East Coast By Choice

[In case you missed out on the drama, my web server crashed on Wednesday evening, leaving this blogger on the verge of ugly crying over the loss of about 15 months of virtual ink. Although I backup my site regularly, I was bracing myself for the worst (what if the backup didn't "take", etc.?) and was already thinking about a blog post entitled "One is the loneliest number." But we're back in business. Thanks to everyone who talked me down from the ledge. Now give it up for my next wonderful guest.]

Photo credit: Product of Newfoundland from Flickr

By Jenna MacNeil

It’s been almost one year since my fiancé and I made the Big Move; packed up our two-bedroom condo in mid-town Toronto & pointed the car East. She knew the way; Snowball (my white VW Golf) only moved to the Big Smoke in January 2008. I think she was just as happy to move home as we were.

I grew up in Cape Breton, and there are many folks who’ll tell you they’re shocked I ever left. But I’m glad I did. I took the leap in baby steps: first to Halifax for university, then a brief re-charging on the Cape before hitting up Calgary for a year. Then it was back and forth between Moncton and Sydney before that journey to Toronto. I always missed home (and still do, seeing as I only made it back as far as Moncton), but I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything. I’ve seen the alternatives and I decided to live here; I didn’t get here by chance, but by choice.

Hubby-to-be will tell you we moved back because he wanted a big garage. But it’s definitely about much more than that. The over-riding word that comes to mind for me is always community. There are great people and neighbourhoods anywhere you go, but there is something just a little more welcoming about the ones on the East Coast. I don’t necessarily mean the physical ones, either. In fact, we’ve never really socialized with our immediate neighbours here in Moncton. We live on a short road, out in the country. We’re the youngest home owners by at least 20 years, I’d guess — and we’re not young! But from the day we started the paperwork to buy our home — while we were still living in Toronto — we’ve felt connected and welcomed in this place. In addition to the excitement of our family and friends who we were returning to, there was the online community. Twitter. Moncton has easily more than 300 fairly active Twitterers. We bought a snowblower, set up our phones and internet, and sourced barber shops long before we were even in the province. Since we’ve been here, we’ve formed friendships — and even found the minister who is going to marry us! — through Twitter. As I’ve been planning our wedding, the community has been absolutely fabulous for sharing information & ideas anytime I’ve run into a glitch — and there have been a few!

I’m fascinated by the way the legendary Maritime hospitality and friendliness plays out equally online as it does in person – in some ways, I think even more so. For the most part, people who embrace technology like Twitter are already the type to share their lives openly, and to welcome you sharing yours. That’s led us to some wonderful new friendships, solidifying for us that we made the right decision when we packed up our comfy Big City life & set up house where you turn off the paved road.

Jenna MacNeil is a Cape Breton-born, journalism-trained 30-something living in Boundary Creek, New Brunswick. These days, her fiancé says she’s a spy — CIA, to be exact (competitive intelligence analyst for ShiftCentral in Moncton).

Photo credit: Team Dalog from Flickr

Alright, alright, so technically there is no “burn after reading” on this thing we know as the interwebs.

But here’s the deal. A couple of weeks ago, I asked you to take a poll to help me choose a pen name for me as a YA writer. I even opened it up to an “other” section where one person cleverly suggested Alice S. Grace (get it, as in @AliasGrace?). Someone else (oh, I know who you are) suggested Verity Fairchance. Maybe one day if I decide to become a romance novelist who specializes in sexy Canadian frontier stories?

In any case, the winning name—a last minute addition thanks to Book Madam that I instantly took a liking to—has now been given her own blog and other social media accounts for you to follow. She’ll also be writing at (un) Death-Match as I retire from the site to pursue the separation of two lives. Rest assured though that no matter who you’re following, it’s still me deep down inside.

What does this all mean for you?

Well, not much if we’re being completely honest here. Except, if you come here for writing tips and advice that content is all moving to my alter ego’s website. East Coast By Choice will still continue to provide you with guest posts from the lovely people who inhabit this region of Canada along with my take on things, just not from the perspective of a writer per se.

That’s it. You’ve got the scoop, dear readers. Whether you choose to follow me in my other life, that’s totally up to you. But if you do wander over, thanks for your early support as I set forth on this path to become a “published author.” And thanks to all of you who put up with this distraction for the past few months.

Now back to regularly scheduled programming.

