Michelle Obama grew up to the sound of students labouring at her great-aunt Robbie’s piano, producing “bad music, or at least amateur music.”

That’s the opening to her memoir, Becoming, as pointed out by Linda Caroll.

And that stopped me. Ms. Obama could have talked about living in the White House as the First Lady of the USA, or some big political moment. Instead, she started at the beginning. With striving.

THANK YOU.

Sometimes I feel so stupid.

Everyone else seems brilliant, kind, wise, and patient.

Many of my friends are doctors who save lives, pioneer new research, patiently educate and advocate, often while raising 3.2 incredible children and writing/painting/dancing their way to success. They have supportive partners or, even more impressively, are doing it on their own.

And they make it all look effortless.

Me? I look super serious. Maybe I’m scowling. When I was in grade six, I won the “Concentration Award” during ski lessons. My friends found it hilarious.

Let’s make it normal to strive.

To try.

To cry when we fall down.

To help dust each other off.

To bloom late.

To bloom repeatedly.

To bloom at all.

I’m thinking of my darling Roxy too. My heart goes out to anyone here who misses someone deep in your heart.

Love,

Melissa

My friend Jamieson is having their art show tomorrow:

I admire T. Thorn as a human being and as a creator. They have a new book, The Rhymer Of Ash Grove, live for 7 more days.

I’m thinking of camping with my son in British Columbia’s Wells Gray Provincial Park. I am not a camper. Am I crazy? Probably yes. I’m researching Sense & Sword Agility, which is Sense and Sensibility with swords and dragons and badass sisters.

I figured out the ghost in the ghost town of BC. I promise to tell you more in the next newsletter. Please sign up to follow along. Thanks & love to you!

I worry that people will forget about her.

“I don’t think anyone will forget Roxy,” replied Anastasia, our now-teenaged daughter.

To make sure they don’t, I’ll read about Roxy at the CAA open mic on Thursday, June 16 at 1900 ET (register here).

When I wrote Pride & Provocateur, a reader/writer said, “I get that Lixie is very attracted to D’Arcy. But I want them to have something in common besides chemistry.”

Ah. I amplified their joint love of books.

And I included dogs. In the original Pride and Prejudice::

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine a day.”

In Pride & Provocateur, Shar (Charlotte) Lucas imagines winning a million dollars and says to Lixie, our first person narrator: “I’d buy a Shikoku.”

“What’s that?”

“Best dog in the world, bred in Japan. You probably saw them as dire wolves in Game of Thrones or in Outlander.”

I exclaimed, “Please get a dog from the pound. Save a life!”

So of course Lixie melts when Mr. D’Arcy later reveals his rescue Rottweiler named Roxette. Lixie becomes besotted when she actually meets Roxette, which I’ll read about on Thursday.

You can register for free here. We all get 4 minutes, and I’m reader #11, so enjoy some serious Canadian talent:

Canadian Authors' Association reading

Or you can read it to yourself. Or both!

Pride & Provocateur

Congrats to ALICIA and LIAM, winners of Winging It and Minotaur. I’ll be in touch!

I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.—Confucius

Forget the past.—Nelson Mandela

It’s good to remember that in crises, natural crises, human beings forget for a while their ignorances, their biases, their prejudices. For a little while, neighbors help neighbors and strangers help strangers.—Maya Angelou

Big hugs, whether you’re a neighbour or a stranger,

Melissa

I explained that Roxy had died.

But it does feel like her spirit is here. I’d never seen so many dogs at the airport!

As soon as I posted about Roxy—I mean the literal second I clicked—Anastasia said, “That dog looks like Ra Ra.” And it did. Just as a smaller working dog.

We’d never heard of Roxy apples before. But of course we had to buy two.

I brought one to the hospital in Kamloops for lunch, and my new doctor friend bought two of my books!

Our wonderful friends and family, her vets, and our neighbours told us they loved Roxy, too. One told me to imagine them as a wall protecting me. I shared this wall of love and protection with my friend Alicia, who also needs some TLC right now. I invite anyone who needs shelter and protection to come inside the circle for comfort. Roxy has a big enough heart for all of us.

I choke up when I come home to Bell instead of Roxy and Bell. And when I’m walking Bell alone, or when I reach for Roxy’s empty leash.

I dreamed about Roxy. She had her back to me. But she gave her tail a definitive side to side shake in acknowledgment. Anastasia said she dreamed about her too, but can’t remember. I plan to collect my Roxy dreams.

If you are lonely and need a hug or a human equivalent of a scratch between the ears, come on in. Roxy is here, giving you her best 360 degree tail wag and perking up her ears.

Writing stuff:

Kobo interviewed me!
Please give it a click for metrics. :) And you can meet cool people like author Grace Bowen!

Kobo interview

Canada hosted a free and wonderful fiction festival spearheaded by N.P. Thompson: https://fictionfest.ca/events/. Replays are up for one more week. I did a mystery author reading live from the BC Wildlife Park and then joined “Building a Mystery” from a truck stop in Little Fort, BC. Can’t wait to check it out myself now that I have (more) Internet.

Do you know the Mesdames of Mayhem? You should! Check out the latest shenanigans by these crime authors! A new anthology is coming out this year, The Power of 13:

Yay, Melodie Campbell has a new book:

And who can resist Lisa de Nikolits, who always invents something new?

Don't forget to comment if you want to enter the giveaways for these stunning Canadian YA novels. Giveaway closes July 13:

Oops! My husband told me he was walking Bell, and I had to run to join them. Roxy used to wait for me. More evidence of Roxy superiority, and how much I miss my heart dog.

xoxox

Melissa

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Our dog, Roxy, welcomed our son Max home. She appreciated us making pizza, even though she only got a tiny bit of crust because she’d gained about 5 kg in the past few months after losing about 3 kg to two types of cancer.

SUNDAY

Roxy and our other dog Bell and I went for a long walk, about a kilometre, only marred by rain at the end. But no thunderstorm. Thunder scares Roxy, who runs to me, her favourite person, and cries.

Roxy stayed out on the porch by herself for hours after Max left on the train. Although she didn’t eat half her evening meal, often she eats it at night instead. She also chose not to go on the late evening walk, but marched right along on our night walk, and we walk 5 or 6 times a day. All good.

MONDAY

Roxy is very smart. She knows that waking up in the morning, and walking with our daughter Anastasia to the end of our 150-foot driveway, means the school bus driver is coming with COOKIES for HER. She’ll dash along the gravel, her body “porpoising” along, if we’re running late.

Today, I had to encourage her to hustle for the school bus, but she made good time. Unfortunately, a grader passed by, creating a berm of dirt and gravel, and today, instead of a short bus, Jim ended up driving a full-sized bus with more stair height. So many barriers for Roxy. But she cleared them all like a champ, chomping down on her usual cookie around 7 am.

