Charter rights and me.

Today I was officially registered in Ontario Superior Court as a litigant in a court case filed by my union (the PSAC) – one that could (eventually) prove integral to further defining the rights of unions and their members in Canada should it be accepted and heard through a labyrinth of legal proceedings. Since I’m not a lawyer, I have no idea the odds of a favourable outcome in a case like this, but as a unionized worker, a union representative and a woman working for the federal service I am hoping they are good.

The paperwork filed with the courts today is a response by the union and several individual complainants in response to the Expenditure Restraint Act and the Public Sector Equitable Compensation Act tabled by the Tory government as part of the omnibus budget bill in January 2009. Among other things, the Acts opened up previously negotiated collective agreements, rolled back negotiated wage increases for some federal workers, severely curtailed the ability of federal workers to seek redress for gender-based pay inequalities, and removed the right of unions (under penalty of severe fines) to represent or advise its members on pay equity complaints. Further, it redefined a female-dominated pay group from one which comprised 55% of its population from women, to 70%. My pay group being one example – that at 69.1% women, we are no longer considered a female-dominated group and are now removed from the possibility of pursuing pay equity complaints in the future. As further insult, pay equity is now to be addressed at the bargaining table which gives you an idea of how backwards this legislation is – implying that basic human rights are up for negotiation and can be traded away for other “perks” like wage increases or dental benefits.

Quite serious stuff, particularly given that we are talking about the fundamentals of Charter rights in Canada – Freedom of Association (Subsection 2 (d)), Freedom of Expression (Subsection 2 (b) and the Right to Equality (Section 15). These rights don’t simply exist in documents but have been further reinforced by Supreme Court decisions like the 2007 HEU case which enshrined the right to collective bargaining in Canadian law (a decision which literally brought tears to my eyes).

I have before me the papers filed this morning and I wish I could do justice to the arguments summarized within for the purpose of this brief post – but at heart it really comes down to something which happened to a friend of mine last month. My friend B. is a painter – interiors, exteriors, you name it – and a good one at that. Having few opportunities for work in this declining economy, she took a job at a non-unionized worksite painting condo interiors in Burnaby – physically tiring work which demands a great deal of skill (I can’t paint a straight line to edge a ceiling for the life of me – can you?) After a couple of weeks it became apparent to her that she was being paid $2 less per hour than the men on the site, although her output and skill level was the same or greater of those she worked with. Afraid of losing her job, she said nothing for a couple of weeks, continuing to work alongside the men for less pay – but eventually she got fed up with it, particularly as she picked up the slack from those around her. She approached her boss and asked him (nicely) if she could get paid the same as every other painter on the site, to which he said nothing and walked away from her. At the end of the day he came and told her she was being let go because she complained too much and she could pick up her final pay a few days later. She has no real proof, of course, that she was laid off because she asked for equality, but there is no question that for several weeks she was paid less than the men she worked with because the boss thought he could get away with it. That’s just one anecdote from the trenches of unregulated, non-unionized work, but I guarantee stories like this unfold every day and are the reason women are still reported to earn 70% to every male-earned dollar in Canada (stat from 2005).

Although my friend is not unionized and not a federal government worker, in fact living a much more precarious employment existence than I do, her situation seems inextricably bound up in mine. While it is true that those of us in the unionized federal service are privileged in comparison to some, I also believe it gives us a greater responsibility to champion the rights of all. If the federal government can legislatively write itself out of its requirement to pay workers on a gender-neutral basis, then where is the incentive for any other employer in Canada to pay workers in an equitable fashion? If the federal government can muzzle unions that come under its purview and halt the right to representation, then how long is it before private sector employers lobby for legislation that would similarly limit all unions in Canada from supporting their members in any variety of rights-based cases? And most importantly, if women in the federal service are legally barred from achieving pay equity – how can Canadian women as a whole expect to close that 30% wage gap?