[I'm pretty much down for the count this week due to doctor's orders (no worries, it's nothing that very short-term meds can't fix) so here's a lovely guest post from someone whose tweets I enjoy following on Twitter @ssmith. He's also a supernatural fiction aficionado and wrote a great guest post over at (un) Death-Match. If you're interested in submitting a story about the East Coast, please send me an e-mail at kimberly.aliasgrace [at] gmail [dot] com for guidelines.]

Photo credit: TomFlemming from Flickr

By Sean Smith

I’m not originally from around here. In fact, if you had asked me in high school where I was going to end up upon graduation, anywhere on the East Coast probably wouldn’t have crossed my mind. Like many students, I just applied to three universities in Ontario and left it at that. To me at the time, the east coast was a place I had visited at age 8 — not a serious destination for university, let alone long term habitation.

But then a few weeks later I was at a family reunion. Among the attendees was a cousin I hadn’t seen in a few years. We got to talking, and since he knew I was at the age where I was thinking about university, he decided to give me some advice. “Don’t feel like Ontario is your only choice. I went to university out east and had a blast. I wouldn’t trade it for anything”.

And so after, I started thinking about it. Picking up MacLean’s Guide to Universities, I started flipping through for information. And there under Dalhousie University, under popular majors, was Computer Science. So I applied — after all, why not?

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter of acceptance from Dalhousie a month later, way ahead of any of the Ontario universities. Given that many people only receive acceptance from Ontario universities near the end of the term, I hadn’t been expecting to hear from anywhere for another month and a half. But given I had an acceptance letter from one university, and no others, I decided to learn more about Halifax and Dalhousie.

On top of looking through the regular tourist/undergrad applicant information, I also had the virtue of knowing people and knowing people who knew people who had been or were currently living in Halifax. All these painted a wonderful vision of a city, and the more I learned, the more interested I became.

And then the Ontario university replies came in, with all three universities sending me acceptance letters. I spent a few days trying to make a decision on where to go, a decision which at that point was between my top Ontario choice, Waterloo, and Dalhousie. But then after rereading my acceptance letters for the umpteenth time, I realized I had overlooked something. Waterloo had accepted me for an honors math degree, NOT computer science, and the rules at the time indicated that I could not transfer to or complete a double major in Computer Science. Once I realized that, the choice was simple, and to Halifax I came.

I understand that this isn’t a rare event. A lot of Ontario students come out east for school. And then a lot of them head back in the summer to take advantage of Ontario’s higher minimum wage, or leave the province upon finishing their education. To be quite honest, that was the plan I had for myself. But at some point in that first year, that first year of being in the city instead of the country, of being able to just ‘drop by’ a friend’s place, of being able to just wander around when bored, of being able to explore, I decided to stay for the summer. Then I made friends, I put myself through school, landed co-op jobs locally, and eventually graduated and got a job here. Despite almost nine years, the city continues to come up with new things to be involved in, new experiences to discover, and as long as the coast continues to provide me with new and interesting things to explore…well, I guess I will stick around to explore it.

Living out east and having a blast. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Sean Smith is a late-twenties cyborg originally from Ontario. Arriving on the coast for the second time in 2001, he hasn’t quite gotten around to leaving. A computer programmer by trade, when not involved in things computery he is generally coming up with crazy ideas and trying to make them reality. Occasionally, he writes these ideas online. You can also follow him on twitter (@ssmith).

Photo credit: ViaMoi from Flickr

As Canada Reads 2010 ramps up, I’m finding myself immersed fully in the online world of books. Since the debates start next week and I’ll be deep into coding, live chats and social media, I’m afraid I can only offer up one post here per week. Guest posts will resume after (if you’re interested in being a guest drop me a line at kimberly.aliasgrace [at] gmail [dot] com). Check out this lovely complementary debate, Civilians Read, running all this week over at the Keepin’ It Real Book Club blog.

As a writer while I’m living, breathing and thinking about books, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to pen names in the last little while. I thought I’d throw this out to you for an opinion or two, as readers of my blog.

Here’s my dilemma: My married name (although I love the sound of it more than my maiden name) is pretty vanilla. It also belongs to a Girls Aloud band member (who knew?!) and, in terms of Google ranking, I’m not sure if I could compete with that particular distinction.

I suppose it could be worse. My name could be Jenna Jameson.

Here’s the thing though. As many of you know, I’m writing a novel. The genre I’m writing in is Young Adult supernatural fiction.

Yeah, that’s right. And it involves werewolves.

If you laughed, that’s exactly another reason why I’d like to keep my “professional” writing separate from my fiction writing. It seems to be fairly standard practice to use pen names between different genres. Keep in mind that I do have, and plan on building upon, a professional career that involves social media consulting and managing (which would include some “serious” clients).