Afterward, though, she wouldn’t eat her ground beef mixed with medication. She turned her head away. Didn’t even want to drink water. Didn’t want to walk.

The last time I saw her like this, she had Lyme disease. Even after major surgery, she’d be raring to go, stumbling if the anaesthesia hadn’t worn off.

Her local vet, Dr. Wignall, squeezed Roxy in at 10:30 a.m. Normal exam, apart from panting a lot, now even at rest for at least the past month. Transient wheeze while lying down. Normal chest Xray and urine. The latter made Lyme even more unlikely because it causes protein in the urine. (Roxy was vaccinated against Lyme and took oral prophylaxis last year, but was immunosuppressed on chemotherapy and could no longer mount an immune response to vaccines. This is why you get vaccinated to protect everyone else too.) She got a shot for pain and nausea, at my request.

That night, Roxy walked a bit and lapped a little water. And Matt noticed that her collar was extremely tight around her neck. He loosened it and watched her breathing ease. She had been panting faster and harder for the past few months, with no explanation from her vets.

I took off her collar completely and was ready to drive to her vet in Ottawa, a 3+ hour round trip, at 10 p.m. But she was so tired that her eyes were practically rolling up in her head. Since she was already breathing better, Matt suggested we let her rest. I knew they had more scant coverage at night and agreed.

I woke up at 4 a.m. and she’d come upstairs into my room to be with me. I listened to her heavy breathing and worried.

Late morning, Matt commented that her neck had “blown up like a bullfrog.” It turned out that I’d been checking the back of her neck, but he meant under her chin and her anterior throat.

I immediately thought of Ludwig’s angina, a bad cellulitis of the base of the mouth, or maybe anaphylaxis, if something outside had stung her.

In medicine, some things are fast on, fast off, meaning that if you tackle them right away, you can fix them more easily. So we loaded Roxy in the car, and I started driving, hoping that this was something fixable.

She stood up to breathe the air through the open window, which she hadn’t done the day before. “Yay, Ra-Ra!” I called over my shoulder.

But she wouldn’t jump down from the car at the vet’s. They ended up carrying her out of the car and onto a stretcher … although she returned after a few minutes, walking hastily under her own power. She wanted to get back to Mommy!

I asked for a bit of water, which she drank. She lay on the air-conditioned floor, a treat that we don’t have at our house, and I tried to feel hopeful. If they could reverse the swelling and get her to eat …

Roxy pointed her head at the door. She wanted to go home. Every time she arrived at a vet’s office, she made it clear that while she would go on the scale and visit the exam room, she was reluctant to leave us and go to the back for tests. She directed her head to the door, cueing us to leave.

I worked on tasks and waited for the DVM or someone to update me. “I guess it’s good that they’re not rushing to work on her,” Matt messaged me.

The ER vet, Dr. Serrano., introduced herself and broke the news. “The swelling feels like it could be her cancer coming back.”

She wanted to take a sample to be sure, warning me that it might bleed. Thyroid tumours are vascular. She also wanted to do blood work. She worried about a firm lump in on Roxy’s chest that felt like a lipoma (benign tumour) to me. She pointed out a more firm point in the middle of that mass, but I declined a second aspiration. “I’m really worried about her airway right now.” I did pay extra for the rush pathology (1 hour) instead of waiting until the morning.

I expected Roxy’s bloods to be normal, but I did want to check her renal function, etc., just in case. In my head, I wished they could work on treatment instead of diagnosis only, but either at this point or later, Dr. Serrano said that they don’t give steroids within five days of Meloxicam (Metacam), which she’d gotten via injection at the local vet. Damn it. I’d wanted to reduce any of Roxy’s pain, but now it interfered with the bigger guns.

Eventually, they returned Roxy to me while we waited for her test results. I let her go outside, but she didn’t walk to the grassy bit at the other end of the parking lot. She walked to my car and, for the first time, turned her head toward food (pastry from the excellent Istanbul Food Market) instead of away. I ripped off little pieces of three different treats, and she took one briefly in her mouth, but didn’t swallow it.

After a while, I decided that her interest was not so much in the food as in getting in the car and leaving.

“Not yet, love,” I told her.

But while we waited, I wondered if I should drive the hour to pick up my son, Max. The receptionist checked and said it would be better for my son to be here, but I should stay.

That’s not good, when they want you to have company.

I let Roxy back outside. She settled by another car, intent on returning home.

While we got Max set up with an Uber, Dr. Serrano called me in. Labs were essentially normal except a new anemia. Both Dr. Serrano and the oncologist, Dr. Gower, had tried and failed to sample the tissue. They didn’t want to send off an indeterminate sample.

I understood that they were saving us money and not putting us through waiting for useless results. “But Dr. Gower thinks it feels like cancer too?”

She nodded.

Then that was it. Dr. Gower had first detected the thyroid cancer by palpation in October. Strange to have Roxy suddenly obstruct, but Roxy had long struggled to breathe, could no longer eat, and could barely drink. And it didn’t seem like there was any useful treatment for her.

“We could do a CT,” said Dr. Serrano.

I stared. “But what good would that do? She can’t eat.”

“Then we would have a diagnosis, and this cancer is sensitive to radiation.”

I goggled again. “That means travelling to Guelph or somewhere in New York. And she can barely drink.”

Dr. Serrano had seen thyroid cancer respond well to radiation, but admitted that when she worked there, the wait time was 6 weeks.

“Six WEEKS.”

“In the United States, it’s only a week.”

“We’re not travelling to the U.S.” No one in our immediate family has crossed the U.S. border since 2024. My head spun. Apart from the cost of radiation, which would be astronomical, I would have to drive 12 hours for every treatment. I knew my husband wouldn’t want to do it, even if it were only every week instead of every day. “She can’t make it that long. And I’m supposed to go to BC on Saturday.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t love her. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have spent the money. But how could she survive a few days, let alone a week like this? No one had even offered her any IV fluids.

Dr. Serrano said they could give subcutaneous fluids to temporize, if we wanted. She said that treatment usually only buys you six months. She gave us some time to think.

Max arrived somewhere in here, and we sat on the floor with Roxy and howled while calling Matt (husband/Dad) and Anastasia (daughter/sister). Technically, we could end Roxy’s life now. But if felt so sudden and wrong to do this right now, less than 36 hours after she’d gotten sick, among strangers.

“The only thing she has asked for, this entire time, is to go home,” I sobbed. “She wants to be with us.”

