Glorious AI backlash, touching grass, and the opening pages of my book.

May 25, 2026.Reading time 10 minutes.

On my favourite publishing industry podcast, The Sh*t No One Tells You About Writing, the literary agent hosts have been saying that lately, they can’t go a week without talking about AI, because there’s always some new chaos or drama unfolding on either the writer side, the”fake writer” side (the ones who use AI), or the industry side. For myself, someone who only pops up here every few months, I could go pages and pages talking about all the AI messes that have unfolded since my last post.

Instead, I’m going to sit back, because I no longer need to shed light on the problems with AI when they have now reached critical mass. I don’t have to link to articles that prove the environmental damage AI data centers cause, when it’s being talked about loudly on a daily basis. I don’t have to hate on the sloppery that’s devoid of human connection, when people are now sensing what’s missing and rejecting it, to the point that top brands are sharing behind-the-scenes videos that show how their work was created without AI. I also don’t have to remind everyone how using generative AI models rots their brains and critical thinking skills, when A: that’s been proven in multiple studies, and B: graduating university students are literally booing commencement speakers who declare that “AI is the future” in their speeches (the kids are alright).

Of course, that doesn’t mean AI will go away. In fact, it’s more prevalent than ever, and will likely continue to be shoved down our throats, since AI CEOs and other tech snakes are proudly saying the quiet part out loud these days—their intention to crash the economy and destroy the environment, all to cull the population until only the “useful labor” remains, the sort of human capital that can serve a function in future “company-owned” cities—if you haven’t yet read Octavia E. Butler’s post-apocalyptic novel Parable of the Sower (an eerie mirror of where we’re headed despite being over thirty years old), now might be a good time.

Yes, those tech losers who clearly grew up with no friends are on a rampage these days, but…that doesn’t mean they’ll win. So cheers to the backlash going mainstream, up-to-and including this great scene from a recent episode of the genius show Hacks:

Scene from Hacks E05E06, Deborah Vance talking to AI CEO: "Why are you trying to optimize the creative process?"

Scene from Hacks E05E06, Deborah Vance talking to AI CEO: "I mean, that's one of the things"

As I write this, there is only one episode of Hacks remaining before the series concludes. I’ll be inconsolable when it ends later this week, but when the creators of the show shared their desire to release the entire series on DVD—since you never know when a show is going to disappear off a streaming platform forever—it made me realize I need to expand my DVD collection (yes, I bought a DVD player last year, because it’s time to touch grass, and discs! (only carefully from the edges, though). Luckily, Toronto has a great DVD store, Bay St. Video (they do rentals as well, which reminds me of when I worked at Blockbuster Video as a teen…nostalgic sigh). Here’s to small businesses.

Speaking of touching grass, the late spring finally bloomed in Toronto, and at last we are in sunny bliss.

High Park reading, book "Tokyo Ueno Station" by Yu Miri

Speaking of touching grass (again), European grass sounds appealing, too.

A long awaited return to France…

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know that last year, during stressful times and the harsh transition into grief that followed, I let my passport expire. A big deal? No. But as a travel lover, that would normally never happen on my watch. I’ve finally renewed it and am off to France in three days, for a fifteen-day vacation that will hopefully nourish the soul, and be another step in bouncing back after hard times. I feel grateful for that, as not everyone has the opportunity to bounce back from hard times with travel. I’m also incredibly excited to catch up with friends in Paris and Bordeaux, and spend a good week on the French Riviera, too (I don’t think I’ll run into Mike White and his The White Lotus cast as they film season four, at least I hope not, because I want a relaxing, low-key French Riviera experience (am staying in a small town for this reason), not that loud luxury rich shit)).

Anyway, more on that later!

And my first love, writing.

Before I head off for vacation, I really do need to submit my new book to more literary agents. I’ve only submitted to about twenty so far, the majority of whom received a version of my query letter and opening pages I’ve since revised (I really thought I was done when I first submitted them, but later, more clarity came; isn’t that always the way?). I’d love to get another thirty ticked off before I leave on Thursday, not because I expect much at this time of the year, with agents rushing to pitch things for existing clients before the industry slows down in summer, but because, as a recovering type-A person who’s still quite a bit type-A (even though the stress and sadness of the last three years mellowed me out a bit), it would feel so good to have a big chunk of pitches sent out before I dump my brain in champagne.

