Write? I am

Progress

2012-01-29T11:51:00.000-05:00

When last we met, I challenged everyone to do something that challenged or excited you. I needed to kickstart myself and what better way than a public declaration of intent?

In the past two weeks, I've made a couch shrink to fit inside a personal van so that no one would have to pay the delivery charge. Trust me, that was a challenge.

I made an effort to dress nicer. It's difficult to bother with hair and make-up but this post shed a new light on appearance. So I've been paying attention. Another challenge.

I'm also trying to say yes more often. Not to the people who know I don't know how to say no but to myself and the opportunities that come my way. A friend suggested we go see Mavis Staples on a school night and I accepted. This video could have been shot on the night we attended. While it's not showcased here, that woman has an amazing range. A whole new world opened up to me that night. And I was reminded of a hot sultry night by the banks of the Mississippi.

I'm back to writing every day. Some days, it's just a paragraph or two. One day last week, I went through my desk and found all of the notes to Rootless Trees and the sweater book. I already know which one is going to garner the bulk of my attention, it's been planting ideas and scenes in the fertile soil of my imagination.

Most significantly, I did something that both challenged and excited me. I sent Heal Casey off to several publishers. The gimpy little pup's story is out there for others to read. I'm making an agent list to send to next. That might be a bit backwards but it's the route I took. It was past time to send him off.

How did you do with your challenges?

Busy living

2012-01-15T20:14:00.000-05:00

For many years I worked and wrote. I was so busy writing that I wasn't out living. Last year I was so busy surviving that I was neither writing nor living. This year I'm determined to find a better balance. I am working. I am writing. I am living.

I urge you all to do the same. Go out this week and do something that challenges and/or excites you. I will do the same. Let's meet back here next week and compare notes.

How did this happen?

2012-01-01T12:18:00.001-05:00

For all of you wonderful people who got Kindles or Nooks for the holidays, I direct your attention towards this little gem

How did this happen? Lunch with Imaginary Friends and other (mostly) True Stories. This is the Amazon link.

The Barnes and Noble link.

Written by my good friend, KD James, it contains her trademark sense of humour and insight. This is a great opportunity to look back in a few years and say you'd been reading the phenom right from the beginning.

Go. Enjoy.

You can thank me later.

Casy update

2011-12-18T11:59:00.001-05:00

I was in the process of putting Casey's package together to shop around when a new development occurred. He wore a hole in his brace right through layers of fiberglass and rubber. I took him to Pawsability to see if Janice could repair the prosthetic. The hole was the back of his heel as if he was scuffing instead of lifting his foot. I was concerned that meant his leg had turned to an angle that was three steps backwards. Because of unavoidable and unrelated circumstances, Casey hasn't been swimming in some time. Had that resulted in irreparable damage to his recovery?

With the brace off, Casey walked around the studio to show Janice his gait. Approximately seventeen out of twenty steps came down on his foot instead of his carapace. We were astounded.

Did walking with Ky's Sporn harness account for the difference? It might have given me more control so that Casey didn't gallop up and down the floor but it wasn't responsible for his foot striking the surface.

Janice suggested both the damage to the existing brace and Casey's gait were indicators that his leg had healed closer to his body in a more natural position. She feels that he no longer needs the support of a toe-to-shoulder brace. Tomorrow we go to pick up his new brace, one that immobilizes the area above and below the carapace so that he is forced to use his foot all of the time. He's a bit flat-footed so we've been doing toe-strengthening exercises for the last two weeks.

This is one time I don't mind going back to a project and re-writing the end. While it's true his therapy will be ongoing, Casey continues to amaze us with his improvement and natural joie d'vivre.

Winter projects

2011-12-04T15:56:00.001-05:00

Heal Casey is done and ready to go out. Publishers or agents first?

When writing non-fiction, things can be a bit trickier as fact is indeed stranger than fiction. One occasionally wonders who is going to believe a word written. As it pertains to the lions, how do I tell the story accurately and truthfully without being sued? It was not a good time in my life and revisiting has turned out to be more painful than I expected.

Fiction is more fun as there's a guaranteed happy ending. In my romantic world there is!

Right now, I'm surrounded by projects. There are some shawls and jackets that need to be knitted, dog hair to be spun, quilts to be sewn and scenery to be photographed. I want to paint again. My nephew has been spray painting on canvas and his creations have inspired me to drink from that well again. I bought some purses from a thrift shop and am currently giving them makeovers. Right now, that's all on paper because all of my brushes seem to have disappeared...

What are you working on? Do you find immersing yourself in one medium opens up your creativity to others or locks you into just one?

Changing the names

2011-11-20T15:06:00.001-05:00

I'm thinking about writing about my experiences with lions in my garage. It's a great story with great characters, a little danger and some suspense. A few of the characters were complete and total morons. There could be a lawsuit in my future if I use their real names. Although, it's not defamation of character if it's true, enough time has passed that proving it would be more difficult. Those people have held me back from writing the story. Most of it is about my experience, about my interactions with the big cats but the morons do appear from time to time.

If I change their names to protect myself, I must also change the names of the lions as well. Any suggestions? What would you name a bunch of big cats - lions, tigers and cougars?Oh my.

Sprayntings

2011-11-13T11:49:00.001-05:00

My nephew has been painting with spray paint. It's not graffiti. It's art. It's not on the sides of buildings. It's on canvas. And it is truly some incredible work.

He calls them sprayntings. He occasionally mixes mediums but the foundation is always spray paint. A local art gallery has several on display. He sold two in his first week.

This one is my current favourite - Celestial Waterfall

To see more, go to http://sprayntingsbymikal.wordpress.com/

Enjoy

Autumn along the Niagara River

2011-11-06T10:59:00.002-05:00

The sun is shining. No rain in sight. A lot of leaves on the ground. It smells wonderful out there. Go. Enjoy the day. We'll talk again next week.

These were some of the images from a walk along the Niagara River.

Don't they make you want to take a deep breath...

Ahhh. That's better.

A book judged by its cover

2011-10-30T14:56:00.000-04:00

I was putting some books away at the library a couple of weeks ago when this one caught my eye.

The dog obviously caught my eye. Nice clean graphics made it easy to remember book title and author. The back cover copy piqued my interest.

A German Shepherd police dog witnesses a murder and if his owner--an Iraq war vet and former cop-turned-thief--is convicted of the crime, the dog could be put down. Few rival Andy Carpenter's affection for dogs, and he decides to represent the poor canine. As Andy struggles to convince a judge that this dog should be set free, he discovers that the dog and his owner have become involved unwittingly in a case of much greater proportions than the one they've been charged with. Andy will have to call upon the unique abilities of this ex-police dog to help solve the crime and prevent a catastrophic event from taking place.

I checked our catalogue and discovered another book by the same author. But this was a series and we didn't have the first book. We did have the first five books in e-book format. The Sony reader saved the day and I've been hooked on the series ever since.

David Rosenfelt's voice is light, amusing but with a conscience. The books don't take themselves too seriously but entertain me with the mystery and a modicum of suspense. They're perfect for boosting me out of my current funk.

Wallowing

2011-10-16T11:17:00.002-04:00

I've got nothing witty or insightful to say. My brain is still reeling from the loss of two good friends in the space of a month. The fact that both of them came to me through writing kicks my creativity into a corner. I cannot write a single word without thinking of either one of them.

Both of them would kick my ass for wallowing in the anguish and using it as an excuse to miss my deadlines. Kate, in particular, would demand I make another deadline and stick to it. She was always good about staying on point no matter what the distractions. Some of her best writing came when she was on chemo and in need of a different focus than her health. Bryan was more laid-back and trusted the love of writing to bring us back to the process.

Last night, after staring at my open document for an hour, I took a deep breath and got my head back into the synopsis. It's done now. I'm in desperate need of an editor and Kate is no longer here to provide me with sharp insight, clear logic and straight truth. Kate's legacy is stronger than ever. We formed a writer's group together and over the years we've all grown closer, honed our skills and sharpened our focus. It may take us a beat or two longer to see the fix but we can do it. We rely on each other.

Bryan's faith in the art has been proven true over the past week. I find myself using other creative forms to express myself. I'm writing in photographs and paintings and simply breathing the experiences.

The best way I have to honour and cherish both of them is to allow all that we've shared together continue to shape me as a writer, a photographer and a friend. It's time to stop wallowing and get on with it.

Worth the drive

2011-10-12T13:34:00.001-04:00

Raising a glass of the best scotch to a good man, a talented man, a friend who I will miss terribly.

Bryan J. Weitzel June 2,1964-October 8, 2011

Thank you, Bryan. It was all worth the drive

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-10-09T12:09:00.000-04:00

It's been a rough year full of lost and I've been drowning in sorrow for months. Yet as I think of my blessings on this weekend of gratitude I am filled with hope and appreciation.

I have a job I love.
Live in a great house that easily accommodates three generations.
Am surrounded by fur, fin, feathers and scales that teach me every single day that humans are not the only species of value.
I am gifted with amazing friendships.
My time is spent with people and in activities that lift my spirit.
I know that my presence makes a difference in people's lives.

And all that loss reminds me how valuable those individuals have been in my life. I have been blessed to have loved and been so loved that the loss is felt to my core.

Thank you.

Rest in peace, sweet Kate

2011-09-25T11:00:00.000-04:00

Kate Weichelt November 3, 1961 - September 8, 2011

Next step

2011-09-18T18:11:00.000-04:00

The reviews are in from the beta readers for Heal, Casey. Apart from some misplaced commas and a title discussion, it appears the book is ready to be sent out.

Now the fun part - writing a synopsis. Despite the fact that I won a synopsis-writing contest a few years ago, I'm not looking forward to the process. One of my critique partners gave me a mug that reads, "What's worse than writing a synopsis? Nothing" which contributes to my dread.

Then I started thinking about the process. I have to encapsulate the story all the time for people who are asking me about my latest project. Agents and editors aren't going to publish the book just because there's a cute dog on the cover. They want to know why they should care about the cute dog.

Tawna Fenske wrote a great blog about query letters. Her points can also be applied to synopsis.

Plus, writing the synopsis is good practice for when Casey and I go on the Ellen DeGeneres Show.

Kate

2011-09-13T23:31:00.000-04:00

How do you sum up a lifetime of memories in just a page?

The movie montage of images runs through my mind teasing me with the promise of Kate. Tobogganing on the hill. Mulled wine by the bonfire. Racing the squirrels to the strawberries. Meandering through the hosta gardens. Picking up seashells and stones along the shore. Watching her sign her winning Beetle story in the back of Duets at an RWA convention. Watching the dogs play with sticks. Listening to frogs by the pond. Feeding chipmunks while on a writer's retreat. Pondering character names and plot-lines. Celebrating. Laughing. Crying. A quick smile. Swimming with squid. Watching the hummingbirds. Fireflies. Writing at the Butterfly Conservatory.

So many more images than I can ever share. Words can't sum up a person's soul, their impact on another. That's something to be felt.

For everyone who has ever been touched by Kate's soul - we were privileged.

A small reminder

2011-09-04T14:32:00.000-04:00

Write with passion.

Write over-the-top. Use all the adjectives and active verbs you've ever heard.

Pour your heart and soul onto the page.

Edit later.

Just W.R.I.T.E.

We can change the world

2011-08-28T11:01:00.000-04:00

I'm in the midst of losing two people I love deeply. Losing the Leader of the Opposition was hard for me, if for no other reason than that. Yesterday's televised funeral was truly a celebration of Jack Layton's life. I want that for my friends. I want the world to know how precious they are, not just to me, but to everyone who was ever lucky enough to know them.

Layton left a letter to Canadians. Regardless of your agreement with the man's politics, how can disagree with his closing statement? There's a reason it has gone viral. It's not just a rallying cry to his political party, to Canadians, but to people everywhere.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

All my very best,

Jack Layton

We can change the world.

Bryan and Kate, you have changed my world, and made it better, by sharing it with me.

Thank you.

Ugly Eyes

2011-08-22T08:52:00.000-04:00

I'm often accused of seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses. I only see the good in people, places and events. That's not entirely true. I'm aware of the ugliness in the world. I don't focus on it. I do focus on the positive.

Of course there are times when I have my ugly eyes on and nothing is rosy. Everything is nasty and depressing. I only see vindictive behaviour or cruel intentions. I see oppression, depression, and obsession. Ugly eyes only see ugliness no matter what else is around, or what is true.

How you see the world is dependent upon your expectations. If you expect to see only the negative, that's what you will see. You look for it. Ugly eyes block out light and colour and throw things into shadow.

It's difficult to swap out that view when you're looking at the world that way. You can't hand rose-coloured glasses to someone with ugly eyes. They will think you're trying to scratch out their retinas. Ugly eyes have a strong survival instinct. They expect everyone else to conform to their world view.

I usually take my rose-coloured glasses out of their line of sight and play with all of the colours until Ugly Eyes get tired and fall asleep. That's when dreams can give some perspective and restore vision to a more balanced view of the world.

If you have Ugly Eyes, or know someone with Ugly Eyes, don't despair. The world won't stay this dark and nasty forever. Pain will subside and beauty will slowly creep back in.

Good reads

2011-08-14T14:37:00.000-04:00

I've been slowly going through my TBR pile. Every single book has been a keeper. That's not helping me make room for new books but I don't mind. I've been enjoying every single read.

I've already mentioned When stars go blue by Caridad Ferrer.

but equally worth savouring, I recommend:

Backseat Saints by Joshilyn Jackson. That woman has such a wacky, and insightful, way of looking at the world. Her characters are unusual in expression but at heart they are the same as each of us. I love her voice. You don't have to have read Gods in Alabama to understand Backseat Saints but as they're both great books, why not?