So that was what they did. They were going to bring her to the back for the fluids, but when I asked, the technicians came into the room with us. Of course Roxy still didn’t enjoy a needle between her shoulder blades, but Dr. Serrano had already found her mildly dehydrated. Roxy looked quite funny with 500 cc’s of fluid giving her a hump. Max and I patted her and cried and told her how good she was.

While they prepared our bill, Roxy looked at people in the waiting room, who petted her. While Max took her to the car and I settled the bill, a woman said, “I like your dog.” Roxy was still making friends.

When we got home, Matt carried Roxy in again. Sometimes she doesn’t like that, but this time, she wagged her tail a little in his arms. Max was the one who thought to wake up his sister. Anastasia was so asleep that he had to go in her room and shake her. I directed them to the pastries I’d brought home. And then a miracle: Anastasia offered Roxy a bit of pastry, AND SHE ATE IT. Then she ate another tiny tidbit, to much rejoicing.

I was boiling two chicken bones for broth, having given up on solids. Anastasia remembered that I’d bought canned food. The store person recommended the Purina, even for picky eaters, but the “Wellness” brand was “like McDonald’s”: dogs loved to eat it, even though it wasn’t good for them. I’d tried the Purina earlier with no success.

Anastasia broke out the junk food and Roxy ate a few strips of duck! I cried with relief, but also sadness. Would she be able to make it like this, a few calories at a time? Would that keep her strong enough for radiation?

Time for the nightly walk. Normally our kids refuse to go, but this time, no question. We all suited up, and Roxy trotted off the porch and peed, ladylike as always. Our other dog, Bell, stress-pees, forgets to pee, and is generally a barking disaster, but as exhausted as she was, Roxy knew what to do and set a proper example.

I hadn’t gotten my steps in, and I decided to rush down the driveway ahead of Matt and Bell and run back while our kids stayed with Roxy. We did our usual distance down the road, me ahead of them on the way back, when I saw a bright light turn right out of our driveway.

“That can’t be the kids,” I said. Roxy was too tired and this was too fast.

But astonishingly, Roxy had sprinted down the driveway, porpoising her body, to get back to me. Max barely had time to turn on his phone’s flashlight while she dragged him down the road.

I marvelled and cried and wondered how far my brave-hearted dog could go.

Other vets had advised, “Better a day early than a week too late.” And I knew Roxy was working more to breathe, let alone eat and and drink. We couldn’t make her suffer. But it was agony to think that there was still one more possibility. One more treatment.

After her run, Roxy lay down on the kitchen floor. The kids set up their blankets and pillows on either side of her. I had thought about sleeping downstairs with her, but she looked well-taken care of.

I sang what I used to sing to my kids, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

WEDNESDAY

I woke up at 4:30 a.m., hearing Roxy’s somewhat laboured breathing. She’d come upstairs overnight to be with me.

Later, Anastasia said that she’d woken up at 0200, and Roxy was in the upstairs bathroom. “Well, no point in being here if Roxy’s not here.” She and Max went to sleep in their beds.

I took Roxy for a walk while Matt handled Bell. It was early and dark, and I wear a bug suit, reducing my vision. I opened the door and bopped Roxy’s snout. That made me cry—what kind of monster was I? But Roxy just wanted to go outside. She climbed off the porch and peed on the grass. Walked to the corner of the driveway and pooped. Then she was done and we came home.

I didn’t walk with Bell at all. Today was for Roxy.

I had to go to work for a few hours. I knew my family would take care of Roxy, but I also knew that, for whatever reason, Roxy and I are twin souls. She will always look for me. “Dogs are allowed to have favourites, just like people,” Matt once commented. I tried not to think about missing hours of her last day. Luckily, Max and Anastasia sent some photos and videos that I watched later. She slept. You can imagine how utterly épuisée she’d feel, fighting cancer, struggling to breathe, and now suddenly worsening and travelling to two vets in two days.

I felt bad about showering after I got home too. More time away. When I came out, Roxy had distanced herself from the rest of the family, who were giving her space and looking at photos and videos of her and laughing. I said, “But the real thing is right there!”

“It will make me too sad to look at pictures of her afterwards,” Anastasia said.

I called for an appointment and requested the end of the day. I wanted as much time with her as possible. “Never enough time,” Max had said.

We got 3:45 pm.

The ER asked me, but I did not leave my family to go work.

Roxy eyed me. I thought she might want my company, but not incessant pats. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Then our poor baby vomited at least two cups of brownish water with a few clots. We cleaned it up and cuddled her, and after that, she stayed close to us again. I think Roxy was trying to spare us from her vomit. Always so thoughtful.

We went outside. Matt had put on her harness inside out, and when I took it off to flip it, she wandered away and she peed and wandered about our front yard.

“Ra Ra,” I said, and she stopped and waited for me. Good right until the end.

We stayed outside with her on the porch after that. For once, the mosquitoes and deer flies mostly left us alone. We sat in the sunshine and checked the weather, because we were supposed to have a storm. And Roxy hates thunder. It makes her want to hide under my bed.

Luckily, we only got a few rumbles.

Max and I were trying to find an excavator and someone who knew how to use it. We all wanted Roxy buried with us, and had buried our other heart dog, Olo, in our back field. Sadly, most people had tractors but not a back hoe. Everyone is busy. And you’re supposed to bury within 48 hours. How would we keep her cool while we waited? Should we just cremate?

The first person who offered to help was Doug. But he couldn’t get his machine to our place. He offered to bury her in his forest.

“No,” said the rest of my family. “She wants to be home, and she should be at home.”

Other requests resulted in a string of sorry, no’s. And then Marc V said, “Sure.” (Two other people did offer to help later also. We’re very lucky)

I asked my fellow coroners how to keep her cool. Fridge, freezer, ice packs in the bathtub were suggested. But Doug mentioned his vet having a freezer, which would be the best solution.

Max was watching the time. We couldn’t be late. We didn’t know how long it would take to get Roxy in the car, or which one to use. No one wanted to be separated from Roxy. “It’s easier for her to get in your car,” said Matt, “but there’s more room for me to lift her out of mine.”

We brought Roxy over to my car. She stood at the open door at the driver’s side back seat. So I opened the back passenger door on the other side to encourage her, and she jumped in. I cried again over how good she was. She’d walk a thousand miles for me that she wouldn’t walk for anyone else. It meant that we loved each other, but was I doing the right thing for her?

“I think it’s the right thing,” Max said later. “She shouldn’t go to Guelph.”

My children could see it. I knew it intellectually. Matt said it was “past time.” But it was so hard to swallow.

Anastasia climbed in the back seat with Roxy.

Max got in the front passenger seat and moved his seat so he could touch Roxy, who sat up and looked out the open window. I drove slowly, letting her see and smell like the wonderful girl she was. Matt followed in his own car, since five in the car meant that Roxy wouldn’t have been able to lie down if needed.

