A very quiet post from the early hours of the morning

…when I really wanting to be yelling from the rooftops

Where do I begin?

Do I tell you that I wrote my first business plan for a community space when I was in grade 9 (9th grade…ummm, 14?)

Do I tell you about how I was that kid gathering people in the playground to go on grand adventures, start up a pet detective agency, gather bottles so we could all of us buy candy at the convenience store at the ripe old age of 7.

I often wonder what people thought of me then. Big hearted and committed to making sure (and the people around me) lived magical and whimsical lives.

You’d think that all this making magic, concocting adventures, opening my heart to people…that it might wear a person down. The world is full of people who actively hate whimsy, who get frustrated when you try to spend your time helping people. They say things like. Get a real job. (I’ve been working a lot of jobs since I was 11 years old, I promise. I’ve never really made enough money to make working jobs that exhausted me and my nervous system worthwhile).

Do I tell you that I read a lot of books as a child, and always sort of thought myself that spunky side character who motivates all the main characters and likely dies somewhere near the end because they were too precious for the world and the main character had to be MOTIVATED. (Those were always my favourite characters and every time I knew they would die, and every time I’d be angry that the main character couldn’t just learn the thing without having to invoke BIG GRIEF).

Do I tell you that I don’t want to have to die to make a difference, that I just want to be able to live a small magical life listening to people and maybe finding some way to make their lives a little more magical?

Every story has a beginning. This new adventure I’m about to embark on has so many entrance points. There is no world in which I wasn’t at some point going to try to run my own bookshop.

All roads lead to me being a person surrounded by books and welcoming people into my little space and saying, “hey! You like books. I like books.” That’s the beginning of so many beautiful interactions.

This is a long pre-amble. I know. I’m afraid to say what I’ve come here to say, because it’s too big, too exciting, that I have to say it quietly and in a sub-parenthetical after I over-explain because I do not want to disturb the universe, or attract any possible negativity to this particular glowing excitement that hit its peak last night.

If you’ve been following along here you may know that I wrote a book. You may know that a wondrous friend, editor and small press publisher told me it was worth reading. You may know that that sparked me to consider becoming a small press publisher, which lead me to re-assess my life and think about all the things that have brought me joy and happiness and satisfaction…and then I thought…those things revolve around community, writing, reading and the act of making teeny tiny magic in people’s day.

Then I saw a building. It wasn’t THE space for a small press/future bookstore.

(Oh, I’m getting further from my point, but I promise I’ll circle back around, it’s just so big it’s hard to say)

Then I saw another building. And it WAS *it* (does this invented punctuation help you understand the way I want to emphasize things…maybe not…it’s meant to convey trepidation and enthusiasm).

Then a real estate agent accidentally pushed me into putting an offer on said building, without me first getting my financing set up, or a kickstarter arranged, or waiting until my father was out of the forest so I could talk with him about this BIG DREAM that I was about to enact.

And it fell apart. Because I wasn’t quite ready.

But then all I could think about was running a book store. It was all I could talk about. A community space for books, people, happenings. A small press. A monster-making corner. Some soap pouring. A reading nook. An apartment upstairs so people can come stay above a bookshop in a magical town beside a bay.

I spoke with my Dad after it all went down.

You see. I’ve tried to buy a bookstore. Twice.

Once when I was nearly 8 months pregnant with my first child. It was a brilliant little shop and I worked there, and the owner wanted me to run it. He offered it to me for a very affordable price (I thought).

I talked with my Dad. I was 29 and about to have a baby, and he wisely told me that I would be paying to do what I love. That I would never make any money doing it, and I had no idea how difficult being a parent would be, and buying a bookstore was ill-advised.

It was heartbreaking and maybe he was right, but my co-worker did buy that bookstore and went on to turn it into one of the top ten little independent bookshops in all of Canada. And good for her! She lived a beautiful life. Her children’s section was INCREDIBLE.

I moved to Seattle soon after that. My dream of owning a bookshop dashed. I did some really cool things in Seattle. Helped start a stand up comedy revolution. Ran the Moth storySLAM for a couple years. Met and was friends with some brilliant humans who made my life sparkle. I got to parent my two spectacular kids during the day, and live the life of a comedian/storyteller/producer at night.

It was A LOT.

It cost me my marriage to a wonderful man who is the incredible father to our children. I also came out as queer, non-binary, autistic and realized that I could not do EVERYTHING.