In any case, pretty soon I’ll be looking at starting a writing blog separate from this one to spare anyone not interested in my attempt at becoming an “author” the boring details of the creative process. I want a name that’s still reflective of me and who I am. Ideas I’ve tossed around are using my maiden name (Kruger) because it’s reflective of me as, well, a young adult. Or I could use my first and middle name (in some kind of homage to my Twitter handle @AliasGrace). Or perhaps I could revisit the name Katherine (shortened as Kat, Kitty or more likely Katie) as my young adult self wanted to do. Or maybe I’m overthinking it and should just stick with the real deal and own up to the fact that no matter what I write, it should be representative of me on some level.

I sure would like your input though, gentle readers.

[UPDATE: Some readers are reporting the poll below doesn't have a submit button in some browsers. Please feel free to leave a comment below and I'll include it in the poll.]

[For the most part, when my readers think of East Coast By Choice, it's of Canada. Today's guest comes from south of the border and shares thoughts about our shared "right coast." She's also an Olympic medalist on the 2004 USA sailing team! Sure, we're celebrating the winter games now but it's a pretty cool tie-in, no? Remember, I'm accepting guest blog posts all year round so if you'd like to submit something just drop me a line for submission guidelines at kimberly.aliasgrace [at] gmail [dot] com!]

Photo credit: Paul Cronin

By Carol Newman Cronin

The conversation usually starts off like this: I make an innocent reference to one of the many objects that I own and take completely for granted, like my bent-handled snow shovel or extendable ice scraper. Or maybe I rave about my favorite hat, best boots, warmest gloves, softest neck gaiter…

And after one or two polite remarks, I’m invariably asked:

“How do you STAND it?”

The “IT” is winter. The questioner is usually one of my friends from San Diego, where the weather is mind-numbingly beautiful year round and the locals complain if the temperature varies by more than eight degrees Fahrenheit. They have absolutely no understanding of black ice, crusty snow, or the closet space required to house winter gear.

Here on the East Coast, we embrace winter as part of our birthright, like a schizophrenic aunt or evil twin sister. I love to complain about winter’s misdeeds, but if someone from “away” dares question her value, I instantly jump to her defense.

I explain the luxury of lazy afternoons, the joy of “starting out too late and giving up too soon.” (Thank you, Stan Rogers.) I talk about curling up on my favorite window seat with a book, smugly confident that I’m not wasting even the tiniest scrap of pleasant outside time. And from the blank stare I get in return, I can tell that my words aren’t making the slightest bit of sense. Great weather isn’t something my friends worry about wasting; why would they, living in a place where the sun shines every day?

If I lived in a more temperate climate, I’d never get any work done—unless I transitioned to an outdoor career. When an east coast friend moved to LA, she didn’t clean her house for almost a year. Inside chores should never ever be done while the sun is shining.

John Parker Oughton describes the joyous beauty of winter perfectly in his lovely post, “Winter Keeps Us Warm”. I plan to refer my San Diego friends to his description the next time they ask The Question.

And now it’s true confession time: I will soon have a chance to catch up with these friends in San Diego because… well, I admit it, I usually go out there for a visit once February rolls around. This year’s excuse is the Southern California Writer’s Conference. As long as I take a warm-weather break, winter remains a cozy friend. If I stay home too long, I’m soon beating that bent-handled shovel against the icy driveway and asking myself: “How do I STAND it?”

Thanks to Paul Cronin for capturing a Narragansett Bay sunrise on the shortest day of the year.

Carol Newman Cronin is a 2004 Olympian in sailing and the author of Oliver’s Surprise: A Boy, A Schooner, and the Great Hurricane of 1938, published by GemmaMedia in 2009. A sequel is due out in July of this year. Carol blogs about writing and sailing at carolnewmancronin.com/wordpress, and you can follow her occasional tweets @cansail. A devoted fan of the east coasts of both the US and Canada, she anxiously awaits spring with her husband from the shoreline of Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island.

Photo credit: Valerie Everett from Flickr

In actual fact, I’ve long considered myself a bona fide adult. However, for the past few days I’ve been in Toronto for business while also visiting family and I was reminded of how perceptions vary depending on the eyes of the beholder.

For instance, my parents dropped me off at the swanky Intercontinental Hotel after I had stayed with my sister for a few nights. At the hotel, the doorman came to claim my baggage while I thought I was saying my good-byes to my mom and dad.