She didn’t get out at the vet’s. Matt carried her.

But we laid down the carpet she used to sleep on, in the waiting room. Everyone made room for us, understanding why we’d come, and I sat on the floor with her. Anastasia said later that one woman held out her hand, and Roxy sniffed it. Still making friends.

We used the carpet to carry her into the exam room. Dr. Wignall gave permission for us to use her freezer, thank goodness.

The technician warned us that the sedative might hurt, but after that, Roxy would enter a deep sleep, and the vet would give the final injection.

First Roxy was facing me, with kids on either side and Matt at the back. “Someone has to take the back end,” he said cheerfully. I offered the kids the chance to move in front.

During the injection, Roxy cried out with pain and turned herself around, facing the door and Matt.

I stroked her back, and we all talked to her. I sang, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

They were going to give us ten minutes. It was maybe 15 when I asked to move to the front. Roxy was mostly sleeping. But when I stepped up, her eyes opened wide, and she moved her paw toward me. And I cried some more, wondering if I should have insisted on facing her the whole time, so she could know I was right there.

She rolled over on her side, onto Max’s hand, before the final injection.

We cried and cried and cried.

They had offered us paw prints and fur clippings, which the kids wanted. (We had talked about fur, and I’d brought scissors but forgotten them in the car. Paw prints hadn’t occurred to me.)

“Do you want us to take the paw prints now?” asked the technician, which I knew meant that we should go. They had already given us extra time. The clinic was supposed to close at 4:30. But we all had to hug her and cry on her. Max said afterward that he could feel her growing colder.

We cleaned up our tissues. I didn’t want to leave Roxy on the floor, but the technician said she’d take care of her.

“Bye bye, Ra Ra. Love you forever,” I said, before the door closed.

Max had to take the train back to Ottawa for school that night. I suggested he take another ride share, but he wanted to save money and spent 2 hours on the bus and then was up to 0130, working on an assignment.

THURSDAY

“Stop all the clocks.”

I run the meditation after workouts with my Early Burns fitness group. I love to share a quote afterward, like Lesley Fightmaster did. Today, even though it had nothing to do with meditation, I read out a few lines from W.H. Auden’s poem, which I hadn’t even particularly liked during Four Weddings and a Funeral. But that was all I could think today, and I sobbed. The Early Burns shared their wisdom, including not worrying about work. “Imagine us like a wall surrounding you.”

Marc had promised to come by 0800 to dig a place for Roxy. By 0747, he was rolling toward us through the rain. Matt showed him Roxy’s resting place.

We tried to wait out the rain a little, but I didn’t want to make Max wait up after getting up at 0600 to go to a lab.

Matt and I picked up Roxy. I apologized to the technician fdor keeping them the day before. She said firmly, “You loved your dog very much.”

Lyne, our mail carrier, who gave Roxy treats every time she came by, plus cookies every Christmas, hugged me when I told her.

My friend Wake sent me a beautiful email and a song that reminded me that I wanted to bury Roxy’s collar with her. Not on her, because it hurt her at the end, but I put it around a stuffed dog that my parents had bought Matt years ago, “because you want a dog.” Bell reared herself up on her hind legs to smell the collar.

Anastasia and I were standing by the front door to bury Roxy, me in my bug suit, when a tornado warning popped up.

We considered delaying, but the map showed that it should pass north of us, and Matt had already loaded Roxy into a wagon with her sheepskin and a big bone.

It poured. Anastasia shielded her phone under her coat as she livestreamed for Max. I did unzip the bag a little to make sure it was Roxy. Yep, those were her floppy black ears. Max also wanted to see, but Anastasia not really.

Matt climbed into the grave. I helped lower Roxy down.

For the last time, I sang to Roxy, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

Then we shovelled. We shovelled and shovelled and shovelled the clay dirt, slipping in it. I used a big root to clean off my blade at one point. Anastasia went inside. Rain squelched inside my boots. We gave Roxy about six treats, the big bone, the stuffed dog and collar, and all our love.

I just want to say what a good dog Roxy is/was/will always be. She even timed her end perfectly.

“I wouldn’t have been able to write my exams,” said Anastasia, who had her last exam on Tuesday.

“I wouldn’t have been able to come next week, because I have assignments and midterms,” said Max.

And Anastasia and I were scheduled to fly out to British Columbia on Saturday.

You hear that? Roxy only had a narrow window of Tuesday to Friday, and she let us go. That’s her gift.

Roxy loved us her from the moment we adopted her. She would have been 13 3/4 today, Saturday, June 20th. Anastasia estimated that if the average Rottweiler lived 9 years, and the average human lives 80 years, Roxy’s 13.75 years was the human equivalent of living 126.7 years.

Coeur de lion, I thought as we drove back from Ottawa on Tuesday.

Love you forever, Ra Ra.

Roxy Yuan-Innes, September 20, 2012-June 17, 2026

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I drove around a disc-like shape on the road and ended up turning around to see if it needed help. It did.

It moved its head.

A couple helped me place Myrtle the Turtle in a basket, and I drove to the human hospice, where I was volunteering, and called the Ontario Turtle Conservation Centre (705-741-5000, option 9). The OTCC’s advice was basically

1. Don’t offer any food or water

2. Bring the turtle to us

Unfortunately, no “turtle taxis” were available to bring Myrtle to the closest accepting vet, Fisher Glen Animal Hospital in Ottawa.

So I became the turtle taxi.

Myrtle made it to Ottawa for IV fluids and pain control. The vets donate their time and supplies.

I was able to share the location found, so they can repatriate Myrtle and any babies back to the correct wetlands. (They’ll help even if a turtle is recently deceased, because they hope to incubate any eggs and bring baby turtles back home.)

In case you needed a pick-me-up, yay for Myrtle and good people. Happy endings still exist!

Pride and Provacateur is out in the world! Coming soon to Coles Cornwall Square and Pharmasave Times Square. In the meantime, don’t forget to grab Killing Me Slothly and Home Ice online or at local retailers!

I am also doing a GIVEAWAY of these wonderful Canadian books that are finalists for the Aurora Award, MINOTAUR and WINGING IT. Just comment here/hit reply for a chance to win! Paid subscribers are entered automatically.

And happy pride month!

Cheers,

Melissa

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How do you know you’re a good parent? You don’t! You try your best and do what you can. I also know the sadness of Mother’s Day when you’re trying to conceive and/or grieving a lost little one.

But today, I wanted to celebrate. Anastasia and I went for our first long bike ride. And I put two new books in front of her door. Behold, she’s almost finished the first, an autographed copy of Boxers by Gene Luen Yang. See if you can spot the sequel … and another surprise guest.