And so, there is a lot to do in the next couple of days, but before I go, I thought I’d share the opening pages of the novel I’m pitching, in the chance that it tickles your fancy.

Disclaimer: it won’t tickle your fancy if you don’t enjoy anything in the rom com/romance genre, but if you do, the only preface you need is that our character absolutely loathes the rom com genre. That’s where we begin, and while over the course of the novel her character arc will have her wrestling with this hatred and coming to see the genre in a new light, in the opening pages, this rom com hater who has long-stopped believing will be stopped in her tracks by an unexpected meet-cute.

(I know I could’ve made things more clear by simply sharing the book’s concept and a detailed description, but I don’t want to risk someone putting that description into an AI model and spitting out a book while I’m still pitching mine. Ah, the times we live in.)

Anyway, read on, hope you enjoy it!

The opening pages of my new novel

Chapter 1

Thursday — One day before the Harvest Moon

Risha Deol was the rusty third wheel to hot couples. And she hated it. She wanted to avoid them, but lately they’d been popping up like undead creatures emerging from six feet of dirt. His veiny forearms so hard not to ogle. Her shiny long legs so easy to loathe. And Risha always tethered nearby, but never quite in the mix.

Today, the sexy couple stared her down on the 6 train, where she sat between a man-spreader going to town on a meat supreme sub, and a young woman transfixed by the AI slop reels playing on her phone. The couple bothered her more than the man chomping away at seven layers of meat, or the woman co-signing the death sentence of humanity. So much more. It wasn’t just because she was recently divorced, but because the couples were everywhere, a curse of the rom com renaissance. Such was Risha’s experience when she went out in the world these days; a proliferation of posters featuring upcoming rom com films, and no escape from the two-dimensional hotties blessed with fake happy endings anchoring the glossy ads, like the couple staring her down at that very moment.

Or maybe there was an escape.

As the train slowed to a stop at Union Square station, Risha practically leapt out of her seat.

She would walk the rest of the way.

Read the full excerpt for free here.

Birthday joy that’s conditional on a writing goal? It can work!

April 8, 2026.Reading time 6 minutes.

Hitting a writing goal to avoid punishment—like robbing oneself of birthday joy—will not work for everyone, and it might be unhealthy, too. But for an April Aries? It couldn’t be more on-brand.

A while ago, though, I had the realization that recent traumatic and tragic experiences had changed me, transforming me into a version of myself that was less of that typical, full-throttle, go-getter Aries. In its place I prioritized better sleep, quality time, healing, health, hobbies, and calm. This remains true, but no one changes completely, right? And I wouldn’t want to. Each of us has certain characteristics at our core, our nature, whatever you want to call it, and for me, a part of that is being independent, conjuring up self-motivation when I need it, and, from time to time, accessing that sixth-gear of writing (and editing), all “fast and furious” like, in a “now or never” kind of way.

That was the story of the last month. I spent it adding colour to, deleting word-fat from, line-editing, and then polishing the draft of my newest book.

It all led up to now, this night before my birthday, and my wish to gift myself a finished version of my book that I could pitch to literary agents—up to and including sending the first pitch today to get the ball rolling (I do have a publisher who’s interested in seeing my next work, but I wouldn’t be doing my dream justice if I didn’t aim beyond a small imprint for my third traditionally-published book). Since it’s been so intense, I’ll definitely take a beat before pitching more heavily in May (it takes time to research each agency and find the right agent to submit to!), but in the meantime, here she is, in all her 82,000-word and 300-page glory, and yes, I sent that first pitch today!

I actually haven’t physically printed something I wrote for editing and markup purposes since, well, my screenwriting days (way, way back), but that was more of a one-hundred-page printout affair. So yes, she was hefty, and magical to behold in all her heftiness, as I took her around Toronto for editing sessions in the library, in cafés, at the bar with Prosecco (hey, it helps with getting the creativity flowing!), and finally back at home to do the markup fixes. A physical printout was also quite helpful for my weary elder eyes, as it significantly reduced my screen time.

Editing printout of book with red pen at the bar with Prosecco

Editing printout of book with red pen at a café table with a latte

I’ve made it this far into the blog post by focusing on the mechanics and avoiding being sentimental, but I can’t avoid sentimentality forever, it would go against the core of my very being. Because, after all, when I’m not describing the practicalities of the writing process, being incredibly sarcastic, talking shit, or humbling myself at the altar of self-deprecation (less often), I’m a tears-welling-up-in-my-eyes kind of sap.

