October 26 page pulse

October 31, 2026

http://filidhbooks.com Phone: 250-589-2385 E-mail: info@filidhbooks.com

Volume 3, Issue 10

October, 2026

Welcome to the October Newsletter

Your gateway to stories, events, and creative community!

New & Noteworthy

We have updated the Subscribers' and FANS distribution lists. If this is your first newsletter, previous issues are available on our website.

Monthly Friendly Authors Networking Socials (F.A.N.S.)

Next FANS meeting:

Saturday, November 21, 10:30 am to noon.

UKAW Coffee Shop (formerly A Kinder Cup)

Admirals Walk Shopping Centre.

Just the Deets:

FANS met on Saturday, October 10, at Serious Coffee on Esquimalt Road. It was a lively gathering, with a good turnout and plenty of discussion. The venue was pleasant, though the noise level occasionally made conversation difficult.

Members discussed the recent Writers’ Retreat, upcoming literary events, and their current writing projects. Everyone shared updates on what they were working on and the factors likely to affect their writing and publishing plans in the coming months.

The group agreed to try a different venue for next month’s meeting. There was also some discussion about whether Filidh Books would sponsor another book fair in December. It was noted that the need for a lower-cost vendor event has largely been met by other local opportunities. Instead, the December 12^th date would be reserved for the regular FANS meeting, perhaps with a bit of holiday flair.

info@filidhbooks.com

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Writing at the Turn of the Year — A Writers’ Retreat Adventure

By Ron Kearse

I had always wanted to experience going to a writing retreat. So, when a chance like heading up to Painter’s Lodge in Campbell River for a couple of days to be with other writers presented itself, I jumped at it! Four of us gathered together, and off we went on what we figured was probably going to be a four-hour journey from Victoria to Campbell River.

And so it was that we arrived in Campbell River almost an hour earlier than expected (and that included a stop in Nanaimo for a leisurely lunch); we immediately got checked in to our rooms and got settled. The grounds around Painter’s Lodge were sprawling. The main building, where we checked in, was itself a sprawling piece of four-storey, wooden architecture complete with a dome in the middle of the building’s roof. It looked palatial as it stood dead centre of all the action swirling by like autumn leaves; as it gazed across the Salish Sea to Quadra Island. Amazing view!

The entire group met for dinner in the restaurant/pub, and then the eighteen of us gathered in the meeting room that evening for the first workshop, “A Dark and Stormy Night,” facilitated by Kim Bannerman. Together we explored how weather, mood, and environment can influence both story and character. I found this fascinating. I had never stopped to consider just how much these things influence a story’s feel and how the characters behave/react. and it inspired me to write a bare-bones opening to, what looks like, my third Craig book!

Day Two

After a restless night, the much–needed morning coffee and pastries were a welcomed sight back in the meeting room the next morning. We began our first workshop of the day with Kim once again in a presentation called, “Set Your Setting Apart.” We explored how landscape, memory, location, and lived experience shapes one’s writing.

After a half-hour break, our late morning session was a workshop by Claire Mulligan called “Of Odes and Wonder + Of Bounty and Beauty.” We had some great writing exercises during this workshop, and a couple of them inspired me to add more material to what I was going to include in this new book that I’m preparing to write.

After lunch, all of us had the choice to either stay at the lodge and have some free writing time, or go on a small field trip to the Campbell River Museum. Apparently, the museum is quite good, with a lot of interesting local and historical exhibits. But I wanted to get a good start on some rough notes for the new book while I had this inspiration happening. So I stayed at the lodge and did manage to get a few pages of rough notes together.

After dinner, the evening featured an author reading open mic for anybody who wanted to read. It had been a while since I had last done a reading, I decided to read what I had written that afternoon. In spite of a few incidents of me tripping over my words because of my sometimes-illegible cursive, I was quite pleased with how things went.

Day Three

The next morning began with one last workshop called, “Seeking the Muse,” with Claire Mulligan. It was interesting learning, for example, how one might develop a small, dramatic scene simply by creating, what amounts to, a to-do list. I found that creatively challenging and entertaining.