The map of true places by Brunonia Barry. I can never quite figure where she's going with her characters but am never disappointed with the ride. Her voice has a dreamlike quality that fits in well with the character's uncertainty.

Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen also has a dreamlike quality to it. I loved the tree that was sentient being, the little girl who knew where everything belonged and the adults who didn't.

Then there was Blackout and All Clear by Connie Willis. It's hard to believe that 1100 pages were infused with such fast-paced urgency. Incredibly well researched and full of detail about WWII England it would be easy to imagine Willis was a time traveler herself.

I cared so much about the welfare of the characters in all of these books. The settings were great and diversified, as were the story-lines but well-drawn characters were the common denominator.

Go get yourself a copy of each of these books. You can thank me later.

Dog tears

2011-08-07T21:33:00.000-04:00

I've been lax with writing the last few months as you all know. There's no real excuse but plenty of reasons. However, now that my writing group is meeting every two weeks, I have to have something to share. That means that Casey's story is back out of the drawer.

Two things I've noticed. 1) Writing non-fiction is the same as writing fiction. You need to have lots of drama, emotion and a hook. Casey has that. 2) I forgot the emotion in all of the facts. The reason we stuck it out through everything was the emotional aspect of having Casey in our lives.

A simple thing to remember yet so essential. How did I forget that? Even for an instant?

I took the laughing dog to the hospital to see my mom last week. They've been separated for fourteen weeks. While he doesn't understand what's going on, he did seem to grasp the idea that there was something wrong. Or at least something that required him to be gentle and cautious around her. None of the wild enthusiasm he's noted for was on display.

He sidled up to her chair and sat down beside her, on guard and protective. She petted his head. They were together. And when we separated them again, he cried.

Emotion. The motivating factor for so much in everyone's life. It's time to put it back in Casey's story. He certainly feels it.

Love Letters

2011-07-31T12:14:00.000-04:00

I was going through an old trunk filled with photographs and found an envelope from a very dear ex. He was the Love of my LIFE (I was in my 20s and the teenage exuberance was still very present) A few years after we'd broken up he mailed me copies of family photos and some love letters I'd written. Copies. Despite the fact that he'd been the one to end things, he kept the originals.

I started to read them last night and was embarrassed. Partly because of the content, there was so much love on those pages it was hard to read. Partly because I felt like a voyeur, so much passion and a window into my soul. Yes, I wrote that but it's such a younger version of me that it felt like I was intruding on someone else's private correspondence.

But what really embarrassed me was the language and structure of the letters. Wow. The internal editor really never shuts up. Instead of appreciating the honesty of emotion, I was critiquing the word choices. So flowery and unimaginative. No wonder I never got a book contract back then.

The most important thing about those letters truly is the feeling I had when writing them. I couldn't hold all that emotion inside. I didn't want to jump on a couch but I knew if I tried to contain it I would explode. So I used the tool with which I was most comfortable and wrote.

Words, even cliched ones that have been overused, are evocative, powerful and can take one back in time.

I'm glad I found those letters. I'm going to burn them because they really were private and written only for us. We've both evolved since then, changed and matured. But it was nice to take a quick glimpse at the past me who believed LOVE was everything. She's still in here. Perhaps it's time to invite her out for a glass of wine and see what happens.

An author worth savouring

2011-07-24T14:25:00.000-04:00

You all know of my love for The Art of Racing in the Rain. It's a book that has stuck with me for three years and one that comes to mind often. It's not just the storyline but the rhythm, cadence and voice that have embedded themselves into my psyche.

Last week, I read something else that is destined to linger. When the stars go blue by Caridad Ferrer. The prose is as visually stunning as the cover. I finished the book earlier in the week and haven't been able to read anything else since. The characters have lingered in my reading palate and I want to savour them for as long as I can.

Caridad Ferrer's writing first came to my attention several years ago when she guest blogged on a blog I followed regularly. I made a comment and won a copy of her debut novel, Adios to my old life. I was hooked. Her strong characterization and evocative description drew me into a world with which I was completely unfamiliar(teenage Latina musician trying to make her mark on an American Idol type reality show). Bear in mind that I'm a middle-aged tone-deaf Caucasian woman to understand how surprising is my connection to that book.

Caridad Ferrer's writing captures the culture and flavour of that world while making the reader a very real part of it. You cannot teach that ability.

Do yourself a favour. Whether the cover copy appeals to you or not, read this book. The writing alone will make the journey worth your while.

Beginning

2011-07-14T10:43:00.000-04:00

Don't keel over from shock.
I've been writing again.

It started with a commitment to write for ten minutes a day. I blew that off for two days in a row then sat down and wrote until that draft was done. Yeah, I don't know how to ease into things at all.

I'm at the point where I need to input all of the notes, edits and maps into the computer. I've re-read all of the comments from my beta readers and contemplated their suggestions. Only one thought that the book should really have started at page three. The other four readers felt the context was important so that the significance of that starting point was stronger.

I'm torn. I tend to agree with the one lonely reader. Your book starts with the first step of the journey. However, an argument could be made that the first step occurred when my mom fell as opposed to when Casey arrived. A strong argument, because if all of our living conditions hadn't changed so radically we wouldn't have been capable, let alone receptive to Mom's desire for another dog. In this instance, I think context is vital.

On the other hand, that backstory can be told throughout the first chapter.

I'm great at playing devil's advocate for both sides. Making a decision about which is the better choice is a lot harder for me.

Do I start with the hypothesis - Healing takes many forms
or
the action - His calm steady gaze looked through the monitor's screen and straight into my mother's heart

Which grabs you more? Yeah, I thought so. That's a lot more editing.

Next week's blog - how editing makes a much stronger story.

Reading formats

2011-07-03T11:14:00.000-04:00

I've spent a ridiculous amount of time in waiting rooms over the last two months. While they are usually loud rooms with lots of people talking or demanding answers, I observed an interesting trend. Cell phones, tablets, books and puzzles were all in use. One family of 27 (I'm assuming it was extended) talked amongst themselves as well as to others on their cell phone. A woman in her late 70's was texting someone while a young man approximately nine or ten years old was reading a 39 Clues book.

At another table a young woman in her 20's was on her cell phone. The three year old beside her was putting a puzzle together.

A different family group was playing a Solitaire tournament on their ipads. Again, it was the youngest group that was reading a book.

We all had paperbacks but my brother and I were texting each other about the family of 27. If only 2 visitors were allowed at a time, how long would they take to all see their loved one. It was 11pm at the time of our texts. Five more people came in to join that family. Too much math for me.

That was just one particular night. In the time I've been consciously observing the trend, it is the older generation using electronic devices while the pre-teens are reading books. It's not hard and fast, empirical data, just my observations.

It gave me hope for the future of books. In multiple formats.

Guest Post - Nursery Crime writer Karen Mauck

2011-06-21T11:54:00.000-04:00

Karen Mauck is my guest today. There has been a LOT of buzz the last year or so about self-publishing. I thought it would be nice to hear from Karen about why she took this route and how it's worked for her so far. Nursery Crimes is her fourth book.

When you hear someone has self-published a book, what’s the first thing you think?

I might know your answer, because I’ve heard it before: some people think self-publishing is for lousy writers who couldn’t get an agent or “real” publisher to give them the time of day. And believe me, I have seen some self-published books that fit into that category. But not all of them. Ever heard of Amanda Hocking? You will.

So you may ask, knowing that I admit there is ongoing debate about the value of self-publishing, why did I choose that route with my latest book? Or, for that matter, all four of my novels?

Oh, I tried the traditional route, querying agents and attending conferences. I was always rejected. But that doesn’t mean I am a lousy writer. (I hope.) The few rejections that were not form letters but were instead directed at my material mentioned things that I consider personal preferences, such as “It’s not long enough for what I’m looking for” or “There are too many stories with cops.” I’ve heard from other writers who received rejections that were not so nice, so I’d go as far as saying those are good rejections.

Another reason for the rejections, in my probably underinformed opinion, is that so many people are trying to pitch a novel to an industry that lately somehow seems to be both oversaturated and in flux. Everybody and their sister thinks they can write a book (Snooki, anyone? And yes, I am including myself as one of the sisters), and yet bookstores are in bankruptcy and publishing models are being debated (paper vs. e-book, traditional vs. independent, which is what I am).

There were several hundred people at just one regional writer’s conference I attended, all hoping to be published. Multiply that by however many other conferences, regional and national, in a given year, then multiply that number by genre – thriller, romance, mystery, childrens, biography, literary fiction, etc. – then divide by how many books a publisher releases in any given year, and that’s a lot of rejections. I’m not alone.

Even if I were lucky enough to get a contract with an agent, who was then able to successfully pitch it to a publisher, my novel wouldn’t see the light of day for a couple years. A book accepted today might not make it to print until 2014. And one thing I have learned is, life is short. Doing it my way means I have an actual book with my name on it in my hot little hands in less than 4 months.

This reminds me of another reason I chose to self-publish: my recent release, Nursery Crimes, has been completed since 2007. It sat, forlornly languishing, in the bowels of my computer since then (long enough that I had to update some technology references I made). I figured that was long enough. It was time to do something. I spent all that time writing it, I might as well let someone actually read it.
And why not now, when self-published books are losing the less-than-stellar reputation they had when I first started publishing this way 10 years ago. There will always be people who deride them, but others are giving them some respect, national best-selling authors with recognizable names, no less. Just ask JA Konrath or Bob Mayer how well sales of their self-published novels are going. (Hint: Very well indeed.)

There are now a great many companies that offer various levels of self-publishing services, many more than when I started out. Back when the rejections were piling up on my first book (Scraps), someone pointed out to me one of these then-new companies, iUniverse. I checked them out and liked what I saw, so I tried it out. I liked it so much that this is now the fourth time I’ve used them.
I like them because they do a lot of the work for me, and I am inherently lazy. I could have done it all myself, applying for the ISBN number and asking retailers to carry it and designing the cover and all that. I know someone who did that, and after several years of good selling she has yet to break even, plus she has a few thousand copies of her book in her basement. The company I chose did it all for me, for far less money that what she spent going it alone, and I don’t need to stockpile anything. They did an editorial review and made suggestions to help me make it better. I told them what I wanted the cover to look like, and they did it. They listed me on amazon.com and other Web sites like Barnes and Noble and Borders, plus Ingram’s Books in Print so anyone can walk into any bookstore and order it. They formatted it in both paperback and e-book. They also provide me with opportunities to advertise in magazines, newspapers, and e-mail blasts, if I so choose. I couldn’t figure out how to do that (well, I probably could, but you’ll remember that I’m lazy), let alone afford the rates I’d be charged if it did it myself. They handle the orders and the shipping for me, and deposit a check into my bank account at the end of the quarter if I’ve sold anything. And if a “real” publisher somehow stumbles across my stuff and wants to publish it themselves, I am free to accept their kind offer. (Other companies offer similar services at various costs; if you are interested in doing this yourself, I suggest you do some research to see which one is right for you.)

Now, there are other, newer services I could have used that would have cost me less, much less; if I had wanted to create my novel as an e-book only, I could have done it for practically free with services such as createspace. But I am admittedly technophobic – I will carry my flip-style cell phone until either I or the phone die – and still prefer the traditional paper book to e-book (although I do read e-books – mainly authors who publish e-book only). Using this option allows me to offer the book in both formats. Plus it was a known entity; I’d used them before and knew what to expect.

Sometimes self-publishing is called Print-On-Demand (POD) or even “vanity press.” I find that last term somewhat dismissive, but on the other hand, perhaps it fits. Because I printed my books just for me.

I guess that’s not entirely true. I asked local bookstores to carry my books. I made bookmarks and postcards and gave them to every person I knew, and a few I didn’t. I bought a fun shirt with Velcro letters that I used to spell out “Ask me about my book”, then actually wore it in public. I put up signs on coffee shop bulletin boards. I set up tables for book singings at art shows, book fairs, and garage sales. I’m posting about it on Facebook and various blogs.

But.

I don’t expect to sell a lot. I don’t delude myself into thinking I am the next Nora Roberts, or even the next Snooki, for that matter. I’m not doing this to get rich. I’m doing it because I like to write stories. And if I make a few dollars in the process, that’s just an added bonus.

All this is not to say I won’t ever publish the traditional route. I still have one completed manuscript and a couple languishing works in progress up my sleeve, just waiting for the right time, the right stage, the right platform to publish. Maybe I’ll go with the same press, or try one of the many other companies. Maybe I’ll finally embrace technology and try this new-fangled e-book-only route that’s been so successful for Miss Hocking and others. Or, who knows? I may yet have a shot at the big leagues the traditional way. Maybe one day I’ll be rich and famous despite all my best efforts to the contrary.

Karen Mauck writes sexy romantic suspense and is the author of Scraps, Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence, Last to Know, and her latest release, Nursery Crimes. She lives in southeastern Michigan.

BackCoverCopy:
With only twisted nursery rhymes as clues, a tough, dedicated cop puts his life, and his heart, on the line to protect a schoolteacher and her young students from a killer calling himself Father Noose.

Jillian Hobart is passionate about teaching and devoted to her class of kindergartners. But someone else is showing a more deadly interest in her students, leaving eerie nursery rhymes behind as her students begin to disappear.