So I’m thrilled, you know, to come forward with a complaint that may do some real good in addressing these issues – but frustrated at the same time that we will spend tens of thousands (hundreds of thousands?) of dollars before this is all through. And it’s only one of many court challenges my union has filed over the years in response to legislation that aims to disadvantage those of us who chose to enter the federal service and thus serve the Canadian public and government. Sometimes we win (pay equity), sometimes we lose (pension grab) – but if we don’t defend our rights (and expand them), every other worker in Canada suffers somewhere down the line. Which may sound dramatic, but there’s no two ways about the fact that a government which changes the law to suit itself as an employer sets a bad example for employers everywhere to follow in whatever shoddy practices they engage in.

I notice here that I have failed to delve much into the wage rollback piece which I will do in another post – but for now I will leave off saying I am glad to contribute to this effort, proud to be a part of a union which is pushing ever forward the rights of workers in Canada.

Thinking more about writing, post-move wrap

Well it’s done. We’re in the new house, unpacked, things set up and mostly put away, and on Saturday we even started in the garden. How’s that for a week after move day? Seriously impressive according to most of those who have come for a visit in the last week. Lucky us, we could afford to take a week off to get organized (and take lots of baths in our new fabulous bathtub from which you can see the mountains).

That really has been my whole last week though, working nonstop on the house, running errands to pick things up, drop things off, clean up the old apartment, put groceries in the empty fridge. It’s a hellofa job to move, but moving two houses simultaneously is exponentially more work. Not to mention the part where we had tradespeople in to do painting, build shelving and walk through our basement finishing project over the last few days as well. A lot to contend with, but once the art is on the walls you know you can relax and curl up with a book from time to time, the work isn’t everpresent when its visual cues are gone.

I started back on my writing schedule today, delving into a poem I wrote before moving which was critiqued at my writer’s group yesterday afternoon. (A very hungover group I might add, as we had thrown ourselves a little spring cocktail party just the night before). Our assignment before next group is to submit some piece of work somewhere, and I’m thinking the poem I am working on just might be it. If only I can finish the last three lines which I started rearranging this morning. Oh, and the title…. it still needs one that isn’t simply a “working” one. Though I now believe this body of work produced in the last several months is becoming an interlocked collection, it’s more difficult to separate out one or two pieces to go into the world alone. How much they lose when not alongside the others! Still, I want them to stand on their own, and so they must go out in the world soon. I have three poems perhaps ready, a short piece of flash fiction already submitted somewhere, and another four pieces partially worked.

I really feel the need to start turning out more than one piece per month, I’m hoping now with the move done I can focus more keenly on writing, but then I always hope that and it seems the only way is just to keep doing it. Fortunately I am very compelled by the world my characters are drawn in, so it makes it easy to enter and enter again to the same places. Daunted though, I think, and lazy too. Sometimes it just seems *too hard* to start a new piece, and I have to block my computer from accessing the internet so I don’t waste my time in the morning.

There is a part of me still secretly plotting to do a Creative Writing MFA one day. Perhaps if I ever give up the union gig, or lose an election and have no choice but to give it up – then I could justify the indulgence. For now I’ll just stick with trying to get something published…….

I’m faltering here because I just had a fairly extraordinary phone call that I can’t quite talk about just yet. A union matter, and certainly an interesting situation – so I will sign off and write more on that later.

How Amazon lead me back to the library….

I caught myself doing it again the other day: one more book added to the Amazon wishlist – my ever-growing record of books I have fancied in the last couple of years, not enough to buy them mind you, but enough to record their existence. Books mentioned in articles, in reviews or by friends. Books I have looked up in the guise of research when I was supposed to be working. Books that won the Giller or Booker prizes and I kept meaning to read. All of them filed there, a mishmash of interests and subjects, languishing because once filed, they become forgotten. “Oh, I’ve taken care of that interest,” and off it goes. It’s a little like my “to-read” pile which is a collection of impulsive purchases (most of second-hand) that I only ever get through about half of before giving the rest away. Once I acquired that book I thought I needed, I’m done with it, unless I was really very interested in the first place in which case I read it right away.