So here we go: there were so many times in the last two and a half years since I started exploring this book idea, that I couldn’t envision it ever being completed. So many obstacles in the way, so much familial support I needed to provide, so many serious life stresses, so much sadness holding me back. At times, I wondered if I’d have to give up and let this one go, and you know, try to be a writer at some other time in the future. What I learned was, the perfect time or mental state or emotional state was never going to come along, so I had to try, but equally, I needed to give myself time whenever I needed it. Living in this paradox of “do it anyway” and “do self-care” was a mind fuck, to say the least! So, to be here now, and to be able to share that I’m holding the book that was the most challenging to write, and that I wound up infusing with so many real emotions and feelings about the world we’re living in—making it the most creatively satisfying book I’ve ever written for both those reasons—feels like a real accomplishment. It simply means the world to me, and yes, I did have a cry about it. I’m a sap.

There are more challenges ahead (*gestures wildly at the horrific state of the publishing industry*), but we’re not going to talk about that today, not when there’s champagne and good friends waiting.

Until later, when we’re jacked on caffeine and freaking out about the industry…

At long last, hitting “The End” on the draft for the new book.

March 13, 2026.Reading time 9 minutes.

If you’ve ever written a book, you know the many stages of feeling unwell throughout the drafting process, until somehow, miracle of miracles, you find your way to “The End” (this does not apply to “writers” who use AI for any part of the writing process. If that is you, well gosh, there is slop to generate and money to make; go on then, time’s a wastin’!)

Today I found my way to “The End”, and it was more gratifying than I can adequately state.

So, how did I get there?

This book took a long time to write, many times longer than my previous ones. Over two years, in fact. In the past, starting and stopping over long stretches of time has never been what worked for me, when it comes to writing a draft. It’s been more like the death of inspiration for me. That’s why I wrote the draft of my second trad-published book in six weeks with a full-time job (my editor isn’t reading this so I can admit that). Way further back in the past, I wrote the rough draft of my second self-published book in six days over a one-week vacation (I had a screenplay I’d written the year before which loosely inspired the book, but nevertheless…truly unhinged).

That book that I drafted in six weeks was the last time I ever wrote a draft of a book, and that was three and a half years ago. After that, I gave myself a full year before even attempting to start the next book, but the gap didn’t help, as life had already spun into chaos by then, culminating in a tragic loss six months ago, which I wrote about in my previous post.

The holidays were understandably tough, but January was a fresh start, right? Sure, if it was easy enough to snap my fingers and suddenly be done with grieving. Or, if the world didn’t keep one-upping itself with dumpster fires (still going strong!). So, a crumbled mental state and a crumbling world? Not the best circumstances in which to finish writing a book.

Luckily, I didn’t have to be too inspired in January, due to my topsy-turvy writing method for this book, which I also touched upon in my last post (i.e. revising the first 70% of my draft, before writing the final 30%. Very normal and not weird at all).

If was later, when I finished revising, that I hit a wall, timed perfectly with the doldrums of winter. I’m going to be honest here, and say what most writers don’t say: I don’t enjoy writing a draft nearly as much as I enjoy editing it. Sometimes I even hate it, and I believe that is valid and fair, because here’s the thing: you’re asking me to create the clay, and also mold the clay? What kind of bullshit is that?

This is the part where you’d say: “Hey Romi, based on your mindset, you probably have a lot more in common with people who use AI than you think. So, why don’t you just prompt AI with a really good outline, and have it generate a blueprint draft? Then you can enjoy all the editing you love, and make it sound amazing in your personal voice.”

To which I say: “Thanks Chad, that’s a terrible fucking idea.“

Just because I complain about one aspect of the writing process, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it and do it well. I’m simply honouring the struggle, because art isn’t supposed to be easy. Because, as all artists know—whatever their medium may be—it isn’t the finished product that makes them an artist, it’s having created said art that does so. It’s each swirling brushstroke that forms the Van Gogh paintings imprinted in our minds, it’s the fifty-seven versions of the recipe that make the perfect dish, it’s the hard-fought words squeezed out of the mind that fill the pages of the book…it’s…always and forever, the battle scars that make it worth it.