Around 11 AM, the four of us had checked out, and after a stop for lunch at a great little café called The Fork and Arrow in Campbell River, we headed back to Victoria. I felt invigorated and inspired after spending a couple of days with other creative people and being immersed in creative challenges. I’m looking forward to any future opportunities to attend another retreat should one avail itself to me.

Writing Exercise: Location as a Character. Describe your House.

A streetlamp stands tall at the edge of the cul-de-sac, marking the entry steps to a row of townhomes. A long white ghost flag clings to it, flying boldly in the breeze, alerting passersby and alarming rodents. Darkened concrete stairs, broken and overgrown with weeds, draw you forward. Not dangerous exactly, but do mind your step.

The townhouse interior is darkened in quiet anticipation and fails to distract you from the more immediate infestation of witches, ghouls, tombstones, and creatures from the depths of the front lawn. Above the porch, the eyes of a giant cat blink on the roof, and a Jack-o’-lantern glows menacingly where once a porch light shone. The orange light lengthens shadows of the disturbing remnants of someone’s nightmare.

A sign on the door claims, “The Witch is In.” As you reach up to knock and perhaps wonder at the wisdom of summoning such a person, you hear the growling and snarling of the evil that lives within.

The rattling of the mail slot positioned low in the door startles you. What manner of beast is this?

Don’t put your hand in there!

By Zoe Duff

Photo of her house

In the Spotlight –

Author of the Month: Karen Lee White

Karen Lee White is Salish, Tuscarora, Chippewa and Scots who lives in the territory of the lək̓ʷəŋən and Xwsepsum People (Vancouver Island, British Columbia). Karen was adopted by the Dak`laweidí Wolf Clan of the Interior Tlingit/Tagish people on whose land her second novel Bonewalker unfolds. Her first novel, The Silence (2018 Exile Editions) went into a second printing within six weeks of release. was Commissioned in 2018 by the Banff for a special edition, Fables for the 21st Century, and in 2017 Karen was awarded an Indigenous Art Award for Writing by the Hnatyshyn Foundation. Her work has appeared in Impact: Colonialism in Canada, That Damned Beaver, Bawaajigan, Mother, the Verb, EXILE/EQ Magazine, alive, and other journals. A playwright, she has been commissioned by theatres in Vancouver and Victoria.

Excerpt of the Month:

(Excerpt from Bonewalker by Karen Lee White)

I’m going to tell this story the way you butcher a moose. Bleed it out; spill the guts of it right on the ground. It's the only way to tell it. All the funk of a warm, opened, wild animal will hit you right where you stand.

I’m not saying this is an easy one to tell. It's going to be me bleeding and gut spilling. But here goes.

Ever notice, that from the air, roads are pretty at much at angles and rivers snake? From the ground, you don’t have the same perspective.

My life was a snaking river. I never knew which way it was going to turn. The only thing I knew for sure is that the river would keep on moving. There is a lie I have been carrying all my life. The lie is that I killed someone. Someone who did not deserve to die. I didn't kill her outright; I just stood by as she died a little at a time. Each time someone beat her, swore at her, demoralized her butterfly spirit, I did nothing. Was silent. When she was tormented, abused, kidnapped, held at gunpoint, shot at, choked and brutalized, I stood by, heartless. Detached. I witnessed it all. That person I killed? It was me.

I come from the darkest depth of the space in between. From cold. Nothingness. Black space. There is only a driving need, want. The starving for warmth, blood, heartbeat, flesh.

I must find a host. Walk in your bones. I want the light, need your blood moving heat, to feel the sensation of being alive.

I must be attached to you to feel this. I feed off the hideous possibilities. Dark hunger. This is my lifeblood, my oxygen.

I wait. Wait for a sign of weakness as I stalk my prey. I am patient. Follow until the right moment of detachment, a break in awareness. Then I enter. But you will not know. Your mind will be confused by my sudden presence. Bewilderment so loud that you will be unaware.