Yesterday, Anastasia made won ton soup as her Mother’s Day gift to me. Matt made a roast. Ah, they know me so well. I was working and then racing off to see Jade Circle, a beloved theatre show.

How is your day going? One of my friends mentioned having to clean indoor dog poop. I felt for her … and then Bell, our little dog, tracked crap across our porch, and I felt very sorry for myself.

I’ll see my own mom and my sister-in-law on Wednesday, May 13. I’m driving to Ottawa to take the mic at Riverbed Reads with Pride & Provocateur at Club SAW and online (join any way you want!).

Pride at Riverbed Reads

Please come see me and my friends Joy and Stef on Thursday, May 14 for the 100% online party for Pride & Provocateur! Doug and Joy have stepped forward as my local back-up parents, which makes Stef my back-up sister. I always wanted a sister! And don’t you need more kindness and snacks in your life? We’ll be baking! I want to host a giveaway that night! Just click here at 7 pm ET.

Pride Party with Parental Figures

And tune into Jay Shannon’s podcast. He’s interviewing me right before the party on May 14th! Yay!

Pride Podcast

Roxy snores beside me. I wish you sweet dreams.

Happy spring!

Cheers,

Melissa

Or as one of my friends said, “Make a mojito.”

And I like both those things, but not fake positivity. So let me back up a few weeks.

I was very excited that our dog, Roxy, received the all-clear April 13th. That’s right! Three surgeries and two types of cancer in 2025, but Roxy is currently in remission!

My mom has been accepted to an 10-week program through the Geriatric Day Hospital. The idea is to tune her up and maintain her gains from 2.5 months of rehab. Yahoo!

Healthier dog, healthier mom …. I started writing again and applying for my medical license in British Columbia.

See, my new book, Pride & Provocateur, is coming out May 12th. To reimagine Pride and Prejudice in Newfoundland, I not only wanted to read Jane Austen and visit the province, I wanted to help people in hospital.

I want to do the same thing for the sequel, Sense & Sword Agility, which will be set in the ghost town of Bullion, BC. Yesssss! Time to plop down $1000+ in application fees and start devoting myself to family medicine.

But no. One of my other family members now needs help. I haven’t said much publicly, but this is a crisis. I appreciate any good thoughts tomorrow, Tuesday at 13:15 p.m.

Author Kristine Kathryn Rusch has been quoted as saying these should be our priorities:

1. Health

2. Family

3. Writing

Thus, once again, I have neglected my readers and newsletter. I’m sorry. From the inside, it feels a bit like trying to swim in the ocean while someone keeps plunging my head underwater.

I think many of us feel that way right now. War. Fascism. Femicide. What are normal, nice people supposed to do?

“Life is punching me in the face,” I told Rachel, my friend at Kobo.

“You know what’s great for that? Boxing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

So next year, we’re supposed to go boxing with loud music and lights, like punching mixed with spin class.

I’m also trying to make time for reading. Some fun and worthy Canadian reads:

Minotaur, by Jamieson Wolf. Run, do not walk, to read this delicate novel about what makes a monster and how to live with resilience. You’ll thank me afterward. Now an Aurora Award finalist!

The Art of Floating, by Melanie Marttila. Poems infused with nature and concrete, observations and quiet inner reflections. Just beautiful.

The Silent Film Star Murders, by Melodie Campbell. Want to get away on an ocean liner with wealthy film stars of the 1920s? Scoop this one up, and then move on to Melodie’s latest release, The Pharoh’s Curse Murders!

Ghost Bride of Gum San by JF Garrard. A novel of two sisters kidnapped in China in 1869 to be auctioned off in San Francisco. Good thing the sisters have been trained in martial arts …

Hot Wings and Sauciness, by Cait Gordon: quips in space by a “shortish, silver-haired, blurry fifty-something who manages chronic nerve pain, has a collator B, and can repair any module in this station to perfect running order.”

Stay tuned to more book recommendations. Jen Desmarais’s book, Winging It, is also a finalist for the Aurora, so that’s next on my list!

What with life obliteration, I haven’t marketed my books.

Killing Me Slothly

Killing Me Slothly, the rest of the seven deadly sins thrillers, and my hockey romance Home Ice are all available at Coles Cornwall Square, Pharmasave Times Square, and Epicerie Henderson’s Grocery right now.

Home Ice

Soon they’ll leave the shelves at Coles. The particular first editions are all printed in Canada on recycled paper. So please get in there if you can!

Or just party with me. I love parties, and Pride & Provocateur is finally out in the world May 12th!

Give me the book

For some reason, the paperback link will only start working May 10th:

Live reading May 13th in Ottawa at Riverbed Reads (I will be part of the open mic). Hybrid event, so either show up at Club SAW at 19:30 or jump on Zoom! RSVP.

Ooh, book reading!

The virtual party May 14th will have cinnamon coffee cake, in honour of Mr. D’Arcy, the world’s only ethical billionaire who is secretly a cinnamon roll hero (sweet on the inside). Come and meet all sorts of cool people, potentially while still hibernating at home wearing what my son Max used to call “soft pants.” You’ll also get a free recipe for cinnamon coffee cake, ‘cause I’m baking live! https://www.facebook.com/events/1670005701128555/

Party online May 14!

Hope you and your loved ones are good. Hold fast.

xoxox

Melissa

Me: [wakes up] What? Is the deadline today?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Too late to nominate Killing Me Slothly or Cthulhu's Cheerleader. SIGH.

Well. On the upside, Roxy celebrated her 13.5 year old birthday and is darn peppy. It’s incredible that she has undergone three operations for two types of cancer and has been on chemotherapy for the past 6 months.

My mother has successfully left the hospital after four months of admission. Yay, Mom!

The Glengarry Memorial Hospital received a pledge of $50,000, citing my care (Seaway News; The Review; The Seeker).

But my writing, including talking to you, has been shoved to the side. I’m sorry.

Still, I’m excited about my next book, Sense & Sword Agility. I can’t wait to redo Sense and Sensibility with two sisters encountering dragons and talking swords. I’m applying for my medical license in British Columbia so I can properly describe the gold rush ghost town where most of it will take place. Please feel free to follow!

For the Aurora Award, I’m voting for Jamieson Wolf’s Minotaur. This book is brilliant and touching and describes creating art during a time of trauma. And doesn’t it feel like a Minotaur is running the world? This is the book you need right now. Read it!

I will also be voting for

Winging It, Jen Desmarais (Renaissance Press)

Pocket Dimension, Melani Marttila

The Copper Tarnish, Éric Desmarais (River City Siren Press)

And many more!

At least two of my poems are eligible for the Aurora Award. The first is inspired by Dorothy Parker’s “Bohemia”:

Deviance

Dancers and drummers, dramatists and such

Know there is something, and something too much.