When it comes to books specifically, no one’s going to stop anyone from generating a draft from a very detailed outline (See? See?! I used my brain for the outline, I really did! I’m a REAL boy now!), and personalizing the editing to make it their own. Many readers won’t even notice. What I’ll notice though, as the person who attaches my name to it, is that no matter how advanced AI gets, it will never be able to “generate” anything in the same way that a human with a soul can do it, because a human with a soul can, at any given moment, make the person experiencing their art, form a deep connection with it, in any manner of unexpected ways, because the thing that binds us all, is our shared experience of the good, the bad, and the ugly of the human condition. AI can never join that club. AI will never be that girl. There’s also the whole matter of how using AI makes you a willing participant in profiting off of stolen work while contributing to the further destruction of the environment at alarming rates, but again, you can read my previous post for those factual points.

So, what’s next on this writing rollercoaster?

Even though this draft is very developed and I’m feeling great about its prospects, there is still much editing to do. I intend to make that my focus for the next month, with the (slightly) lofty goal of having it ready to submit to literary agents by my birthday.

Oh, right, did I forget to mention that? Indeed, I will soon embark on the whole big journey of trying to find a literary agent vs. only submitting to my current publisher, because I thirst to test the market on this very high concept work (with their blessing).

I was wrong, it was not a creative summer (or autumn). But, we begin again…

December 19, 2025.Reading time 16 minutes.

Before writing this, I went back and read my blog post from July 25th. Oh, sweet summer child, she had hope that she would do some late summer writing! And have more balcony hangouts with friends right up until the last warm day! And maybe even take an impromptu trip to Paris!

Reality: I did not write, I ended up repeatedly shifting or cancelling plans with friends (until I just stopped trying to make more plans), and for the first time in my life, my passport expired.

Okay, so: if you are one of the handful of people who’ve been reading my once-(sometimes twice)-a-year blog posts over the last three years, you’ll have noticed there was this repeated theme of renewing my resolve to get back on the writing horse, but never quite managing to ride off into the next-book-is-finished sunset. The most I’d ever said about why that kept happening, amounted to a vague “helping my family through a difficult situation.” I’m still not going to get too specific, because it isn’t my story to tell, but I will be open enough to now say, that a little over 6 weeks after writing that last blog post, my brother-in-law passed away from a valiant but brutal battle with pancreatic cancer. He left behind my sister, my niece (who turned twelve three weeks after his passing), my five-year-old nephew, and an amount of heartbreak for that family of three which can never fully heal, but, with time, can hopefully be managed. It’s way too soon to expect that though, especially with Christmas around the corner, the run up to which keeps bringing up difficult emotions at every turn. The only way I can attempt to put a positive spin on that, is that the carousel of sadness is a tribute to how much he meant to those closest to him.

Again, it’s not my story to tell, so I’ll bring it back to my own experience and keep it short at that, so I can get back to talking about writing, which for me, is a big part of healing. I guess to sum it up, back in late July when I wrote that post, I really was holding on to hope that things would slowly change for the better. In reality, everything deteriorated in a quick and brutal fashion, as is too often the case with pancreatic cancer. Without getting specific, the things I witnessed with my own eyes in those final six weeks, are things I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. I’m sure anyone who’s watched a loved one go through something similar can relate.

I’ll end on this topic by saying, so much more research is needed to help improve the devastating outcomes of pancreatic cancer. I hope those scientific advancements will come, and in the meantime, if you’re able to, you can always make a donation to the pancreatic research foundation in your country (I’ve linked to the one in Canada).

So, what now?

My current reality is: learning how to be a whole person again. That process can’t happen in a vacuum though, since I know I’m not the one who’s been hit with the hardest grief. So I need to keep showing up. But I also need time to feel sad. So I guess that means, it’s learning how to be a whole person again, while still showing strength as a rock to close family—since “sad time” needs to happen during separate alone time. A.k.a. just your standard-issue compromised rock, riddled with fractures and trying to heal in real time.

It’s fine, everything’s fine! And, rest assured, dear handful of people who read each one of these posts, I’ll make it a priority to heal and ask for help when I need it.

