Finally–finally!–a story I first imagined in 2017, on a bus in Andalusia while my wife napped on my shoulder, will see the light of day. It’s a long piece, meaning it’s proven a bit hard to place, but it’s finally been accepted by a magazine I’ve wanted to publish with for a literal decade (longer, actually) and has been in edits for a few weeks now. I’m really looking forward to sharing the ultimate version soon–

AND, in the meantime, I’m excited to read from it in its as yet unfinished form! Wednesday, May 7, at Noonan’s Pub, the indomitable Draft Reading Series brings its rapid-fire, many-writered format back to the in-person stage. The action kicks off at 7pm, and I’m in the last set, scheduled to begin at 9:20. I’ll have Modern Folklore as well as my first two books with me, if you’re still looking to buy copies. I hope to see you there!

Thing Two: I had the awesome pleasure this past weekend of interviewing Mark Sampson and emceeing the launch celebration for his new horror novel, Lowfield, at Little Ghosts Books. It’s a terrifying page turner, but also a firmly grounded and human story of trying to bounce back from trauma while confronting forces larger than oneself. I absolutely loved it. Big thanks to Mark for having me out, and to the many friends and fine Toronto writers who joined. Launch day coincided with the first sunny patio day of 2025, and we joyfully took our camaraderie to College Street afterward.

And, lastly, I got up to my old amateur historian tricks in March, visiting my hometown of Glencoe, Ontario, to talk to the local historical society about a pretty average guy named Thomas Gardiner. He seems to have died around 1840–aged around 70, and probably destitute–in the woods of Mosa Township between the Thames River and the Longwoods Road (later known as Ontario Highway #2).

Gardiner, in my opinion, lived a rather ordinary life for his time, by which I mean one that seems extraordinary now. For example, he appears to have served faithfully for Britain during the War of 1812 and been arrested for something like desertion, as well as worked for the Church of England and spent the last years of his life railing against its representative in the London District. He seems also to have taken part, again on the side of the Crown, in the Irish Rebellion(s) of the late eighteenth century, and maybe contracted cholera in the 1830s, and before that taught school in no less than three townships in Upper Canada, the last of which he was run out of due to, as he tells it, loyalty to his Church and King in the face of rising Methodism and Reform movements. He thankfully documented much of this in petitions from Mosa to Upper Canada’s government, dated 1834-1839, most of which were begging for financial relief as he stared down another harsh winter with inadequate food and clothing.

I’ve taken this project out on the road twice now, and both times I’ve been amazed at the interest it manages to generate. Plus, quickly after the event, I was trading emails with interested locals and finding more breadcrumbs that, somehow, I hadn’t yet turned up in the four-year odyssey this non-fiction book has now become. I’ve just embarked on a full rewrite, and it’s a story I’m really looking forward to telling in full. The photos are too big to share here, but there’s a nice write-up on the Glencoe & District Historical Society’s website.

For now, I hope to see you on the 7th!