Author: Kootenay Submissions

Sunday Morning by Lilli J. Matern

Outside my window the wind is murmuring. The diaphanous curtain floats in the breeze. The curtain is ethereal in its movements Accompanied by the dulcet tones of a violin The sweet fragrance of pancakes drifts through the air I burrow deeper into my bed, not yet ready to start the day     About The Author Lilli J. Matern is a writer and occasional poet. Lilli lives in Canada with her family and their senile pet parrot. She spends much of her time either writing or reading. When not writing or reading, Lilli likes to knit and drink tea.

DIANA MORITA COLE INTERVIEW – The Practices, Affirmations and Courage of a Misfit

Introduction: I was extremely fortunate to have met with Diana Morita Cole, Author of Sideways: Memoir of a Misfit in the fall of 2019 to discuss everything from her book and writing practices to life experiences and philosophies. It goes without any shadow of a doubt that Diana’s words of self-care practices, of overcoming doubts and obstacles, and of meeting expectations allowed me to reflect on who I am as a young writer, and I firmly believe that her words will do the same for many more. Hence, it may come as a great surprise that after our interview was over, Diana told me “when I go home, I’ll think of something else that I should have told you”. Diana, thank you for your time, words, your great influence, and most of all, your courage. Love, Samantha Smith Managing Editor Black Bear Review   Interview: How would you define success? I’m very happy when my readers identify with my characters and their struggles. That transference allows me to take my readers on a journey that, …

How to Write a New Years Resolution : Five steps to making “smart” goals in 2020

Here we go again… Those 6 glory days between Christmas and New Years day have officially passed, which means that it’s time to put down the gingersnaps and pick up the slack. By the drop of a hat yet another year has passed, and many of us are facing those daunting “New Year, new me!” thoughts, while all at the same time it feels like it was only yesterday that we were welcoming in 2019. Don’t worry, here at the Black Bear Review, we get you, and we are fully aware of how truly anxiety provoking the New Year can be. That is why we have taken the time to make a list for you to follow along to help all of your big goals for this year seem a little more achievable. Here’s the thing: Goal setting is an art, and setting a good goal does not come as easily as saying “I want to write a book this year”, or “I want to paint a masterpiece”. The truth is, even Di Vinci had …

Denoument by Tim James

Mrs. Baker had never before thought of silence nor detected the subtle melodies that emanate from it. She’d never noticed its whisper and burble, its tranquil rush and swell, nor been able to feel the texture and fluidity of the millions of motes of sound that compose it. She’d never perceived how it sweeps and surges and folds in upon itself, like a murmuration of starlings, now undulating and collapsing, now twisting and exploding. Yet it was only here, at this advanced moment of life, that she could see silence for what it was: the swirling undercurrent of existence, as audible and beautiful as a symphony, yet with a secret sound all its own, varied and infinite. The hum of life itself. Never again could she return to her former indifference. Never again would she feel the pull of diversion. Each moment had become infinitely interesting. She couldn’t help but smile at the irony she would not live to enjoy this.                             …

The Xerophyte

~1~ Cottonwood Whispers March, first buds of the cottonwood appear. Sandspit Beach at Kokanee Creek: iolite blue glacier-fed lake and sixty feet of sandy ribbon-like shores. I walk the line between icy liquid and tiny crystals. Two dogs, at first friendly, pick a fight. One of the men yells to break up the canines vying for status. Now, the bitch barks at him. “Bad dog!” The leash goes on. “Somebody’s going home early!” The magic light of dusk fades. A figure with a tripod packs up his gear. Passing almost too close to me, an elderly couple walks in supportive unison.  As I look into them, one seems both ailing and determined to be here. In an instant, all—except the dogs, ducks and early midges—seem to stand still like sculptural Giacommetti groupings. Frozen, in life. Away from the icy water’s edge, a woman stands with a plastic bucket, harvesting. From afar, I can see that something deep, dark, and old stains her fingers and nails: a thin, waxy, crumbling layer, the true colour of dried …