On the topic of help, or more generally, support, “what comes next” is trying to get back to tending to the garden of friendships, the tight inner circle that never judged my cancelled plans or meltdowns or bad days, but instead held space as I worked through difficult times. This is the part that’s been really illuminating, as it exposed the odd “friend” who didn’t have the tolerance for the aforementioned. When I examined those situations more closely, it wasn’t just a matter of “everyone’s dealing with their own shit” (which is completely valid), but the realization that I’d always been putting in the bulk of the effort in “friendships” like that, almost always initiating a text chat, following up, suggesting plans, sending reminders, checking in…for years and years. So, when I couldn’t do that anymore, I guess my “friendship value” tanked? I guess I was supposed to keep doing the bulk of it forever? Right. Well, in the words of Aristotle:^* “Absolutely the fuck not“.
(^*Not an actual quote from Aristotle.)

Like I said, ever so illuminating, when the foggy past becomes acutely clear, when viewed through the eyes of present-day dysfunction. Side-note: in the off chance that someone should read the above and think “that demon is talking about ME!“, let me plainly say: I’m talking about someone who’s probably never even read this blog. So, um, chill, okay?

And just like that, so continues my era of fewer friendships and higher quality (which I may have touched on a year or so ago). More grateful than ever for that special equation.

But how will you become a whole person in these EVEN MORE unprecedented times?

That’s a great question. I truly couldn’t have picked a worse time to start a healing journey that requires rebuilding my emotional/mental state one little piece at a time. Then again, I didn’t choose the timing. Or the circumstance. So here we are.

This moment seems like a good time to re-share that image of Ralph from The Simpsons. More relevant than ever.

Despite my healing journey being at risk of getting sidetracked by humanity’s dumpster fire, I guess I’ll keep foolishly trying.

And the number one tool that helps my healing? Writing fiction, of course…

Wait, you’re STILL writing books when AI can do that (and everything else)?

Gosh, another great question. I talked about AI in my July blog post too, and now, only five months later, it seems to be taking over everything, from critical thinking, to fresh water, to jobs, to the ability to enjoy the simplest things…and everything in-between. Luckily, more and more people are seeing the dangers of AI and rightfully despising it, with a growing faction that plans to go more analogue in 2026 (count me in). Even the “oh my god I use ChatGPT for everythinggg” people can no longer turn a blind eye to AI’s disastrous effects on the environment, and how much worse it will get if those data centers keep getting built. It’s not just the trillions of gallons of water AI will use (well on its way to that level of waste), it’s the way it’s wrecking neighbourhoods with the noises and smells. And if the AI lovers still don’t care, if their vibe is “problems for thee, not for me“, I wonder how they’ll feel about all these AI data centers heightening electricity demand (by a lot), and how the associated costs will get peanut-butter-spreaded onto everyday people’s electric bills, vs. the billionaire owners of these AI companies, whose vibe is “subsidies for me, not for thee” (oh wait, it’s already happening).

I haven’t even mentioned the part where AI slop—which is supposed to be so amazing—Is failing, not because there’s something inherently wrong with the “output” (with the bar firmly set at “mid”), but because people can tell that it’s “off”, and the reason it’s off is that there isn’t any feeling behind it, no connective tissue at all. With a lack of ability to form a connection with the people it’s trying to sell to, it either winds up being largely ineffective, or it incites a visceral reaction and is wholly rejected. Like that McDonald’s AI ad that was so hated it needed to be taken down. Or that Coca-Cola “furry creatures in the woods” AI ad, where everyone could tell that it was vapid and soulless, so it fell flat. Meanwhile, the Apple ad with furry creatures created with physical puppets and a ton of human effort, was beloved. Do with that what you will.

If all of that is telling me anything, it’s that AI can go ahead and generate all those books that wannabe authors will then publish on Amazon, and even make money from (money they’re making off the backs of authors like myself, whose books were fed into these AI models without our consent, but yeah, go off). Yeah, they can do that, and they can also insist that they’re only using AI to help with plot hurdles but not the actual writing (um, sure). Yep, they can monetize and optimize until AI tells them they’ve written the perfect book that will forsake all other books, but….I really don’t care. Why don’t I care? Because I know my human writing is, and always will be, better. Better than any AI-generated book, forever and ever. I know this because A: I’m pretty confident in my resumé so far, thank you very much ( see Publishers Weekly starred reviews here and here), and B: I have a soul.

