Moon of the Crusted Snow

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I’m very excited to announce that my next novel, Moon of the Crusted Snow, will be published by ECW Press in the fall of 2018. It’s a post-apocalyptic thriller that takes place in an isolated First Nation in northern Ontario. I posted a story synopsis on my Facebook page that you can read below:

When I started developing this idea a couple of years ago, I originally intended it as a short story. But the more I thought about it, the more it grew. I began writing in September 2015 during the two-week Indigenous Writers Program at the Banff Centre, and I’ve been able to keep a steady writing momentum over the past year thanks to kind grants from the Ontario Arts Council and the Canada Council for the Arts. My employer, CBC Ottawa, has graciously granted me leaves of absence to accommodate the creation of this novel. And just this fall, ECW acquired the publishing rights. I’m extremely grateful to these organizations for this opportunity.

Moon of the Crusted Snow is a novel about the end of the world as we know it. I described it above very simply as a “post-apocalyptic thriller”, and that’s likely how it will be billed going forward. But it’s much more than a story about the apocalypse and its fallout. It’s about resilience, self-discovery, and renewal. Without giving too much away, an important underlying theme in the story is how one community’s collapse could be another community’s new beginning.

But there is a great deal of darkness through which the characters in the story have to find light. It’s a harrowing struggle through the harshest season. The unwavering desire to survive is what has always drawn me to post-apocalyptic novels, and some of those classic stories inspired me to write my own, but through an Anishinaabe lens. I hope you’re able to read it when it’s published. Stay tuned for more details in the lead-up. Miigwech!

20 Jahre Nachher/20 Years Later

At Toronto's Pearson International Airport on July 31, 1996

At Toronto’s Pearson International Airport on July 31, 1996

I struggled to put on a brave face and hold back tears in front of passing strangers at Pearson as I hugged my family one last time. We wouldn’t see each other again for a whole year, and I was about to embark on a journey that would change the course of my life. It was 20 years ago today – July 31, 1996 – and I was 17 years old with my world about to blow wide open.

My luggage was checked, my documents were secure in my travel wallet, and prolonging the farewell would only result in awkward crying. There was nothing left to do or say, so I turned to walk towards the international gate, waving one last time and taking a mental snapshot of the quivering smiles on the faces of my loved ones.

Months earlier, I was selected by the Rotary Club of Parry Sound to take part in the Rotary International Youth Exchange Program and spend a year in northern Germany. It was a pretty big deal for an Anishinaabe kid from a small reserve on Georgian Bay. It wasn’t really planned; I literally stumbled upon the opportunity when I saw a poster for the program in the hall at Parry Sound High School, which piqued my interest. It was a crucial time in my life: the waning months of Grade 12 when high school students were supposed to formulate an educational and career path before the now-obsolete OAC year.

But instead of getting ready for my last year of high school, I was now about to board a plane to a European country, not to return until the following summer to prepare for OAC in the fall, and hopefully have a clearer vision of career ambition. I was both nervous and excited about the foreign path ahead of me, but I couldn’t have anticipated just how it would shape the person I was to become. The tears were long buried as I buckled into my seat on the plane.

The months in the lead-up to my exchange were full of Rotary orientations, visits with family and friends, and learning as much about modern-day Germany as possible. I had tapes and books to learn the language, but admittedly, I barely listened to or read any of those (although I did learn German fluently while there). But one conversation I had in those final months in Canada stands out as truly momentous and ominous.

I got a call sometime before I left with a sort of job offer. I don’t remember exactly when it was, because it has been 20 years, and details aren’t as sharp. Either way, it was from the Anishinabek News, the newspaper published by the Union of Ontario Indians (now the Anishinabek Nation) to serve its 40-plus communities across the province. The editor said they had heard about my upcoming trip, and wondered if I’d be interested in writing about my experiences as a ‘Nish teen in a European country for publication every month. And he said they’d pay me for each story.

