Lynn Coady (born January 24, 1970)[1] is a Canadian novelist and journalist. (wikipedia)
My dad was a real man's man, and so were my brothers, in a small town where hockey is king. It's a masculine culture. It made me really attentive to what it meant to be a guy.
Loneliness sucks. It's a slog. It feels wonderful and exhilarating when someone makes it go away. But love is a whole different ball game.
It's doubtful that any fiction worth reading has been produced on a computer running Windows Vista.
It makes me proud not just to be a Canadian writer but to be a Canadian, to live in a country where we treat our writers like movie stars.
In the late sixties, when revolution and upheaval were everywhere, feminists were ridiculed for focusing on housework.
I've never understood people who treat their loved ones worse and with less respect than they would a total stranger or minor acquaintance.
I would never have thought my collection of short stories would win the Giller.
I think, as writers, our first responsibility is to writing an honest story. Tell the story you want to tell, without pulling your punches.
I started out in the journalism program, but I got kicked out. I wasn't very good at it. It wasn't where I wanted to be ultimately.
I know what the Giller nominee effect is, but we'll see what the next level is.