From the Archives — Writing with Writer’s Block
I always used to write. No one could keep me from writÂing down my ever-changÂing thoughts, my nevÂer-endÂing stream of conÂsciousÂness. I was conÂstantÂly writÂing, but what am I doing now? I only write long after I am supÂposed to. I no longer write for fun—honestly, someÂtimes I feel like I no longer write at all.
I have a friend whose dream is to help change the world’s perÂspecÂtive. LitÂtle does he know he has long had this gift to help othÂers expeÂriÂence a more real and subÂseÂquentÂly beauÂtiÂful way of life. He once told me that motiÂvaÂtion will not come to you. It is someÂthing you must exerÂcise every day so that you might ingrain yourÂself with a betÂter verÂsion of yourÂself. You are more than your failures—and more than your fleetÂing sucÂcessÂes. You can be so much more. You need to keep pushÂing yourÂself and forge motiÂvaÂtion rather than waitÂing for the imposÂsiÂble to hapÂpen.
So here I am, with pen to page—or rather finÂgers to keys—ready to start makÂing good habits. I want to write, that much is true. I want to sucÂceed.
Writer’s block is so much more than getÂting stuck. It is conÂtinÂuÂal digÂging. BuryÂing myself along the way. And when things start to setÂtle, I am remindÂed that the world and all my loved ones are movÂing on withÂout me. WithÂout me?
So, here’s my start.
When you expeÂriÂence writer’s block, what do you do? Next time you find yourÂself in this sitÂuÂaÂtion, rememÂber that it’s okay if you don’t write today—try again tomorÂrow. Pace yourÂself; if you expect to write for a deadÂline, and only a deadÂline, you won’t have the opporÂtuÂniÂty to make your writÂing your own. If you feel rushed, your creÂativÂiÂty can be overÂlooked.
Take a breath. Free yourÂself from disÂtracÂtions. Allow yourÂself to take breaks. Often, we feel presÂsured to write and think only about proÂducÂing rather than creÂatÂing. As someÂone who describes myself as a pasÂsionÂate writer, I someÂtimes dread sitÂting down to write and leave my projects until the last minute. Due to my proÂcrasÂtiÂnaÂtion, much of my work feels rushed, and I don’t leave time to make my writÂing into someÂthing I am proud of.
Don’t setÂtle. That’s someÂthing I had to learn the hard way as all of my assignÂments met the requireÂments, but they didn’t sound like my writing—at least not someÂthing I would be proud of. Push yourÂself to go beyond expecÂtaÂtions and prove what you are capaÂble of to the world.
Give yourÂself time to write and make it a part of your rouÂtine. It’s okay to start slow as long as you conÂstantÂly move forÂward, improve your skills, and learn how to love writÂing again. As stuÂdents, we need to make sure we are mainÂtainÂing our menÂtal health, studÂies, and relaÂtionÂships; I proÂpose that we priÂorÂiÂtize our pasÂsions and the reclaÂmaÂtion of our writÂing.
Good luck and keep writÂing, my friends.
Kira Keir
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — 2021 Poetry Contest Winner – Zoë Nilson’s “morning”

The ESA proudÂly presents “mornÂing” by ZoĂ« NilÂson as the winÂning poem of the ESA’s Fall 2021 PoetÂry ConÂtest.
mornÂing
not always, but some days
I wake up feelÂing new.
nesÂtled in these sheets, I rise
careÂless, but not clumÂsy.
no one awake in this tight, tight house
only me, robed in fresh light
daybreak’s armistice
my mind rolls out like fog over hills until
a door slams, lovers howl
a bruÂtal reminder of this sufÂfoÂcatÂing comÂpaÂny
cacophÂoÂnous in its casuÂalÂties, my heart tightÂens rudeÂly
waxÂing and wanÂing for some kind of emptiÂness
so I slip out the door, before the prickÂles and horns
sprout from my back, skull-tearÂing acriÂmoÂny
for words that only serve to fill the empÂty space
that hangs there, perÂfectÂly vacant.
the house burns behind me
implodÂing enerÂgy, eclecÂtiÂcism, eatÂing themÂselves
but not me,
moldÂing into desÂtined desÂoÂlaÂtion
not always, but most days.
