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Writing haunts me like a bad-burrito-and-beer night; it stings my gut, a constant reminder of the denial that I have consumed for well over a decade. I had my chance when I was accepted into...

The amount of information cutely referred too often to be at our fingertips is overwhelming. Readers need access to information but also some measure of trust that that information is correct and unaltered. To...

i was born in Winnipeg. Or rather, the wrong part of Winnipeg. Growing up in the North End isn’t the greatest way to spend one’s childhood. I remember being followed by gangs, getting beaten...

If the city is a blight, and the suburbs a cancer, then the empty husks of brick and mortar must be the atrophied heart, beating out a few final spasms. The muted roaring of...

Manitoba? it used to be a lake — a sea, nearly, and Winnipeg was a swamp. It teemed with life: fish, mammals, sea monsters. Today, as the breadbasket of the world, we raise our...

We were born here, what’s your excuse? having moved to Winnipeg almost five years ago from my hometown of Dawson Creek, B.C., this is a question I am often asked to answer. This slogan greets...

What can I say about the city known as the ’Peg. This is what I know: muddy waters, the centre (heart) of this continent, “Winterpeg” — this is where I was born. The experience...