Deputy Sheriff Peter Dack is attracted to Jillian's quiet intensity even though his job requires he keep her at arm's length. But working together to stop the killer brings them into close contact, increasing the heat even as it becomes apparent that the intended target may not be Jillian's students — but rather Jillian herself.

Children's Movies

2011-06-12T11:44:00.000-04:00

Last week, I was going through the movies at work and marking them as one of the AFI Top 100 movies. Two were children's movies. I got to thinking that there should be a list of Top 100 Children's movies. There is but I don't agree with it. A significant portion are from the original list.

So I thought about what I consider a great kids' movie. My criteria were simple. The movie had to entertain, engage and linger. It had to stand the test of time. Was I still thinking about those characters/story/plot for months or years afterward? Would my niece, who is ten years old, be as thrilled/entertained/entranced as I? I've only been able to run the last test by a few of them but one surprised me by not making her cut. ET bored her to tears. ET! While a singing Sean Connery amuses me no end, she found the effects on Darby O'Gill and the little people to be too clunky.

My brief list includes, in no particular order,

The Railway Children
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Shrek
Napoleon and Samantha
Mary Poppins
Bedknobs and Broomsticks
Babe
Beetlejuice
Chicken Run
Gremlins
Nightmare before Christmas
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Lilo and Stitch
Monster's Inc.
How to train your dragon
Cars
Swiss Family Robinson
The Princess Bride
Finding Nemo
Bridge to Terabithia
Herbie the Lovebug (the original)
The one and only Genuine original family band
The Parent Trap(Hayley Mills)

There are some great classics in that list, and others to see in the trailers. I feel like spending the afternoon with some old celluloid friends. Which movies would you add to this list?

One format, multiple ereaders

2011-06-05T12:47:00.000-04:00

I've complained about them before. I'm still not satisfied that any one reader is going to do what I want it to do. My request is simple - read the books I buy.

I don't want to be tied to Sony, Amazon, Chapters, Barnes and Noble. I want to buy books from whatever store I want then read them on whatever device I prefer. I don't want to be tied to one reader and one reader only. There's a hardcover book I've been reading from the library, Harmony. It's a coffee table book full of weighty issues. I could use it as a tray table, it's so big. I'm enjoying it immensely but am exhausted from carrying it. I was going to buy the ebook version but was stopped by the need to commit to a particular reader.

Right now, I'm reading pdf files on my laptop and smartphone. I have a Sony PSR-350 Reader that freezes all the time. It may have been run over by my mom's wheelchair when she was rushed to the hospital a few weeks ago. I'm not sure as I wasn't with her but her purse has a big tear in it. Regardless, the Sony Reader is frozen. I cannot reset it. I cannot power it down. I've been staring at the same page for the last two days trying to figure out how to fix it. I've followed along on all the Sony forums looking for a solution. So far, nothing has worked.

All of the books are saved to the laptop but they were purchased from the Sony store. I can't transfer them to my phone and read them there. I can read from the laptop but who wants to lug that around everywhere? If I replace the reader, I'll have to replace it with another Sony so that I don't lose all of my purchases. That doesn't seem right.

So I ask, why aren't all ebooks in the same format? They've done it for CDs and DVDs. Why not for books?

I've purchased several items from Who Dares Wins Publishing for several reasons. One, I like the way both Bob Mayer and Jenni Holbrook write. They provide entertaining reads. Two, and equally as important for me, I can buy their books in pdf versions. This means I can read them everywhere I want, on whatever device I choose.

They dare. I win.

Why doesn't everyone else offer that option? It's clearly possible.

Volcano

2011-05-29T21:03:00.001-04:00

Despite the fact, that I have had absolutely nothing to do with it, I'm very proud of my friend, Jon Gustafsson. His footage of the latest volcanic eruption in Iceland has made news around the world. It's been voted one of the top videos at several different sites.

It's incredible footage. Fantastic. Awe-inspiring. Beautiful. Maybe a bit scary.

Go look at it. If you're not impressed, well then, I don't know what to say. Mother Nature is something else. She has a way of putting life in perspective.

Alex's home and Nea's tree

2011-05-14T23:03:00.000-04:00

I popped by the site of Hell to Pay last week to remind myself of that book's existence.

Spring has bloomed around Alex's place

The wind that tore across North America a couple of weeks ago did some damage to Nea's tree

It's not bad by most standards but she did lose several limbs. They'll grow back.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T11:36:00.000-04:00

Apparently, this is the day I'm supposed to honour my mother. Huh. I thought I was supposed to do that every day.

My mom is ill and has been for some time. For the last few years, I've been treating our time together as precious. My parents moved into the apartment downstairs. My day begins with a hello to and from Mom and ends with a kiss goodnight.

In the last ten years, several of my friends have lost their mothers. We're not old enough for this but who ever is? When my grandmother died two years ago, my dad became an orphan. It doesn't matter that he's a grandfather. He no longer has his parents to turn to in those moments when only your parents truly understand how you feel/what you need.

When I was a kid, I'd whine because there was a Mother's Day and a Father's Day but no Kids' Day. My dad said every day was Kids' Day. Oh, how right he was. In turn though, we should honour our parents and grandparents every day, not just on the day designated by greeting card companies.

There are some people who don't have parents, who grew up without the comfort and certainty of their mother's love. They didn't hatch in the cabbage patch but they didn't have moms either. The hype and commerce of today's fake holiday is a bitter reminder of what they don't have. It's bad enough that the rest of us feel like inadequate slackers because we didn't buy Mom a diamond necklace, a houseful of flowers and angels singing her praises. The brilliance and necessity of mothers is everywhere right now. It can be overwhelming.

I'm not a mom. This is not my holiday. I'm okay with that. I have a mom I do adore. I have children who I'd fight tooth and claw to provide for and protect. I have the best of both worlds.

I realize it every single day, even if I don't tell them how blessed I am. I do my best to show them how much I truly love them each and every day, not just once a year.

Heal Casey progress

2011-04-25T19:00:00.000-04:00

I actually did a fair amount of editing last week. I worked on Casey's story every night. I even made a google map, or tried to, of Casey's journey from his birthplace on the reservation in Northern Ontario to our little town in the Niagara Region. Google couldn't handle it. As the only way in or out of the reservation is by air, the Mighty Search Engine was unable to calculate the trip. I was able to estimate the distance to the nearest town and determined the mileage from there. Score one for the human. Score another one for the dog who took a plane, train and car for over 2,000 kilometers to reach us. No wonder he's such a good traveler.

There are just a few more chapters to edit. Then the opening has to be made far more dynamic followed by another read-through and a polish.

Holding myself accountable on this blog does keep me focused and productive. I'm less distracted by,

oh, gorgeous man in chain mail.

What was I doing?

Inspiration

2011-04-17T10:39:00.000-04:00

My nephew has being staying up every night writing. Like me, he does it in layers. Unlike me, he's actually writing.

Last weekend was spent with some very creative people in my life - filmmakers, spinners, designers...people who inspire me on many levels. I came home fired up to finish Casey's story. (And to get back to Sturla's Sweater as the sweater book is called) Neither impulse lasted long.

Heal Casey is just in need of polishing edits. So why do I continue to ignore it? Part of the problem is that the story of how he healed my mom and vice versa is no longer true. She isn't healing. She's been going through a really rough patch. Not even Casey's antics can help her at this point. It's hard to revisit optimism and enthusiasm in the face of reality. As that's not going to improve any time soon, I need to suck it up and finish. For the first time in months, Casey is going swimming on Tuesday. I will use his joy to propel the editing process. I promise to check back in here with a progress report.

Stasholic is coming for a visit next week. There will be much wine, wool and more than a few freeze frames of Sturla's Sweater as we enjoy another viewing of Wrath of Gods. It's spectacular. If it doesn't inspire me to hit the keyboard, nothing will.

Labels - not a fan

2011-04-03T12:08:00.000-04:00

I mentioned the other day to a friend that I'm not getting along with writing. She suggested I redefine myself - spinner, knitter, caregiver. I didn't like those definitions. For one thing they don't fill my life(okay, maybe the last one does)like writing did and none of them feed my soul. Or pull my brain out through my eyes so perhaps that's not a bad thing.

I'm not a fan of labels. I find them limiting. We're told to claim our identity, embrace it. Own it. I am a writer. I am a knitter/spinner/crocheter/photographer/painter. I am so much more than all of those things. I'm definitely creative but as previous posts would suggest, I don't exactly like to be tied to any one thing. I follow the Muse wherever she may take me.

I'm also reliable and meet deadlines. I can be practical. I have a job that pays me enough that I can indulge my creativity without stressing over whether it will pay the bills.

I'm a tree hugging conservationist. Who happens to love auto racing in its variety of forms.

I love animals but still eat meat (though I'm one of the few chicken-eating vegetarians out there)

As soon as you stick a label on me, regardless of what it is, I feel stifled/confined/restrained by that label. I'm a contrary bitch who will cut off my nose to spite my face(not literally, I'm too vain for that). It doesn't make sense but I've learned that about myself. I'm a rebel at heart. Yet I'm not an anarchist either. Some rules are there for good reason. It's the labels to which I object.

It all started when I was a wee mite in the 60's(ah, yes, that does explain so much) The idea of gender was presented to my young mind as something over which I had no control. I couldn't run around without a shirt because I was a girl. I had to swelter in the heat while my boy friends were FREE. Being a girl didn't seem like as much fun. I didn't want to be a girl(I'm not so sure I wanted to be a boy either but those were the only options presented to me at the time)

This isn't a blog about transgender, it's about labels and the idea to 3 year-old me that I was limited in my abilities because of my gender was the foundation for my hate affair with all labels. It's ridiculous to suggest that because one thing is important to me, or a part of my identity, that another thing can't be as significant.

Okay, yes I am a girl. I do not have a penis, and despite what I told my other 3 year-old friends I did not have one and it fell off. I like being a girl. I liked being a tomboy and climbing trees and wearing dresses and halters and high heels and playing goalie for the road hockey team and being defense on the soccer team and all sorts of other things that had nothing to do with the label of gender.

So while I do think it's important to acknowledge who you are (I am a writer) don't let that limit you in your experience. I'm taking some time to simply experience life instead of recording it. Be who you are. Don't limit yourself. Experience yourself to the fullest.

Alternate career

2011-03-27T12:53:00.000-04:00

I want to run away and join an animal sanctuary. I can feed baby elephants whose mothers have been killed. I can clean lion pens. Groom camels.

I want to be a documentary filmmaker and travel the world recording everything from the mating habits of the dung beetle to the effect of granola bars on the global economy. I want to study big issues, and small ones.

I want to be a dancer - to glide across the floor with beauty and grace.

I want to be an accomplished piano player. Someone who can change the mood of a room with the stroke of a key.

I want to be a marine biologist and study narwhals. Or squid. Or plankton.

There are so many things I'd like to do with my life that I have neither talent nor training to do. That's why reading books and watching documentaries are so wonderful. They can take me to those worlds, put me in those jobs or lifestyles. They expand my narrow view of the world. And sometimes I learn something new to keep with me in this life I currently live.

What skill or talent do you wish you had?

One Good Thing

2011-03-20T13:16:00.000-04:00

My laptop had the dreaded Blue Screen of Death so I replaced it. There`s nothing on this new system, apart from some games that are a minor distraction. It`s strange not to have all of my photographs at my fingertips. I had backed documents up to my online accounts so that`s all accessible.

I like the shiny white newness of it all. I literally have a blank slate. A fresh start.

There are endless opportunities and possibilities just waiting for me to jump in there. With all that`s going on in the world these days, disasters and tragedies, loss and devastation, it seems frivolous to be so pleased with a new toy. I`ve had a few sleepless nights lately so it`s easy to please me right now.

I`m determined to find One Good Thing every single day and rejoice in all that life has to offer. By focusing on on that instead of all the horror is a good coping skill. It also reminds us why we should pick up the pieces and carry on.

One Good Thing. One a day. Try it. It`s a small thing with a huge potential

Relief

2011-03-13T12:57:00.000-04:00

So many of the photos coming out of Japan remind me of this picture I took of my friend's son's cars.

That's just wrong. Please donate to the organization of your choice. And let's not forget the people of Haiti and Pakistan who are still recovering from their respective earthquakes as well. Empathy and compassion can help rebuild communities.

Thank you.

Sportswriting

2011-03-06T12:26:00.000-05:00

It's a difficult genre to master. A lot of books about specific sports focus on a particular team or player. Sometimes they're about one race, one game, one title or the difference one year made in that sport's history.

It's all too easy to fall into a litany of statistics and brilliant moves. I always struggled with the balance between describing play-by-play action and capturing the essence of the game when I wrote about the team for the local paper.

In all of the sport books and articles I've read over the years, it's been the rare author who captures the spirit of the book with their writing style. Speed, skill, colour and grace explode/dance/thunder down the pages on a variety of subjects.

Right now, I'm reading The World is a ball. If you're one of those people who thinks watching soccer is like watching paint dry - give this book a read. John Doyle is able to capture the beauty, brilliance and excitement of soccer and describe it in such a way that has me reaching for the television remote. I want to immerse myself in the sport after reading three pages.

I read along at a slow pace, absorbing every word, considering all the nuance and complexities revealed. I stop after a few pages just to think about what he's described - the sea of orange that flows through all the streets, alleys and doorways ahead of the Dutch team. The brilliance and spectacle of the Brazilian supporters. The organization and dedication of the Korean fans.

He conveys not just the mood and atmosphere of the World Cup but the significance of team movement, of supporter reaction and how everything all melds together to create a magnificent insight into national identities and international relationships.