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — 2021 ESA Writing Contest Winner – Maya Linsley’s “Waiting Room”

The waitÂing room crackÂles. Not in an excitÂed way; just stale. Kind of like everyÂone there is still recyÂcling the verÂsions of themÂselves they brought in last time. If you realÂly think about it, you probÂaÂbly know most of them; there’s that old man with the plasÂtic foot brace, and there’s that woman with the baby who won’t stop cryÂing. She hardÂly looks a year oldÂer than you. The desk clerk keeps shootÂing her surÂrepÂtiÂtious glances.
The magÂaÂzine on the small plasÂtic colÂlapsÂing table is the same, too. You pick it up, feel its greasy skin soak into your pores. There’s a nice artiÂcle in here about dolÂphin conÂserÂvaÂtion, if you rememÂber right. The pages fall open across your lap. A suitÂed man with very white teeth offers to sell your house right away.
You flip onwards, and the pages crackÂle like the peoÂple around you. The clock on the wall seems ridicuÂlousÂly loud. Your mothÂer is late again.
EvenÂtuÂalÂly the peelÂing swing-doors next to the clerk’s desk fly open, and a man strides through them. He scans the room, sees you, and glides over to clasp your hand. His teeth glitÂter. His palm is freezÂing.
“Your mothÂer will be just anothÂer moment,” he says, his smile leakÂing cold into the words. “Can I get you some cofÂfee?”
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — Reader’s Block

The holÂiÂdays have always been my favourite time to catch up on all the books I say I am going to read and nevÂer even attempt to pick up durÂing the school year. HowÂevÂer, in recent years, even that goal has become forÂmiÂdaÂble at times. StudyÂing EngÂlish tends to turn readÂing into work, no matÂter how much we enjoy it, and recentÂly I have found it hard to want to read for fun after havÂing read 16 books in one semesÂter. Last year that led to watchÂing a lot of movies with very few comÂplaints. But this year, school is online and I am addiÂtionÂalÂly develÂopÂing an averÂsion to my lapÂtop screen, so back to books it is. I have comÂpiled a litÂtle list of strateÂgies to address what I am callÂing EngÂlish Major Reader’s Block. If you also sufÂfer from this afflicÂtion, I hope this helps.
1. Re-readÂÂing!
SomeÂtimes new inforÂmaÂtion can be overÂwhelmÂing. My brain is tired. I can’t learn anyÂmore, but that does not mean I canÂnot read. When I am feelÂing espeÂcialÂly tired, I have found it easÂiÂer to return to old favourites and curl up with someÂthing cozy and familÂiar rather than try to absorb a new set of charÂacÂters and plots. I recÂomÂmend takÂing a day to reread HarÂry PotÂter or LitÂtle Women or whatÂevÂer makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
2. Change up the Genre
Unless you are takÂing a speÂcialÂty course in graphÂic novÂels or YA ficÂtion, the books that EngÂlish majors tend to read can get a litÂtle repetÂiÂtive and tend to stick to realÂist novÂels writÂten between 1800 and 1980. I used to think the holÂiÂdays were a great time to catch up on the holes in my knowlÂedge and cross big titles off of my nevÂer endÂing readÂing list, but I have had very litÂtle luck with that. If you are able to read dense RussÂian realÂism after a semesÂter of litÂerÂaÂture, I salute you, but so far I have had no luck with that ambiÂtion. That’s why my secÂond tip is to change genÂres, try fanÂtaÂsy, sci-fi, graphÂic novÂels, mysÂterÂies, “trashy” romance novÂels or anyÂthing else that isn’t a part of the traÂdiÂtionÂal litÂerÂary canon. I used to love fanÂtaÂsy and dystopiÂan novÂels, but I have neglectÂed this first love for far too long—this winÂter break I am hapÂpy to be once again in its sweet albeit someÂtimes draÂmatÂic embrace.
