Writer's News

I’m darn happy to share a bit of my writerly journey on a podcast, ‘A Writer’s Life’ hosted by the gracious and fabulous host, Heige Boehm from British Columbia. 

https://www.awriterslife.co/

I hope you’ll make some time on a walk, car trip, or at home to listen to our conversation
Available on regular podcast outlets.

It was an honour and I sure hope it encourages other writers who struggle with their creativity. It's especially relevant to memorists and those who pen historical fiction. Putting our stories on paper and crafting them into publishable works of art takes persistence and it can be an emotional journey, too. So fight on, fellow writers. If I can do it, so can you! 

AND ...

In other writerly news, I’m excited to contribute an essay for the upcoming book, Central and Eastern Europeans in North American Literature and Culture, being released by Routledge Press later this year. Here’s a glimpse of the cover. So grateful to Dr. Mateusz Świetlicki from the University of Wrocław for his ongoing moral support of my historical fiction and for being the impetus behind this collaborative volume.  I can't wait to read this intriguing collection on a subject close to my heart. 

Central and Eastern Europeans in
North American Literature and Culture

Russians from Germany featured in New Fiction

English translation published by CMU Press

I read two recently published works of fiction about Germans from Russia. Both authors had signings at Winnipeg’s McNally Robinson’s book store. NIGHTBERRIES by Elina Penner is a translation (by Bradley Schmidt.) The second, LIKE A RIVER DIVIDES THE EARTH, was a compilation of five short stories by Dora Dueck. The books, like their authors, were wildly different in tone and style, albeit they both explored the impact of leaving Russia and integrating into modern Germany after the Soviet collapse in the early nineties. Both authors would consider themselves ‘Mennonite.’ 

Published by Freehand Books

I’m fascinated by the topic because some of my mom’s family got ‘trapped’ under the Soviet’s strict population control throughout the 20th century. While my mom’s ethnic German family was German Baptist, not Mennonite, they experienced similar restrictions regarding cultural and religious practices.

While I was visiting Zhytomyr, twenty years ago,  I found that some of my relatives had Russified their names. In a letter from one of my mom's cousins in the secret police archives, dated February 1, 1958. she signed it, as 'Olga Andrynova Ristovaya' living in Chelybinsk.   She was hoping to clear her husband's name under Khruschev's thaw, so that (translation of her words), "...I need a letter to confirm his rehabilitation so our family can look to the eyes of Soviet people with a clean conscience."  

With Uri,  my translator, in the Zhytomyr archives.
What's Uri doing now? 

By the early nineties, as USSR was falling apart, other cousins of my mom, exiled to Arkhangelsk, were only too eager to leave Russia and established contact with us here in Canada. Their enthusiasm was, honestly, overwhelming. The Germany of their dreams was often leery of these newcomers and my almost ninety-year-old mother, after forty years here in Canada, could no longer give practical support for their needs or wants.  Sadly, we've lost touch.  I hope that they're thriving in Germany but these two books made me aware of the many challenges.

Both authors explore the awkwardness of not belonging, of lost time and of dashed expectations. Elina Penner is a modern writer and her style is rather raw and sometimes even bizarre. Dora Dueck is a thoughtful and slower-paced writer.  Mennonite writers with disparaging styles. 

I found it fascinating to read these two books back-to-back. Recommended for those curious about the Germans from Russia in current times, still weighed down by their difficult pasts. Fiction, yes, but inspired by real people and events. 

The compost pile of memories suppressed under Russian politics continue to nurture today’s voices. 

Not Historical Fiction

STILL ALIVE, the final installment of Marsha Skrypuch’s trilogy, KIDNAPPED FROM UKRAINE, is another page turner.  Told from the points of view of twin sisters, Dariia and Rada, we get to imagine being 12 in a modern war in a contemporary setting. I've been to Ukraine. It's a beautiful country filled with history and loving people who want to live in peace like you and I.

This third in the series is a satisfying conclusion to a real-world war that shows no sign of abating. While all three of these books show plenty of heroism in spite of tragedy … I can’t help but wonder how children in Ukraine evolve as the war grinds on and their childhoods become lost … swallowed up by violence, uncertainty and sadness. 