Fiddlers and flautists and Fauvists of stardom

Suddenly whisked to asylum of Arkham.

Painters and potters may take to the wheel,

Swerving head-on to a bookmobile.

Comics, buskers, and similar beaux

Wake up still screaming at amorphous foe.

Artists Who Dream Things risk mental derangement;

Better the boredom of being their agent!

The second is inspired by possibly William Shakespeare’s most famous sonnet. It amuses me because Matt and I had this read at our wedding. Here it is, fully corrupted:

Sonnet 116

Let us not to the warping of whole minds

Forget the shoggoths; they are the beasts

That alter with commands that bind,

Gelatinous amoebas on the move.

O yes, they morph into unfixèd shapes,

Withstand sea tempests and are hardly shaken;

They are the slave to Elder Things’ larks

Their worth unknown, their souls forsaken.

They won’t stay the fools; shoggoths will creep

Within the range of sentience come

Through a millennia of cries and shrieks

Mutating past the edge of doom:

If this be terror and my sense removed,

I lack all wit, becoming shoggoth food.

Both poems were published in Polar Starlight. I also have a poem in the current issue of Polar Borealis #37.

To vote, you have to pay $10 to become a member of the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Association. And voting closes in, well, about four hours. So I’ve got to go.

Hope to talk to you more soon. In the meantime, Killing Me Slothly, Home Ice, and two other Hope books are available at Coles Cornwall Square, Henderson’s, and PharmaSave, as well as online.

Happy spring! You’re awesome!

Melissa

“In a time of destruction, create something. A poem. A parade. A community. A school. A vow. A moral principle. One peaceful moment.” Maxine Hong Kingston, The Fifth Book of Peace

“I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art.” Toni Morrison

Let’s come together in these tough times.

I’ll be at Coles Cornwall Square tomorrow (Feb 7) 12-3 p.m. with Home Ice (local hockey romance!), Wolf Ice (Glengarry werewolves!), and more books where love and justice prevail. I’d love to sign a book written and printed in Canada, for you.

Happy early Valentine’s/Galentine’s/Love Day!

Cheers,

Melissa

Jim, our daughter’s school bus driver, gives our dogs cookies.

Roxy runs down the driveway to meet him. When the school year restarts in autumn, she remembers. She flies.

When it’s minus 20 degrees Celsius, Roxy refuses to return to the house, even if she’s lifting her paws out of the snow. Because cookies.

Our other dog, Bell, is scared of men and hates to climb up. Every time, she may or may not ascend the stairs. Today, she sat on the ground instead of inside the bus. Drives Roxy nuts, who aches to show her how it’s done.

Today, Roxy started barking as soon as the bus rumbled down our road and shone its headlights. Bell joined in.

Joy to the dogs

The bus is come.

Let dogs receive cookies!

Yes, Roxy is doing well. Not fully tolerating her anti-cancer drug, but she’s eating and running and taking over our son’s bed at night. Which is wonderful.

How are you?

For myself, I had to work in the ER over the holidays, drive to see my mother in hospital in Ottawa (she was admitted in November and has given me permission to write about it), and look after Roxy as well as the rest of my family.

So I’ve pulled back on writing. But I still have goals.

• I’m slowly fulfilling my Pride & Provocateur Kickstarter.

• I know that Hope’s next deadly sin thriller (lust!) will be inspired by A Study in Scarlet

• I just listened to Sense and Second Degree Murder for inspiration for the next Jane Austen, Eh? novel (it was good. The murder aspect was very well done. However, I really loved Nikki Payne’s Sex, Lies, and Sensibility. I’m a superfan of her work, including Pride and Protest).

  Come see me at Coles Cornwall Square on February 7th!

  

Home Ice has landed at Coles Cornwall Square! Come on Feb 7th (or write me back) to get a signed copy printed in Canada on recycled paper.

You can also pick up the eco-friendly version at Épicerie Henderson’s Grocery and Pharmasave Cornwall. Or order the regular version online.

Home Ice is a collection of six interrelated hockey romance novellas. The first, Fire and Ice is free on all retailers. The second novella, Just the Tip of the Iceberg, is now live! So if you ever wanted to read a Canadian hockey/figure skating romance, or a mountain man hockey player with one bed, you’re welcome.

“Melissa Yi delivers six delightful interconnected novellas sure to please any romance fan, especially those with a love for hockey, figure skating, and wonderful characters. I loved these characters and their six, richly deserved and hard-won happily-ever-afters. You will too.”

Dave Hendrickson, author of No Defense

For Feb 7th, Coles has invited me and an author who focuses on romance with 30 y.o.+ protagonists (didn’t name the author to me … mysterious).

How are you doing so far this calendar year?

Happy, healthy 2026!

Melissa

Wherever you are, I’m sending you some snow. I love the snow blowing off trees. Surprisingly difficult to record!

You can also hear my beautiful dog, Roxy, shaking her collar and her tags jingling. Roxy is good, btw! Happily eating snow. Just not eating as much kibble during her cancer treatment, so I spend much time adding treats to her food.

My mom has been in hospital for over a month. Now she needs to rebuild her strength.

In booky news, time to download all the free books …

Today is a Stuff Your eReader day! No strings attached, just 1700+ free romances, organized by retailer, category, and vibes, so you can stock up for your new year reading and discover some new to you authors.
My book that is free today is Fire and Ice, and it can be found on all retailers (or do a Control + F search / Find on this Page search for FIRE AND ICE when after you pick your retailer!). If you really can’t find it, comment or reply and I’ll help you out. But I’d love for you to check out the books. Zoe York puts a ton of work into this list to lift up all romance authors.

Yes, it’s my very first hockey romance, set right in Glengarry, Ontario. I hope you enjoy it!

Free ebooks, including Fire and Ice

Happy Boxing Day!

Melissa Yi
Website

All social media (Linktree)

A few tiny tales from our neck of the woods:

Our dog Roxy is being treated for cancer but is feeling good, as you can see (on the left). Hooray! She and Bell bot…

Read more

If you’ve gotten emails from me before, I consider you a friend. As Bernard Meltzer put it, “A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.”

In thanks, here’s a quick and dirty recipe for pain au chocolat created by my main character, Hope Sze, whose birthday is on November 7th. Download away.

I found this in my vest yesterday:

I’ve never seen a severed plastic $5 bill before. So if I gave you 3/4 of a bill, please reply and I’ll send you the rest of it. Sorry about that.

Kickstarter is a crowdfunding platform that brings creators and supporters (backers) together to make cool new stuff.

The Kickstarter campaign for my Pride and Prejudice novel, Pride & Provocateur, ends November 6th. The real books arrived in time for a photo shoot. I can’t do them justice, but they are gorgeous. You pick whichever cover and format you prefer, all with original, human-made art.

