Charles II, Fall of Constantinople and CANSCAIP Workshop
ay for writer's conferences! They don't quite make me feel like a girl in a martini glass (they might, if I was writing Dorothy Parker type stories), but having been to my first one yesterday, I can definitely say they give you a buzz! I attended one session with Canadian author Brian Doyle (ashamed to say I'd never heard of his books before but I snatched up two directly after the session) which was an exciting reaffirmation of the strength and beauty in language. One of his examples was the opening to Dickens' Bleak House . You can just feel these lines rolling off your tongue: "Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; f