Samples of my work
The following photo was damaged in just the way you see it. The years had worn away the edges and left creases and tears in it. A little work on my part made quite the difference.
Here it is, before...
...and after!
Now I'll show you some proof of my ability to do both document design and informative writing, where I take existing information and turn it into an easy-to-use document (in this case a pamphlet about a water supply system):
Now, for some samples of my writing. One of my books, Canuck Fairy Tales, is a collection of parodies of fairy tales. Here's a few paragraphs from one of the stories, just to give you an idea of the style of the book:
The Glass Snowshoe
Once upon a time, eh, there was a girl named Cinderella. She lived in Toronto along with ninety percent of the rest of the population. Both of her parents had bled to death after accidentally cutting themselves with ice skates. Since then, she lived with her wicked stepmother and her two ugly stepsisters. They hated Cinderella and treated her like a servant because they were jealous of her being as beautiful as Shania Twain.
Cinderella did all of the chores around the house. She prepared her stepmother’s Kraft dinner, cleaned up after the family’s Labrador retriever and polished the lacrosse sticks that her stepsisters rarely bothered to use. Her stepfamily was as courteous and polite as anyone in Canada, but never helped Cinderella because of their laziness. They preferred to sit around having Tim Hortons coffee and donuts while leaving Cinderella to do one thing or the other.
While her lazy and gluttonous stepfamily gradually became more obese and less attractive, the stepsisters went out of their way to hide Cinderella’s beauty. She kept her Shania looks, but had no time to see to her own needs, so her clothes looked like they had been run over by a herd of wild bison.
Once upon a time, eh, there was a girl named Cinderella. She lived in Toronto along with ninety percent of the rest of the population. Both of her parents had bled to death after accidentally cutting themselves with ice skates. Since then, she lived with her wicked stepmother and her two ugly stepsisters. They hated Cinderella and treated her like a servant because they were jealous of her being as beautiful as Shania Twain.
Cinderella did all of the chores around the house. She prepared her stepmother’s Kraft dinner, cleaned up after the family’s Labrador retriever and polished the lacrosse sticks that her stepsisters rarely bothered to use. Her stepfamily was as courteous and polite as anyone in Canada, but never helped Cinderella because of their laziness. They preferred to sit around having Tim Hortons coffee and donuts while leaving Cinderella to do one thing or the other.
While her lazy and gluttonous stepfamily gradually became more obese and less attractive, the stepsisters went out of their way to hide Cinderella’s beauty. She kept her Shania looks, but had no time to see to her own needs, so her clothes looked like they had been run over by a herd of wild bison.
My book From the Valley is a book of original poems. I'd like to share my favourite one with you:
Meeting Place
I live at the Meeting Place.
Come and meet me by the waterside.
I live near the rippling blue waters,
which are at their best on a bright sunny day
when I can make sparkling lights appear on the water.
I grow reeds and other water plants in the wetland.
The birds and fishes and wildlife are my family,
and so is anyone who comes to see.
My marshland fills with smooth ponds,
where the birds frequent until the weather turns cold
and many must leave me for the southern climate.
In the summer months, my marshland turns drier,
and though the birds may still come to see me,
my plants now feed the land animals that visit.
Though near me, much of the land has been turned
into urban areas of steel and concrete,
the piece of land where I live is protected,
with ponds and creeks and watersheds
where animals can find a safe haven,
thanks to people who care about my world.
I am a part of the glorious valley,
whose mountains offer all of us shelter.
People may come to sail on my lake,
or to gaze upon what nature created with no help.
But I beg of you to take nothing and leave nothing
that would harm the world I live in.
The birds and animals would then have no home.
The many trout in my waters would grow sick,
the trees would die, and the beauty ruined.
If the land dies, then I die with it.
I am the Meeting Place.
I am Somenos.