3. Take it Easy & Don’t Get AmbiÂtious
See my earÂliÂer point about dense RussÂian litÂerÂaÂture and extend it to Moby Dick and anyÂthing writÂten in MidÂdle EngÂlish. This is not the time to take on ridicuÂlousÂly heavy readÂing mateÂriÂals or to try and tackÂle the whole of The CanÂterÂbury Tales. It is okay to read only one book over the holÂiÂdays if that is what you have time for, or to only read a few chapÂters of one book. Or one poem. Or nothÂing at all. Big ambiÂtious readÂing lists are the eneÂmy over winÂter break and I have found the best thing for my readÂing has been to abanÂdon them all togethÂer. This isn’t always easy, and I have strugÂgled to just read when I want to (if I want to) withÂout worÂryÂing about what I am readÂing or if I am readÂing enough. There is no shame in an easy read. CurÂrentÂly I am readÂing The Knife of NevÂer LetÂting Go by Patrick Ness because I saw the trailÂer for the adapÂtaÂtion starÂring Tom HolÂland. Yes, it is aimed at 13 year olds and one of the three main charÂacÂters is a dog, and, yes, I am very much enjoyÂing it.
I hope this silÂly litÂtle list helps you pick up a book, any book at all, over the holÂiÂdays. I enjoy readÂing, but I also enjoy makÂing lists and since I can’t make a readÂing list, I have made a how-to-read list instead. In the past few years these strateÂgies realÂly have helped me to abanÂdon my expecÂtaÂtions for winÂter break and actuÂalÂly take advanÂtage of the break from comÂpulÂsoÂry readÂing to just enjoy a good book. I hope this helps you and that you have a wonÂderÂful New Year, book in hand or not.
Madison George-Berlet
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — Congratulations, 2020 Poetry Contest Winners

The ESA would like to conÂgratÂuÂlate the winÂners of the 2020 PoetÂry ConÂtest! First place was awardÂed to Ojo Taiye for “Moira Camp: The New ColosÂsus”, and secÂond place was awardÂed to KatherÂine DeCoste for “Eden”.
KatherÂine DeCoste has givÂen perÂmisÂsion for us to share her poem. Read “Eden” below!
Eden
You think they’re all dead bodÂies,
but the crabs just molt this time of year,
their soft flesh forcÂing itself out gaps
where claws were once. FloatÂing down like
corpses on the stinkÂing tide for you to pick
out with curiÂous, uncarÂeÂful hands and break
between your knuckÂles. So there it is.
The water clear between the body
and the break.
The stink of it, the shit in it, the smell
of brine you thought fresh for a week
or two, before sumÂmer spoiled it and you.
You could, almost, toss his corpse out
into the curÂrents that chill the sea here
so that no matÂter how far south we get
the water always gnaws at bone.
You used to have faith in someÂthing.
Cold clear voice in the night
like a child’s, tin rap of the drum. Here
where the moss grows, the catch and release
of the spiÂder in the arbuÂtus’ nook,
its neck slope, nesÂtled
and you could build a cross from this. From
where the spine curves in its priÂvate
pain. From the holes you imagÂine
in your palms when his eyes go cold.
You could resÂurÂrect this.
Or set the whole beach alight.
No birch, no bomb. Only smoke
in the night. But the broÂken things bend
under the PacifÂic breeze and you labour
up the relucÂtant reach of the hill.
His shadÂow cast over you.
So you smear ash there, between the skin
and the shame. Between the moon
and the cove it hits. Between the garÂden
and the snake, the body and the break.
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — “In Flanders Fields”: How Canada Remembers

In FlanÂders fields the popÂpies blow
Between the crossÂes, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still braveÂly singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunÂset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In FlanÂders fields.
Take up our quarÂrel with the foe:
To you from failÂing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though popÂpies grow
In FlanÂders fields.
John McCrae’s “In FlanÂders Fields” is what I think about every RememÂbrance Day, so it seems to be the perÂfect time to reflect on this poem and what it stands for.
GrowÂing up on VanÂcouÂver Island meant that this poem was a promiÂnent part of RememÂbrance Day. As “In FlanÂders Fields” has become someÂwhat of a symÂbol of CanaÂdiÂan rememÂbrance, the poem was read aloud every RememÂbrance Day cerÂeÂmoÂny. It was someÂthing that all of us stuÂdents came to expect, and we used it as a tool to honÂour the fallÂen solÂdiers.
Before we disÂcuss the meanÂing of this famous poem, we should delve into the man who wrote it, John McCrae.
John McCrae was born in Guelph, Ontario in 1872. He was enthuÂsiÂasÂtic about joinÂing the milÂiÂtary, and enlistÂed when he was just 17 years old, havÂing been involved with the Cadet Corps since he was 14. While being interÂestÂed in the milÂiÂtary, he was also an avid poet, and he attendÂed the UniÂverÂsiÂty of ToronÂto on a scholÂarÂship.
