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Memory is a tricky thing. It isn’t a ruler, a hard, straight line for measuring the past, the passage of days, months, years. Memory doesn’t work like history books. It’s more like murmurs. Voices whispering in the darkness. Memor. Mindful remembering. Murmure. A low continuous sound. That was how the monks used to remember. They would whisper the words to themselves over and over again in their private cells, fixing images, sentences, whole passages in their minds. And from that, murmuration—a flock of starlings. The sound of beating wings at dusk.
|What I Write||
“Helen Marshall is a writer who creates real people in real situations, then uses the fantastic to pry her way inside her readers’ ribcages and break us wide open.”
Gifts for the One Who Comes After (a fiction collection, 2014, ChiZine Publications)
The Sex Lives of Monsters (a poetry collection, 2013, Kelp Queen Press)
I’m about to begin work on the edits for my novel Everything that is Born (Random House Canada). My goal is to get it done.and sketch out the beginning of a new novel.
I attended the Clarion West workshop in 2012, and I have to say that it has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. I have made friends who have continued to support me and read my work; I’ve kept writing; I’ve published; and I’ve carried with me all the lessons I learned from those six weeks. This is an amazing program, and I want to help it continue to operate and–more importantly–continue to be able to offer scholarships to writers in financial need.
So my goal is to raise whatever I can. But to reward people who contribute, I’m willing to do the following:
E-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org to arrange for your reward.