If you love soccer, or love someone who does, read this book. It will expand your knowledge and appreciation for "the beautiful game".

Writer's Options

2011-02-13T11:01:00.000-05:00

While on this relationship time-out that writing and I have taken, I have kept in loose touch with some of our mutual friends. Bob Mayer is doing some interesting things in the world of publishing in the digital age. I highly recommend perusing his blog posts to get an authour driven perspective, as well as the business possibilities that abound. This article in particular discusses self-publishing. Opportunities lurk behind every corner these days. Should we all self-publish?

I've definitely given Lulu a few quick glances from beneath lowered lashes. I've got a memoir that I want to print three copies of for family use. I have an illustrated children's book that needs a half dozen copies. Lulu certainly gives me options. I've praised the heck out of a novel, Need to Know by Christine Merrill, that I purchased from that site several months ago so I know how well they do e-books.

I still have my issues with Amazon and Kindle but I've gone ahead and purchased my very own copy of Splitting the Difference by my friend Lisa Deon. When you read why she published with Amazon after reading the self-publishing blog post from above, I guarantee that it will get your writer brain pondering your options.

If you're a Reader, your world just expanded. Go get Lisa's story. And enjoy!

Writing breakup or much needed break?

2011-02-06T15:31:00.000-05:00

Writing and I are a taking a break from each other and evaluating our relationship. It was my idea and I may have actually used the "It's not you, it's me" phrase. Writing doesn't seem to mind, or have missed me in the slightest.I don't miss writing all that much either.

What I really don't miss are the hours and hours spent in front of the computer, trying to second-guess the characters or agonizing over the plot. Writing - like any relationship - is a lot of hard work.

I'm not adverse to hard work. I don't even mind the lack of balance between slave labour and minimal reward. Initially, I thought the break was motivated by the complete and utter lack of reward but, now I'm not so sure.

I don't want to talk about writing with anyone. Reading is another subject entirely. I can discuss a good book for hours. If someone starts to talk to me about craft, plot, character arc or structure in my own work or theirs then I feel a very negative physical reaction.

I take encouragement as patronizing or even condescending when it's not meant that way. I get angry when people tell me how to resolve my writer's block. It's not a block. I'm not stuck. I have words and ideas. I just don't want to write, yet the whole thought of not being a writer makes me ill. It's been a part of my identity for as long as I can remember. Is that what I cling to? Is the idea of being a writer what I care for more than the writing itself?

Clearly, I'm not over writing. There's a lot of unresolved emotion there. If we have any chance of working it out and getting back together I need to examine what's turned my love to hate. They're two sides of the same coin. I am not indifferent to writing in the least.

Perhaps this time apart will help me evaluate our relationship, put things into perspective and help me find a healthier balance than the all-or-nothing attitude I seem to have these days. If not, then I have plenty of paper with which to line the bird cage.

World Peace

2011-01-30T10:08:00.000-05:00

This photo (it's all about content not quality, I apologize for the latter) is the reason I believe world peace is possible. Three instinctual enemies coexist quite peacefully beneath the same roof. They've learned to check their instincts, adjust their expectations and trust each other. Whenever one of them throws things out of balance, the others give him leeway and let things slide. Grievances are forgiven, injuries are rare and always minor.

I had planned to post that photo last week but life kept me away from the computer. In light of this week's events it seems all the more relevant. You might think it's cheeky of me to compare three animals to the cultural diversity in the Middle East. But I couldn't help think of my photo when I saw the one of Muslims and Christians linking arms to protect the antiquities at one of the museums in Cairo.

I believe we can all get along.

Finishing

2011-01-16T11:49:00.001-05:00

Right now I'm working on several projects - one at a time. There are so many unfinished creative bits of myself lying around the house. I want to organize and declutter. Traditionally, January is a slow time at work in a month filled with sad anniversaries. The spike-in-the-chest pain has subsided over the years to a dull ache that never goes away. I need to be productive.

So far this weekend, I've finished a hat, a baby jacket and a sweater. I've pulled out two more sweaters and a wrap that were tossed aside for Christmas projects. One of the Christmas projects wasn't finished in time for my parents to see so that has to be completed. I have still to input one letter my mom wrote to my grandmother when we were stationed in Germany. Most of the photographs have been scanned. I have to sit down with my parents and document the stories that go with the pictures then put them all together. Then I have to navigate Lulu so the memories will be preserved for the kids.

At some point I also need to finish Casey's revisions. I've been carting that sheaf of papers with me all over town and on my recent travels. Someone somewhere is waiting for that book to come out and show them how to help their own dog. I need to finish it.

I need to finish a lot of things before I start new. I will. I always do. I may have slowed down a bit lately but that doesn't mean I'm not always thinking about how to continue/improve/finish. I am. I will.

Finishing - an important part of creating.

Internet Friends

2011-01-08T09:34:00.000-05:00

In the last three weeks I've either had company or been company. At this very moment I am being company in the Crossroads of America. I feel so social. All but one set of friends is from the Internet. That's still not something I admit to when crossing International borders, but other than that I'm quite proud of the fact that some of my best friends were met over the web.

Web. It connects us. And some of us were meant to be connected. I was telling my friend's niece that while her uncle and I met online through a writer's blog, our connection was so much bigger than any two people. There are many similarities in family histories, parental backgrounds, birthplaces and interests. My nephew is friends with her cousin. My mum and her granny have connected. Her aunts are precious to me and her uncle's girlfriend reminds me of Stashaholic. We are two families who are essential to each other's lives and would never have met without the Internet.

I would never have gone to Scotland - twice, if I hadn't made friends online. Same writer's blog (it was a goldmine of durable and enduring friendships), different people. But no less precious. My 2011 began with fresh air, lots of laughter and a powerful feeling of goodwill thanks to the 24 karat company.

My other friend wasn't actually company. We met for a 4 3/4 hour lunch in Toronto at Dessert Trends. The website doesn't tell you how fantastic the service is, how gracious the owners are or that it can accommodate a wheelchair without detracting from the decor. We laughed, talked fashion, friends, work, life. With one of us living in San Fransisco(not me) we don't get to spend much time together in person but we do talk every day.

When I traveled to London, it was to help another friend unpack. Her family had recently moved there from my hometown and I wanted to help put her son's playroom together. His four year old perspective on the world fascinates me. These friends were made the old-fashioned way, through another Real Life friend. But I was able to introduce this friend to another one of my old-fashioned friends who already lives in London. The second friend and I had lost touch many years ago but, she found me through Facebook. I'll be ever grateful for that as we grew up together, weathered some horrific storms together and can now lounge on the beach drinking margaritas if we so wish.

It's been lovely to spend actual in-the-same-room time with my friends from the Internet. We continue to spin out as many connections, ever leading off to more adventures and adding more strings to our web.

There's still something magical about getting a handwritten letter in the mailbox at your front door, but when friends are on the other side of the world, it's good to be able to talk to them instantly(provided you can navigate time zones).

I've been blessed to be able to bring my imaginary friends into the real world.

Light

2010-12-21T10:45:00.001-05:00

Whether you're celebrating Jewish Festival of Lights, Hanukkah; the return of the Sun, Winter Solstice; of the birth of the Son and the Star that heralded His arrival, Christmas -

May all that you consider holy, bless you with Light and warmth throughout the dark, winter nights

Ebooks

2010-12-12T12:49:00.000-05:00

As you know, I don't have an e-reader. I've looked at three which are owned by different friends. None of them thrilled me (the readers, not the friends).I think it might be the e-ink. I've come to expect a certain level of brightness from handheld devices. I installed a pdf reader on my phone but the screen was too small to accommodate my need for larger font. I spent several hours at the airport scanning the pages back and forth while I tried to read an e-book.

In the end, I've resorted to reading on my laptop. Not ideal but it has a tad more flexibility than the desktop computer. My laptop is six years old and weighs as much as a small child. It's not exactly conducive to a quiet read in bed before sleep.

If it's all that much hassle, why bother with e-books, then? Because both Bob Mayer and Christine Merrill have books available in that format only. As their books are well crafted, exciting page-turners I refuse to let technology keep me from my entertainment.

The links take you to two books that have kept me in front of my computer screen, jonesing at work and suffering eyestrain in the airport because they were compelling reads. Isn't that what all readers want, regardless of format?

Happy reading!

Actively listen

2010-12-05T20:41:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a challenge on Facebook to all of my friends. Spend the day listening to someone with a differing opinion from your own. Sit quietly and actively listen to what they have to say. Get a solid idea of their position and reasoning.

As long as we focus on our differences, from petty to significant, we'll never find a way to resolve our issues. That includes personal and global.

I see so many people arguing or ignoring another opinion or suggestion simply because of the person who is speaking. They're missing out on some valid arguments that way.

I received more feedback about my experiment in real time than I did online. My DB and DN had an amazing conversation without its usual loud sighing or verbal blasts of incomprehension. It was healthy and respectful. Other people told me they had engaged in similar conversations, read newspapers with a different political slant than their own or observed a religious practice with which they were unfamiliar or a culture that made them uncomfortable. Someone even suggested we try to make it an International Day of Observing How the Other Side Lives but the title was too unwieldy.

I'm throwing that challenge out to the blogosphere. Spend the next few days listening to what people say. Throw aside your prejudices and preconceived notions. Ignore your expectations.

Listen.

You don't know what you will hear but it might change the world if we all do it.

Farm Memories

2010-11-28T19:57:00.000-05:00

I had a brilliant post written in my head for today but with all of the computer issues I've had, I decided to share this photograph with you instead. It's the view my great-grandmother would have seen every single day of her early life. Those aren't the same sheep but the tree to the right is far older than she would be if Granny was still alive.

Many thanks to Theresa for taking me there a few weeks ago

Love

2010-11-21T12:41:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. We have a tendency to quantify and qualify our love. We rate it. We love our kids more than our spouses who we love more than our parents who we love more than our pets.We'd die for them in one order or another dependent on how we value their status in our lives.

Love is love. It grows, expands, fills holes, heals wounds and enriches our lives. Who are we to say how one should value those we love? Why do we evaluate it? I might save the dog and kid before the spouse but only because I have an expectation that the adults can save themselves. I don't love my niece more than my nephew because she's a girl or consider Stashaholic* a better friend than McB* because I've known her longer. I love all four of them. No qualifications or comparisons necessary.

Do we love based on gender, religion, politics? I love my friends whose politics who send me recoiling in fear. I love my friends whose religious beliefs demand they convert/kill/ostracize me for my different beliefs. I love the dog who turns himself inside out with joy whenever I enter the room. I love the cat who draws blood when he skitters away in fear. Mutual affection clearly doesn't influence my ability to love another being.

I continue to love my grandparents and great-grandparents long after their deaths. I continue to love friends and lovers who are no longer part of my life. Their love and mine for them continues to fill my heart regardless of their presence.

Love is eternal, not constricted by physical limitations, convention or even the act of living.

Love is everywhere.

Plants and animals grow and thrive in healthy, loving environments. The same is true for humans. But love survives and grows in environments where conditions are less than ideal. How many abused children grow into loving parents? More than convention would suggest. Time and again I've watched abused animals respond to patience and love. It exists inside them all. The only lesson required is how to express it.

Hate and fear are no excuse for responding in kind. I used to tell my nephew a story about defeating monsters with a kiss. It was a nice little fairy tale to deflate the monster beneath the bed. Then Monsters, Inc came out and suddenly I was a genius.

A recent episode of MI5 featured an asset turning the terrorist away from his "destiny" by focusing on the love in his life, in his culture, rather than the hate he'd been fed.

Both examples are of fiction but they were timely reminders for me. The world is not black and white, love and hate, good versus evil. There are many shades of all in each of us. It's the choices we make to honour one over the other that make us.

I choose love - in all of its many forms.

*To prove my point about qualifying, I feel the need to mention that I picked those two because they both have their aliases out on the Internet not because they come to mind faster than any of my other friends :)

Thinking

2010-11-14T14:40:00.000-05:00

Join me on this delightfully weathered bench while I sit and contemplate life in Nea's birthplace.

Nothing beats onsite research

2010-11-07T18:15:00.000-05:00

A time or two in the past, I may have mentioned the importance of walking the terrain. Characters come alive when you can visualize them in the exact setting. Your ability to describe that setting is greatly enhanced by actually walking that ground, inhaling the scents, feeling the breeze, listening to the ambient sound.

As you know, I've been busy for some time with my schooling, Casey's therapy and the book about that. Hell to Pay was put aside. I'll be digging it back out very soon so that I can polish it up and send it out.

Yesterday I went for a walk along the Hermitage in Dunkeld, Scotland. Yep. Scotland. Bracken and Nea are both from there. I've been drawn to that area for many years and a friend's photo of the terrain surrounding The Hermitage inspired a major turning point in Alex and Nea's relationship.

As soon I put foot on the trail, I was back inside that story. I could picture Bracken peering at me from behind the rocks. At one point, I felt hundreds of eyes staring at us. The gentle shush shush of our boots through the fallen leaves seemed to whisper thank you at one point. The roar of the falls gave way to the splash of water drops upon the trees.

Our journey through the woods yielded many bits of information I would never have gathered without using my own senses. The bracken and birch didn't grow side by side as often as my research had suggested. The paths and viewing benches may have been man-made but the forest had painted them with all the colours in nature's pallet. Moss danced across the forest floor, over the rocks and up the trees. The air was fresh, bracing in its purity.

And through it all the story played out in my head.

