ChAsE/s bLoG

The Candle By Chase Winter Cream circles in a stack of twenty seven. Cute, ornate, simple. Melting on the top where the sun rests during the day. Dust underneath it where the chaos of our little home settles in the evening. The scent faded years ago, maybe a decade ago. Back when I bought it for her, back when I bought things for her. Now it sits with no hope of a flame, waiting to be tossed out with the rest of our home.  Next to it, a vase made of blue and purple ceramic etchings. The body of the vessel stands tall and sturdy next to the aging candle. No marks of the sun, no dust. No history of being dropped or heated. Just a messy plume protrudes from its opening. A wheat plume, perhaps. A symbol of a harvest long forgotten. Oh, how I miss those wispy autumn days. Days before the snow arrived, days before we locked our doors to shelter ourselves from the gale storm approaching. Have we protected ourselves? Are we warm? I am not warm. No, I am naked to the breeze, that biting win...

Happy Monday to my (2?) readers! If you're reading this in Manitoba, perhaps you'll relate to the way I'm feeling today. Yesterday was a dreary, dismal, absolutely depressing day- and it stayed like that until the sun went down. Clouds, rain, chilly winds, leaves turning yellow. Seasonal depression is on the horizon, I just know it. Today, however, is bright and sunny- windy too, but mostly sunny. And I'm thankful for it. Will I be spending much time outside? No. Will I even be looking out the window? Doubt it- I'm writing this, aren't I? But still, I find it to be a good practice to be appreciative of the brighter things in life. Today, this blog feels more like a small talk blurb than anything else, and for that I am sorry. I'm sure that in your search for the post this morning you were hoping for something a little more juicy, but instead you got what you might get while in line at Walmart; comments on the nice weather.  The only interesting thing I have ...

"Being a mistress on the side- m ight not appeal to fools like you Creeping around on the side- m ight not be something you would  But You haven't seen my man, y ou haven't seen my man You haven't seen my man, y ou haven't seen him He's got the fire and he walks with it He's got the fire and he talks with it." This morning, this gloomy morning, I woke up with these lyrics branded into my mind. No particular reason, no special meaning, just a merlot medley of sultry symbolism haunting the halls of my subconscious. (Excessive words- felt nice to say) One of my favourite things to do in the mornings is interpret my dreams. I am a dreamer. Most nights are filled with a mix of memories, repetition, and symbolism. Two of my most re-occurring dreams are a bear chasing or mauling me and a nuclear war from a variety of perspectives. Sometimes, the two will go hand in hand but most of my dreams are one or the other.  Last night, I had the bear chasing me for a w...

The following is a transcript from an interview with Matt Graham, the lead bassist and singer of MattstaGraham. The band, based in Tucson, Arizona, is on the last leg of their Canadian Tour- opening for punk-rock classics "The Buzzcocks" and "The Descendants."   Yellow Paint , the band's third and most recent LP, brings all of the best qualities of their past works together with a fresh coat of flair. The production of the album feels like a pair of your favourite Etnies from that one year at summer camp; comfortable and familiar with enough grip on the bottom to rip around town in.  Graham, 33, has been a staple in Tucson's local music scene since high school, working with a variety of bands and artists like Nica Spritz, Isaac Cabrera of The Winter Without You , Taylor Carroll of  Cement Shoes , and Trevor Hedges of Sundressed . Producing, leading, playing bass, and singing fall within his spectrum of talent- a talent that comes from a fiery desire to creat...

 Last night, I played a game alone at home by myself. The idea was to write something unrelated to my current project. In a way, it was a mental exercise or a stretch, to churn out some words that were floating around in my head.  So what was the game? To tell you the truth, it was a drinking game. The rules were simple: I take a shot, then I write a page. Then I take another shot at the beginning of the next page I write. One page, one shot.  I'd been given a Canadian whiskey by a friend of mine for my birthday in July and I'd never gotten into it. I wrote eight pages last night. Seven of which, are below.  For context, several years ago, a friend of mine had asked me to write something for them, just for them to see how I write. I was not a writer then. They're the reason I started writing. Below is my latest rendition of the first chapter in the story they urged me to write for them. Something different, something unrelated. The title of the story is Induced....

 Good morning to my (1) avid reader and follower! I'm off to a bit of a slow start this morning. Rain, chills, and lack of sleep have kept me in a state of lockdown at the house today. I feel a bit nauseous from my breakfast, but that's to be expected. I've overloaded on protein powder for the last few weeks and today was no different.  Last night, I read a chunk out of Lee Child's "Killing Floor;" the first in the Jack Reacher series. My father recommended it to me, he's a big action book guy, and I knew I needed to spice up the library a bit with something outside of the usual contemplative and murderous ensemble.  I'm glad I did. One thing I struggle with from time to time is blocking an action sequence on paper: where did the character move? How did they react? Do we use a run on sentence to keep the pace or should I jot a succession of three word statements? Or both? Though I'm not overly fond of Lee Child's writing style, I have been appr...

The air around me is changing from an overbearing heat wave to a gentle cool breeze. This morning, my fiance opened the windows to the apartment and lit a fall-scented candle. Caramel, apple, something along those lines.  I sit here, on the couch, studying and writing, trying to make sense of a scene in my head. As I've said before, I'm in the process of writing my first novel. I'd say it's going well. When I tally everything up across all documents, I have around 45,000 words written. To me, this is a great achievement. To people I tell, I wonder if they know what that looks like.  So how's it coming along? I'd been dancing around a scene for a few weeks in fear of botching the execution of it. The timing, the blocking, the use of space within the scene, and the dialogue need to work together to convey a very specific moment in this character's arc. (Like all scenes) For the first time, I was afraid to bring a scene forth from my imagination, because the im...

An excerpt from someone else's life. Written by Chase Winter The last few years have been tough for me. Hell, the last decade’s been tough for me. I’m twenty-two now, ten years older than I was when my dad left my mom. My dad left but my mom’s to blame. It took me a few years to realize that. He left once he found out she was having an affair with some nobody from Riverton, the town over. It’s tough to justify leaving one of your kids behind with the woman who cut your family to pieces, but I imagine it was the easiest route for my dad. I blame him, sure, but some days I don’t.   When I look at it from a matured standpoint, I think I would’ve done the same. I share more similarities with my mother, I was a miserable pre-teen, and I had friends here. My sister, Emma,  was three at the time- with her own set of problems, sure- but a little kid is easier to raise fresh than a weathered-in brat like myself.  I think in passing I had to pick who to go with, but I can’t r...

Last Friday, I had the pleasure of attending the release party for An Unexpected End’s newest single, All Together in Denver . The band, abbreviated as AUE, has roots in Winkler and Morden, Manitoba, and has been touring across the country since 2020. They’re expected to push an album out in the next year, with rumors of release as early as 2026. I was invited on a whim by one of the baristas at my local coffeeshop, Whitecap, last week. They handed me a card with a photo and a road number on it, and told me they’d see me on Friday. When Friday night rolled around, I punched the road number into my GPS, and it told me the yard was between this town and the next, then a little up the road. I drove along harvested pastures towards the stop sign, then took a left. A lone deer made its presence known on the shoulder but never dared to cross until I’d passed. With the windows down, I coasted along the path towards the barn. Little girls in dresses ran on the road, giggling and chasing their ...