Olivia Holborn | It Can’t All be Fiction
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It Can’t All be Fiction

It Can’t All be Fiction

Sometimes readers of Fierce believe the stories are autobiographical. These readers seem convinced I’ve spent two bushwhacked years alone in the Yukon wilderness, assisted a strange little girl’s doll-napping, and considered diving off a water tower into six inches of water because my boyfriend left me for a stripper who worked at Dolls ‘N More.

They are wrong! The only time someone took me to the top of a water tower, I was seven and determined to live. And my only exposure to strippers happened while I supported a developmentally delayed client explore his community.

It can’t all be fiction those disbelieving readers probably think. And they are a little bit right. So, in the interests of transparency, here is a partial list of Fierce’s autobiographical elements:
-I watched in awe and admiration as a heartbroken man walked out onto the breaking Yukon River.
-I traveled by foot without weapons or common sense through grizzly territory in berry season just to see a ghost town that still had stained glass windows, school desks, hymnals, and a genuine gramophone (see picture for proof—of the town, not the grizzlies).
-I was fostered by a loving Aboriginal family who took me to the long house and canoe races and fed me sun-dried salmon and Indian ice cream.
-I befriended a decrepit old horse who roamed Dawson City looking for carrots and love.
-I witnessed a northern six-toed cat invasion.
-I dressed punk even though I didn’t like the music.
-I played a game called Ugly Cruising with girlfriends on Saturday nights.
-And, yup, despite a crippling fear of heights, I joined the first spring caravan of travelers driving the treacherous ribbon of road aptly named the Top of the World Highway from Dawson City, Yukon to Chicken, Alaska.

cartoon © Ian Holborn 2018

 

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