshop is being pulled very strongly in that direction, though possibly not in the way you’d expect. I think if Gabby and the Bookshop are going to learn how to resist, they might need to visit the past. Maybe meet a German Shopkeeper and their Little Banned Buchladen.
I usually have this rule where I never talk about my works-in-progress, but this feels different. The Little Banned Bookshop feels, in a lot of ways, something that belongs to us rather than me, that it exists to give us some hope as we journey through troubling times. The human mind is wired to learn through story, and maybe, through stories like this, we can learn how to survive this together, with our humanity intact.
If we can still call it that in the face of what is happening…again.
I’m also escaping. Not outside to the woods, we keep having ice storms and there’s a terrible crust on the snow currently bashing in my shins. It’s the party pooper of the whole winter… until it starts melting, the sap running…
BUT I’m a member of the facebook group Wild Green Memes for Ecological Fiends (it’s one of the few groups that’s keeping me on the site) and every year around this time we have this event called the Charity Battle. There are several different animal or nature “gangs” and they all battle (by making increasingly unhinged memes) to raise the most money for conservation efforts (these are all visible at wildgreenfuture.org).
I joined character-based IcePack last year about midway and had an absolute blast. So many deep belly laughs. And I’m so glad that it’s come around again because I forgot how much fun it is and what a lovely antidote it is to all the horrors while also helping nature.
These memes are so embedded into gang and group lore that they rarely make sense to outsiders once the battle is more than few days in, but here is a silly sampler of mine to give you some idea of the unhinged nonsense we’re up to.
I don’t have much meme skill, so I mostly make 20-frame comic stories that keep me giggling as I make them, and then doubled over in laughter when the other fiends start commenting on them.
It’s the most fun you’ll ever have helping frosted elfin butterflies! Check it out here and if you want to help, please donate to my gang, IcePack: We have the LORE!
Like many others, the anglerfish recorded by National Geographic that surfaced into the light, only to die, captured my heart this past week. This has resulted in enough daydreams that it is firmly lodged in my imagination, but I’m not sure what that will come to, creatively, just yet. I have been enjoying this song by Paris Paloma about the same.
That’s all for this month, Side Questers. Fingers crossed that the first signs of spring will have sprung by next month, the sap will be running, and maybe we’ll all have something to smile about.
This morning is coloured all in shades of blue. There’s fresh snow on the ground and the sun is a timid thing yet.
Exciting things have been happening. Last spring, I wrote an essay and submitted it to a call for writers and artists to respond to L. M. Montgomery’s 150th Birthday. A peer review process soon followed, which was an interesting experience from a fiction writer’s perspective. Several different editors prodded my piece into their journal’s style by tweaking commas, asking questions, making sure this is really what I meant (it was). The editorial process always fascinates me, so seeing behind the veil into nonfiction was a fun romp. Part of me is still amazed they accepted my essay, but it’s out in the world now, and if you’d like to read it, here is a link to it on the Journal of L. M. Montgomery Studies website.
I think the essay reflects the way I’d been watching the Christofascism rising in North America with growing concern. Taking the first, deliberate steps to stop being triggered and start speaking up. It’s fitting to me that the essay came out around the same time as I was launching Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop. The novella was originally a short story, written a few years ago, but I didn’t bare my soul in the short story the way I do in Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop. I think I needed to be a little radicalized by current events to finally dig that deep.
The response has been truly wonderful. A writer and teacher I admire listed Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop as his #1 for 2024, I’ve had a few cult survivors reach out (this meant the world to me), and more than a few private messages from people who were touched by it.
Reviews have been slowly collecting on Amazon. I’m still struggling to get Ingram sorted and I’m so sorry it’s taking this long, the holiday season has always been a struggle for me and I’m doing my best to reserve spoons for my mental health.
These are a few of my favourite reviews:
Thank you to everyone who has read and left a rating or a review so far, and especially to people who have been sharing this book with people they think would also enjoy it. Thank you for coming on this journey with me.
And, if you haven’t read it yet and are a bit curious, you can find Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshopright here.
As for this month’s side quest – it’s been marketing. I’ve been making videos and carousels, just doing my best to find the readers who might need this book as much as I did. There’s a decided learning curve, but I’m carrying on, allowing myself my mistakes.
One of the weirdest parts has been determining my “niche” without limiting myself. We’ll see how that goes…
This month has been wintry. A neighbour’s dog from up the mountain a bit has taken a liking to our porch and we often find him sleeping there in the morning, resulting in some rather stunning walks up the mountain for me as I attempt to take him home.
Have you ever seen needle ice? They are ice columns formed by groundwater that pop up above the soil and twist into strange ice flowers. I’ve been enjoying them during our freeze/thaw cycles of early winter.
That’s it for this month, Side Questers. Hold your loved ones close, 2025 is shaping up to be a bumpy ride and we’ll need each other to break through to the other side.
You know that phenomenon where you don’t hear from your writer friend for a while and then they suddenly show up and announce they’ve written a book?
I wrote a book.
A novella, actually. It felt like it was time to write about some of my experiences as a cult survivor with everything happening in the world and then this book just sort of poured out of me. I wrote it in a summer workshop, and next came edits, then four amazing beta readers and now… I’ve hit publish on the ‘zon.
Here is my blurb so you don’t have to squint at the cover photo:
Be the magic bookshop you want to see in the world.
Gabby has moved on since she escaped the fundamentalist cult she was raised in 25 years ago, but when an evangelist accuses her of grooming because of the LGBTQIA+ books in her Little Free Library, her life begins to fall apart. Gabby finds solace in the pages of a slim book entitled Care and Feeding of Your Little Banned Bookshop, which details how to look after a living, magical bookshop. But a magical bookshop that gives out banned books to those who need them couldn’t be real… or could it?
Find out in the book readers are calling “Studio Ghibli meets Roald Dahl-for grownups.”
Ingram is coming for you Chapters and Barnes&Noble fans.
And I will say that writing something so deeply personal is terrifying, exhausting, and ever so meaningful. The feedback I’ve received from early had reduced me to tears more than once. One of my beta readers told me that “this is the book needs right now” and that it reminded her that she should be the main character in her own story. Another told me that she knew “this book will stay with me for a long time.” This is the stuff that FEEDS writers, I swear.
That’s all for now, I’ve been going full speed and need to have a lil nap before I wake up and tackle the marketing aspect (gulp!).
Jennifer Shelby 