Um, no.

My mom had visions of the first day of Kindergarten all over again whereby she had to protect her offspring by insisting to the doorman that she accompany me and ensure my reserved room hadn’t been given away. There’s no arguing with the woman. She may be tiny but she’s also tenacious.

Then, while saying our goodbyes she managed to sneak a wad of cash into my coat pocket.

Even though I’m fairly certain she remembers I’m in my thirties, am married, holding down a steady job, have travelled to various parts of the world, she also knows I don’t get to Toronto that often. Likewise they don’t get out to Halifax that much either. So, I had to let her have her mom moment because growing up is sometimes harder on the people who brought you up.

[The great thing about these East Coast Guest Posts is that sometimes I get introduced to a topic that I might otherwise not read about. Like this next one, courtesy of the prolific and always entertaining @MrWordsWorth on Twitter.]

Photo credit: SLAM! Wrestling Canadian Hall of Fame

By Mark Campbell

Take my hand, fair reader, and I will lead you back into a dim and distant past. A time when Nova Scotians had two non-cable TV channels to choose from, three if you were fluent in French. A time when one of those stations gave over one hour of precious broadcast time each week to something called Atlantic Grand Prix Wrestling. If you’re sitting comfortably, I’d like to tell you how it broke my heart.

Though my mind is rather enfeebled due to advanced age, my memories of Atlantic Grand Prix Wrestling (AGPW) are relatively strong. It was a cavalcade of inappropriate racial and cultural stereotypes. There was Killer Karl Krupp, with his monocle, fetish boots, riding crop and his signature move, The Claw. There was the Cuban Assassin, who looked like Fidel gone feral. Oh, it also had an awesome theme song: Let There Be Drums by the Incredible Bongo Band.

My friends and I loved AGPW. In fact, we used to pretend we were AGPW stars and stage our own fights. I always chose Leaping Lanny, a handsome, moustachioed lad in an oversized black bikini. Our tussles were pretty much bereft of homoerotic undertones, at least as I recall, and we made our own stage blood by smushing berries on each other. Halcyon days.

One summer, my dad took my brother and me to see AGPW live at the Halifax Forum. I was excited. For weeks, AGPW had been pimping what my young mind believed was the battle of a lifetime: Leaping Lanny was going to take on, I think, the Macho Man for the champ-een-chip belt. Determined that could not miss out on all the chair wielding, head bustimiacating glory that would surely ensue, my dad relented to our needling to save his sanity.

Way up in the nosebleed bleachers of the Halifax Forum, I was witness to an event that became a bifurcating moment in my life. A moment when every thing I held dear was corrupted, and I developed a hard, non-chocolaty shell to house my new deep-rooted cynicism about everything and everyone. The match ended with a non-decision. All that hoopla was empty hype. And I was an all-day sucker for buying into it.

So there you have it. Not much, huh? You probably guessed that I don’t watch wrestling anymore. And I’ve never encountered any of my fallen idols ever in my travels. If I did, I suspect I’d approach them cautiously. Maybe ask for an autograph, just for old time sake. Then, I’d smush berries in their faces, administer The Claw and throw my arms up in the air victorious, oblivious to the ensuing body slam that would send me into the loving arms of unconsciousness. Cue Let There Be Drums, and fade to black.

Mark Campbell is a creative writer, at least that’s what he tells people. Mark writes marketing communications materials to pay the bills, and poems and absurdity to mess with your mind. Mark wishes he could sing like Al Green, and he has an unfortunate habit of speaking in the third-person.

Before the big announcement, I’d first of all like to thank everyone who participated in sharing their love of Barrington Street whether it was of current businesses, past memories or the future potential.

For the next couple of weeks work will be keeping me busy with Canada Reads 2010. If you’re only going to read one book between now and the debates, may I suggest Nikolski? it’s the selection I’m cheering for and moderating a discussion on at the official site.

Now, without further ado, the winners of the historic pewter ornaments are:

• @LoveMeBoutique
• Anne
• @skittlebrau78
• @hfxgirl
• Suzie the Foodie

I’ll be getting in touch with the winners shortly to send off the prizes! Check back later this week for another lovely East Coast Guest Post.

[This next guest writes from the perspective of someone who never left the East Coast to pursue fame, fortune and whatever else people search for in life. In fact, she's been able to find balance and success from right in the place where she was born and raised. If you've got an East Coast story to tell, let me know. E-mail kimberly.aliasgrace [at] gmail [dot] com for submission guidelines.]

