Quaintrelle Weekender

Kill your darlings.

This is not last night’s moon; though it is (yet another) goal of mine to get better at taking night photos.

I’m writing to you in the 11th hour. Literally. It’s 11:31 at the time of this writing.

The reason for pushing my luck is because my first missive wasn’t up to snuff.

I mean, it started off totally compelling. A riveting tale about a few great book purchases I snagged, but it then quickly flatlined into who cares? territory.

You deserve better than to be bored out of your mind reading about my stunning steals from Thrift Books (I just scored James Peterson’s Sauces: Classical and Contemporary Sauce Making – a “good quality” (former library) hardcover for $8.39 USD, about $11.67 Cdn. The brand new one I’ve had lounging in my Amazon cart is $81 Cdn. Ka-ching!)

See? I just did it again! That last bit, as thrilling as it is to me, is likely a yawn for you. Unless you come to my house and experience a classic or contemporary sauce à la James Peterson, the arousal is lost on you. Unless, of course, you’re naturally easy to arouse.

Hello and welcome to Quaintrelle Weekender, my weekly postcard of what’s on my mind this week.

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Back to killing your darlings.

If you’re going to brazen enough to write a 1,000-page novel or make a 3.5 hour movie, it better be made of cocaine. Like, you’re asking a lot, and honestly, demanding that investment of time kinda feels like you’re really into yourself. (Now, it has been brought to my attention that at nearly 50-years-old and still single, it is possible I have commitment issues. All the more so, is my thinking.) But as Mark Twain famously said, “I didn't have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.”

According to the internet, where all the truth lies, Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, author of – (does anyone else read that and think, Sir Arthur the author? No?) – of the 1916 On the Art of Writing wrote, “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.”

I currently have 46 pieces resting in my drafts folder. When the muse blesses me with a real banger – usually in the middle of the night or mid-stroll through the forest – I make sure to jot it down, lest she be so offended by my rejecting of her offering she never visits again. So in that dark, quiet folder, these fragments gad about, not so much a writing wasteland where my darlings have perished, but perhaps a writing bullpen, each darling waiting to be called to finish the inning, or perhaps close out the game.

It reminds me, warmly so, of a play I was in in Grade 10. Cut! was a clever Canadian play about the characters that got axed from the original scripts, and are now living in literary purgatory. I played Mrs. Kowalski, Stanley’s mother from A Street Car Named Desire. Mrs K had an unlikely dalliance with Hamlet’s older brother Clyde, and was constantly irritated by Oedipus’s sister, Nippletitus. The characters were all served by a mopey-faced butler, Frederich, cut from the Oscar Wilde play, The Importance of Being Earnest. By the end, Gadot makes a surprise cameo. Sorry to ruin it for you.

I ended up dating the director for a while, and that was kind of fun.

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Since the Weekender has inadvertently taken a turn into high culture this week, what with my Grade 10 theatre and hunting of excellent book sales and all, I want you to know BBC Maestro is on sale, at least in Canada, for 40% off annual subscriptions. I have no idea how long this will last, but if part of your goals for 2026 is to learn something new, not numb out with a streaming service (though no one could really blame you, if there ever was a time …) this one’s for you.

This Week’s…

Read: I just finished The Ten Year Affair by Erin Somers. Can’t say I recommend it, but many, including The Guardian and The New York Times absolutely laud it using descriptors like, “razor sharp,” “finely observed,” and “very readable.” I thought entirely the opposite, but perhaps I’m just not the target audience for Millennial fiction?

Watch: Finally wrapped up the opus that is the Gilmore Girls. I started it in the fall, as the law requires, and quickly realized Lorelai is an asshole and Rory is a spoiled and indulged narcissist in good girl cosplay. Despite this, I bravely forged on, watching, on average, 22 episodes at 45 minutes each, for seven seasons. Do not tell me I can’t commit!

Listen: John Grisham on the Books, Beach & Beyond podcast. Did you know three studios were bidding on the The Firm before the book was even sold? And Grisham had no idea Hollywood was even discussing making the manuscript into a movie? As he said on the podcast, those were the days.

The Weekend Menu

It’s a truly Canadian winter this weekend in Toronto, starting with a snow storm that shut down the city Thursday, and more snow falling yesterday and today. Locals are, unsurprisingly, apoplectic about snow and cold in winter.

Last night’s dinner: roast chicken with garlic and bacon colcannon

Tonight’s dinner: Tortellini in Brodo (both tortellini and brodo from the freezer, left over from Christmas)

The weekend cocktail: Buttered Rum Hot Chocolate

This weekend’s wine: Madre Becco Reale Bio Pecorino, Abruzzo Italy 2024 $17 (ON pricing)

See you Wednesday

As much as I like to tease and titillate you with what’s coming up in a few days, I don’t think I can do that anymore. Sometimes an idea sounds fantastic, and like I explained above, I write it out, only to discover it’s a lame duck. So taunts and teases these trailer’s become.

Regardless, I’ll be back on Wednesday, should the muse, bless me with a page turner. Or in this case, a page scroller.

Until then –

xo – Erin