Publication-Interviews-Readings

The list is getting long enough to have its own dedicated page. I’ll keep this page more or less up to date and that is all I’m gonna say about that.

Last updated: December 14, 2019

PUBLISHED

Since June 2016:

“Encountered on the Shore”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2016

“A Vile Insinuation”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2016

“Without Reason”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2016

“Zero to Sixty”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2016

“The Margin of the River”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2016

“Nothing to Lose”, Fiction on the Web (UK), 2016

“Heavy Artillery”, Fiction on the Web (UK), 2016

“Breezy and the Six-Pack Sneaker”, Literally Stories (UK), 2016

“The Fifty Dollar Sewing Machine”, Literally Stories (UK), 2016

“South of Oromocto Depths”, Literally Stories (UK), 2016

“Frozen Tag”, Literally Stories (UK), 2016

“A Fisherman’s Story”, Rhubarb Magazine (Ca), Issue 39, 2016

“Our German Relative”, Red Fez (Ca), Issue 96, 2016

“Graperoo”, Fair Folk Journal (US), 2016

“So Are They All”, Voices (Ca), Volume 16, No. 2, 2016

“The Phage Match”, Broken Pencil (Ca), 2016

“The Rothmans Job”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2017

“Winter Eve in Walker Creek Park”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2017

“South of Oromocto Depths”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2017

“Encountered on the Shore”, CommuterLit (Ca), 2017

“The Preacher and His Wife”, Literally Stories (UK), 2017

“The Beefeater and the Donnybrook”, Literally Stories (UK), 2017

“The Light Pool”, Alsina Publishing LingoBites (UK – English and Spanish), 2017

“Nothing to Lose”, Digging Through the Fat (US), 2017 (Link)

“Heavy Artillery”, Digging Through the Fat (US), 2017 (Link)

“The Business of Saving Souls”, Literally Stories (UK), 2017

“So Are They All”, Literally Stories (UK), 2017

“The Rothmans Job”, Sick Lit Magazine (US), 2017

“The Business of Saving Souls”, Sick Lit Magazine (US), 2017

“I am Otter”, The Machinery – A Literary Collection (India), “Fauna” 2017

“The Log Boom”, Storgy.com (UK), 2017

“Encountered on the Shore”, Occulum (US), 2017

“The Peacemongers”, The MOON magazine (US), 2017

“The Margin of the River”, riverbabble (US), 2017

“The Seven Songs”, Fictive Dream (UK), 2017

“I am Otter”, CommuterLit (Ca) 2018

“Fall From Grace”, Literally Stories (UK), 2018

“Of a Forest Silent”, Alsina Publishing LingoBites (UK – English and Spanish), 2018

“City Lights”, Literally Stories (UK), 2018

“The Bottom of the Sky”, Fiction on the Web (UK), 2018

“In the Dim Light Beyond the Fence”, riverbabble (US), 2018

“Nothing to Lose”, riverbabble (US), 2018

“Shade Tree Haven”, Doorknobs & Bodypaint (US), 2018

“Sweet Caporal at Dawn”, Blank Spaces (Ca), 2018

“Sweet Caporal at Dawn”, “Just Words, Volume 2” (Ca), 2018

“Away Game”, Pulp Literature (Ca), 2018

“The Doeling”, Cabinet of Heed (Ireland), 2018

“Groota Pieter”, River Poets Journal, Special Themed Edition, “The Immigrants” (US),  2018

INTERVIEW, Mennotoba (Ca), 2018

“The Narrowing”, Scarlet Leaf Review (Ca), 2018

“Wide Winter River” podcast Not Ready for Prime Time (US), 2018

“The Fifty Dollar Sewing Machine”, Literally Stories (UK), 2019

“The Toboggan Run”, The MOON magazine (US), 2019

“Peacemongers”, The MOON magazine: “Out of This World” The Best Short Stories from the MOON (US), Volume 1, 2019

“Cave on a Cul-de-sac”, The Hayward Fault Line, Doorknobs & Bodypaint (US) Issue 93, 2019

“Din and the Wash Bear”, The Hayward Fault Line, Doorknobs & Bodypaint (US) Issue 95, 2019

“Died Rich”, Fabula Argentea (US), Issue #27, 2019

“I am Otter”, Short Tales – Flash Fiction Stories (Iran), 2019

“Away Game”, Short Tales – Flash Fiction Stories (Iran), 2019

INTERVIEW and EXCERPT from WIP novel, “Mulholland and Hardbar”, South Branch Scribbler (Ca), 2019

“Ifs and Butters”, TurnPike (US), 2019

“Concealment”, Me First Magazine (US), 2019

“Groota Pieter”, Pact Press (Australia), “We Refugees” anthology, 2019

“Fast and Steep”, Riddle Fence (Ca), Issue 34, 2019.