Every five backers on Kickstarter, the dogs win. One hour ago, we unlocked a homemade treat. (Both dogs get treats regardless, but now I’ll post photos in the Kickstarter update.) Hooray for ravenous Roxy!
If we acquire five more backers in 72 hours, I’ll reveal the new GPS collar that allows Roxy to roam.

Roxy is doing well after cancer surgery. In fact, she (illegally) took off running the day after her surgery and started licking her bowl clean. Thrillingly, her pathology came back with clear margins. She does breathe more noisily sometimes, but she’s in good shape to start chemotherapy. THANK YOU for your good wishes and prayers for Roxy. I love sharing her joy.

One last thing. In case you’ve never heard of Kickstarter …

If that’s too complicated, drop me a line. My mother just sends me money and asks me to pledge for her. And I say, “Thanks, Mom!”

Please feel free to comment or reply. I love getting to know you. I usually only email once or twice a month, but try to do it weekly during my annual/semi-annual Kickstarters. This will be my last campaign email for 2025.

I’ll be at “Baby, Please Come Home” in Alexandria on November 27th from 4-10 pm with the Sunshiners Club. I may go to Coles Cornwall Square the first weekend in December (TBD).

But otherwise, I’ll be holing up with my dogs and working on Pride & Provocateur, Home Ice (hockey romance), and Hope Sze. Connect with me on social media if you want to hang out more: https://linktr.ee/melissayi. Thanks so much!

Cheers,

Melissa

Pride & Provocateur

Of course my brother and I forgot about this until the morning of, when he said, “I need a recipe!”

“Me too!” I yelped.

In these pre-Internet days, our mom quickly copied out two recipes for us by hand, but forgot some essential things like baking temperature. The school printed them anyway. When I pointed this out to her later, Mom said, “Good.” Another time, she said, “Why give out recipes? Then we’d all make the same things.”

My mom’s family emigrated to Canada after a war where their property and assets were taken away. They had to fight to rebuild here.

I grew up understanding hard work, but not so much friendship, or generosity to strangers. I’ve had to read books and study other people as role models.

So when a woman from Newfoundland read Pride & Provocateur and offered me two of her mother’s recipes, I assumed they were a secret.

“You can share them. My mother wouldn’t mind,” she said.

Mind. Blown.

We’re hosting an online tea party tomorrow at 8:30 pm Newfoundland time (7 p.m. ET) with apricot cake. Anyone who backs Pride & Provocateur can join us. You’ll receive a copy of Mrs. Drodge’s handwritten recipe and a recording of the fun.

And sorry if I seem clueless about social cues on stuff like sharing. I’m still learning.

Cheers,

Melissa

Say what they say.

Buy what they buy.

Nod when they nod.

I don’t have to

Cut my veins

Bleed on the page

And dance with jaguars to

Make people look up.

But

I’m

Simmering stories,

Searching for hope

With you.

As you might have guessed from that poem, running a Kickstarter is giving me anxiety.

Baring yourself to judgment. Putting a dollar value on artistic work. Arguing about AI (which I avoid, for ethical, including environmental, reasons).

Good thing I picked up Tembi Locke’s From Scratch:

Instead of hating myself, I could say, Hey, I’m an egg with an exposed yolk. Anyone could eviscerate me right now, but I’m fake smiling on social media!

From Scratch is beautifully written. I had no idea it was also a Netflix series, and that Tembi Locke has an audiobook sequel. I was reading mediocre books about Italy—smug bragfests, terrible family dynamics—until I found this one.

You may remember we cancelled our trip to Italy to be with our dog, Roxy. She’s scheduled for surgery on Thursday, to try and remove her thyroid cancer and any remaining stage III mast cell tumour before starting chemotherapy. Fingers, toes, and paws crossed.

While we wait, may I recommend

Minotaur by Jamieson Wolf—brought me right into the labyrinth, where people had built a life underground. This is a story about survival despite the minotaur’s rage. Emotional.
Ghost Bride of Gum San by JF Gerrard. I always want to know more Chinese culture and history. How fun to do it through the eyes of two sisters, even if they’re getting kidnapped and sent to San Francisco!
Mad Dog and the Sea Dragon by Lisa De Nikolits. Want to fall in love with a gangster, so your only friend is a sea dragon? Plunge into this tale of love and control.

Jockey Hollow Joymakers by L. L. Nelson. Follow this campaign to learn more about time travel and fated mates in 1780.

Pride & Provocateur by Melissa Yi. I love outspoken Lixie vs. the aloof Mr. D’Arcy. I love her queer as heck roommates, including Merry mangling Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love of All” and Ben baking bread with rosemary. I love the closing scene at the cliff with puffins flying overhead. You can read an excerpt here.
Thanks to those who’ve backed, who have unlocked treats for our dogs by adding as little as $1!
Backers can join us for an online party on October 26th. We’ll bake a real apricot cake with a recipe donated Mrs. Drodge of St. John’s—and Mrs. Drodge’s daughter will be there! The campaign runs until November 6th.

Thanks to those who back, who subscribe, who take the time to comment and write and keep up my spirits. You’re incredible. We’ve got to keep each other going.

Hugs,

Melissa

Pride & Provocateur

Subscribe now

But let’s face it, our friend Kim, me, and my kids—we just wanted to eat. That’s why we picked Bologna 🇮🇹.

Instead, my family stayed home with our beautiful dog, Roxy. First because they hadn’t managed to cut out all of Roxy’s aggressive mast cell tumour. “I don’t want to go,” said our daughter, Anastasia.

I agreed. “Italy will always be there.”

Good news: they didn’t find any mast cells around the scar. Sometimes the immune system can kill them!

Bad news: the oncologist found metastatic thyroid carcinoma. So our beautiful dog has a second type of cancer. “Oy oy oy oy oy,” as one of my patients once said.

Before we launch into our next round of treatment, let me pause and say thanks. Thanks, leaves. Thanks, sky. Thanks, sun. Thanks, rivers. Thanks, Roxy.
Thank you, yes, you, for reading and supporting. Love you all.

I want to launch Pride & Provocateur, my Pride and Prejudice in Dildo, Newfoundland. Today. Now. But the graphics need fixing. So I hope October 15th!

Do you like this banner? I can’t tell anymore. My brain is full.

But thanks if you can follow and support. You’re amazing!

Cheers,

Melissa

Bad news: the pathology shows aggressive cancer (high grade mast cell tumour).

Should I blame myself for not insisting on the lymph node biopsy at the same time as her surgery?

Bad dog mom.