So yeah, the world may indeed be descending into horrible chaos for the profit of the few, but I’ll keep writing. I suppose that makes me the writer version of that person playing violin on the Titanic while the ship goes down. Whatever. And, we’ll see about that.

And on the note of my next book….

The current step for my next book, is that I’m working through the 70% of the manuscript that I’ve already drafted. What I mean is, I’m in the middle of re-reading and re-writing that first 70% before I finish drafting the rest. Once I’m done, I’ll finish writing the remaining 30%. Yes, I know, that’s a weird and potentially terrible process, but it works for me. Once I’m feeling great about my manuscript, I’ll submit it to literary agents, hopefully by late winter, because even though I managed to get traditionally published without an agent (and could potentially continue in that way), I’m curious to see what happens when I test my writing in the market. More on that later.

Finally, there were some nice recent moments, too.

Indeed, let’s end on a good note (and with some pics)!

I finished decorating my new place, which in the end was a true creative outlet, a way to express myself and distract myself during a hard time.
I watched the Toronto Blue Jays’ epic playoff run that culminated in losing the World Series by a few inches. I’m still not over it.
A couple of weeks ago, I finally got out and signed some copies of my books at a Toronto Indigo bookstore (and I finally got a haircut).
I hosted my first holiday party at my new place, with some of my dearest friends. Maybe that’ll become a tradition.
I made gingerbread cookies with my nephew.
I had some other festive cheer.
What I haven’t done yet, is my annual re-watch of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but I’ll start that soon, especially because I missed it last year. The reason I love doing that so much during the holidays, is that the end of the year is already a time for reflecting on life and the world, so an epic tale about good versus evil and the fate of humankind? It always feels fitting (and it couldn’t feel more fitting, than after the year 2025, a year that will live on in infamy *gestures around at the state of the world*). So, that’s the true note I’m ending on, my two favourite quotes from the films (keep scrolling).

Wish you well, see you in 2026, and may the chaos and fuckery of 2025 never find us again…

Nevertheless, creativity persisted (plus, my summer taken over by dreamy newness).

July 25, 2025.Reading time 12 minutes.

Okay, so the last time I was here, it was December, a time when feeling hopeful was an act of rebellion, amidst American dystopia and global chaos and what have you. Here we are now, nearing July’s end, and society is precisely here:

That laugh of despair comes from those of us who are privileged, because then there are those who are facing real-time atrocities. Yet here we are, still going to work and celebrating kids’ birthdays and trying to find some joy in the day, as surreal as it can often feel. A quote from Shiv Roy’s character in Succession comes to mind:

Which brings me to a quote from my Succession fave, Roman roy: “shit show at the fuck factory.”

It’s a good time to digress, except to say: we are unwell, but I hope this blog post finds you well.

Do I really have to talk about AI? Okay, but briefly.

I remember a year or more ago, when all the talk of AI was “yeah, but look at all this cool stuff you can do, and you’re still being creative, it just kind of helps you.”

Fast forward to now, and: I can confirm that all 5 of my books (and a short story!) along with millions of other books were used to power Zuckerfuck’s AI platform—without our permission and despite them being copyrighted works, but, oh yeah, he stole them off a book piracy website, and tried to get his team to keep it hush-hush. Cool. Lawsuits pending. And yes, I just used an em dash, and of course you’ll find em dashes in ChatGPT output, because it’s generating output from what was written by humans. I mean…was that not obvious already? Then why was there—and still is—a big em dash/ChatGPT debate on social media? Are people just very dumb?

Which brings me to my next point: people are becoming very dumb. Exhibit A: did you read that article in New York Mag entitled “Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College“? It’s about how…well, the topic is in the title. In that article, a student was interviewed and they could barely form a cogent thought because, oh yeah, using AI to do your thinking damages your ability to engage in um…critical thinking. But, I’m sure it’ll all be fine (*cough of despair*).

And also: did you hear how people are using ChatGPT for life advice and to make everyday decisions, kind of already knowing what they want to hear and then ChatGPT just validates them and generally always makes them feel right? Sorry, I’m just chuckling to myself about that one; what a gift to narcissists everywhere, all hail the wonders of AI!

