London called. I answered.

I've been obsessed with London for years, despite never having visited it before.

While it was likely the Spice Girls, and the release of their feature film, Spice World, that initiated my London Calling, it was something that lingered on even after I stopped dressing like Sporty Spice and subjecting my family to impromptu dance performances while singing Wannabe in our living room.

Upon graduating from University, I applied for a journalism internship in London and was already packing my bags when I got a permanent job offer that would keep me in Canada for another two years. 

And then I didn't have my job anymore. 

But what I did have was an idea for a book, and thousands upon thousands of words within me ready to tumble out. In a bold moment of spontaneity, I applied for an advanced writing workshop in the city of my dreams, where over the course of 12 weeks, I would be expected to finish the first draft of a manuscript: littlefoolbook.

Within a week, my application was approved and (probably not surrpisingly, at this point) I cried. I cried and cried and cried. This time, not because I was sad, but because it was real: I was really writing a book and there was no way out of it now.


I've been in London for four weeks and sometimes, when I first open my eyes in the morning, or wake up in the middle of the night it still takes me a few moments to remember where I am and why. This city is everything I ever expected it to be, and then so much more. And I can't help but think how life has a way of working itself out: when I passed on my internship two years ago, I thought that was it; no more London. But somehow, all the ups and downs (and there were A LOT of them) in between then and now have opened up this moment of opportunity for me—and this time, I'm grabbing it.

I've finally answered my London Calling, and I couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

Oh yah, and littlefoolbook is coming along swimmingly!