Photo credit: Kris Griffon from Flickr

By Desarai Mosher

People ask me daily, what I do. That, I can answer.

I help business get through the ‘nitty gritty’, to bring amazing ideas to life and give amazing-but-poorly-executed ideas NEW life. I am also one of a select group of Certified International Trade Professionals in Canada. I help businesses get ready for an often nerve-wracking prospect—taking the leap to exporting (trust me, once you cross the border or hit the ocean, it’s not business as usual!).

When I share this, people often ask:

“Why stay here? You could surely be making more money in [Insert Big Canadian City Here]!”

Once upon a time, I couldn’t answer that.

Born in Truro, Nova Scotia, I never truly left Colchester County. I had longed for the day when I’d take off on my own, move to distant places and ‘get rich.’ When the day arrived, reality was different.

At 17, I moved out on my own—an exhausting and sometimes painful time. In the midst of this, I met my husband, Brad—a hilarious, sarcastic, laid back, all around beautiful person—‘imported’ all the way from the next County. I went to college in (you guessed it) Truro. Despite big dreams of distant places, here I was, in my home town, studying International Business. When my son was an infant, I was offered a local position I couldn’t refuse.

Five years later, I’m still with the company and still in this town.

I never ‘gave up’ my dreams of moving to distant places—instead, I finally see things from a different perspective. I never truly wanted those things—I just thought I should want them. Deep down, what I wanted, I can find right here. I want a small town life, a husband who loves the places I love, our families nearby, a community where people know my name, a job where I can be myself, a place where my memories live… and a place to make new ones with my beautiful son. I want him to know and love the things I have—the ocean, fields, smell of fresh air, the people and the history of this place.

So, now when people ask me ‘“Why stay here?”—I know the answer.

It isn’t about money. It’s about that feeling you get when you know you’re home, and no place can ever truly compare. If home is where your heart is—then my heart is solidly right here on the East Coast.

Desarai Mosher, CITP, (bdkmosher@eastlink.ca & @deemosher on Twitter) is a Sr. Consultant with D’Maya Consulting and Management Inc., outside of Truro, Nova Scotia. Ever the optimist, she aspires to always find time to laugh & balance business, husband & child without breaking a sweat! She also loves genealogy, hunting down new tunes, and fantasy/sci-fi novels, TV and film. She’s currently working toward a healthier self through exercise, healthy eating and a greater focus on relaxation.

Photo credit: smallandround from Flickr

Growing up in a multi-ethnic and -racial household meant eating as much sauerkraut as I did, um, “phoenix talons” (a.k.a. chicken feet). Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. Or maybe just file this one away as TMI.

One of the big events during my childhood was always  Chinese New Year. This year the date happens to coincide with Valentine’s Day and it’s also heralding the Year of the Tiger (my year!). It’s a time for gathering with family and friends, and all big celebrations in my household always included lots of food.

Chinese culture is full of symbolism and superstition, some of which I’d like to share.

The colour red is associated with the festivities because it’s believed it will scare away evil spirits and bad fortune.

One of the many traditions at the heart of the occasion is the handing over of red “lai see” or “lucky money” envelopes to unmarried friends and family members. The newer the money, the better the luck it’s supposed to bring. Tian Phat and other Asian grocery stores around the city carry these in ample supply at this time of year.

Houses are cleaned thoroughly before the New Year. Windows are kept open to allow good fortune in while lights are left on in the evening to scare demons. All sharp objects are put out of sight so as not to cut the flow of good energy.

A bounty of food is served to reflect the prosperity of the year to come including sweets and goodies to ensure the sweetness of the year ahead. One of the dishes we always had for this and most special occasions was uncut noodles, which represent longevity and long life. Cutting the noodles is therefore a very bad omen.

Everyone says “Kung Hei Fat Choi!” which translates roughly as “Congratulations and be prosperous!”

Here’s a description of my sign (they vary depending on year and elemental cycle). This is the most flattering one I could dig up because it doesn’t mention any of the negative attributes like having a very short fuse.

Passion and creativity are the hallmarks of the Wood Tiger. What a great sign for the performing arts or any career that puts you in front of the public where you can use your creative ability and, or, leadership skills. You are the most mellow of Tigers and therefore not so domineering. You tend to be very popular, especially since you are probably charismatic.

So, I hope you enjoy this weekend by eating some dim sum with friends and family or by having a romantic dinner at a Chinese restaurant to celebrate both the new year and Valentine’s! All the best for the year ahead.