Anyway, AI is a part of life, it’s there, I see it from across the bar, like someone with a bad personality whose ugliness on the inside has made them ugly on the outside, too—which you learned after only a 10-minute conversation, and now you’re keeping your distance but you still have to co-exist (I mean, you wouldn’t have to co-exist in an actual bar, you could just leave, but in this analogy, it’s “the bar of life,” so, it’s you and ugly-on-both-sides AI, having to deal with each other. At least it’s made me appreciate human interactions more, especially in-person, but maybe not in bars).

When I say “AI is a part of life”, I mean in society and work, places where I don’t make the rules, so I know it’s going to show up here and there, and more and more. Where I do make the rules is with my own writing, and in that case, AI has no business there. Unwelcome and not needed.

If AI was there in my process, I would’ve been done my latest book long ago, but that’s okay; what makes it so satisfying is the brain-to-page creative process, the journey! And even though (no surprise) I’m not finished yet, there was a glorious week this past spring when I stopped everything else and wrote and wrote and wrote. In other words, I’ve made progress. Yay!

The writing zone back in spring; glorious!

Continuing with creativity/author life: author events!

In February, May, and June, I was lucky enough to do author book signings and panels for my 24 Hours series of books, which never go out of style (Paris and Italy are always good ideas). The first in February was a book signing event at our good ol’ Canadian bookstore chain Indigo, then a very cool author panel in an old church as part of the inaugural Appleby College Canadian Festival of Authors, and then another signing at a big Indigo in Yorkdale mall, where I sold the most books I’ve ever sold at an Indigo signing (thank you again to everyone who came out, local authors appreciate this kind of support so much).

A good excuse for not being done my book yet: real estate!

Yes, I am now the proud owner of my very own place in a lovely Toronto neighbourhood, which is 70% of the reason I’ve fallen behind on my writing (the other 30% is from spending lots of time with family to help out during ongoing challenging times, but, that’s life, right?). The new place is in this little pocket of the city protected from the tourist rush, but also a 1-to-20-minute walk from all of the following: cute restaurants and bars, a little park with some of those huge old trees, the lakeshore with all its long walks/jogging potential, the historic Distillery District, St. Lawrence Market…(and now I’m getting too Toronto-specific for non-Toronto readers). The “protected-from-tourists” bubble was proven in June when we were having aperitivo on a quiet terrace and, two tables away, was Julianne Moore, enjoying dinner with a friend, and totally unbothered.

Anyway, I was not expecting to have already bought a place by June. In fact, last August, when I put an offer on a place and got priced out when it sold for 20% over ask, I got spooked and didn’t look at anything for the next 9 months. Then somehow, the first place I saw in May ended up being perfect, so I put an offer on it, and the next day, the offer was accepted under ask. Maybe it was always meant to be this way. I’m really grateful.

This has also meant that my schedule has been intense. Not just because of everything there is to do, but because I want to do it right. Like this is the time to bring those private Pinterest boards to life, to show the outcome from reading all those copies of Architectural Digest (even though my style is a bit more eclectic than a curated AD spread; I just don’t want it to look staged, okay?? I want it to look like a person actually lives there; the charm, the life running through it, you know?). Basically, this is now another realm where my type-A “achiever” personality is running wild. How fun.

So, this photo below is what I started with (very happy with all that light). It’s a blank canvas which I’m pretty much starting fresh with. I’ve made a lot of progress so far, and, as Instagram is a better platform for that type of inspo and decor fun, I’ll be sharing more about it there.

What I did do, by pretty much the third day, was set up the balcony vibe (more furniture has been added since), because hello, it’s summer, and you gotta get in as many balcony hangs as you can (priorities).

In-between the hangs, there are a million things to do, but I’m ready to face it with the can-do attitude shown below! (with an underlying 50% of snarkiness…)

What’s next: a late summer that actually includes writing?

The prospect of writing in summer is a bit unexpected for me, because usually that’s the time to rest my brain in the lead up to a Europe jaunt, or in the wind down after. But the fact is, right now I’m booked and busy in this nesting mode of loving setting things up in the new place, trying to have friends and family over when I can, and truly enjoying summer in the city through fresh eyes. That doesn’t mean that if a last-minute deal to Paris pops up in autumn I won’t consider it, but for summer at least, it’s resting, nesting, and definitely some writing on the balcony on those quiet nights in the city…I’ll come back here with an update once I’ve finished!

PS: I wish I knew who the below should be credited to, but when I saw it, well, it made me ponder. I’m not even sure if any of it fits my description, but let’s just say, it lingered…