Whether these Ukrainian children are being kidnapped in physical form to be brainwashed as future Russia citizens, migrants to a foreign country like Canada, or stuck in their war-ravaged country building drones and camouflage nets … children like Dariia and Rada have lost their innocence in brutal ways. 

Skrypuch created memorable stories in spite of the challenges of an ever-changing dynamic. This war is far from over. Her gut-wrenching fiction is no longer 'historical'  ... the war continues. Sadly, Marsha Skrypuch will never run out of material for her powerful and memorable depictions of children caught in the vices of war.   

A Novel about Self Discovery

I really liked this book by Anna Rosner and gave it a five star review on Goodreads. The theme, about self-empowerment, told with a first-person narrator, reminded me of what I explored in Waltraut, albeit through the eyes of an immigrant.  Coming-of-age perspectives are rife with opportunity for self-discovery.

In the first half, I wasn’t sure where this book was going but the writer’s voice was strong and compelling, so I trusted Aviva, the almost-twelve-year-old narrator. She kept me turning the pages. 

What was this book about? Was it the trauma of her faltering friendship with Maddy that would form the spine of the novel?  Was it about Maddy’s volatile father and the subsequent marriage breakdown? Was it about Maddy’s perfectionism with her musical goals? Was it about family shame because of an autism diagnosis for Aviva’s little brother? Was it about Aviva’s father’s lack of connection with her and the family? Was it about the unreasonable guilt of genetics? Was it a story about poetry which Aviva loves to read and write?  And so I kept reading, from chapter to chapter.

Turns out that it was about all of the above, but mostly, it was a story about Aviva. It’s not just a story about Maddy’s broken family or about Ethan’s autism diagnosis. It’s not just about not fitting in at school or being uncool. 

It’s a story about Aviva and her relationship with herself and her world.  It’s a story about accepting others the way they are … but mostly, it’s a story about accepting ourselves the way we are. Beautifully told with nuance and emotional depth that left me searching for tissue while I pondered ‘the end’.  

Trees tell Stories

I’ve been reading Sophie Pinkham’s new work of nonfiction, The Oak and the Larch. It’s a study of Russia’s forests over the centuries. Trees tell stories and Pinkham had me immersed in the complicated history of Russia’s relationship to them. Sometimes the forests were friends, for example, when they slowed down the Mongol invasion, or hid partisan armies. Other times they were to be cut down and exploited ... used to build ships or buildings.  And still some survived. She writes, “Some of the centenarian lindens still remembered the farms that had once dotted the landscape. Only trees had such long memories.” (p. 222) 

An old linden remembering?  In front of the former secret police centre in
Zhytomyr, Ukraine, site of my grandfather's 1937 interrogation and execution.

:

After reading her book, I found myself yearning to be amongst our local trees here in Manitoba. The opportunity to meander alone through some wet urban woods just the other day was a welcome way to recharge after a difficult week. In between moments of silence, I heard birds chirping and frogs croaking. Wildlife, including deer, rabbits and squirrels, stared at me as if daring me to come closer. 

Along a trail in the Assiniboine Forest

A small, yellow splotched bird skipped ahead of me, determined to lead me on. I spotted wild strawberry flowers and everywhere bright green spurts of new growth. It’s happening—again—spring.  I’m grateful for the natural settings in our city and for the resilience of trees. Leaving the woods, I felt calmer and more at peace with myself and the world. They truly are our friends.

Can you find two deer?

So many stories growing in a forest. Joyce Kilmer said it best: “I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree.” 

On Growth and Silence

 

“If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all." That’s Thumper speaking in Walt Disney’s 1942 movie, Bambi.  My three kids would bounce that sentiment across our dinner table while growing up. It’s also why I’ve been avoiding blog posts here for the last few months. Here’s another quote reflecting my winter: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” That’s John Lennon, circa, 1980. 

It was a dark, long and cold winter and it’s been a grey, windy, cold spring. And yet, new growth emerges and I’m itching to sprout new words and return to a more regular writing schedule.  I admit to discouragement … into turning this long break into a forever break. After all, there are so many books out there, so many talented authors sharing their stories. My to-read pile keeps growing … and growing. Speaking of books ...I just finished the short bestseller, If Russia Wins: A Scenario by Carlo Masala. It's a good reminder of why history matters and why I'll keep researching the past. 

