We were delayed in Toronto airport. Fuel was leaking onto the runway causing fear that the engine had sprung a leak. It took five hours to prove overzealous gas jockeys had overfilled the tank. The non-existent danger was averted and we were on our way. Of course, by the time we reached Houston, our connecting flight was long gone. We had to spend the night in a Houston hotel. Bad luck?

As it turns out – not.

My husband and I were heading down to our cottage on Utila, a tiny island off the coast of Honduras. Our eldest son was coming with us. He shouldn’t have been coming. He’s an artist and was in the middle of completing some work. He was on deadline but decided he could get it done in Utila. All he needed was his computer, Wacom, and no distractions. With no internet or television and only…

My elder son recently finished five years of studying art and animation and is finally trying to earn a living at it. Fortunately, he lives with my younger son, who isn’t working in the arts, so one way or another the rent gets paid, the fridge gets restocked – don’t get me started on what they stock it with though – and the internet bills get paid.  In fact, the internet bills get paid before the fridge gets restocked, which probably explains the abundance of no-name wieners. Or they’re boys. It could just be that.

So this past October I decided to go to the SCWBI conference in NY to meet up with my wonderful critique partners – https://migwriters.blogspot.ca/ – and around the same time it occurred to me that maybe this was an opportunity to expose my son to another way to earn an income from his art,…