Happy Halloween

2010-10-31T17:51:00.000-04:00

I always wanted a baby elephant...

this was the best Ky the long-suffering dog could do about that. He was just a baby at the time

Mystery pic

2010-10-26T16:02:00.000-04:00

Oops. I was busy making memories with my darling niece this weekend and forgot all about the time.

Can you guess what this is a picture of?

It's a glass construction block. You could build an entryway, counter or patio with them. My nephew was selling some for us on kijiji and needed a good picture. Then I started playing with them to make some interesting effects. We didn't sell a single one but I had fun.

Chilean miners disprove Lord of the Flies Theory

2010-10-17T11:35:00.001-04:00

A great deal of fiction (The Stand, Lord of the Flies, The Experiment, Survivor) purport that in the face of catastrophy or bare bones survival, man will turn on himself until only one remains.

I think the 33 men stuck in the Chilean mine for 69 days proved that all wrong. Not only did they work together to ensure the group's survival but they surpassed their individual abilities to emerge triumphant in spirit as well as body. Apparently, they've hired an accountant to create a fund in which to place the profits from the telling of their experiences so that each man, from the quietest to the most exuberant, will share the wealth.

Take that William Golding.

Attraction

2010-10-10T12:21:00.000-04:00

A few posts ago I mentioned watercolours and Miz Elen said they were one of her favourite art expressions. Go look at her header then come back and compare it to this splash I created twenty years ago.

They're not exactly the twins I thought they were but it's hardly a surprise we're drawn to similar looks. Just as Stashaholic mentioned she was researching e-Readers at the same time as I wrote a blog about them, these coincidences can only mean one thing. We are attracted to people through common interests. Admittedly, I didn't know Elen liked Motown and watercolours when we first began our interaction but as the friendship has developed we've introduced each other to new things (Mad Men) as well as sharing others (MI5). The more you get to know someone, the more you learn you have in common.

I'm going to try applying that homily to random strangers who pique my interest. I wonder if instant attraction can be attributed to a deeper understanding of individuals that is intuited on a cellular level...

Spinning

2010-10-03T13:02:00.000-04:00

Sitting down behind the wheel can be very therapeutic and meditative. It can also be frustrating as hell when you fight the fibre. That's easy enough to do when the brain cells are spinning faster than the wheel. Still, there's something about the shape and wood together that always makes me smile.

I came across these three lovelies at the Pioneer festivities yesterday. They were tucked into the corner, almost an afterthought while hand-painted glasses and dried flowers had bigger displays. That's okay. Spinning isn't for everyone.

For those who do enjoy working with fibre and yarn, I'm happy to say The Fibre Garden celebrated their first anniversary. Stashaholic and I are doing our best to keep them in business for many years to come.

Happy Anniversary John and Alan

E-books

2010-09-26T11:04:00.001-04:00

At the beginning of August, the publishing world was a-Twitter over the news that a major publisher had dropped mass market publishing in favour of e-books. Apparently ebooks account for 12% of their sales and that number is expected to increase dramatically.

Let's just see if I, a financial imbecile, understand this correctly. They threw away 88% of their market in order to increase 12%??? Is there a good reason they couldn't do both? How much does it cost to produce an e-book? Why does it cost almost the same to purchase an e-book as it does to buy a paperback?

Then there are the e-book readers. One of my friends loves her Kindle. The convenience of several books contained within the lightweight and portable mechanism is important to her. Most of her traveling is done with a backpack.

Another friend likes her Kindle well enough. She was one of the people who had a book deleted from her device when Amazon chose to no longer do business with an author. While it's true that no one who buys an ebook actually purchases the book, just the right to read it, that practice alone makes me think long and hard about e-readers. Digital rights are not the same as print rights. Borders and Chapters don't come into my home and remove books off my shelf when the author is de-listed. Without my personal information, they don't recommend other books to me either. I don't want my reading habits to be scrutinized by anyone other than myself.

The e-book readers themselves are confusing. They all seem to follow different rules so if you buy an e-book from one place, you might not be able to view it unless you have a specific device. It's like iTunes. It took me awhile to be able to play music I purchased there anywhere other than my laptop. I have since figured out the conversions but why did I have to?

Don't get me wrong. I have several .pdf files of books from authors I like who publish in that format. It seems to be a very creative branch of publishing with a lot of editors willing to take a chance on new authors. I would likely try more new writers that way if I could read them more comfortably.

For now, I'm going to stick with my trusty paperbacks. I like the rustle of the pages being turned, the slight scent of pulp and the heft of the spine. Just to prove I'm not a complete dinosaur, once I find the app for my Blackberry, I'll download it so I can read e-books on that format. It doesn't require a major expenditure on top of the book's purchase price.

Until such time as it becomes more convenient, comfortable and a loss less expensive to convert, I'll remain one of the 88% still reading mass market. What about you? Convince me.

****There is some great information in the comments. Some helpful stuff.

I was able to view my pdf files in my browser window on my phone. That's great for her but won't do me much good on the plane when I need to turn it off so I'll likely take a trusty paperback.

Our library ebook software only supports three readers so that didn't seem like a good source for me to pursue.

My other concern is my propensity to spill things. Paper can be blotted. Electronics get fried.

I really don't understand the price of ebooks. Why aren't they significantly less expensive?

I'm not in one camp or another. I think there's clearly a market, and place, for both. But to bail on 88% of your customers makes no sense to me at all.

Creativity

2010-09-19T11:46:00.000-04:00

I always wanted to be a dancer. My mom used to load the stereo with 5 soundtrack LPs and we'd dance around the house while we cleaned. It was productive if not exactly efficient. I can remember re-enacting the Sharks vs Jets from West Side Story all by myself with hay bales standing in for the concrete jungle. Alas, my ankles weren't built for that kind of movement.

I went to art school for three years. Our focus was oil painting but I loved the soft flowing lines of watercolours. A couple of my pencil sketches won first prize at the local art show but there are days when I can't even draw a stick figure. It's a fickle medium for me. How does the talent disappear suddenly one day only to reappear several years later? I couldn't count on it to make a living.

So I turned to photography. Cinematography actually. I aced all of the photography courses but somehow still got shuffled into "female" production roles. I'm a good organizer and wasn't afraid to keep everyone in line and on deadline. Every once in a while I'd manage to sneak in a few shoots operating the camera but less often than I would have preferred.

I wrote all the time. I may possibly have been born with a pencil in my hand. I wrote stories about my paintings, narrative for the films and built worlds around photographs. I wrote short stories, plays and eventually novels.One day I decided to focus more on the words than the pictures.

There's been an internal shift the last couple of years. I've continued to write ( notes and scenes on the sweater book still pepper my desk) but it's lost a lot of its joy. I've lost my joy. Stuff has happened and I'm not shaking it off the way I used to do when I was lo so much younger. Nothing earth shattering ,just a mild erosion that I only started to notice when my toes were dangling off the edge of the cliff.

I'm taking a few steps back. Allowing my creativity to flow in other forms. I still think like a writer. I still take notes and make observations. Narrative runs through my head constantly. I'm just not wrestling any of it into a defined format.

I'm allowed to do this. I don't have a contract. I don't have a deadline. The only goal I have write now is to breathe - slowly, surely and repeatedly. Once I'm centered and secure, I'll give all that creativity a form and let it loose again on the world.

In the meantime, you might be stuck with random thoughts, a few photos and who knows, perhaps even a sketch or two. Enjoy

Social Networks

2010-09-12T11:39:00.000-04:00

Yesterday a friend of mine asked me to explain Twitter to her. I failed miserably. So many of my writer friends use it, not only to promote their books but, also to keep up with the latest publishing trends. I've tried following along but get hopelessly lost. Nor have I mastered the art of commenting on a link I post.

Add in the fact that I haven't got much to promote, and nothing different or unique to say abou the latest publishing trend, I remain silent.

Facebook, on the other hand, is my network of choice. I know my audience, it's personal, and I can share photos. I can follow not only my comments but those that come after mine. I'm always aware of the multitude of relationships and keep my privacy settings to friends only. Still, nothing gets said there that I wouldn't want the rest of the world to know about.

So many dear friendships have grown through the use of the comment window on blogs that I will always have a deep fondness for that medium. I've learned a great deal about writing, perseverance, and life through the blogs I follow. Some of them have truly surprised me.

What's your preferred method of communication and why?

Connect the dots

2010-09-05T10:52:00.000-04:00

August was a very social month for me. It started with a wonderful group of online friends who came to visit for an extended weekend. I never thought I could fit ten people in my living room but we did it. Yoda was a fairly quiet bird during that time. I think he was soaking up all the conversation because once the company left he chattered for days.

One of the recurring conversations we had that weekend was about storytelling versus craft. While not all of my friends are writers, they are all big readers who know what they like and why. There are some big name highly successful writers out there who are a lacking in the craft department but can tell a tale like nobody's business. We are all willing to forgive many flaws if we're entertained.

Last weekend I was visiting Miz Elen and had a similar conversation. We're both of the opinion that good writing only improves good storytelling. She introduced me to season one of Mad Men. It's sharp, witty, has great dialogue and is a tad less paranoid than my beloved MI5.

Stashaholic came for a visit on the last day of the month. Because we started our viewing with MI5 we expected a character on Mad Men to resolve a conflict with a gun. Not the most relaxing way to wait out a tropical storm. We switched to a WKRP in Cincinnati marathon. There were moments of sheer hysteria. I couldn't catch my breath from laughing so hard. Perhaps it's the fact that Stash and I met at broadcasting college or the fact that we knew a few Herb Tarleks and Les Nessmans or maybe the writing is that good but we laughed til our sides hurt. It was a touch disturbing when Yoda laughed through the Turkey Drop episode.

What those televisions shows had in common with wonderful visits with good friends was stimulating dialogue. On all three weekends I had the opportunity to take part in conversations that ranged from how to save the world ( mandatory naps) to the price of yarn in Jordan (who cares! it's gorgeous, take two) and all points in between. It's interesting to see how a variety of disparate political views can be heard and respected when there's affection between all the parties. I lay in bed one morning after an interesting evening discussing the state of the world with Elen. My mind alternated between how to resolve the holy wars and designing a shawl. Somehow I don't think knitting prayer shawls for the religious leaders would do it yet it's fascinating how our minds connect the dots sometimes.

As a writer we do that all the time - take random events and connect them. It's a big rule - if it shows up in one part of the work, it better show up somewhere else. I think that blows the punchline sometimes. The world is random and full of coincidence. Life does not always make sense. I suspect that's the appeal of MI5 for me. Characters die, disappear or are fired as would happen in real life. While most fiction is an escape, and I want such over-the-top silliness as WKRP provides, there needs to be an element of realism. I recognize those characters. Every radio station has a Dr. Johnny Fever, and Andy Travis and a Mr. Carlson. The world of advertising is creative and cut-throat. You never know when the Intelligence Services have done their jobs and kept the public safe. Good storytelling breaks a few rules.

The only rule when it comes to great conversations is to listen to each other and see where that takes you. If you're blessed with friends like mine, they will make you laugh, tilt your head in confusion and most of all consider another angle entirely. Prayer shawls for everyone.

Muse

2010-08-22T13:36:00.000-04:00

If you're "waiting on the Muse to strike" you're not going to get much writing done. Inspiration happens in a flash then it's all hard work from there.

You sit your butt in the chair and write a little bit every day. The words accumulate, the story appears and the editing makes it all pretty. A Greek Goddess does not swoop down into your office and using a peacock feather hand write your novel in lovely flowing script. The best you can hope for is that she will whisper in your ear as she occasionally breezes through your life.

While I've never had writer's block (thank the Goddess) I have experienced burnout. Too many things going on, too many deadlines and not enough real life experiences that are vital to a rich writing life. I've taken a break or two, once a project is completed, to recharge. The longer I take to get back to the desk, the longer it takes to want to go back to a desk. I've learned to take a notebook and pencil out into the garden, carry one in my purse and utilize the voice recorder feature on my cell phone for those times when I'm driving and inspiration strikes.

There are other times when Real Life is so demanding that the writing suffers. It is physically impossible to make a day any longer than 24 hours. Choices must be made, and as writing doesn't currently pay my bills, it's going to have to take the infrequent back seat.

When that happens, I feel guilty as hell. Like I'm playing hooky from grade school, or smoking out back with the other 12 year olds. It's a knee jerk reaction that has to stop. Those breaks from writing are necessary. I need to renew my enthusiasm or gather more information, or address other concerns in my life.

I'll get back to the desk. Sooner rather than later because I've built up a good backlog of story ideas, filled several files with research, and created a strong writing routine that is dependent upon discipline, deadlines and chocolate.

Bingo

2010-08-15T11:39:00.000-04:00

I have so many thoughts juggling in my head right now it's like living inside the bingo machine on Thursday afternoons at the Senior Center.

I'm dreaming about the assignment that's due tomorrow for the adult collection course for the library certificate. Once that's done, I have to make a reading map for the other course.

The pond has a critical leak and needs to be taken apart and repaired.

Bathroom plumbing needs to be addressed. It's something that can be done casually and over a beer but still it's run on too long.

It's mid-August and Christmas presents need to be started.

Most of the feedback is waiting for me to implement it in Heal, Casey. There's a small window between these courses and the next in which I can finish that up and get it out. It's not going to get published from my desk.

Was it only last week that I was sitting beneath Nea's tree beside the falls and showing off Alex's haunts to some good friends? That was a fantastic day and really helped bring Hell to Pay back to the forefront of my mind. I tossed the revisions in a drawer months ago and never looked back.