“Holthacka’s Quandary”, Lunate Fiction (UK), 2019

“Shade Tree Haven”, (mac)ro(mic) (US), 2019

“My Writing Day”, my (small press) writing day (Ca), 2019

CONTESTS & AWARDS

“So Are They All”, Second Place in the Adult Fiction category of the Write on the Lake (Ca) contest, 2016

“Fall from Grace”, Honourable Mention in The Writers’ Workshop of Asheville (US) Memoirs Contest, 2016

“The Phage Match”, Finalist in Broken Pencil’s (Ca) annual “Deathmatch contest, 2016

“Cave on a Cul-de-sac”, Winner in The Hayward Fault LineDoorknobs & Bodypaint (US) Issue 93 Triannual Themed Flash contest, 2018

“I am Otter”, CommuterLit (Ca), Runner-up in for Flash Fiction Feature, 2018

“Sweet Caporal at Dawn”, Nominated by Blank Spaces (Ca) for a PUSHCART PRIZE, 2018

READINGS

Voices Launch, McNally Robinson, Winnipeg, MB, 2016

Pulp Literature Issue Launch, Vancouver, BC, 2017

Manitoba Writers’ Guild, Artspace, Winnipeg, MB, 2019

Prosetry, Jessica Lake, MB, 2019

Driedger Readings, Winnipeg, MB, 2019

Jake Epp Public Library, Steinbach, MB, 2020 (date TBA)

A Mennonite Imposter’s Discursive Rhapsody

Three Problems with Christianity: Souldierism, Heaven, and Receipts. (And possibly some of the reasons why the author maunders along in so many stories, searching out weak actors like a Red Rock Bible Camp Councillor hunting for Playboys between the mattresses.)

Problem One: Onward Christian “Soul-diers”

  • Mennonite religion (voted *Best Guilt* at Reformerpalooza) is obsessively and unabashedly built upon an army mentality.
  • Follow orders or else. It’s just that simple.
  • Those who ask questions based on some external code or sense of moral dissatisfaction are often eliminated. Shunned, excommunicated, kicked out, shit-canned… The church is governed by court-martial law, coercively presided and prosecuted by high-ranking church officials who are put in place by you-know-who (Die Owlah! An unimpeachable authority.) Just like the armed services, to disobey is to risk extreme penalties and disgrace.

So why is an organization dedicated to peace governed by the same laws, ordinances, and traditions that are used by the world’s militaries; the same rules that were in place for the fearsome armies of the Old Testament?

  • Also like the military, most Christian conventions change, but they are grindingly slow to do so. Examples of past changes I’ve seen in my own adult lifetime: Divorce (with the caveat that it is still far rougher on women then it is for men), Tight Jeans, and Rock n’ Roll. No? Just take a look around at church this Sunday, is there not at least one divorced person in your pew? Are you and others not wearing jeans that would have drawn a hair-afire rebuke in 1970? That musical menagerie: drum kit, synthesizer, and stable full of guitars up on the (ahem) stage is at the ready and is not out of place, in fact, they are the instruments of salvation and worship.

“Last one in the mosh pit is a demon!” 

  • And yet the church, just like the military, battle on in their efforts to resist LGBTQ (see below), to sustain their sadly obvious misogynistic roots, and to disavow the nativism that the church’s unholy co-combatants—far-right conservative politicians—seek to uphold.
  • In 2012, Steinbach, Manitoba’s Southland Church led opposition to a provincial law that sought to provide protection for LGBTQ students suffering from bullying. The church took the position that the Bill would promote “wrong lifestyle choices.” A petite-but-confident and charismatic high school student (not yet voting age at the time) serenely and handily took on the Steinbach Town Council, several adult congregants, a group of not-so-petite (but plenty-surly) adult members of the local ministerial association who carried NOT ON MY WATCH! placards. This latter crew had to be gavelled into silence and was threatened with expulsion from council chambers. Despite being less disruptive than the placardists, a phalanx of spear-wielding ancient Roman soldiers was prevented from entering the chambers.
    • “We want them to change it (the Bill) to say independent faith-based schools do not have to have groups that are in conflict with their beliefs,” Coun. Susan Penner told CBC News on Thursday. —https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/anti-bullying-bill-like-persecution-in-steinbach-1.1340156 (The soldiers could be heard grunting and clacking their spears in noisy agreement outside of the meeting room.)
    • At Steinbach’s Southland Church, pastor Ray Duerksen told parishioners during a (“worship”) service on Feb. 24 that God will judge those who don’t oppose the anti-bullying bill.—https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/anti-bullying-bill-like-persecution-in-steinbach-1.1340156
  • My QUESTIONS for Coun. Penner and Pastor Duerksen include: “Is it still your watch? An elected or appointed position? Both, you say?” And, “At the point when the church and the town finally change their puny positions on LGBTQ issues, what REDRESS can be expected for your irresponsible and discriminatory actions in 2012? Will this redress be financial? A public apology? Resignation? Stoning?
  • I have no questions for the placard-waving chuckleheads or the Roman soldiers. (These two represent the same fertilizer; in different piles.)
  • It is my prediction that the petite young high school student who—armed with only five smooth stones—stood up to colossal hatred in 2012. I believe she will one day be a legislator who will debate on a level battlefield. I expect she will defeat the doctrine-wielding and the spear-wielding, alike. I suspect her “watch” will be empathetic and egalitarian.

Problem Two: Heaven

  • You rent a house. The owner stresses that you—the renter—have full dominion over that house. It’s yours to use as you please. It’s almost as though the landlord told you, “I got awesome insurance so party on, DUDE!” Additionally, you rent this house knowing that you will be moving to a castle at some point in the future. You’ve taken all the necessary steps to assure your admittance to the castle. It’s a done deal.
  • My prediction, based on close personal contact with numerous rat bastards and almost as many sweet soulful brethren is that the renter is not gonna put a lot of leasehold improvements into that rental house. The renter is not gonna worry about a drywall dent here, or a busted tile there, or a swimming pool filled with empty Tim Horton cups. (Or rusted out Chevy Blazers, dirty syringes or radioactive waste, for that matter. It ain’t the renter’s problem.)
  • The renter’s carefree attitude is in high contrast when compared to their landlord-less heathen neighbours who own their abode and who intend to hand it down to their descendants… Those dumb suckers are tasked with the constant upkeep and care of their place, unlike the renter. Renters have the same rights to live in their home as the homeowners but, ‘cuz of the whole “I’m gonna move into a golden castle in the sky” thing, renters don’t really give a Norwegian rat turd about upkeep, cleanliness, sustainability or any other word ending in pollution or climate change or extinction or any words that are not “dominion over”.

