So I'm thinking about doing this ... write a novel in a month. Why not? Seems as good a way as any to get over my novel-writing block. The block doesn't seem to apply to newspaper stories, but maybe that's because of those wonderful deadlines -- they've always been a good motivator. So maybe that's exactly what this project will be good for. Anyone care to join me?

I've been thinking about maternity leave lately -- and no, this is not a hint that I am in the family way. There's no little Dubelets incubating just yet. However, everyone I know seems to be either pregnant or has just had a baby -- seriously, if you're of childbearing age and reading this blog, you might want to use protection because apparently I'm emanating some sort of fertility-boosting rays.

When I lived in the U.S. I had the knowledge, as I think everyone does, that American maternity leave policies suck compared to basically everywhere else, especially Europe and Canada. But I never really thought about the specifics, or the ramification, until I moved here. Twelve weeks of unpaid leave in the U.S. versus a year of paid leave in Canada.

What I've found is the maternity leave policy radically changes the whole landscape for women in the workforce. In the U.S., it seems most of the people I know who have a baby then face some version of the Big Decision -- Do I go back to work, do I stay home with the baby, should I work part-time, what can I afford to do, what about day care, etc., etc. And these are usually pretty gut-wrenching decisions to make, or so it seems, because you're not only dealing with the life of the tiny little person you've brought into the world, you're also struggling with all these identity-charged issues about work and life and gender politics. And various pundits and authors seem to make quite a good living trying to convince women to feel very, very guilty about whatever choice they make (and conveniently forgetting that fathers have the same choices).

And in Canada, we really don't have all that. The normal course of events is, you work, you have a baby and go out on mat leave for a year or a little longer, and then you go back to work. No drama. It's apparently pretty rare to see women quit the workforce altogether when having children, simply because they're not forced to make that Big Decision. I think there must be a cumulative effect of this lack of disruption of women's lives in the workforce. Maybe in 10-20 years we'll see a huge gap in gender balance in the workforce in the U.S. versus the rest of the world? Someone might need to give me a big-ass grant so I can think deeply about this issue and come out with some brilliant book that forces the U.S. to institute humane maternity policies. Or at the very least, I might pitch this idea as an article somewhere.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. My never-ending quest to find validation, a sense of identity, fame, fortune and flawless skin through my vocation really never ends. I had hoped the new job would serve the same function as a marriage in a Jane Austen novel or a Shakespeare comedy -- capping off the plot neatly with our heroine snug in the arms of her beloved. And the fact that the beloved in this case is a newspaper didn't even bother me one bit.

However, life is stubbornly unlike a Jane Austen novel and I'm struggling to find things to love in this new job, which involves not enough writing and far too much work that will one day be performed by computers or monkeys. (I'm hoping for monkeys, because I think they would really liven up most workplaces, if only we could get them to knock it off with the feces-throwing for a while. But it will probably be computers. Drat.)

Anyway, speaking of primates, here's a link to a fantabulous story by Tom French about the life and death of the king and queen of the zoo. (Fantabulous=cross between fabulous and fantastic. See, this is what happens when I don't get published often enough -- I get frustrated and start to make up words.) Tom French is an awesome writer, and apparently was in the midst of a long project on the local zoo when all this drama happened and he wrote this amazing story. The story is so amazing that I am able enjoy it whilst choking down my bitter, ugly jealousy at the fact that he was doing a long term project about ANIMALS AT THE ZOO, which is probably my No. 2 dream story right after something involving a lot of puppies, and IT SHOULD BE ME, DAMMIT. But no. So this is the first in a (hopefully not overly long) series of stories entitled, Stories I Would Have Written If Everyone Around Me Would Just Acknowledge How Totally Awesome I Am and Stop Being Jealous of My Coolness, Because You Know They Totally Are And That's The Only Thing Holding Me Back. Yeah, I know it doesn't really roll off the tongue, but it's a step up from my other imaginary series entitled Stories By People Who Are Totally Not As Good Writers As Me But Got Their Sweet Jobs Through Nepotism And Whom I Will Expose NOW.

So see, it could be worse. Enjoy the primates -- sans feces throwing.