And even given this habit, I do read at an expensive rate, draining my bank account and filling my apartment with momentary treasures. I’m not after the books simply for the experience of reading them, but for the aesthetic pleasure of touching them, putting them on the shelf, having them become a part of my life’s decor. But while so many books are a good read, there’s just not that much decorating my small spaces needs, not to mention the fact many of them aren’t *that* exciting to look at (despite the fact publishing has gone through a whole “upscaling” of literary packaging in the last fifteen years or so). Now that Brian and I are merging collections in our new house, I’m even more aware of space limitations. I would, quite frankly, like to save the space for those books which are truly “must-haves” rather than continue on with the clutter of keeping everything.

But still, I add to that Amazon wishlist frequently, going back occasionally to weed out those books I have fallen out of interest with, but mostly just allowing it to bloat along the trail of my ever-changing subject loves. Until last week. For some reason I stopped myself Tuesday, torn between my desire to wishlist or purchase. I knew if I wishlisted the book would just go away, but really for the sake of my living space and pocketbook I just can’t impulsively buy every book that sortof grabs my interest. So why put it on a list to buy later if I shouldn’t do it then either? And….. wait, I could probably get this book I’m about to wishlist from the public library – ending the dilemma entirely!

So right there I decided to do an experiment, and pulled my wishlist off Amazon into a Word file. Of 124 books there were five which immediately came off the list in the “why did I ever add that?” category. From there I pulled twenty-two books off that went into the “must purchase for aesthetic, collector or author admiration reasons” category. And then I plugged the rest into the Vancouver Public Library search engine. Only eleven of the titles failed to show up, while eighty-six of the books on my list were listed and available at one of the lower mainland’s many branches. If not available at my closest branch, I could order it to the one nearest me. And not only that, the VPL personal library page has something akin to a wishlist (it purges itself every ninety days) for those so inclined.

It’s really quite remarkable, this library system we’ve got going in our society, a last remaining throwback to pre-commerce days which remains a vibrant and viable institution. Particularly in Vancouver where a healthy attitude towards the library network exists. It surprised me that so many of my titles appeared in the VPL catalogue, some only recently published, some a little bit obscure (I’ve replicated the list below the cut). It surprised me Wednesday when I went down to the main branch to pick up a few of them, how crowded the library on a regular weekday afternoon is, how many people use it. Those things surprised me only because I have gotten so out of touch with libraries in the past decade as the ability to search and purchase books online has risen (along with my disposable income), it seems much easier to have something delivered to home than make an extra trip round to get *free* books instead. Going through this exercise was a bit of an object lesson in just how out of touch I’ve gotten, how much money I throw away every month on that which is available for free.

And so I deleted my wishlist from Amazon right then, making myself a promise that if I took something from the library that I really wanted to own after reading it, I was allowed to make the purchase. And of the twenty-two “must-haves” I will give myself leave to purchase one of those books for every ten I take out of the library. It’s not like I’m never going to purchase a book again (I’ve got a serious fetish for rare and interesting volumes), but I’ve got a new house on the go, and a new commitment to living debt-free (aside from the mortgage). It seems one very easy area to cut a couple hundred dollars per month from expenditures is books. And with libraries all over? Yeah. It’s a no-brainer. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.

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Getting on with it….

Someone at work just told me the reason for the colder-than-average BC winters the last couple of years is because we are at the lowest point of the eleven-year sunspot cycle, and apparently this is the worst it’s going to get. That would be one theory of why it’s snowing in Vancouver on April 1st, though the sunspot-weather connection is circumstantial at best, I’ll accept anything at this point which tells me the weather is going to get better later in 2009. Cold winters I don’t mind, but spring and summer? Let’s get on the milder temperatures!

Brian and I have our last meeting with the notary today, to finalize the paperwork for our new house. Ten sleeps until moving day and I’m knee-deep in boxes and feeling a bit scattered as a result. Tear apart my house, and my whole mental condition deteriorates along with it. So my writing becomes tentative, my schedules get conflicted, and my laundry goes undone. Part of the moving malaise, contrasted with the flip side after moving day which sends me into hyper-organize and clean mode and lasts for several months. Still a little ways away, I would be feeling much more aimless if I didn’t have a big work deadline this Friday to give my days a little more meaning.