Heaven appears to be an effective disincentive to take care of the earth. “DON’T BE GENTLE—IT’S A RENTAL!”

Problem Three: Receipts

Here’s a modern parable:

You run down to Anabaptist Appliances and buy a toaster. It’s fine, until one day you don’t smell burning toast. Hot under the collar, you hustle back to the store and ask to trade-in or return the toaster or to be given warranteed compensation.

“Sure, Mister Ishmael. Do you happen to have a copy of your receipt? I’m gonna need a scriptural confirmation to verify that everything you are telling me is gospel. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“Of course. But, can’t you just take my word? Have you no, uh, faith?”

“Oh bah jo! I believe everything you’ve told me—the trilogy: alternating|direct|ground… the death of the thermostat and its resurrection via the reset button… the four horsemen of the power surge… It’s just that my boss is a stickler and I really need a  proof of purchase.”

He seems insistent, this clerk. Now, you KNOW you bought the toaster—full retail price—at Anabaptist Appliances and you never abused it or changed anything or went outside of the commandments of the operator’s manual so even though you don’t have actual written proof, you say, “Look, bro. I don’t have the receipt, but my buddy James, on King Street, he can vouch for me. Will that do?”

“Sure. As long as it’s in print, on ancient, rotting scrolls, in an appropriate language not spoken on earth in centuries, and concerns only the toaster model later built in the precise triangular region delineated by i.) the old blood-letting clinic (Abe’s Arteries) on Queen up to ii.) Spadina and then back along Graffiti Alley to the location of iii.) the common pasture … we’ll accept that as gospel!”

“Sure, partner. Sounds like we have a deal. Is it okay if the written proof from James on King is filled with ambiguities about when and exactly how to prepare and eat toast, how a toaster should properly be prepared for sacrifice, the selling of a toaster into slavery, the rules governing the crucifixion of a  toaster, and the throwing of plugged-in toasters into the bathtubs of Hittite neighbours?”

“Hittites, eh? They’re the worst. It can even be co-authored by several hundred of James’s best buddies (just not too many women, eh?) and you can come on down and revise it any time you feel like it.”

  • The main trouble with the good book is that it is the product of WRITERS and EDITORS. Untrustworthy louts, by and large. And the genre—is it literary fiction, is it reportage, is it non-fiction, is it science-fiction, is it fantasy, is it non-fiction? Astrological science?  History text-book or historical fiction? Maybe foodie lit? (What Whales Love to Eat: Old Guys with Long Beards… Superbowl Munchies? How to Feed a Crowd with Just Bread and Fish.)
  • Lots of authors. Lots of (Holy) ghostwriters. Distributors and agents gettin’ their Gideon on too and disenfranchising the Midianite Book Club. It’s quite the anthology!

The Bible is kinda like the Leity high rollers (from a long time ago) assuring all us lunchpail Leity types that a Deity won the big hand except the Deity does not want to show His cards. He wants us to take it on His word that He filled His holy straight. He understands our mortal doubts though, and instructs us to have faith. He gives His Leity pals a few tools to help with the convincing; some insider info to prove what He claims. The suite may be Clubs. (But it could be Diamonds.) He may have drawn the Ten or it may have been a pat hand. Sure, His betting pattern doesn’t support it, but… if you don’t believe the Allmighty, you just might be banished to the basement—with his relative, Diablo, who sells life insurance—for the rest of eternity, so… it’s up to you, but I know what I’d do.

~

Also, you cowboy philosophers and your John Prine mix-tapes (“Jesus Christ died for nuthin'” etc.) and your medical marijuana… you can just stop pointing out that whole, “Well, doesn’t the very presence of evil prove that an omnipotent God does not exist?” thing. The man with the long white robe and the gold throne is getting pretty tired of that whole logic spiel and if you don’t want those glaciers to start melting at TURBO speed, then—verily, I say unto you—just watch it!

Conclusion: Wherein the Author Wraps Up with a “Ha! Toro!” and a Swirl of His Fadadatj

“The Holy Fool”. Another parable, of sorts.

You know the story of “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, where supposedly only those with “a perfect sense of fashion” can actually see the King’s new duds. Those peasants without the chic fashion eye cannot even see the King’s new apparel. At least that’s what the King’s advisors tell the King and his court in order to keep their ruse alive. No one dares point out the folly—they all pretend to be able to see the clothes, including the King—and it goes on and on.

Until, a person in the court, a jester perhaps, the so-called “Holy Fool” steps up and says the obvious. “The King is naked.”

Gasps and outrage follow. Slowly, the truth seeps in and then with a surge, everyone is busy denying that they see anything and the truth wins out after much subterfuge.

I sometimes feel like this “Holy Fool”; one who has no investment in the bullshit, a person who is not a part of it—not even close—and who without anything more than average insight utters the obvious, uninfluenced by the need to fall in line.

I am that fool. I cannot be sanctioned because I live a life within, but apart.

A believer may say to me, with force and indignation, that because I am nothing but a Mennonite imposter—a secular Mennonite—that I cannot and do not speak for Mennonites.