McCrae went on to become the brigade-surÂÂgeon of the First Brigade of the CanaÂdiÂan Field Artillery durÂing World War I. It was here where he penned the now famous poem “In FlanÂders Fields,” after seeÂing his friend killed. McCrae noticed the many graves surÂroundÂing the area where his men were staÂtioned, and saw the famous red popÂpies growÂing upon their makeshift graves. “In FlanÂders Fields” was the secÂond-to-last poem he would ever write.
“In FlanÂders Fields” was writÂten to memoÂriÂalÂize the milÂlions of deaths from World War I, but it has come to sigÂniÂfy the sacÂriÂfice of many othÂers in latÂer wars. Our wearÂing popÂpies as a symÂbol of our rememÂbrance and respect for the fallÂen origÂiÂnatÂed in this poem. RememÂbrance Day is all about honÂourÂing those who fought for our freeÂdom, and John McCrae was one of those peoÂple.
For me, this poem is bigÂger than just a mesÂsage to rememÂber. “In FlanÂders Fields” repÂreÂsents a freeÂdom that so many peoÂple were not forÂtuÂnate enough to get. Every year I rememÂber readÂing these words and thinkÂing to myself, “I can’t even imagÂine what seeÂing this must have felt like.” John McCrae gives us a first-hand view of the devÂasÂtaÂtion of war, yet still manÂages to notice the small beauÂtiÂful popÂpies that mark the graves of his fallÂen felÂlow solÂdiers and friends. This imagery alone is enough to make us re-read the poem year after year, and the meanÂing it holds to so many peoÂple conÂtinÂues to show us it’s imporÂtance.
All of this being said, RememÂbrance Day is a time for us to reflect on the privÂiÂlege we have and take a moment to conÂsidÂer what so many peoÂple gave up their lives for. So, if you haven’t done so already, I hope you take a moment to reflect and rememÂber all those who laid down their lives for us.
BioÂgraphÂiÂcal inforÂmaÂtion courÂtesy of poets.org and poetryfoundation.org.
Errin Johnston-Watson
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — The Monster Mask: The Humanity behind Gothic Monsters

I think it’s safe to say that we’ve all seen a horÂror movie or two (some more than othÂers), but I’m a big scaredy-cat and don’t want to be too preÂsumpÂtuÂous. But where do these monÂsters come from? This thought led me down a rabÂbit hole that I’m hopÂing you’ll take a moment to dive down into with me.
GothÂic horÂror, as it came to be known, began in the 18th cenÂtuÂry, with many peoÂple attributÂing the first horÂror novÂel to Horace Walpole’s The CasÂtle of OtranÂto. Now if you don’t know this book, not to fear, this is probÂaÂbly the only time I’m ever going to talk about it. GothÂic ficÂtion, in brief, shows dark subÂlime scenery and a lot of fog, with romanÂtic and superÂnatÂurÂal eleÂments. I could go into it in a lot more detail, but that just wouldn’t be fair to anyÂone. The main point I want to make is this: gothÂic is gloomy, and withÂin that gloom are the many famous monÂsters that we know and love.
When I was growÂing up, DracÂuÂla was a name that I heard every Halloween—he’s the staÂple vamÂpire in everyone’s mind, aside from maybe Edward. Who hasn’t heard of him, or of Frankenstein’s monÂster (yes, I said monÂster, FrankenÂstein was the docÂtor)? And these monÂsters don’t just show up in books and movies, they’re in everything—there’s even a FrankenÂstein musiÂcal if that’s what you’re lookÂing for!
All of this got me to thinkÂing about why these monÂsters are the famous ones. What makes GothÂic monÂsters someÂthing uniÂverÂsalÂly scary, to the point where they are heavÂiÂly feaÂtured in the horÂror genre? ModÂern novÂels and films have endÂless ideas for new monÂsters, and defÂiÂniteÂly ones that are far more scary. So why did these ones stick?
In the end, I think it all comes down to the fact that these monÂsters have someÂthing strangeÂly human in them. If you’ve read FrankenÂstein, I’m sure you rememÂber that giant temÂper tantrum the monÂster had on a mounÂtain. These gothÂic monÂsters reflect a lot of the inseÂcuÂriÂties we have about ourÂselves and our lives. DracÂuÂla disÂplays how hard it is to cope with loss and death, and FrankenÂstein shows how desÂperÂateÂly we want to fit in, and, in Frankenstein’s monster’s case, just to be human.