(oh no. this has turned into recounting my life story. i’m sorry. but big stories have so much build up. and i’ve never been one to get to the point, ask Darryl (Darren?) who i stopped dating at 18 after two weeks because he asked me to “get to the point”…i just walked out and never spoke to him again because i got that i was not his cup of tea and he actually just wanted to get laid and not have to listen to someone talk.)

💖💖💖

I put hearts there because you’ve been generous to read this far.

But I am still too afraid to say the thing.

I met my creative compatriot, my love, my now spouse, and human who not only puts up with my stories…they encourage me to tell them…and they love me, the way that I am. And sometimes thats hard to believe because I have a lot of reminders in my life that I am not…for everyone.

But after nearly nine years I have quieted the voice that tells me I’m too much (mostly) and I just…believe them when they say “I love you.”

And real love made me feel like I was capable of doing the thing.

The bookshop, my favourite bookshop, in my hearthome…it was for sale. It was 2020. I was finally divorced (it is remarkable how long that process can take even if you agree on everything), and 8 days later my partner and I got married in Vegas (their home town), we spent more on books across the street from the chapel (shout out to Writers Block, an absolutely mesmerizing bookstore) and I brought my love home to Canada after nearly two and a half years of being apart against our wills.

…and we tried to buy the bookstore. The shop I had worked at, on and off since 2007.

But this time both my Dad and the bookshop owner agreed that I wouldn’t make any money…and I got passed over.

I wept. For months. I had lost my community space to Covid. I didn’t have a job. My partner couldn’t work in Canada while we figured out immigration things.

So when businesses opened back up I started working for the new owner of the bookstore. She was/is wonderful. She offered me a full time job and I was to begin in June 2021.

I was so excited. If I couldn’t own a bookstore I could at least be an integral part of my favourite one.

But 13 days after my 42 birthday in June I had a stroke and it derailed all my plans. I spent a month relearning to walk. I was so lucky to have my family and an entire community supporting my recovery. I will never take that for granted.

…and I realized I wasn’t done.

If I couldn’t own a book shop I could still run a community space.

So I did. For nearly two glorious years Curious & Kind was a real place where people came, to gather, to sit, to make monsters, pour soap, read books, write, felt, make art…find friends, be in community.

What happened in the spring of 2023 was devastating. The property managers that bought the building raised the cost of running the space to an unsustainable amount, and I’d signed a document in order to keep the space that allowed them to do that, trusting them when they said, “we love what you do”. But they were business people first.

Can I fault them?

(If you want a beautiful version of this story I wrote a succinct one here:

Because Creativity - Making Monsters with Wake Lloire

That was the beginning of my family’s conversation on want to do next. We decided as a family to follow my children’s father home to the east coast, leaving my heart home, and the wondrous community I love.

ADVENTURE (or so me and my friends say when things get hard and we want to engage some magic)

For a full year we’ve been here. I got off social media. I wrote my book. I found two amazing jobs. One at

Rosefinch Mercantile

and one at a wondrous bookstore.

I’ve made friends and I love this little town I live in. I’ve remained friends with so many folks from the before.

The town I live in has THREE bookstores on one street. MAGIC! But means it does not need another one.

But a little town by the sea just next door…doesn’t have a book shop, or a library, and it’s only a 13 minute drive away, and it’s also a magical place, and there is a small building there calling my name.

And here it is. The thing I’ve been trying to say for the two hours I’ve been writing this.

I wrote my father a letter. I sent him my manuscript. I wrote him a serious email telling him why running a bookstore is the thing that will give me life and allow me to do the thing I’ve dreamed in a way that won’t exhaust me, but instead allow me to do what I do best….

Care. In all senses of the word.

I asked him to be my co-signer for the building, so no landlord could take away what I’d worked so hard to build. I’d learned my lesson

And last night my Dad called me. He said he’d considered my request. He’d talked with my mother. They could not be co-signers for my loan. They were too old, and didn’t have jobs.

I thanked him genuinely for considering my request. I told him I understood and that I loved him very much.

And then he said.

Wait.

Your mother and I have decided to give you an advance on your inheritance. It won’t be enough to cover the whole down payment, but it will be enough to get you started. Go to the bank. See if you can find some caring people to invest in what you’re doing. Don’t give up. Do what you dream.

Y’all.

We are going to have a bookstore.

Curious & Kind Books

A space for readers, writers, a small press, monsters and most of all, community.

I need to go back to sleep and no doubt this writing has been full of mistakes and overly long-winded, but.

WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BOOKSTORE.

This is really happening.

I am exploding with love right now.

I hope you’ll come visit.

Heart,

Wake

(One of the stunning views in the town where the bookstore will likely be)