I had a delightful reunion with ex-Toff writer babe Brittney today. In a fluke of coincidence, she happened to be inToronto same time i was there, and despite many technological screw-ups, email and cell phone came through to bring about a rendezvous at the funktastic Java House in the too-cool Queen Street district.
Britt (or “Fresh,” as i like to call her) is one of the few West Coasters whom i consider “real” writers, meaning that writing to her is not a hobby or pastime or therapeutic device but rather a life-blood pursuit. (Me, i could take it or leave it, though i always end up taking it eventually.) I admire those few who truly believe — a gift that seems to be beyond me.
We chewed over our recent travels and the writing life and our prospects and plans, then ate pad thai and she caught a streetcar to the bus station and i walked west on Queen St. Nice.
She has chosen a tough road, but she travels it with humour and grace. I wish her luck.
Greg Blee 