How does that happen? See the above list. That's not the half of what needs to be done. How do some people do it all? I need to clone myself or find a second job so I can hire out the household stuff.

In the meantime, I'll do what I can, make notes of the random thoughts that might make good stories down the road and get back to it.

Just so you know it's not all drudgery and stress, this is one of the bingo balls. Sorry for borrowing your Richard, Miss Merry but MI5 is one of my latest obsessions.

Time Travel

2010-08-02T10:46:00.001-04:00

I was too exhausted yesterday from all of my time traveling to put up a post when I got home last night.

It started within ten minutes of waking up when my nephew called and asked for a ride home from the campground 40 minutes from my house. I finished my breakfast, grabbed a towel, and headed out. First I drove through the little community that took me back six years when my friend and I would walk through Bubblegum Alley (so named after the colourfully decorated shops) and then down to the beach where we observed Mars one dark star-laden night.

Just a tad further down the road and it was more than 20 years ago where my boyfriend used to ride the wooden roller coaster that shot out over the lake. We'd go listen to bands in the crystal palace and I cried when they tore it down.

I barely recovered from that trip when I went back two years earlier when my friend and I, with barely two nickels to rub together between us, would pile in the car and drive to the beach. Singing our lungs out to Bela Lugosi's Dead, (not exactly easy to do), Strange Animall and Somebody . I dove into the Quarry and lost my $300 prescription sunglasses on the second day of owning them. No matter how often we went back, or how deep the guys dove, no one ever found them but somewhere I still have a great sketch of a red fish wearing pink glasses.

I picked the nephew up and asked him if he'd found my sunglasses all of these years later. The story only amuses him because it didn't happen to him. From there we drove twenty minutes towards the river and memories that are only 15 years old.

My apartment was so hot in the summer that I'd pack up a lunch,some water, fruit, the dog and my manuscript. We'd park ourselves along the river for the day. I'd attach the dog's chain to the cable that stuck out of the concrete slab at the water's edge. She'd bite the waves while I wrote. Sadly, both the dog and manuscript are long gone.

No more time traveling until after I dropped off the nephew and headed to my friend's further down the river. Despite the fact that I drive by the house repeatedly throughout the year, as I came up to my great-grandfather's house, I turned into a seven year old child - playing tiddlywinks on the dining room carpet and sucking on a butterscotch candy. The musty smell of the attic invaded my noses as we trudged up into the echoing cavern. We left with an old hatbox that to this day contains manuscripts.

As I drove into the village, time spun away from me. I could picture Grandpa arguing with the Parks employee who was appropriating Grandpa's land. Even though I wasn't even born for any of that, I could hear his firm voice and quiet chuckle when he won that battle and kept his land. Wily old fox.

I drove down into the village past the old general store, past the printer's and the barn where Sir Isaac Brock died. Surrounded by modern conveniences and antiques in my friend's historic home, the past and present merged to give me a headache. Her husband pulled out some treasures he'd recently discovered while metal detecting; buttons, pins and clasps. I marveled at a teacup designed to keep a man's moustache dry. Then time swirled around as I read the document legalizing a Mr. Owen's indenture to a Mr. Lloyd. Written on sheepskin and dated 25, June, 1812, it was in mint condition.

The mind is an interesting thing; the way it works. Because there were times during the day when those memories were stronger than my awareness of my current surroundings. I suppose that's part of what makes good writers; their ability to blur the line between imagination and reality - when characters come alive before your eyes; their thoughts and feelings as real as your own.

Time traveling wasn't on my agenda for yesterday but it was interesting. Even if I have some 80's song lyrics stuck in my head -and absolutely no idea the name of the song or artist. then we danced/shared a little romance/then we ??? You see the pitfalls.

Thanks to Me, I found this video for another 80's classic And we Danced

Even when it isn't, it's always about writing

2010-07-25T11:38:00.001-04:00

I've read a few blogs lately that suggest writing blogs can't be about writing forever. There's only so much you can say about writing; readers don't want to hear about the process; it takes away from creating the book about which you're blogging.

I disagree for several reasons. This blog has been invaluable in helping me clarify plot points, characterization or meet deadlines. I receive plenty of emails about how sharing that process has encouraged readers to keep coming back (think special features on the the DVD) But the main reason I think writers can blog about writing indefinitely is that no matter what we're talking about, it's writing related.

We're writers. Everything in our life is filed away for future use. That doesn't mean that I mentally record every conversation or confidence so that I can plagiarize your life. I notice the body language that accompanies those confidences. I remember the cadence of your voice. I notice how weather, colours, food, music and scents evoke certain responses in different people. I listen.

When I'm out walking Ky or doing Casey's exercises, or swimming with the kids or exploring the gorge, my brain sorts through plot ideas. A perfect day with Stashaholic bred a book. I've put that project aside but it's interesting how many times a day I think of something to add to the ever expanding notebook I have for that particular book.

Writing takes place in our minds. We take our consciousness with us everywhere we go throughout our day. It's an essential requirement for all of our interactions. We can't get away from our own thoughts. Therefore no matter what I discuss on this blog, you can be sure in some way shape or form, it's related to my writing process.

Random posting about friends visiting from out of town - how do my characters interact with their communities? Do they hide from friends and coworkers, preferring to keep to their own company? Why? Are they gregarious, the life of the party, trying to drown out the screams of lonliness?

Random post about Yoda the Quaker Parakeet - do the characters have pets? Do they work with exotic animals? Do they empathize with the caged bird who refuses to come through the open door? Are they afraid to take control of their life?

Little of those thoughts end up spelled out so clearly in my final projects but they are all part of the process. Of course I steal from my own life when possible - Heal, Casey is an excellent case in point - but I also have a wicked imagination. My brain takes a little bit of this,(a photgraph taken by a friend) mixes it with a dash of that (a lifetime of listening to Scottish mythology), adds a soupcon of spice(the light and shadows in the photograph) and voila nymphs and demons in a pivotal scene from Hell to Pay. I grew up believing in nymphs, fairies, little people and magic. It didn't take much for me to extrapolate a story out of all that.

My blog will always be about writing - even when it reads like rambling about the weather (HOT! and HUMID) this summer, a review for BB's Robin Hood or junk drawers

Enjoy

Writer insecurity

2010-07-18T16:52:00.000-04:00

I finished Heal Casey this week and it's out to readers.
My stomach is queasy and I think every single word is crap.

That is normal.

The only control writers have over their work is the actual writing of it. After that, there's a score of people who take over; readers, agents, editors, more readers. It's scary to let go and trust others to recognize the brilliance of your creation. It's scary to pour yourself heart and soul onto the page for the world to read. It's scary to be so exposed and vulnerable knowing that not every word is perfect or golden. Someone somewhere is going to want some of those words changed. How many is my biggest concern.

I don't truly believe I'm a lousy writer. I'm simply nervous. I want to do this story justice and tell it in a way that moves people.

As I was writing this blog, one of my wonderful readers called to tell me how much she loved this book. Yes, it had a few problem areas but nothing that couldn't be easily tweaked. She cried all the way through the book, even though she knew the story and how it ended. I was able to move her, but what thrilled me most about her call, was that this story, on this day, helped her cope with some serious issues in her own life.

Yet again, Casey heals.

Stuck

2010-07-11T08:00:00.001-04:00

I'm having some tense trauma.

In the last post you may have noticed that I used past tense all the time I discussed Sir Guy's past experiences. But when I switched to what he was going through in season 3 my tense use switched as well. Past/past present/present.I was aware of it and left it alone on purpose.

But now I'm stuck with Casey's story. Most of it is told in first person, present tense. I'm using journal entries as the basic format. I've filled in the blanks or expounded on ideas, described techniques and therapies in contemporary past tense. I've added photos in this draft as well but that doesn't involve as much hindsight as the narrative asides.

When reviewing it the other day, it read strange with the back and forth of the tenses.; So I switched to present tense for the narrative and used italics for the journal entries. Perhaps, I've read it both ways too often but, neither one feels right. The first chapter is all narrative and past tense so it's possible that's what's throwing me off. It feels wrong to use present tense there as none of us had the understanding and awareness in the beginning that could only come from looking back at the consequences of our actions.

Here are two examples. The first is present/past:

As this was going to be a team effort, and to keep her both aware and involved, I asked Mom to keep a journal of the pup’s progress.His healing was her project, her idea and she’d fought hard to get him to us.I was concerned that she would feel left out once we’d gotten into the practical application of his therapies.Besides, he lived with her. She would be able to record more of his behaviour.

Mom’s Journal September 10/08

Casey joined us on September 9, 2008. He had his first appointment with Dr. Susanne Langdon who did an assessment and an adjustment. Dr. Langdon suggested that we contact Dr. Lisa Burgess, a veterinarian/acupuncturist for treatments which might improve the nerve damage in his leg. There is no feeling below the shoulder and Casey walks on his leg rather than his foot, with the leg bent upward. Moosonee Puppy Rescue’s vets decided the foot was fused backwards but Dr. Langdon says not so. Bones have not developed yet. The walking on his foot is a result of nerve damage to Casey’s leg. Dr. Langdon feels this may be correctable. Good news.

The second example is present/present:

Mom asked about his progress, mentioned Lisa’s prognosis of floppy foot forever. So Susanne brought out her reflex hammer. No real response. Out came the pizza cutter. He was so laid back – until she got to his baby toe (or that’s what it would be on a human foot anyway). The outside toe was sensitive. She ran it over that toe again and again from every angle and direction. It was the only toe to react but she felt the tendon contract every single time. He wasn’t all that aware of it but she said it was HUGE progress. Tomorrow we swim :)

Dad’s primary input into Casey’s therapies comes as the occasional driver, money man or hot tub assistant. The latter means he coaxes Casey out to the garage and the hot tub. Once I’m settled in the water, he hands the struggling pup over the side and into my arms. He also turns on the timer, hits the button for the jets and yells encouragement. Most of the time, he’s telling Casey to swim across Lake Ontario, chase the geese or head for shore.

So which do you prefer?

More reasons for good back story

2010-07-04T14:31:00.000-04:00

Several years ago, my friend Sage ~~shared her obsession~~ introduced me to the sheer entertainment that is BBC's Robin Hood. We're a year behind over here in North America but we've been buying the complete seasons when they've become available on DVD. It's good clean fun the entire family can enjoy together.

There have been times when the writers have dropped the ball, or completely rewritten the legend so you never quite know what you're going to get. Much has been made on the Internet of the Robin/Marian/Sir Guy love triangle. For some strange reason I was always rooting for the most heinous Sir Guy. Partly, no doubt, because of the brilliant acting and nuances that Richard Armitage brought to the role. Partly, also I think, because there was so much more to Sir Guy in this version than just the Sheriff's lackey.

SPOILER ALERT below:

You may remember my fascination with backstory and all the history behind a person's action. Never was that more evident than in season three as Sir Guy's motivations and life history were revealed. I always suspected he was not all bad, some of his scenes with Marian in season one hinted at his social ineptitude. His obsession with her was at times creepy and others oddly sweet. He truly loved her. I knew there had to be a reason that he could so easily twist her kindness towards him as a proclamation of love. Of course, she manipulated his emotions for her own well-being so some of his confusion, and inability to keep up, stemmed from her actions.

Finally, in season three, his past is slowly revealed, a sister returns, the existence of a brother is discovered. All that he thought he knew about himself and the world around him might all be wrong. As we see how past events shaped his decisions, and he experiences the truth of those events, he is faced with decisions about his future. While he can never atone for all of the lives he took, he can now see how far-reaching and wrong his actions were. He will never be trusted, his redemption incomplete but he moves forward armed with better information and a desire to if not right some wrongs then at least minimize any future damage.

Sir Guy was always a tortured and troubled soul. That doesn't change but he no longer subscribed to the life path that misery loves company. Had his back-story not been revealed, I doubt the viewer would have accepted the changes that took place within him.

The following video from episode nine is long, fan-made compilation but was the episode in which Guy's transformation solidified.

Motown Momma

2010-06-27T09:47:00.000-04:00

Carlo is a 72 year old black man in a 20 year old white boy body.

In the more than five years I've known him, he's been a walking encyclopedia about Motown. From its biggest stars to more modest songwriter, Carlo can tell you who's who and why we should know them.

It's great fun to work with Carlo. We both have the 25th anniversary of Motown album. Mine's on vinyl and I bought it when it first came out. We both have Mary Wilson's autobiograpy Dreamgirl:My life as a Supreme. His is autographed.

A couple of weeks ago, we went to see Smokey Robinson in concert. Smokey's voice has only gained in strength and range over the years. He's added to his songlist, both as a singer and songwriter. He pulled off contemporary pieces that put the original artists to shame. I was deeply moved by his version of "Don't know why."

Watching Carlo at the concert though was its own experience. He was in his element. Element. There was nothing awkward or strange about his connection to the music or to the performer. I felt like I was seeing Carlo where he not only belonged, but thrived.

He's the poster boy for reincarnation.

His knowledge of Motown is well-known and recognized by other fans, most of them two to three times his age. When Mary Wilson was looking for someone to manage her website, she was given Carlo's name. He wasn't a complete unknown to her. She'd been looking for specific photographs several years ago, and Carlo had helped her find exactly what she was looking for. He took it out of his own collection.

I tell you all this,not only because I adore Carlo, but also because as writers it's all too easy to fall into stereotype. We hope our characters don't become two dimensional or cliche but we rarely look beneath the exterior to see what makes them truly unique. Not only is a Carlo a thoughtful, generous young man, his soul vibrates with the music of another time. Yet he's fully engaged in the here and now.He's found a way to make his passion contemporary.