And I think it’s no coincidence that my bit work deadline and my move are in the same two week period – not to mention the end to my collective bargaining role coming only a couple months before that. The last two years of my life have involved a lot of flux in all areas – new union roles, new work role, new relationship. It’s been pretty heavy duty on the change front in fact, and I’m looking forward to a summer of just catching my breath before seeing where all the new experience and lessons take me next. I don’t have another clear goal in front of me besides making a home, writing a book, and remaining open to the political and career opportunities that may come up.

At the moment though, I do want to get on with the move, get on with the project launch and get our upcoming union convention over with – it seems to me that going through these doors are the entry into the next life period – and I am curious about what that looks like.

Editing

When I was a much younger writer, I hated editing my work. From the age of five onwards to about sixteen I didn’t even see the need for it, so unrefined was my artistic eye, and even when shown the utility of it as seventeen I still didn’t really believe my work *needed* editing all that much. Sure, the odd tweak here and there, but you want me to rip the whole thing apart and start from a single good line? You think this poem should actually be a short story? Too much work! I can’t muster the creative energy to re-do the whole piece! (insert hand-wringing artistic wankery here)… And over my early twenties, rather than learn this patient art, my freewriting devolved into inanity and I ceased to produce at all. Because deep down I still believed that you either had innate talent or you didn’t, and no amount of reworking was going to make the difference fundamentally.

I suppose that deep down inside I was suffering from a) the desire to be brilliant, and b) laziness. Which really characterized my years in university turning out papers the night before they were due and giving them little more than a spell and grammar edit before handing them in. Talk about failing to get the most out of my university years – I left school with only a few more writing tools than I had entered with.

Looking at it now (nine in the morning and I’m supposed to be working) I suppose there were two major influences on my attitude towards editing. Working in professional communications is an obvious one – a decade of writing and editing in a corporate environment will teach you a thing or two about working over your words – even when work itself is dry and uninspiring, many of the goals are the same. You want people to understand your point, and not while tripping over the language to do so. That’s true of poetry or news releases, though in the former “understanding” may be more felt sense than cerebral, no reader wants to come away feeling stupid. But less obvious because it involves a different medium, seven years of playing in a band also twigged me to the reality of creative process in a total way. Because songwriting was a collaborative process for the flying folk, every song we wrote was workshopped over several sessions, words often taken out or added to songs, riffs played then reversed to see what the effect might be, bridges written on the fly to unify verses that otherwise were too straight. Working and re-working was just something that needed to be done in order to unify the creative ideas and ideals of seven very different people. A pleasure I only realize now, the gift of working with such talented people over a long period of time, which taught me that even the most accomplished artists are not simply brilliant, but dedicated to re-working their material, and editing their words.

In the last few months I have felt a renewal in my artistic fortunes, but instead of a band this time it’s a women’s writing circle who meet once a month for snacks and lit crit. Although I’ve steadily increased my writing output in the last couple of years, I have found my work a lot more focused lately, and that feedback from the group is helping me to really discover a joy in editing I haven’t had before. The structure helps, for sure, but I think more than that is the work I am involved in at the moment. Family stories and poems going back a hundred years, fictionalized, embellished, curated in my imagination and spilled back out onto the page. I realized the other day that every time I go back to a particular piece I am rewriting, my mind immediately steps into the story. No longer on the bed with the laptop, I am in the landscape i am writing about within seconds of turning my focus there. I am standing just outside each frame, and I never see what I expect to, each change of phrase changes my view. Transported would be the correct word for it. Involved would be another. Editing allows me back inside my work, whereas first draft writing is hammered out too painfully to give me much reflection time. And even more than the pleasure of re-entering those landscapes is the recognition that re-working is bringing me closer to the brilliance I had (falsely) believed innate in my naivety. Not that I believe my work to be brilliant, but I do think I am turning out the best work of my life to date. And that has a lot to do with the feedback and editing process, the writer’s group, my willingness to tear things apart from the beginning and start over with a handful of good lines. Which is exciting, because not only am I writing, but learning to live alongside the characters and scenes put to the page. Richer material, and more enjoyment in working it.