And yet,

  • My G-G-GF was Delegate Toews, born in Fischau and sent with 11 brooda to find a new home.
  • My G-GF and G-GM Toews, John and Sarah—late of the Kleine Gemeinde—were shunned from the Holdeman camp—shoed away like a pair of impertinent crows picking at a roadside deer carcass before the eagles had their fill. John and Sarah took umbrage at their unfair ouster and sued the church. The lowly corvids sued the uppity raptors. That must have sent tail-feathers fluttering!

Interesting bonafides, wouldn’t you agree? Plus I grew up in Steinbach Bakery—the floury bullseye of Manitoba’s cultural Mennonite dartboard. Add to that my uncommonly good and well-loved community treasure GrandMother Toews, despite her German Baptist (non-Menno) baptismal certificate. Also, my full-fledged adult-dunked Menno wife and one dunked daughter. (So our little family is 50-50: two wet and two dry. )

http___www.hendersonnebraska.com_wp-content_uploads_2012_04_zwieback

And now, at the end of this trail of breadcrumbs, I find myself standing in the court—not at the bench John and Sarah Toews stood before at the turn of the last century, but the aforementioned King’s court.

Sure enough, the king is naked. In fact, he’s got a boil on his butt the size and texture of an overfilled jambuster and a belly that must be schmaundtfat cuz jelly don’t shake like that!

The dude is, as we used to say, nuck bak-ed!

You say, “I am allowed to do anything”—but not everything is good for you. And even though “I am allowed to do anything,” I must not become a slave to anything. I Corinthians 6:12 (NLT)

So, hear me when I say that I may be uniquely qualified to see it all—including the ignoble and the insincere and the hypocritical—with eagle eyes and a crow’s discernment. I am a slave to none. And with familiarity and empathy and kinship and knowledge of the waymarkers and the places to stumble and those places too, where Mennonites soar.

~

And if I’m a little bit annoying and more didactic than you’re prepared to accept from a everyday guy, an former class-clown, an ex-jock with a plentiful supply of demons and not near enough angels, well… too bad, because no one gave me this job, I just damn well took it.

“Poets are the unauthorized legislators of the universe.”—P. Shelley

We Refugees

My short story, “Groota Pieter” based on my experiences in Southeast Manitoba, is included in this thoughtful, important conversation on forced migration. In 1873, my great-great-grandfather, Cornelius Toews, was one of a group of 12 delegates to travel to North America to scout locations for a mass migration as Russia constricted around their Mennonite villages in the Molotschna region of Ukraine. This historical connection, plus my life in a Canadian diaspora community that now sees others arriving as they once did—scared, unfamiliar, poor, and without a choice—makes the story personal for me.

I’m pleased to be a part of the book and if you happen to be in Melbourne, September 16…

From: https://regalhouseinitiative.org/we-refugees/

We Refugees is now on the shelves in Readings bookshops across Melbourne, and it will be launched by Julian Burnside at Readings Hawthorn next Monday 16th September at 6.30pm.
Two contributors, Kirsty Anantharajah and Akuol Garang are able to be here for the launch, which is very exciting.
The launch details are available via the link below:

Now available in Australia… For release September 27, 2019 in the U.S.

The Regal House Initiative, together with Pact Press, is proud to bring you an anthology of writing by and about refugees, asylum seekers, and other forced migrants. We Refugees is intended to amplify the voices of displaced people and bring their experiences to the awareness of readers. The lead editor for this anthology is Dr. Emma Larking.

Our aim is to provide insights into the lives of the displaced, insights that are often ignored in contemporary media accounts of the global refugee crisis. Rather than present a vision of crisis, we would like to present a vision of hope and energy, to celebrate the resilience of people who have been forced to leave their homes and seek new ones. We sought contributions that may discomfort or challenge readers, presenting the experience of displacement in a manner at odds with more typical representations.

Proceeds from the publication of We Refugees

Editorial work will be provided free of charge by the Pact Press editorial team, lead by Dr. Emma Larking, and all net proceeds from the sale of the anthology will go to support the work of the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre (ASRC).

Based in Melbourne, Australia, the ASRC describes itself as:

…both a place and a movement. We are an independent not for profit organisation, whose programs support and empower people seeking asylum to maximise their own physical, mental and social wellbeing. As a movement, we mobilise and unite communities to create lasting social and policy change for people seeking asylum in Australia. We are proud to be owned and run by our community of volunteers and supporters.

Please visit the ASRC website for more information about its campaignsworkvision and values.

Interview with Artist Virginia Ryan, Contributor to our forthcoming Pact Press Anthology, We Refugees.

we refugees library

~ ~ ~

“Groota Pieter” is also a part of the 2018 Lilly Press publication (U.S.), “The Immigrants” by The River Poets Journal.

“OUT OF THIS WORLD”

I’m equal parts thrilled and honoured to be included in Leslee Goodman’s anthology of The MOON Magazine 2013-2019. As a contributor (“Peacemongers” June 2017) I find myself sharing the lunar night with a wide variety of heavenly minds and rising stars.

OUT OF THIS WORLD back MOON
The back cover of OUT OF THIS WORLD

Jessica Lake, Manitoba—Local author Mitchell Toews has a short story featured in the new anthology, Out of This World: The Best Short Stories from The MOON. His story, “Peacemongers,” tells of young boys wrestling with issues of non-violence, conscientious objection, and how to stand up to a bully in Hartplatz, Manitoba, against the backdrop of the Cuban missile crisis. The story is one of 23 works included in this anthology from The MOON magazine, a monthly journal of personal and universal reflections. (Full Press Release linked below.) “Peacemongers” is one of eight “Making Peace” selections in the book.