The notion of being paid to write blew my mind. I had no idea that was possible. Journalism was never presented as a viable career option to me, mostly because I hadn’t been exposed to the few Indigenous journalists at the time who were out there blazing a trail in Canadian media. And the main reason I applied for the exchange program in the first place was that despite being an honours student in high school, I didn’t know what I wanted to do for a living, or what or where I wanted to study for college or university.

At the Berlin Wall in November 1996 with fellow exchange students.

At the Berlin Wall in November 1996 with fellow exchange students Lisa Hill and Jen Ottaway

That’s why, after attending the information session for the Rotary exchange program the day after seeing that poster in the hall, I thought it was a good option to keep those big decisions at bay, and take the opportunity to figure out my path during a year away from home in a far-off place. My parents were supportive, as were the rest of my family and the wider community around me, especially the people in my home of Wasauksing First Nation. I didn’t realize then that I would become an ambassador for Anishinaabe people especially, and not just the country of Canada. That role emerged in the writing I was about to do.

In early August, I began the German equivalent of high school in the town of Brake in the maritime lowlands of the northeast. My host sister Anne drove me to the front door of Gymnasium Brake, and I had never been so nervous in my life. Those nerves were exacerbated by the dozens of students gathered out front. They all stared as I got out of the car, and my gut teetered on fear.

But as I approached, I saw affability and enthusiasm in their eyes, and they welcomed me warmly. I learned later that they gathered there that morning because they heard there was an “Indianer” coming to their school. They wanted to see how I looked. My friend Tim later told me they were disappointed to see me arrive in jeans and a t-shirt with short hair. They were expecting a “real-life” Indian like the ones they read about in the Winnetou tales by Karl May. We laughed, and I wrote about that for one of my first assignments for the Anishinabek News.

It’s a story I tell often nowadays when I explain how I got into journalism and decided to make raising awareness of Indigenous experiences in Canada my life’s mission. Up until that point in my life, I had never encountered such a great degree of enthusiasm and general interest in my Anishinaabe background. Most people I met there valued my heritage and experiences, and wanted to know more. Back then, outside of my own non-Indigenous family, that just didn’t happen to me in Canada.

That made the cultural and social divide between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians even clearer to me. I was well aware of the racism and general ignorance that existed in my home country because I had lived it first-hand, growing up in the 1980s and 90s. It took going to Germany to really feel celebrated and appreciated outside of my own community, and that was a shocking eyeopener.

The more I thought about it, thousands of kilometres from home, the more I realized Canadians just weren’t learning the proper story of Indigenous peoples and the actual history of how Canada came to be. And it wasn’t the fault of everyday Canadians themselves. It was the education system itself that erased those truths and experiences. While I alone could never fix those problems, I could help raise awareness by writing about them.

"We don't live in a tipi" - article in the Nordwest Zeitung newspaper following my speech (in German) to the Rotary Club of Brake in May 1997.

“We don’t live in a tipi” – article in the Nordwest Zeitung newspaper following my speech (in German) to the Rotary Club of Brake in May 1997

There were more eyeopening experiences like that first day of school. There was the time I was at an anniversary party for my host parents when an elderly German man told me to be proud of who I was as an Anishinaabe person and to ensure that my culture stayed strong. He said because when he was my age, he was forced to salute a man named Hitler and fall in line with all his horrible beliefs. As such, he said he found it hard to feel proud of his German background later in life. I wrote about that interaction, too.

I began getting letters from people back home who read those stories. They thanked me for sharing my experiences, and for representing the Anishinaabeg a world away from our homelands. Feedback like that was heartwarming and motivating. It made me realize that this kind of storytelling could have a real impact. That’s when I decided I wanted to become a journalist.

The year in Germany wrapped up, full of many beautiful, compelling, and enlightening stories. I could write a whole book about how that exchange year unfolded and what it really means to me. But 20 years to the day that I left, I’ll just focus on how it helped define my career and my desire to share the important stories of Indigenous people and the issues that impact them.