     

The crazy thing is, though, as my to-read pile grows, so does my to-write pile. Like a compost pile—my imagination overflows with characters, landscapes and histories. New ideas keep sprouting. Some, unfortunately, are only weeds, some too sensitive to the elements … while others keep returning, insisting on my attention.

I’ll take Thumper’s advice and try to only speak nice things. And sometimes I’ll say nothing at all. 

Travel and Culture and Writing

It's not the best cycling weather here in Winnipeg at the moment (although there are braver souls than me out there!).  Winter in Winnipeg is the perfect time to plan your next getaway!  And here's a better-weather cycling memory to get you going. 

February trails in Winnipeg

Grateful to Marie Powell for this opportunity to appear on the travel Substack she hosts along with Ann Marie Ackermann:   

https://travelandculture.substack.com/p/writing-a-novel-while-riding

If you're planning a bike tour in the Baltic region, check out Baltic Bike Travel because they truly offer exceptional tours and a hassle-free experience. 10 out of 10 all the way!  

Mom was an Illegal Migrant or The Tyranny of Documents

Released from a Soviet labour camp in the Urals in July 1947, my mom’s release document lists her destination as ‘Brandenburg.’  Brandenburg is now a federal state in northeastern Germany, surrounding the city of Berlin. Back in 1947, it was under Soviet control. 

Mom was released to a transit camp, or processing centre, near the border city of Frankfurt an der Oder. The Oder River acts as a natural border and slices through the city with the Polish city of Słubice sitting on the other side. Dad, on the other hand, upon release in September, 1949, was sent to Friedland, which is 230 km north of the other Frankfurt, Frankfurt am Main.

During a time when America's hunt for illegal migrants makes world headlines, it’s rather sobering for me to realize that my tiny mom (4’ 10”), had the courage to make her own illegal border crossing. She tried to cross twice, the first time she got scared off by barking dogs. While this was a common crossing in the early post-war years, it was very dangerous.  I grew up thinking she was rather meek and timid … ha! … she was anything but. 

There are many loops that immigrants need to jump through to become Canadian citizens. Sometimes we like to judge those who aren’t following the ‘rules.’  But it takes courage to break rules. We have to ask ourselves, why would people risk their lives and their families’ well-being to cross borders without proper documents. I’m not sure I’d be brave enough. Grateful to be in a safe country with a valid passport. Ah, the tyranny of documents.

The cover of Crow Stone includes an image of Mom's release document. 

 

Hill of Crosses

 

Because I’ve been reading about the Klaipeda region (former Memel), I’ve been checking out my own photos of the area. This was from one of our first stops, after spending a few days exploring the beautiful city of Riga in Latvia. 

We cycled over into Lithuania, cheated with a short van ride, and then ended up at the ‘Hill of Crosses’. Featuring at least 100,000 crosses, sitting seemingly randomly in the middle of farmland, this pilgrimage site has been growing steadily for almost two hundred years. (One memory in Ulla Lachauer's book, Ostpreußische Lebensläufe, speaks of hundreds of young Pioneers in training under the Soviets, being massacred by the Nazis in this immediate area.) Reflecting the Catholic faith and political repression, many of these crosses are homemade. This led me to the discovery that ‘cross-crafting’ is considered a UNESCO Lithuanian culture tradition (in the same way that borscht is recognized for Ukraine). 

Having little prior appreciation of how Lithuania was connected to my East Prussian quest, the ‘Hill of Crosses’, 120 kilometers southwest of Riga, was a stark introduction to this beautiful Baltic landscape that has absorbed much violence, much suffering in the name of politics. 

I could have spent all day climbing the steps, pausing over and over again at the rustic crosses put up to remember the Lithuanian victims of Nazi murder and Soviet repression (along with earlier struggles for independence).  The hill continues to be a symbol for peace and Lithuanian perseverance.

Cycling across four Baltic countries, required a different sort of perseverance and so Ramos, our Lithuanian cycling guide, dragged us away from the poignant Hill of Crosses, onward towards to the port city of Klaipeda, once known as Memel.