Curious and ready for a great summer read? Both Kindle and softcover versions of the anthology are available on Amazon at a great price! Take a brief exit from this world and its circular rancour, breaking news, rising water and record temperatures and find 23 new worlds to explore!

Preview a sampling of OUT OF THIS WORLD here: http://a.co/hL673Qd

Booksellers—US & Canada Retailers, Christian Retailers, International Retailers: https://www.ingramcontent.com/retailers/contact

Public and K-12 Libraries— https://www.ingramcontent.com/libraries

Press Release—Local author Mitch Toews featured in Out of This World anthology

Kits mitch zoom
Contributor Mitchell Toews of Jessica Lake, Manitoba

~ ~ ~

Invisible people | Addressing homelessness

The theme for the July 2019 issue of The MOON Magazine is Invisible People. It’s a multi-faceted look at homelessness. “If your brother becomes impoverished and his hand falters beside you, you shall strengthen him, whether he is a stranger or a native, so that he can live with you.” – Leviticus 25:35

 

What’s it all about, Alfie?

An outdated song-movie reference, but truly, what IS it all about?

Followers. Friends. Connections.

I have them, I value many… some not so much. I’ve made new friends via twitter and Facebook. It is a time-consumer, the internet is, that’s for sure but I’ll gladly put in the time if there is a pay-off.

And if the pay-off is simply getting to know a few more cool people on the planet? I’m in.

But…

What do the figures mean? What is helpful to a writer? What does an editor or a literary agent or a publisher really care about beyond the story?

Build your base, countless consultants with extremely white teeth and button-down collars proclaim.

I’d be glad to know about the Malcolm points that magically tip things in my favour and take my story from “promising” to “compelling” or from “not a good fit for us right now” to “we are goddamn-freaking-mind-blown to have you on board, you massive rock star in a blue plaid shirt!” Or words to that effect.

At the same time, I have my own disclaimers. I care about working with people who like me and whom I enjoy — I feel like I’ve earned that privilege and so my journey up & down the rocky, steep, and sometimes treacherous fiction trail is among friends and pleasant, fun people. Sure, they’re skilled and sharp and they gotta be smart. Hard-working and honest; of course, but they also must be just plain old nice. Share a deserted island with nice. Two-hole outhouse nice. (Okay — no one is that nice.)

Anyway, please tell me… what’s it all about?

Twitter = 4,484 followers @Mitchell_Toews (See my mapped follower results in the image above.)

Facebook = 234 friends https://www.facebook.com/mitch.toews

LinkedIn = 785 connections https://www.linkedin.com/in/mitchtoews/

Goodreads = 7 followers and 165 friends https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18450919.Mitchell_Toews

Mitchellaneous.com blog = 148 subscribers https://mitchellaneous.com/

Otter Redux

My short and furry flash fiction, “I am Otter” is up on the new site: Short Tales – Flash Fiction Stories. The online site, which is aimed at international readers, features stories of no more than 1500 words. https://tale.code.blog/ Editor: @samkandej

I am Otter was first published by The Machinery in August 2017.

Mitchell lives and writes lakeside in Manitoba. He enjoys those splendid opportunities to fire in a one-hopper from deep in fiction’s left field, where ideas go to get green-stained and bedevilled.

 

The Peacemongers

Have you, as a child or in your youth or adulthood, asked yourself the question, “Would I go to war?”

The Baby Boomer generation in Canada has walked between the raindrops when it comes to war. Prior generations—in particular—and those who followed have fought for their country. In fact, WW2 Lee-Enfields are proudly slung on the branches of my own Manitoba family tree.

Part of a unique cohort, many Canadian Mennonites of military age during the war years were subject to the rigours of the Conscientious Objector process. For Mennonite children who watched John Wayne on Saturday and shared faspa with former CO relatives on Sunday, this was a confusing set of “truths” to discern. A moral minefield. Throw in our German language, a biased and reluctant postponements Judge, and more recent revelations concerning the relationship between Nazism and Mennonites for a virtual singularity of perplexity.

Did Canada’s initial mandate on September 10, 1939—to help defend the British Isles and Hong Kong—give permission for an individual committed to peace to abrogate their personal vows? To set aside their faith? If so, was there reason enough to make a case to Dee Oola at the pearly gates? Enough to quell a wretched conscience?

Or, on the other hand, was it right to act in utter defiance and effectively abandon the country that took them in and saved them or their family members from violence, and in many cases, military conscription elsewhere? Did Mennonites hide behind their promised freedom from conscription in the face of a world crisis of evil?

How could a twenty-something boy from the farm or a village on the prairies, likely without reliable access to world news, make these choices?

I’m sure of only one thing: I’m relieved and fortunate that I did not have to make the choice to fight or refuse. Or to flee. Nor have my children, nor—I hope—will my grandchildren be forced to bear arms or decide between equally unbearable acts.

#

I took a look at this through the lens of fiction in my story, “The Peacemongers”, published in The MOON Magazine, June 2017. My short story appeared in the “Swords into plowshares: Transitioning to a world without war,” issue.

I’m pleased to announce that Publisher/Editor Leslee Goodman has chosen, “The Peacemongers” to be included in an upcoming anthology from The MOON Magazine titled “Out of this World: The Best Short Stories from The MOON, Volume 1”.

I’ll provide more information on this publication here and on Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter, once details and availability are determined.

My thanks and appreciation to Ms. Goodman for all she does and for giving my words a small part in it!

The MOON magazine

Support intimate storytelling for as little as $5/month: https://www.patreon.com/LesleeGoodman

See Change

“Can a sixty-three-year-old aufjefollna Mennonite living next to a lake in the boreal be part of change in the worldwide artistic landscape?”