2. I also have not one, but two books born today.

Killing Me Slothly, the brand new supernatural thriller where a cult—and their god, Cthulhu—invade Dr. Hope Sze’s emergency room;

and

Cthulhu's Cheerleader, the book of eerie poems by me and art by Sara Leger.

Instead of planning a book launch, I’m working and doing courses at the hospital.

Bad book mom.

3. Rushing to the hospital means I’ve barely seen our daughter Anastasia, who was sick today.

   Bad mom mom.

So I could beat myself up.

But I’m trying to practice compassion, including for myself.

I’ll take care of Roxy as best I can now, including bringing her to an oncology appointment next week.

I was the one who found her tumour and brought her in ASAP. So that’s a good mom vote. She’s well right now, barking up a storm and running for cookies from the bus driver. So she’s living her best life at the moment.

I’ll let people know about my books as best I can, as soon as I’m able. Killing Me Slothly is being printed locally on recycled paper with a new and very cool cover. You are among the first in the world to see it. This is the direct link on Amazon, https://amzn.to/48K3qRs, but it’s available everywhere, and I love indie bookstores! I’ll also have copies at Marlin Orchard’s Trunk Sale Nov 1-2.

Cthulhu’s Cheerleader is also available on Amazon and widely, but some of the digital links are still percolating because, well, bad mom.

I’m still working away on Kickstarter for Pride & Provocateur.

I’ll hug Anastasia and walk the dogs as soon as I’m finished here.

How’s it going with you? Also too busy and scattered? Or if you’ve got it all figured out, please give me tips!!!!!!!

Yours,

Melissa

Our beloved dog, Roxy, is scheduled to have her mast cell tumor removed in Ottawa on Thursday. Look at her gentle face, even though our daughter was using her as a pillow. She didn’t mind. (Our daughter did mind the photo. Sorry, honey.)

We’re keeping our fingers and toes crossed for Roxy. Subdermal mast cells have a better prognosis. But it’s true that Roxy is almost 13 years old, so as one vet reminded me, we’re trying to make good memories. She ate a lot of hamburger at the Glengarry Hospital picnic!

I read Roxy’s referral, and one thing stuck out to me: on the FAS score, which turned out to mean Fear, Anxiety, and Stress. Our vet wrote “0/5 - Roxy is a very sweet girl!”

Even with the vet, Roxy trusts and wags her tail.

I love you, Roxy.

"Dogs are how people would be if the important stuff is all that mattered to us." – Ashly Lorenzana

"The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs." – Charles de Gaulle

"My little dog—a heartbeat at my feet." – Edith Wharton

I’m slightly comforted that BookDoggy is partnering with me tomorrow. It seems like fate, you know? I always wanted to work with them because, well, I love dogs. They highlight books, including Stockholm Syndrome on Sept 17th, and are giving away a Samsung tablet. So please give them a click to show them some love. Thanks!

Medical Writing Errors 101: I’ll still give a talk tomorrow at 7 pm ET on what writers get wrong in their medical details. It’s free and open to all, but you have to register here.

Otherwise, I’ll be with Roxy. She’s my girl, you know? When my husband goes to walk her, she often waits for me. She won’t even come forward for her halter. She wants me.

My birthday is coming up. We’ll be spending it here with Roxy.

May you and your loved ones be safe and free from suffering.

Love,

Melissa

“Yes, b’y.” (B’y is short for boy, but seems somewhat gender neutral.)

“How’s it going there, buddy?” one nurse said to another. Didn’t matter if they were both female.

A nurse explained that the patient’s blood pressure had dropped to “70 over Jesus” on a previous admission. I’m not religious, but I know exactly how that feels!

Their lyrical voices made charting more of a pleasure than usual. And since doctors spend an estimated 50 percent of our time charting (not seeing patients, sorry to say), it made the 11-hour days pass faster. I might not have heard all of the slang, but I got a taste of it.

I’d come to Newfoundland to work, to introduce me and my children to a new place, and for my new book, Pride & Provocateur. I knew I wanted to rewrite Pride and Prejudice in Dildo, Newfoundland. I needed my boots on the ground before I could even attempt to portray the people and the land.

So I’m proud of the video above, which includes our footage from the rocky cliffs and shores of Elliston. (A crucial scene occurs here in Pride & Provocateur. Did you know that puffins mate for life? And that Elliston is the closest you can get to puffins from land, in all of North America?)

A real Newfoundlander helped supply the video’s voice over! I think you can hear the musicality in her beautiful voice.

Meet Lixie, who stars in Pride & Provocateur. Fun facts:

• Her hair doubles in volume in Newfoundland (yay, humidity)

• She wears stegosaurus shoes—high heels customized to look like the dinosaur

• She’s sitting beside a squid statue, minding her own business, when Mr. D’Arcy starts insulting her

Thank you to the 37 people who signed up to follow Pride & Provocateur. Hooray! You’re amazing!

Then someone told me 50 is better. 😭

I know it seems intimidating to sign up, so I made a graphic explaining what it is, below.

Fingers crossed that we can get another lucky number 13. All you have to do is click on this link and make an account.

Thank you and happy September!

Cheers,

Melissa

Pride & Provocateur

It seems fake to paste a smile on while you’re dancing.

Yet if a dancer frowns to remember the steps, or looks agonized—and I do both these things—no one wants to watch, even if the steps are perfect.

You’ve got to give ‘em some of that razzle dazzle, eh?

So I try, even though dance is a foreign language to me, meaning that I like it and I can tell my body to do it, I don’t have natural flexibility or extension or easy knack for choreography.

It was still joyful to try the dance workshops at Moov’s Hey Ma! festival because I like doing random creative stuff that shakes up my brain. I met wonderful people. And how cool is it to see people combining art and motherhood/fatherhood?

Writing is like that. Keep trying, no matter how clumsy you are, until it clicks. And even then, you can always improve. But you can make people smile and feel something and remember.

__

I’ll be at Readers Take Cornwall August 17th at the Best Western. I’m hoping to have copies of Home Ice, my brand new Glengarry hockey romance collection.

Please vote for the Killer Nashville Reader’s Choice Awards! For the first time, I appear with The Red Rock Killer. I’m excited to see Marie Still, Judy Penz Sheluk, T.O. Payne, and Lois Winston on the ballot too. Voting closes August 18th.

Do you remember Jane Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?

Meet Jayne from Pride & Provocateur. She’s a contemporary ballet dancer sidelined by a knee injury, who comes to Dildo, Newfoundland with her five best friends, in search of a dream. She falls for Bing, the millionaire next door.

Don’t you love this new art for Pride & Provocateur by the talented local artist, Sara Leger?

Best practice is 35 pre-launch followers for a Kickstarter campaign. I only need 6 more. Could one of them be you?

Pride & Provocateur

Lots of love,

Melissa