Carlo is the webmaster for Mary Wilson.

Perseverance

2010-06-13T21:19:00.000-04:00

We have a bad habit in this household of misjudging time.

We thought it would take a day or two to lay the sod and paving stones for the sidewalk. It took a total of six days spread out over three weeks.

We thought it would take months to adjust to all living together and it only took several weeks. I suspect it helps that we have separate apartments and can get away from each other.

We thought it would take a month or two (ok, only Mom was that optimistic) to heal Casey's leg. It's been 16 months and he's still in a brace. He's running around like a fool, chasing Ky, leaping for the ball and generally acting like a normal dog.

About a month ago, we hit a snag. His foot slid around in the brace. He limped all the time and held his leg up more often than not. We trained him to put his foot on the floor on command but the rest of the time there was a few inches of clearance between paw and ground. He couldn't seem to put it down unless it was a conscious effort.

I worried that the ligaments or tendons had shortened. It seemed like we had finally received good news about the strength of his shoulder muscles only to have balanced it with bad elsewhere. His brace was falling apart. The sole had to be glued on every other night because he scuffed it so much.

During one of his weekly swims, he hopped over to see Janice at Pawsability. Her initial assessment was that his leg hadn't changed. Once she watched him walk without his brace, something he does with increasing frequency, she realized something important.

The little brown dog with the turned in foot had grown into a large brown dog with a straight leg.

After 16 long months, Casey's leg has straightened. It still turns out from his body, due to some weak muscles below his elbow but it's straight. Straight!!

Let me remind you how it looked when he came to us

See how his foot is turned completely under. It was like that for a very long time.

This is how Casey looks today

He wants out of the car to swim

Oh wait, you'd like to see his paw. Apart from the picture above, he's always on the move. I'd like to have a word with the veterinarian who thinks Casey would be better off with three legs. How is that even possible? This dog knows no limits because of his orthotic brace.

But the ultimate proof of how well he's doing now comes from this action photo. He ran past me through the kitchen.

It's a crappy photo but perfect all the same. Note which paw is taking all of his weight.

16 months later. Proof that perseverance pays off.

Doors, windows and wishes

2010-06-06T12:51:00.001-04:00

You know that old adage, "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it". Last week's post was full of activity and commitments and I wished I had more time - for friends, for family, for writing, for gardening, for relaxing, for fun. I don't know about fun and relaxation but on Monday one Door slammed shut so hard that the house is still reverberating. The aftershocks popped open three windows. They're small windows. I'd have to go through all three simultaneously to get to the same place that door afforded me but it's nice to know I'm not trapped inside without an emergency exit. I still have the smaller door I've been using all week. All is not lost.

On the upside, I have all that time on my hands. I can finish my courses(once I stop staring aimlessly into space or fighting Ky for the dark chocolate peanut M&Ms that seem to be a primary source of comfort -the chocolate, the dog and the scrambling) I plan to systematically clean and purge every single room in my house - even the haunted basement that Stasholic and I never got around to exorcising on her last visit.

But first, to finish Casey's book. We've had some positive developments in that area and I'm just waiting for the pictures to come through before I share next week. I'll take it over door number one every time.

Goals, goals and more goals

2010-05-30T17:10:00.000-04:00

Okay, I didn't reach last week's goal by any stretch. I did get a lot done. 5,000 photographs are a lot to sort through. I think I looked at 361 and my eyes crossed. The good news is I can chop 1700 off the list, as soon as I find them in the unnamed folders, because Casey did not go to Scotland with me.

This week is a heavy work week and I start two more courses. Apparently, there is a box of plants in the garage that needs to make it into the ground, too. Ky's water therapy was derailed by an injury to both left legs. He got tangled in the ramp when he went after his ball in the pool. He's on steady massage therapy this week. I'm a busy woman.

I've amended the goal to inputting a minimum one page per day. It doesn't sound like much but if you could see the chicken scratch all over the current pages you'd realize that amounts to possibly 1,000 words a day. Except for page 7. It has five words.

How does your week look?

Goals

2010-05-23T08:03:00.001-04:00

I finished the penultimate draft of Casey's story after a push from Miz Elen. In one of those odd quirks of life, it was actually Casey's second birthday when I lay down my pen.

I'm pleased with it so far. There are some details that need to be added, some research to verify and photos to go through before I send it off to Readers. Next week I work ten days straight and start two new library courses so I want to get as much done as possible this coming week. The whirling dervish's path of destruction in the yard has been repaired so I have some time. He can't exactly be left unattended out there as he treats the new sod like a salad bar but I can fact check and eyeball him at the same time.

My goal is to send Heal Casey out by the middle of June. It's nose-to-the-grindstone-time, people.

Back story

2010-05-16T11:58:00.000-04:00

I love back stories. Whenever I hear something on the radio or tv, I immediately want to know how or why it happened. I can spend hours(days, weeks or even years) trying to figure out how a rumour started, if subject A is really telling the truth and why is subject B a pathological liar. Why are some people extreme and others midline? Who took the cookie from the cookie jar? And why won't they share?

An entire episode of LOST was devoted to back story last week. I enjoyed it immensely, but most people did not. I think we may have all been confused but that's alright. At some point it will make sense. I'm okay with waiting until that time.

There are exceptions to my back story interest. I read a book yesterday, non-fiction, that was half back story and the other half a recitation of facts. It never really took me where the book jacket suggested it would. I suspect the writing style is what put me off more than the content. A dry list of who went where and with whom. No interesting details or conversations. I would love to take my dog out for a walk in the Highlands but it's the conversations(between him and I, or the ones in my head) that anchor those moments. Ky always investigates the flora, fauna and wildlife that I point out to him on our walks. If another human accompanies me, those are the times we discuss the "important" details of life. We invariably solve all the problems of the world.

Yet in my own writing, I usually forget back story. I jump right into the moment and barrel forward full speed ahead. I have to go back in subsequent drafts and fill in motivation. I know it all, but rarely include it because I figured it all out often several months previous to the actual writing. Back story conversations are a cornerstone of many of our walks.

Motivation not only propels characters forward. It is rooted in back story. How or why a person behaves is usually in response, positive or negative, to an event or way of life that happened in the past. Five minutes ago or five centuries in the past matters not. It happened off-screen, and most importantly, shaped the character.

Not everyone cares about the why, especially in action adventures. Good guy chases bad guy is enough information for most. The books and movies that satisfy me the most are the ones that make me think about how or why the good guy became so devoted to his path while the bad guy blew his up.

What about you? Are you a fan of back story or does it annoy you?

Circle of Healing

2010-05-05T10:56:00.000-04:00

Casey is my parent's dog and he lives downstairs in our house. My boy is a six-and-a-half year old Australian Shepherd Border Collie cross who was born at a local shelter. Kyanite was named after the stone that brings balance into one's life. He's very good at keeping my energy up when it's low, and calming me when it's too high. I've known him since he was a week old. One of nine pups, he was born with a twisted spine. At first we all thought crooked running was an optical illusion because of his markings.

Other issues presented themselves so he went to see Dr. Langdon, and has been going for the last five years. She helps keep him straight.

It was because of Ky's experiences that we thought we could help Casey heal. He started with Dr. Langdon then moved onto Pawsability, then Canine Wellness.

A few weeks ago, during one of his usual chiropractic sessions, Dr. Langdon noticed a problem with Ky's knees. She recommended swimming. It was still cold down in the lake at that point so we dragged him up to Canine Wellness when Casey went for his weekly swim. Casey thought it was a lot of fun to race around the center and show Ky all the cool things in there. When it came time to swimming though, he was distracted as they went their separate ways - Casey to the pool and Ky to the rehab part of the center.

Tania assessed Ky's knees and thighs. I had forgotten about an old injury he suffered when he was about a year old. A clothesline had cut right into the muscles on his inner thigh when he got tangled with another dog. It was a deep cut and caused him a lot of pain for some time. As it healed, I forgot about it. A lot has happened over the intervening years. One thing that lingered was Ky's inability to lie his leg flat when he lay down.

While his chiropractic issues are the realm of Dr. Langdon, Tania gave us some good exercises to help relax the muscles. She also showed me how to massage that area to loosen it up. Then we tried the wobble board. None of us had great balance but it didn't faze Ky. He went back up. The more we worked with him, the more apparent it became that chiropractic and massage go hand in hand. Both trained professionals told me the same thing about his issues, from slightly different perspectives. I know from my own body that a chiropractic adjustment lasts longer if I schedule a massage for the next day. That way the muscles are more relaxed and not trying to pull the spine back out of alignment.

Ky came home with a sheet of instructions as well as a second suggestion to swim him. Because of the lake's temperature, he needs to be warmed up then cooled off after a swim. A fifteen to twenty minute walk before and after would do the trick. How convenient that's about the time it takes us to walk down to the lake.

Yesterday, was our first real attempt at swimming. Ky has never particularly enjoyed the sensation of the ground going out from under him. He likes all four paws firmly planted on the earth. It can be wet, squishy earth but swim?

It was a rousing success. I took his favourite green ball, which floats, and off we went. He sniffed the painted turtle along the side of the road, barked at the swan and dove right in after his ball. Repeatedly. Most of the time, he'd bring it back for me to throw out there again.

A few times he came out of the lake at a distance from me then spit the ball in my direction. I had him on a 40 foot lead so that he couldn't get spooked and run out onto the road. There's a fair amount of traffic along that lake. He did raise his head as the man fishing on the other side of the road came back to this car.

But more than anything, he kept going back into the lake. Over and over, he swam.

Walking back home, then massaging his thigh, I couldn't help but think how the dogs' healing had come full circle. Ky went to a chiropractor which helped Casey. The chiropractor recommended Pawsability for Casey which in turn led to Canine Wellness. Casey's appointments led to Ky's swimming and now I have two dogs in therapy helping each other heal.

Most creative book trailer ever

2010-04-28T16:10:00.001-04:00

I fully intend to buy these books entirely because of the book trailer.
Enjoy

Another week goes by

2010-04-25T10:38:00.004-04:00

Still had a fever and cough but at least I was finally able to read this past week. I went through 80% of my TBR pile. Not sure how much I retained, which is why I didn't do any of my own writing; though I did think about Bracken and Bryna for the first time in many months.

I read, in no particular order, books by:
Jill Shalvis
Karen Rose
Susan Wiggs
Kerreyln Sparks
Maggie Shayne
Kristen Higgans
a lovely book about a Toronto suburb The Beach by Glenn Cochrane
and The Knitter's Book of Wool because it has such pretty patterns. And sheep.

I just spied Alex and Me by Irene Pepperberg on my shelf. I should read that next. It might give me some insight into life with Yoda, the Quaker parakeet blessed with an abundance of personality. I should have had a look at my own shelves before I begged a ride to the bookstore...

I did some of my reading, wrapped up warmly, on a lounge chair by the pond. It doesn't look like any of the fish made it through this past winter.

I just realized yesterday that I still have the third, and final, season of the BBC's Robin Hood. Something to consider as I work on building my strength back up this week.

Stream of semi-consciousness

2010-04-18T11:58:00.002-04:00

I've been a lot sicker since I got home than when I last blogged, hence the lack of communication. I've barely been coherent. Sadly, I haven't had the attention span to read or write at all this week. It took me four hours to watch The Blind Side because my brain could only process so much at a time. I'd turn it off. Let the dog outside. Try to catch my breath from all that movement. Let the dog back in. Get another glass of orange juice, ginger ale or popsicle then start all over again. Four hours. One movie. Not a great week.

I watched:
Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution
2 episodes of Lost
2 episodes of V
The Guardian
The Invisible
Crossing Over
Post-Grad
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist
Taking Woodstock
Lots of volcano footage

all of which led to strange questions -
why do they call Kraft Singles Processed Cheese? Isn't all cheese processed? It doesn't come out of the cow as a large block of cheddar.

Why does Ray Liotta always play scumbags? He has a reputation of being a really nice guy but as soon as I see him walk on screen I know he's a sleazy character.

If the Coast Guard flies when everyone else is grounded, does that mean helicopters are less susceptible to weather than airplanes? Why does Ashton Kutcher always look so smug, no matter what he's doing?

Why was Taking Woodstock labeled a comedy. It wasn't funny. It had amusing parts but overall it wasn't funny. It was poignant, well-done; but not funny.

How old is Michael Keaton? Remember when he was Beetlejuice? He's still funny. And I like Jane Lynch. How did they cut that casket down to make the boxcar? That made no sense. What kind of tools did the guy have in his garage??

How did she save him? She'd seen him before so that whole sequence, the climax of the movie was completely lost in translation. Perhaps if I'd read the Swedish book on which the movie was made. Okay, it was interesting right up to that point, I had suspended all belief. Then they blew it.

Is Where's Fluffy? a real band? Won't her father hunt them down with a shotgun when he hears that recording. Two movies in one day where Jimi Hendrix was an invisible, unseen, off-screen IMPORTANT character. Three if you count the Purple Haze that's flying over Europe these days.

Who the hell are the good guys on Lost? I'm so confused.

Remember the original V? Freddy Kruger and the mouse? I preferred the campy original.

Those questions, and many more, are the reason I should stay off the Internet when I'm not firing on all cylinders. Not even close.

Hope you all had a better week.

Plan B

2010-04-06T19:07:00.003-04:00

I'm sidelined with bronchitis and unable to enact Plan A - learning to snowboard. Instead I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Whistler, watching all the boarders and skiiers come in from a great day on the slopes. Maybe tomorrow, with inhaler in hand, I may be able to join them. In the meantime, I'm engaged in Plan B - working on Casey's story. I miss the dogs a great deal more than I do the humans(trust me, they will all understand that) so it's nice to review the last couple of years with Dad's "little brown bear".