I must cling to you long enough that I become you. Your heartbeat, breath, the cells of your body. I become the blood flooding through your veins, an ebbing and flowing red tide driven by the beat of the heart. I become your breath. I become your existence. I become your marrow, I become your bones, as you walk, I walk. I walk in the marrow. I am Bonewalker. I am truly homeless, starving until I find the host. I infiltrate cells, so by the time I am fully integrated, you will be unable to know where you end, and I begin. Like a disease, I eat my way into spirit, become you.

As long as you live, I am alive within you.

I fight to protect the host, to stay within. Cunning, vigilant. My sole purpose is to stay, to keep the host alive.

Heartless, soulless. A vacuum. But within a host, I have a whisper of a heart and soul, an echo of being and, though that is never enough, to satiate it is something.

Control. I battle for control. Until you are no longer yourself, but a shadow of what you once were.

We Bonewalkers are teachers. We teach humans what they would never want to know.”

The Briefing

(an excerpt from Andrew Bridgeman, author, newsletter)

Hi Zoe,

I follow famous authors on social media. Why? Because I'm a masochist, maybe.

Every book release post is the same: a selfie of the smiling author with three hundred people holding his or her books in the background.

If you follow me on social media and haven't seen me posting photos with two hundred readers holding Noble Reckoning, don't worry. You didn't miss anything.

My family photographs my events. It takes a certain skill to set up

a shot so it gives the impression that more people are in the crowd.

I'm in Calgary now. Tomorrow, I'll talk about my books to a few people.

But last I checked, Calgary is in Canada, which means I can call this my "international" book tour.

Fact is, most of the bookstores and libraries are within a couple hours of my house.

Attendance has been good. Some events might even qualify as robust. Others? A tad underwhelming.

It can be humbling putting yourself out there.

You announce you're coming. The bookstore puts your name on

the calendar. Maybe they even make a nice poster with your face

on it. Will anyone come?

Last Saturday, Kath and I drove almost four hours round trip to a bookstore in Nashua, NH. Three readers showed up.

And guess what? It was a blast. Great people. Great time.

Almost worth the gas money to get there.

There was Jane, a faithful reader of The Briefing, who gave Kath a gigantic hug. They connected immediately, recognizing in each other a familiar mixture of grief, pain, and love. Reggie was there. He works at a library. Somehow, he found my books.
Reggie is quiet but thoughtful, and it was delightful getting to know him.

Then there was Vince. He just graduated with an MFA in writing. He's been slogging through his novel. Vince asked great questions, and I think he left with an understanding that he wasn't alone on his journey.

And then there was Mike, the bookstore manager, who put out cookies for twenty and

sat in the back listening. We chatted about books after everyone left.

I would have driven four hours to hang out with any one of those people.

I used to worry about attendance because I thought it was a reflection of me as an author. Not so much anymore.

When someone comes to see me at a bookstore or library, they've made an effort.

They could be home. Sitting in their favorite chair. Reading a good book. Watching television.

Personally, I don't think I'd leave my couch to see me. But they came anyway.

A lot of them have already bought my book. Maybe they've read all three. Maybe they borrowed one from the library.

And now they're giving me their time.

There's something enormously generous about that.

And what do I get out of it? More than you'd think.

I spend much of my life alone in a room above the garage, creating imaginary people and putting them through hell. It's a strange occupation.

For months, sometimes years, I have no idea whether any of it will matter to someone other than me. And then I meet a reader.

A real person who's spent hours in the world I invented. Someone who knows Emma Noble. Who cares what happens to her.

Suddenly, all those solitary hours feel a little less solitary.

I'm grateful for the people who show up. The people who read The Briefing.

People like you.

Almost four hours on the road. Three readers. I can't wait to do it again!

Andy

(Contributor note: Andy includes a promo photo of his book cover and links to his social media with a request that the reader subscribe to his newsletter for more interesting “stuff”. Brilliant and stands out from the onslaught of email sludge.)