People and their Landscapes

I’m currently immersed in Ulla Lachauer’s book, Ostpreußische Lebensläufe (1998). It had been gathering dust on my bedside shelf for a long while. Not sure why I was avoiding it. Perhaps it was the effort required to read German. Perhaps it was the dark contents. After all the research I’d done for Crow Stone, about the downfall of East Prussia, I was leery of going into another dark abyss. But it’s January and full of resolution, I decided to get the dark, heavy reading over with first.

Turns out, I had nothing to fear. Ulla Lachauer writes in an engaging, easy-going style, that didn’t stress this English reader too much. It’s not a book about war, it’s about people and this book showcases her obvious empathy for the ten East Prussians featured here. She highlights the resilience of these characters shaped by their Baltic environment and the difficult years of political turmoil.

Photographs add to the depth of connection the reader gets to enjoy. I found myself turning, again and again, to the images searching out the stories etched in their faces like they're  landscapes of their lives. 

Portrait of my mom done by Julia Penny

As I read, I’m searching the internet for names of tiny, forgotten villages mentioned in the chapters, checking to see if I might have cycled past back some of these ruins back in 2019 when I explored the Lithuanian and north Kaliningrad area near the city of Klaipeda (once Memel).

This beautiful, conflicted area comes to life for me again as I read this book and I can imagine my own family members living their simple, rustic lives … trying their best to survive. Aren’t we all?  So grateful for books like this. 

Ruins near the Baltic in former East Prussia

Fairy Tale Setting

First book I read for 2026 was a fairy tale retold by the master of horror, Stephen King:  Hansel and Gretel (with illustrations by Maurice Sendek). 

Fairy tale retelling by Stephen King

The fairy tale caught my focus while I’ve been lost in research about the post-war period as East Prussia transitioned to Kaliningrad. Families broken, children hungry, forests dangerous, adults not to be trusted.  Those were not fairy tale horrors, those were real life dangers. There is an unworldly quality to the years between 1945 and 1948. 

I'll repeat mention of an earlier non-fiction book called The Wolf Children of the Eastern Front by Sonya Winterberg and Kerstin Lieff. It explores how the orphaned children managed later in life. Did they, in fact, live happily ever after? 

middle grade novel by Australian author
Katrina Nannested

I highly recommend Katrina Nannested’s middle grade novel, We are Wolves, for anyone interested in the plight of orphans after the war in this no man’s land corner of eastern Europe. And of course, read Stephen King’s new retelling of Hansel and Gretel. (spoiler alert: there’s a happy ending … which I wish for all of us in 2026). 

Kaliningrad: Portal to a dark past?

one of those years ...

A writer friend shared a blogpost where she adapted questions from the New York Times to sum up the past year. I found her post inspirational and have borrowed her questions for my own reflective exercise.  Here goes. 

Question 1. What I have learned in the past year? 

That I have the power within me, and just need the courage to use it. 

Question 2. When did I feel the most carefree? 

Riding my bike, not being in a hurry, and picking saskatoon berries along the way.  

Question 3. What gave me energy and inspiration? 

The garden. Nurturing it and letting it nurture me back. 

Question 4. What habit had a positive effect? 

My reading habit feeds my curiousity and keeps me inspired to write my own stories.

Question 5. What did I do this year that I thought was almost impossible? 

I've supported a couple of family members through some difficult issues which has deepened my own faith and reminded me that if we don’t look after ourselves, we can’t support anyone else.

2025 was a challenging year and I’m hoping for an easier go in 2026. No matter, 2025 has empowered me to keep my chin up, ride my bike slow, read and be kind. We're all in this time together!                                                                     

Solace in Solstice

The shortest day and the longest night. The beginning of winter means a return to light.

It’s been bone-chilling cold with blizzard-like conditions. I’m dealing with a misery-making cold or flu. My holiday season to-do list remains mostly undone and my messy snow shovelling could use an edit. They moved my husband to a hospital much farther away and the roads are terribly icy.  Meanwhile, the second batch of ginger cookies I made ended up spreading as bad as the first. 