Sure. In a small way, why the Mitchell not?

I’m quite sure some of the change champions featured in this article would agree:

12 Leaders Who Are Shaping the Next Generation of Artists

http://time.com/longform/art-leaders-next-generation/

I found this piece inspiring, even for a schnuddanäse like me.

I’m four years into a smashmouth experiment — my longtime dream to write fiction. To be published and to leave something good behind. To ask some interesting questions. All that stuff that sounds like a lot of fluff and horseshit, but is in fact, as tough it comes.

Chris Jackson

Publisher and editor in chief of One World, a Penguin Random House imprint

“But his goal is not to acquire any book by a writer from a marginalized background for diversity’s sake alone. ‘The idea that the imprint is committed to diversity is kind of absurd,’ Jackson says. ‘We want to reflect the world we live in.’ The imprint allows writers to tell subversive stories in an authentic way, without what he calls ‘white filtering,’ or couching stories in ways that feel comfortable or familiar to white readers.”

This is a helpful communication for me.

I am a grizzled old white guy, writing about real life in small towns, times bygone and present day, the northern forest, basketball and baseball, bruised knuckles, and Mennonite themes. While I personally have not benefitted directly from the near past’s traditional preponderance of white men in literary fiction, I undoubtedly benefitted in many ways in other parts of my life in Canadian and American society. I have a legacy of privilege. So, I don’t feel I can or should complain—at all—about other cohorts like minorities or women who, these days, might get a small advantage for not being a white guy.

Jackson’s clear call to, “…reflect the world we live in,” explains what has been a difficult and highly coded part of lit fic for me. I take this editor’s message to mean that I am not to be excluded, I just have to share. Proportionately, or even a little less, and accept the new status quo with some grace.

I believe I can do that, in fact, that’s just what I want to do. Thank you, Chris Jackson.

I also find clarity in his comment about “white filtering”. I know this too well. While I don’t “white filter”, per se, I sure as H-E-double-hockey-sticks know how to structure a story to appeal to conservatives, especially my Mennonite brethren. I also know how to pimp up a story to fit more liberal (my own true bearing) perspectives. Horses for courses, but not for literary honesty.

To engage in this posturing is specious at worst, unnecessary at best. My charge as an artist is to invest my work with honesty and courage, not to try to predict the audience reaction and pander my story. No filtering, of any colour or creed.

Sounds easy, but it ain’t. We writers want to be liked. But, again, Mr. Jackson’s leadership is helpful to me. Maybe I’ll be liked as one of the new age of subversive Mennonite authors writing, “in an authentic way” and without parsing readers by pew, rank, and political or social geist.

* * *

I hope you enjoy the article, I sure as hell did!

 

Place and Time

foc flannery place and time quote only

Ah, eternity.

My stories—and everyone else’s—spring from life. Life lived, life observed, life imagined. Life reconstructed.

A vital part of each story—and each life—is place and time. Truths from one era or one location or one moment in a given journey alter and define the future.

Driven by my own curiosity, here is a roll-call of Place, Time, and basic protagonist context from my stories:

i — “Encountered on the Shore” A university student makes an unsettling discovery in downtown Winnipeg, in the fall of 1973.

ii — “A Vile Insinuation” During the summer following, the main character from “Encountered on the Shore” considers fate and blessings at a baseball tournament in Vita, Manitoba, near the US border.

iii — “Without Reason” Now retired, the MC from “Encountered” and “Vile”, is diagnosed with cancer and he considers his plight and that of others like him. Set in his small Mennonite prairie hometown, current day.

i — “Zero to Sixty” A retired man is attacked, near Christmas in Chilliwack, BC, current day.

ii — “The Margin of the River” and the audio except, “Wide Winter River” The MC from “Zero to Sixty” considers what happened the day before and sees first hand the inequity and sorrow that is built into life. All life.

“The Rothmans Job” An odd couple set out on a dubious nighttime caper during a fierce winter blizzard in Winnipeg, during the 1970s.

“South of Oromocto Depths” A teenage boy gets into a foolish skirmish with his father on the Victoria Day long weekend in 1971 New Brunswick.

 “Nothing to Lose” A former hockey player looks back on his life and his regrets in rural Manitoba during the dusty heat of summer, in the Sixties.

“Heavy Artillery” A young baseball fan in 1962 becomes embroiled in adult suspicion and prejudice in a small prairie town — predominantly Mennonite. (The imaginary, recurrent town of “Hartplatz, Manitoba”.)

“A Fisherman’s Story” In 1970, on the Mexican Pacific coast, an elderly woman and her young daughter are dealt an unfair hand. (P.S. — the prequel and the sequel to this story appear in the trilogy “The Bottom of the Sky”. See link below.)

“Winter Eve in Walker Creek Park” A trio of females on a wintery night in St. Catherines, Ontario, near Christmastime, current day.

“Breezy and the Six-Pack Sneaker” A rainy, beery night in Hartplatz in the Sixties is the scene for a tangled yarn of deception.

“The Fifty Dollar Sewing Machine” A straight-laced Mennonite husband and wife take on danger in a dark Winnipeg alley in 1934. (Rerun on Literally Stories, Feb 17.)

“Frozen Tag” A man encounters a strange reprise from his past (at the Minneapolis Athletic Club in 1980) in the Chilliwack Leisure Centre, current day.

“The Business of Saving Souls”  A youth pastor in the fictitious city of Tribune, in the northern US Midwest meets challenges in the sanctuary of a gleaming megachurch, current day.