One of the best things we can take away from these gothÂic monÂsters is that it’s okay to be human—desirable even! I may be overÂanÂaÂlyzÂing, slightÂly, but hey, I am an EngÂlish major. Now, with that all being said, I hope you all get a chance to watch some clasÂsic horÂror movies this spooky seaÂson, and try not to read into too many metaphors for the human conÂdiÂtion!
HapÂpy HalÂloween, folks!
Errin Johnston-Watson
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — To read, or not to read: Summer reading in a pandemic

At the beginÂning of this panÂdemÂic, or what some cruÂelÂly call a sumÂmer, I am sure I was not alone in creÂatÂing a far-too-ambiÂÂtious readÂing list. I had dreams of comÂing back to class in the fall semesÂter as an entireÂly remodÂelled EngÂlish stuÂdent; I was imagÂinÂing someÂthing Dead Poets SociÂety-esque, except with more ShakeÂspeare.
These dreams were quickÂly dashed, as I found myself strugÂgling to even pick up books I’d purÂchased for pleaÂsure readÂing and instead chose to leave the books yearnÂing in varÂiÂous corÂners of my room while I startÂed yet anothÂer trashy realÂiÂty show on NetÂflix. The only book that was able to cross the boundÂary from my bedÂroom floor into my hands was The Name of the Wind by Patrick RothÂfuss. The only reaÂson this book made the cut was because I had already startÂed this novÂel, so it felt like less of a dauntÂing task to re-enter RothÂfuss’ fanÂtaÂsy world comÂpared to startÂing a new one.
I am a perÂson who usuÂalÂly shies away from fanÂtaÂsy novÂels, steerÂing more towards creÂative nonÂficÂtion, which are all usuÂalÂly depressÂing and not the sort of thing I felt motiÂvatÂed to read durÂing quarÂanÂtine. RothÂfuss’ books offered a wonÂderÂful escape from my realÂiÂty; it has been a long time since I have found a book as capÂtiÂvatÂing and immerÂsive as this one. His world-buildÂing is impecÂcaÂble. The readÂer is left guessÂing and pulling at threads that seem to have no endÂing, at least not in this one novÂel. NoTW is the first in the Kingkiller trilÂoÂgy, but before you pick it up you should know that the third book has not been pubÂlished. It has been nine years since the sequel was pubÂlished, so fans of the series are slowÂly losÂing hope. If unfinÂished busiÂness in stoÂries excites rather than frusÂtrates you, you will find yourÂself at home with RothÂfuss’ loyÂal readÂers. An online fanÂbase remains active to this day, conÂtinÂuÂousÂly uploadÂing new theÂoÂries and disÂcovÂerÂing new details. RothÂfuss does not write a sinÂgle word that does not carÂry a deepÂer meanÂing, which is why I think this series appealed to me—the close-readÂÂing skills I have learned as an EngÂlish stuÂdent heightÂened my enjoyÂment of this novÂel and allowed me to dive deepÂer into the hidÂden meanÂings than I would have preÂviÂousÂly thought were posÂsiÂble or even existÂed.
This novÂel opened the floodÂgates, so to speak, and restored my love for readÂing. My readÂing habits also changed over the sumÂmer: now, I find myself going for walks or runs while lisÂtenÂing to audioÂbooks of MadeÂline Miller’s novÂels The Song of Achilles and Circe or readÂing colÂlecÂtions of stoÂries by David Sedaris. I even purÂchased and began to read a litÂerÂary critic’s book on HamÂlet.
So, like the unexÂpectÂed pairÂing of HamÂlet and carÂtoon lions, this unexÂpectÂed sumÂmer became irrevÂoÂcaÂbly interÂtwined with unexÂpectÂed sumÂmer readÂing.
Josiah Lamb
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.
From the Archives — Welcome to English at UVic 2020
The EngÂlish DepartÂment wants to wish a warm welÂcome and welÂcome back to all of our stuÂdents. COVID-19 has changed our teachÂing forÂmat this this year but our sense of comÂmuÂniÂty is still strong. To view the welÂcome video, click the image below.
This post was pubÂlished on the origÂiÂnal UVic ESA webÂsite.