Sweet Affliction is out now, in bookstores across Canada and online.

And here are some other things that have been published online:

Last Man Standing  A recording of a short story I wrote, read by a Famous Actor.

Nighthawks at the Couche-Tard. Finalist in the Canada Writes: Hyperlocal competition.

There’s a kind of fraternal feeling that grows among people who are up in the small hours of the night. It’s easy to feel that there’s something wrong about your life, a vast spiritual gulf separating you from the daywalkers. But then you remember the Couche-Tard employees are right there on the corner, ready to sell you salted peanuts and cigarettes and probably judge you, the blasé guardians of the night. Sometimes I’d go there and spend a dollar on a dehydrated soup packet, just to have someone recognize me.

The Polar Bear at the Museum  First published in Geist, nominated for the 2008 Journey Prize.

Trina James may or may not be a slut, but we know for sure that Mary Roberts is. We can tell because she wears short skirts and knee socks and laughs at boys’ jokes. Also, she has baby teeth. These teeth clearly belong in the mouth of a precocious eight-month-old, they are fit only for chewing boiled carrots and celery stew, and yet here they are, lining Mary’s gums like seed pearls sewn onto red velvet. BJ teeth, Beth calls them, and we all laugh and pretend to know what she means.

The Yoga Teachers  Second-place winner of the 2009 Quebec Writing Competition.

First position, second position, fourth position.  Bras bas, which Risa knows is French for “arms lowered” but still thinks of as bra-BAH, a rallying cry shouted by staunch men on horseback as they ride into battle.

Scarlets and Cubans Second-place winner of the 2nd Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.

Their names were Leland, Groucho, Ricky, Mindy ii, Dale, Andy, Captain Hijinks, Wilbur, Sailor, Agnes and Louise. Four females and seven males, not that it matters a whit when your genitals are the size of a bitten-off hangnail. Maybe it mattered to them, I don’t know or particularly care.