“The Preacher and His Wife” Palace intrigue, Harplatz style, throws a family into an untoward uproar in the 1960s.

“I am Otter” A shunned congregant discusses culture, power, and enfranchisement with a stranger near a lake in Manitoba, current day.

“The Beefeater and the Donnybrook”  A mild-mannered Halifax, NS tourist is mistaken and mistook in drizzly London, current day.

“The Log Boom” Poignant points of view — a father, son, and grandfather in the Lower Mainland of BC, current day.

“The Peacemongers” War, bullies and knuckle justice from the perspective of a boy in Hartplatz, circa 1965.

“Fairchild, McGowan and the Detective” Recalling employment, both the good and the bad in Hartplatz and Winnipeg, 1970-80.

“Graperoo” A piece of Graperoo bubblegum experiences the four seasons in rural Manitoba in the Sixties.

“So Are They All” It’s September 1961 and a young boy receives an education in loyalty and courage in his grandmother’s country raspberry patch.

“The Seven Songs” A middle-aged Canadian man meets a local contemporary at a resort in Mexico, current day.

“Fall From Grace” A boy gets stuck in a fraught adventure and learns about his father through it in the heat of a prairie summer in Hartplatz, 1963.

“Away Game” A 50-something man meets with an older family member at the side of a dreamy, summery lake in Manitoba’s boreal forest, current day.

“In the Dim Light Beyond the Fence” The reader travels back into Canadian small-town hardball with the MC, reliving a fateful doubleheader from the Fifties.

“The Doeling” A brother and sister’s lives entwine from an east coast Canadian city to Belize and back. The Sixties to current day, various seasons.

“City Lights” A small-town “up-and-comer” gets in over his head in Toronto, current day.

“Groota Pieter” Spring softball in small-town Mennonite Manitoba is described, from the Sixties to current day.

“Sweet Caporal at Dawn” On a moody Manitoba morning near a spring lake, a youngster and an older confederate fish for pickerel during the mid-Seventies.

“The Bottom of the Sky” A trilogy that follows a “pinche” cabin-boy and the ship’s captain on a fishing charter boat from 1955 Acapulco to the future in a fishing village in the Seventies. (P.S. – If you’re inclined, give this story a read and tell me if you think it could be adapted into a screenplay. I see it in flickering snatches of film in my head and just wonder if that occurs to anyone else. If you’re a screenwriter or in film, I’d love an opinion — tough love included. —mjt)

“Shade Tree Haven” An adult remembers more than he cares to as he thinks back to summers at a favourite swimming pool in the early 1960s.

“The Narrowing” A sensitive boy and his straight-ahead grandfather go through a harrowing experience in the Manitoba wilds, current day. An important secondary character in Abbotsford, BC is part of the story.

“The Phage Match” In a surreal radio broadcast from somewhere in Canada, current day, the evils of drug addiction are the backdrop for some strange characters.

“Died Rich” A high school freshman in a frigid southern Manitoba winter in 1961 struggles to endure.

“Concealment” A fledgling Manitoba business traveller gets more than he expects on a springtime trip to the Atlanta Zoo in the 1980s.

“Mulholland & Hardbar” (Novel WIP) A troubled youth experiences the four seasons in the Canadian Shield: love, friendship, deceit, and violence. 1972.

Drama: From the Greek, “to do” or “to act”

 

 

 

 

MORNING SERIAL: PRAIRIE’S END, MANITOBA 5 ~ Conclusion

Episode 5 – Our Finale – Showdown at the ¿Por qué? Corral

DANIELLE OARLESS peeked at her face in the compact mirror, snapped the clam-lid shut and placed it back in her crocodile embossed Downtown Baby Cabas bag. She moved towards her prey now with reptilian confidence, gliding silently over the cheap tiled floor as if it were ermine and she the pampered palm of a princess.

Entering the interrogation room, her shadow crossed Wade’s downcast view. He immediately looked up and demanded, “When do we get outta here?” his face a mask of annoyance.

“Soon, I promise,” the sultry Lieutenant replied, wetting her lips and sending a fast wink at the impatient man. She surveyed the room, pausing to nod at Kowalski, addressing him informally. “Alright, Shep, time to make an arrest. You may close the door if you don’t mind.”

As Kowalski stepped by her to secure the door, Oarless moved in behind Old Man Reimer and, placing her Saint Laurent on the table, set her feet like a lead-off hitter digging into the fresh sand of the batter’s box. Once she was comfortable, she raised both hands quickly, and, nuzzling the stubbly hog jowls on either side of Reimer’s neck with her large hands—she clenched handfuls of skin and PULLED!

Double-barrelled snot flew out of Reimer’s nostrils as he reacted with understandable shock, his eyes bulging like a hooked fish.

“Time to take off this mask, time to introduce the real smuggler… DIKJ WULF!” Danielle shouted, her neck corded and shoulders heaving as she strained to remove the mask. No headway, though…

Sputtering, cursing, his buttocks now several inches above the curved plywood of his chair bottom, Reimer seemed about to faint, to be decapitated, or to simply expire from the force of Oarless’s brawny exertions. Before any of these dire outcomes could take place, Kowalski’s voice cut through the din—

“Excuse me, Lieutenant, I believe it’s me you seek.” Kowalski stood behind her, a rubber mask with only black holes for eyes dangled from his hand.

Little Ben Reimer looked on from the other room, in utter dismay. The speaker crackled with the audio and he could see the action unfold as though he was watching an NFL game on a big screen TV.

“I’d never have guessed, in a thousand years,” he said to an equally-astonished Roget, “a Wulf in Shep’s clothing!”