I returned to Canada at age 18, had one last year of high school to go, and applied to journalism school. I got into Ryerson, graduated four years later, and have worked in different storytelling capacities since. It’s an honour and a privilege to do this for a living, and I don’t believe I would have found this life without that year in Germany.

I’ve looked back often. I’ve even gone back twice to visit, and I’m long overdue for a return. It will always be like another home to me. It’s where I found my path, which continues to take shape. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Danke schoen/chi-miigwech/thank you!

Thanks to the following who made that year possible: my parents and brothers, my friends and family in Wasauksing and Parry Sound and beyond, the Rotary Club of Parry Sound, the Rotary Club of Brake-Unterweser, the Heitzhausen family, the Kordes family, the Doeding family, the Koehlers, the Funks, staff and students of Gymnasium Brake, the lovely people of the Wesermarsch, Dave Dale and Maurice Switzer of the Anishinabek News, and all Rotary exchange students I met. You’ll all have a special place in my heart always.

Helpful habits for the author with a day job

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For any author that relies on a primary career/day job for steady income, writing really is a labour of love. It means rearranging your life outside of your usual work routine to accommodate your passion for literary endeavours. That can result in sacrificing free time and activities to get writing done. But to better manage time and sustain a healthy, balanced, and happy life, I try to stick to a few simple habits that help me make progress and keep me creatively satisfied.

Make a routine and stick to it

Working eight hours or more a day can be daunting, and it’s sometimes hard to figure out when to write around that schedule. I’m very fortunate to have a creatively fulfilling career as a journalist with CBC, but after filing a story at the end long day, there’s not much gas left in the tank for creating fiction when I get home. So I set aside at least an hour for writing every morning before I go to work. The amount of words I get on the screen in that time varies – from as little as a paragraph to as much as a couple of pages – but I leave the house every day satisfied that I got something done. Depending on when in the day works best for you, try to stick to a set amount of time for writing as part of your daily routine.

Change up the venue

Because most of my writing happens in shorter spurts during the week, it can be difficult to transition into a longer, more relaxed pace on the weekend or a day off. I admit that my attention span isn’t vast enough to stay in one place all day, so when I have a wider window for writing, I like to work in different spots. I’ll start at home, and after taking a break to eat or for other obligations, I’ll head out with my laptop to a coffee shop, the local library branch, or a nearby pub. Breaking up those marathon sessions is always refreshing, especially if it takes me to a stimulating venue that caters to my mood. Give it a shot!

If you can’t write, think about writing

A daily routine can be complicated with a wide array of responsibilities, so outside of committed writing time, it’s often difficult to find ways to get words on the page or the screen. So I always make sure I’m at least thinking about writing when I can. Whether that’s on my walk to work (15 minutes in each direction), on my coffee or lunch break, in line at the store, or driving around the city, I’m contemplating where my story’s going and how I want to write it. I find that refining those ideas in my head makes a more efficient and effective writer when it comes time to sit down.

Get moving

Piling the creative process on top of a job and other life commitments can sometimes make everything very overwhelming, especially if you hit a wall in the creative process. When things get a little to stressful, I like to hit the reset button by going for a run, hitting the gym, or practicing martial arts. Blowing off steam is a great mental equalizer, and always clears my head enough to get back to writing. Even just a short walk through the neighbourhood does the job. As an added bonus, exercise can keep you healthy! Who knew?

Art begets art

Sometimes the greatest inspiration is enjoying someone else’s creativity. Whether it’s taking in live music, attending a reading, watching a play, or visiting an exhibition, an evening or afternoon out to enjoy the arts can help kickstart the internal word machine. I always make time for all kinds of shows, and I find when I get home, I’m always motivated to write. Also, having fun is always important!

These are just a few habits that keep me writing, and they’re by no means a perfect formula. But if you’re an author with a busy schedule, you may find some of these tips helpful. Write well!

I think I’m well beyond the halfway point now… #workinprogress

A photo posted by Waubgeshig Rice (@waub) on