But today the sun is shining. Fresh snow looks brilliant and our Christmas tree looks resplendent. Plus, the no-bake batch of chocolate macaroons turned out! I’m hoping this darn cold makes me cold-proof for the rest of the season. Pass the tissue box! 

Wishing you solace in solstice. Plus, good health, good friends, safe driving and the magic of story.

Hedgehogs

Decorating our sentimental Christmas tree every year is like time travel. My current favourite ornament is this wooden hedgehog. I was thrilled when I spotted a real one during my 2019 cycling trip through former East Prussia, in the Kaliningrad region. 

Love how little, unexpected things can become the best souvenirs … treasures of the heart. 

Sadly, I learned from a recent news report that certain camouflaged Ukrainian tanks are now being nicknamed 'hedgehogs'.   War's impact is everywhere.  Read the story and view images here:

https://www.rferl.org/a/russia-ukraine-invasion-hedgehog-armor-fpv-drone-evolution-war/33614379.html

Perseverence

                Even when the trail seems long and monotonous . 

            ... keep moving.   

                    It's not the destination that's important anyway, 

                           .... it's the step after step after step. 

Savouring Saskatoons When It's Cold Out

 

I had no idea when I picked up a displayed copy of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World, that I’d be reading about saskatoon berries. Because I’ve picked saskatoon berries almost every June for decades now, I’m instantly in love with the message of this book. Saskatoon berries are prolific here on the prairies. 

Slow down! More berries!

This past year had a particularly abundant harvest. My aging canine companion could only walk slowly and I benefited by having more time to pick. It simply amazed me that no one else was out here picking. I managed to bake saskatoon muffins for neighbours on Canada Day and was able to re-establish contact with them. We had saskatoon pie for thanksgiving and look forward to more for Christmas. 

Our serviceberries have served us well and I’m grateful that the berry bushes have been preserved in the ever-shrinking patches of wilderness in this suburban maze of development. After reading Kimmerer’s book, my appreciation of wild berries has not grown, because it was already huge … but my appreciation has been validated.

Local serviceberries, aka saskatoons

Connecting foraging to my ongoing novel research is easy. Hunger created foragers in eastern Europe during the twenties, thirties and forties. My mom and her sisters were expert mushroom, berry pickers and linden blossom gatherers. Even lowly weeds like thistle and dandelion offered sustenance. We’re surrounded by abundance.  

Never mind the political message. Walking in nature, picking berries and sharing them with friends feels good!

Local chokecherries make great syrups

Quotes from Kimmerer's book:  

"Imagine a fruit that tastes like a Blueberry crossed with the satisfying heft of an Apple, a touch of rosewater, and a minuscule crunch of almond-flavored seeds." (p. 6)

",,,status is determined not by how much one accumulates, but by how much one gives away." (p.32)

"Take only what you need." (p. 84/5)

Holodomor in 2025

Yesterday was Holodomor Remembrance Day and I remembered by visiting the art sculpture set up on the Manitoba legislative grounds. Flowers, sheaths of wheat, loaves of bread and sunflower seeds were scattered at its base. 

   

Without collectivization, and the 'liquidation' of the kulaks,  there would have been no famine. My kulak mom, born 1919, was 13 when rural Ukrainians were robbed of the means to feed themselves. Stalin sent his men to steal every last seed of grain from the farmers.  He was determined to prove that communism worked and that the USSR could be a world super power. 

It’s often believed that Stalin said, “The death of one (man) is a tragedy. The death of millions, a statistic.” (This has not been proven.)  It’s a powerful insight, no matter who said it. 

My mom and her siblings, considered enemy kulaks, had managed to leave only a few months before the government-ordered theft began. My grandfather’s exit visa, however, was not ‘in order.’  As he fumbled in bureaucratic hell, the famine broke out. I can only imagine what it would have been like for him … a fugitive, always on the run, risking the lives of others who would let him hide on their farms … his wife buried in Siberia, his children cared for by unwilling family in East Prussia. He avoided being a statistic of the famine, but not of the 1937 terror.

Now it’s 2025. Ukrainian people are again targeted. As writers and as readers, we can utilize the power of story to help the world see these deaths as tragedies and not statistics. 

I recommend the following books for anyone interested in learning more about the Holodomor.