* * *

“So, explain this again,” said Roget, “I’ll have an exposition chaser with this hoppy IPA,” he then reiterated.

“Sure,” Oarless said, draining her beer and jiggling the empty glass at the barman, Corny Süppsach, owner of the Shrieking Rooster Taproom, a former watering-hole for Danielle and her loqui abundantem partner.

“I knew all of the apparent ‘clues’ were nothing more than red herrings scattered about by the perp, or possibly Wade, who was trying to negotiate a buy-out of Old Man Reimer, or maybe even false evidence laid by Little Ben, who wanted to squeeze out his old man.”

Roget nodded, and in the quiet of Oarless’s pause, hummed with the tonal quality of a synthesizer, like the sound of a Dutch Oven lid slamming shut:

“DOON, DOON!”

“Ha, very clever, you repetitious recapitulator, you!” Oarless said, smiling her approval. “Yes, Dikj Wulf, creator of  ‘Slaw and Flounder’, CBC’s longest running cooking show. How did I know, you ask?”

“The sting from that show haunts my dreams, like the howls of the dogs of hell!” Roget admitted, somewhat off-topic.

“Anyway, I could not see any motive for our suspects to smuggle in these industrial-sized quantities of Mexican vanilla, so I had to look elsewhere.”

Roget made snaky-eyes at Danielle, pretending to understand. She continued:

“I pulled his LUDs and did some digging. After a night of drinking coffee from those awful little blue take-out cups…”

cup nyc doon doon prairie's end.png

“Oh you mean the cups with the kinda, faux Greek aesthetic—the meander graphic on the top and the picture of the amphora vase…”

“Roll up the rim, you win,” she confirmed. “Anyway, it was the cups that gave me the clues…”

“Wait! How did you get iconic New York City takeout coffee cups in Prairie’s End?” Corny Süppsach interrupted. The balding redhead had wandered over, his BiC poised over a small spiral notebook. “And what does an American TV prop have to do with a cooking show on the CBC?”

“Never mind that, how can you expect there to be no plot holes in a yarn as convoluted as this?”

“Trü,” Roget said in a dietsch accent, with a “when-yer-right-yer-right” look.

Corny just shrugged. “Yoma leid ecksai.”

“So, to continue,” she glowered at the barkeep, who hitched at his pants, Humphrey Bogart style. “I had to find the one person in Prairie’s End with a vested interest in massive quantities of vanilla. I looked at Old Man Reimer’s telephone bill and there it was!”

“1-800-PORN-R-US?” Corny offered.

“GO AWAY! Who invited you here, anyway, dü oult, roothoahrijch Tjreihohn?” Danielle yelled, now enraged at the bearded, freckled interloper.

“This expositional conclusion would go a lot smoother if the author had not inserted himself so rudely into the proceedings,” Roget said confidentially, looking directly at the reader and cracking the divide between the fictive and the fictee.

“Last chance!” Danielle said, making a threatening fist and regaining the floor. “I assumed it was Old Man Reimer, trying to make a few bucks off the books before flipping the Reimer Reindeer company to his ne’er do well stepson Ben, or to Wade,  but…” she paused, glaring at Corny Süppsach, who retreated, showing surprisingly good footwork for an old, red-haired, loudmouth rooster.

“But,” she continued, “Dikj Wulf had even thought of that and he had snuck into Reimer’s trailer and made all of the calls back to CBC Toronto, Mexico, and the Montreal Vanilla District from there. That’s why I figgered it was Old Man Reimer,” she concluded, raising her glass in a self-toast.

* * *

Unseen, in a black Cadillac parked across from the Shrieking Rooster, Juanita sat with her inscrutable leader, Randy the schinda Accounts Receivable clerk. The car idled quietly, sending a thin ribbon of white exhaust up towards the winter stars of the Northern Hemisphere. Dark tinted glass gleamed the starlight back at the sky.

“Shep Kowalski—AKA Dikj Wulf—is in for five-to-ten, Little Ben and Wade have agreed to our terms in exchange for ownership of Reimer Reindeers, and our friends at the vainilla cartel are most pleased with the way we’ve cornered the market in Canada. That just about does it, Oomtje Randy. Anything else you’d like done before Oarless and that half-wit return to the NorthWest Angle?”

Randy sat unmoving in the back seat. His neatly trimmed white hair contrasted with his dark tailored suit, and the perfect Winsor knot in his cashmere Paolo Albizzati.  After flicking a bored glance at Juanita, he inhaled with languid slowness, filling his chest with  Caddy interior air. Without moving his lips, Randy replied in perfect synthesizer pitch:

“DOON, DOON!”

 

The End… For now.

Fade to black, roll credits, playback theme music

Addendum, 11.19.18: Here’s a few lines of lyric for the theme music, somewhat reminiscent of “The Sopranos” maybe, or “Fresh Off the Boat”, wiv jus a sprinkle aw Mike Skinner innit too, oiy?

♫ All rise for Menno rap…
Praise God from whom
Yo, we’re singing the dox,
harmonizin’ the dox
All creatures here be–yooooo
Yo, we sinje the dox!
Yo, we sinje the dox!
Got my oab boots on
Where’s my MAGA hat, Don?
Gonna drain that pond
from da lowlands yon
Gonna eat my schnectje–get yer own, my maun!
Ain’t no buttons!
Ain’t no buttons!
Ain’t no buttons!
HEAR THE HOOK!:
Yo, we’re singing the dox,
harmonizin’ the dox
All creatures here be–yooooo
Yo, we sinje the dox!
Yo, we sinje the dox!
And soowaut…