Winterkill by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

Bloodlands by Timothy Snyder

The Harvest of Sorrow by Robert Conquest

The Memory Keeper of Kyiv by Erin Litteken

The Lost Year by Katherine Marsh. 

 

Hitched a Ride Once

Funny how the mind works. I woke up this morning with a two-decade old memory stuck in my head. So I had to go through some old photos until I found tangible evidence that I wasn’t just dreaming. 

Back in 2004, I hitched a ride with a Ukrainian farmer and his shepherd dog across some furrowed farmland outside of Zhytomyr, close to where my mom was born before collectivization, near fields that my grandfather ploughed.

Poor Ukraine. Always struggling to survive. Borderland of trouble. It’s a wonder anything grows

on such a blood-soaked land.

I’m a city person, born and raised where streets are paved, dogs are leashed and streetlights keep the night away. But some of that kulak farm blood still runs through my veins.

Peace to you, dear farmer. Thanks for the ride. Thanks for sharing your rich land with a stranger. I still feel the connection. 

Red stone in a field
once the foundation of
my grandfather's windmill

 

About War

I've recently read two memoirs about young people in Germany during and immediately after the Second World War. German Boy, A Child in War by Wolfgang W. E. Samuel came out back in 2000, while Waltraud, A True Story of Growing up in Nazi Germany, came out in 2023 and is written by the protagonist's daughter, Tammy Borden.

There’s an eight-year age gap between the protagonists. Waltraud is born in 1927 and Wolfgang in 1935. Both stories have a ‘happy ending’ when they find their way to the USA. Wolfgang leaves Bremerhaven in January, 1951 crossing  the Atlantic on the USNS George W. Goethals. Waltraud leaves in September of the same year on the USS General R. M. Blatchford. Both arrive in New York. 

My parents also exited Europe via Bremerhaven. They traveled on the Beaverbrae in July, 1953 bound for Quebec. They’d been born in 1918 and 1919 and thus experienced the war, not as children, but as adults who ended up as Soviet POWs.  With Canada’s Remembrance Day on the horizon, once again I feel the familiar mixed emotions. Remembrance Day does not address the horrors of war. It’s about remembering the courage of soldiers, allied soldiers.

It doesn't remember the others who wore no uniform. Those affected by hunger, disease, and loss … loss of home, of family, of careers, of education and of hope.  These two memoirs remind us that it’s not just soldiers in uniforms who have courage. It's not just soldiers who suffer and die. War fails everyone.

Local History with Big Impact

UPDATE:  Launch at McNally Robinson's, Thursday, Nov. 20/25 

Harriet Zaidman showcases the nuanced views about abortion that continue to complicate what should be a straight-forward issue. Our bodies are our own. As teenaged Leesa struggles with her unfortunate predicament, we learn about Dr. Henry Morgentaler, the man who courageously fought for women’s right to choose and about the anti-abortionists, including church-based evangelicals, along with activists like Joe Borowski.

There’s an interesting subplot, focused on a young woman’s murder back in the eighties, where the wrong man was sent to prison. It underlines our city’s convoluted need to appear just without necessarily doing what's right.

Struggling marriages, a woman’s need for financial independence, and the lack of accountability for young men with big egos and sexual aggression are deftly handled by Zaidman.  No wonder her previous novels (Strike, 1919 about the union movement in Winnipeg and Second Chances, about the polio epidemic here in Winnipeg) received national awards. With What Friends are For, Zaidman’s social commentary continues to be spot-on.

Set in my home city of Winnipeg, back in 1983, What Friends are For, presents, with tantalizing tension, the still-hot-button issue of abortion. Told through the eyes of fifteen-year-old, Leesa, I was reminded of the strong emotions this topic brought to media, politics, religious communities and even to my own dinner table. I remember getting up and leaving the table when one of my uncles, a known womanizer who’d served in Hitler’s Wehrmacht, began name-calling Dr. Morgentaler.  Yes, the eighties were filled with such characters and such tensions … even here in Winnipeg.  

Zaidman’s protagonist, Leesa, is bombarded from both sides of the issue and as a reader I lived through the stress of her fear and the strength of her conviction. Kudos to the author for re-opening a door to a topic that continues to be contentious.