My nephew and I drover nine hours on Saturday to have Easter dinner with my aunt and uncle, cousin and her family. Not only was it fantastic to see family in their own environment, we shared genealogy stories and I got to pet dogs. Spending time with family while so far from home was wonderful.

We also had an incredible drive.

I fly home next Sunday. I imagine the blog will be a couple of days late next week as well.

In the meantime, I plan to take it easy, work on Casey's story and breathe deep - as deeply as bronchitis will allow. This fresh mountain air is amazing. While Plan A may take a few days to be realized, Plan B isn't too shabby. You can't beat the view I have right now.

Finish line

2010-03-28T10:59:00.005-04:00

I finished a couple of things this week:

This Fun read that I've been waiting for two years to reach my eager little hands. Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer never fail to entertain. Go read the prequel. You'll be hooked.

I completed all of my assignments for both library courses and started the exams. I know technically I didn't finish them but I'm in the home stretch.

This is a rug made from plastic newspaper bags and the Maid of the Mist capes. I've been working on it off and on for two years. I really like to reuse stuff.

What do you think?

I figured out how to make Casey bear weight on his left leg. That is a task that will never be finished but it's still an accomplishment. The other day at the store I ran into a customer whose little dog had a severed tendon so I'd told his owners about Casey's brace. Now their little dog is now running out and about in his own tiny brace. He's so much happier. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the whole reason for writing, and finishing (which I have yet to do) Heal, Casey. We have a talented animal chiropractor in the area, Dr Langdon, animal rehab at the Canine Wellness Center, and prostheses through Pawsability. Surgery is not the only option. While these alternatives won't work for every pet, the information and options should be known. Just look at how well he's swimming now. He's a happy dog.

I got nuttin

2010-03-21T11:59:00.002-04:00

My personal life is insane right now, hence the lack of blog last week. My apologies, I will try to better.

Writing is not the comfort it has been in the past. My days are full, my brain is empty and I've got nuttin. Casey is learning to retrieve a floating toy so that swimming can expand to include our local lake. I think the toy needs to be on a rope as he doesn't always care if it comes back with him. His chiropractor would like him to swim every day. I don't want to freeze my butt off so we're trying to teach him to be independent. On a 30 foot lead (for safety's sake and my peace of mind) He also has a new set of exercises to increase the muscle mass in his shoulder. That dog has a team of healers that rivals my mom's - and that's saying something. I signed up to take an animal acupressure course in the Fall so that we can add to the list. While it's unlikely he'll ever walk without the brace, he can use that foot. Last night we played tug-of-war with his rope and he dug in with both forefeet. The brace was off. He walks on the foot if you remind him too but doesn't do it subconsciously. Still, it's a vast improvement from the early days when the foot was bent under him.

Old love letters

2010-03-07T11:51:00.003-05:00

I've been cleaning out old drawers, boxes and rubbermaid containers. There's too much paperwork breeding in my house. I don't really need the old gas receipt with the outline of Heaven Coming Down written on it. I have the actual book.

We've moved a lot so things do tend to get weeded out but the other day I found copies of two old love letters I'd written, one when I was 15, the other 20 years later. Setting aside the maturity factor and life experience of said love, I found the writing differences astounding. Back when I was 15 and in love with my best friend, I poured every romantic cliche onto the paper. While the affection was mutual the intensity wasn't but we remained close even after his dad was transferred to Nova Scotia. If I remember correctly it was our move to Ontario that finally ended things. Reading my interpretation of that youthful yearning was entertaining;not for the sentiment so much as the way I expressed it.

I used phrases like "trifle nervous" and "heart hammered beneath your hand". Silly juvenile words full of youthful anticipation. I had forgotten how innocent that love was, even if it was sweet enough to induce a diabetic coma. I put that notebook back into the box.

The other love letter was full of passion, smart phrases and brilliant analogies. I'm pretty sure I kept it because I liked how well written it was; funny, playful, cute and light. It really was well-written but, there was no passion, no yearning and most of the sentiment, while brilliantly crafted, was a lie. Maybe not a lie, but a definite misdirection. My emotions for that person ran far deeper than suggested by all the splashing the letter did across of the surface of that pond. I shredded the second letter.

Sometimes, I think too much, try too hard for the right phrase, look too hard for analogies. All the clear, true emotion gets lost in the clutter of expression. It's something to remember as I input all the revisions in Hell to Pay. It's something to keep in mind when I start the next project, and all the projects to come.

Hockey is our game

2010-02-27T23:19:00.003-05:00

I'm writing this on the eve of the Olympic Gold Medal match-up between Canada and the United States. This is a big deal for us. It's a big deal for them too. Hockey is a great sport played, and highly valued, in many countries around the world.

For Canadians it's our national sport. We play it all across the country and every province has it's own championship. Entire states in the US haven't a clue what the fuss is all about. To be fair, not every single Canadian is a champion of the sport either.

It's a lot more personal for me. Growing up in the military and moving from community to community; hockey was a constant. In Germany, we'd go to the arena and watch my dad play teams from all over Europe. At Christmas, Santa brought us hockey sticks so that we could play in the lane with Dad. We were young kids living in a foreign land staying connected to home through a game my father grew up playing with his father and three brothers.

In Kingston, we were old hands at road hockey. Glenn Holland made me play in net because I scored more than he did. If only I'd known then that some day women would play hockey in the Olympics. I was a fairly sharp goaltender, as much for self-preservation as through skill. As a family, we'd go to OHL (Ontario Hockey League) games and watch young stars of the future.

In Summerside, PEI, I only dated hockey players. That wasn't saying much. I think every young man in our community played that sport. We drove all over the province with the Away team. My favourite rink was the one that had live trees as the corner posts of the building. On our way home we'd stop at the one and only McDonald's on the Island for a milkshake. To this day, I can't believe the machine never once worked. We'd laugh and sing all the way home. Because the military was such a small world, one of the forwards was a young man I'd played road hockey with in one of our German postings. I loved hockey so much I tried out to be a referee. I cannot tell you how many hours Dana and Gerald Walker spent trying to teach me to skate as fast as the boys so that I could keep up. I never mastered that stop without toe picks. Who knew then that balance was so far out of my control? But I aced the written part of the referee test.

We moved to a small Northern Ontario town when my dad retired from the military to become a teacher. I was a teenager and had no point of reference with these new kids. Most of them had grown up together. But they had an arena. The entire town supported that team and I made friends through a sport I knew as well as I knew my own name. The articles I wrote for the local paper helped me get into college.

I studied Broadcast Journalism at Niagara College and fought hard to be one of the first years lucky enough to cover the local hockey games. Arenas were my comfort zone. I grew up on the sport. I'd watched Tony McKegney play as a junior in Kingston, long before he hit the NHL and Buffalo. While I wasn't a stats junkie, I still knew my stuff. I convinced the teachers to give one of the cameramen and I the same hockey test. Whoever passed could do camera for the next game. I won - by a huge margin. In my second year, I was doing colour commentary for the local cable channel and getting credit in school. Two years later, crew was being determined by knowledge of the game, not gender, as it should have been all along.

I'm not sure where that passion for hockey went. Over the last few years, other things have taken precedence. I haven't been to the arena in far too long. Thanks to the Olympics all the memories of hockey in all those towns has come rushing back. This is OUR game, in large part because of geography. We play it on ponds, on roads, in lanes, arenas and television. We connect over this sport. No matter how far from home,or where our travels take us, strangers become friends and we bond over this game.

While I know the following is merely a commercial selling a product, the music at the 48 second mark perfectly illustrates how I feel where hockey is concerned. Enjoy. And no matter who wins the Olympic Gold Medal, hockey will remain Our Game. It's a lot more fun now that the rest of the world plays with us.

Casey heals

2010-02-21T10:05:00.004-05:00

Last week, as declared, I finished editing Hell to Pay. Some of those pages have layers of ink, and arrows to other pages but it's done. I'll input it next week and send it out.

Because I always travel with manuscript pages in my purse, I was able to get a lot of work done on Heal, Casey this week. You never know when there will be time to kill in a line, or while waiting for an appointment. I tend to do a lot of editing on my lunch and work breaks. I used to have days in which to write without distraction. Now my schedule is much busier and I take every opportunity I can to work on Casey's book.

I have a very strong vision, not only of the book's format, but also of its marketing. It helps that he continues to improve with every swim. Last week, he was running around the house without his brace on - four feet on the floor. Then my dad, Casey's entire reason for being, moved. The dog spun his head, then pivoted on his left foreleg. The bad leg. The one he uses for balance but doesn't trust. That's the leg he shifted all his weight onto and used to turn his body to watch His Boy's movement through the house. That was a Big Moment in the evolution of his healing.

When we went for his hydrotherapy treatment at Canine Wellness on Thursday, the book came up in conversation. They were curious about my motivation for writing it.

Not only his therapist was there but also the wonderful Janice who created his brace. I think if we'd found Pawsability when Casey first came to us, his progress would have been a lot quicker and less traumatic. He owes his improvement primarily to the women at those two facilities.

There are a lot of injured pets out there who can benefit from our experience. There are also a lot of physically challenged people like my mom who can benefit from having a pet with demanding needs. They heal each other.

Celebrate love

2010-02-14T09:40:00.003-05:00

I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. It's another one of those commercial holidays designed to put pressure on people to spend obscene amounts of money. Nor can "they" make up their minds to whom the holiday is aimed. If it's for lovers then why are there all those cards for Grandma, cousins and co-workers? I doubt the dog cares if he gets a card or heart shaped bed, though I suspect he'd be thrilled with more treats and a belly rub.

What I can get behind is a holiday celebrating love - as long as there aren't a bunch of requirements to prove said love. Today I'm helping homeless pets find love in new homes. In years past, I've invited all my friends to drop by for a bowl of pasta, glass of wine and tons of laughter so that we could celebrate the love we feel for each other. Last night, I went out for dinner with a friend and my niece.

Tonight, I will finish writing the love story between a demon and an injured adventurer. Finally.

Enjoy your day, however you choose to spend it.

Heroes

2010-02-07T01:00:00.002-05:00

The Olympics are coming. You're going to hear the word Hero a lot. I suspect what they really mean is role model. Someone to look up to and admire. Though there are times when Olympic athletes not only inspire their fellow countrymen but also change the way the world views them.

I've been thinking about heroes. About the strong Alpha males who grace the fronts of pocketbooks. Tough guys who lead nations to greatness, save the world, get the girl. They entertain me in the realm of fiction but I suspect life with one of those heroes would be annoying in the extreme. Extreme being the operative word.

How come accountants, garbage men and busboys rarely appear as the main character? They manage crises and get the girl. Their lives may even involve the occasional high drama. Who says their lives aren't interesting?

Basically heroes are protagonists but the word hero has come to mean so much. Our expectations of such men are high. They are well nigh on perfect. And while that's hard to take in real life, for some reason we desire it in fiction.

I wonder how many of our real-life heroes would translate onto the written page. When I think of the men I admire who have changed the world, few of them did it through sword play or intrigue. Many of them quietly and steadfastly stood their ground for what they believed in.

Hero. What does it mean to you?

Day to day

2010-01-31T11:34:00.005-05:00

There's an Inglis sign along the Gardiner Expressway that's been there as long as I can remember. There's always some profound,amusing - or both - statement running along the bottom. I was look forward to reading that sign when I go to Toronto. It's also a good marker for me as it usually means I've almost reached my destination. The other day it said something along the lines of Anyone can handle a crisis, it's how we handle the day-to-day living that shows our strength.

That struck a chord with me. I'm in hard edits right now. It's the day-to-day of living with his injuries that drives my hero insane in Hell to Pay. It's the day-to-day therapy with Casey that will determine his long-term recovery.

With the right resources and skills anyone can swoop down and save people from a situation. But the day-to-day stuff of living is hard. Particularly when you're so involved you can't see the challenges inherent in daily wear-and tear.

I've been exhausted, miserable and unproductive because I felt overwhelmed by all that needs to be done on a daily basis. I started making lists. Each day has a fresh list. Some things get carried over but crossing things off helps me get a handle on the day-to-day stuff so that I live instead of perform tasks. Every day I write. Might not be much, given all else, but it's quantifiable. It charts my progress but doesn't put pressure on me.

The list isn't a must-do thing. It's a reminder. LAUGH is there in capital letters. Because sometimes I'm immersed in "things" and lose sight of how funny life can be. Casey helps with that. Everything, including his therapy, is a source of joy for him.He's an attention hound. Loves it. Seeks it. Demands it. Good or bad he doesn't care. His joy reminds me that chores can be fun.

As I continue to write every day, it occurs to me I had it all wrong. I thought I wasn't writing because I was miserable. As my mood improves, I suspect I was miserable because I wasn't writing.

Or laughing as I lived day-to-day.

Pressure

2010-01-25T11:07:00.004-05:00

It's a cold wet miserable day here and I'd like nothing more than to emulate Ky. He's lying on the bed, occasionally turning his head to stare out the window. The rest of the time he drifts in and out of sleep. Not a bad way to spend the day.

Instead I'm trying to knock a bunch of stuff off my list before I head into work. Phone calls to return,emails to answer, chapter to revise, squares to knit, laundry to do. I got both of my assignments done last night and sent out.

I didn't write my blog because I felt all this pressure from things that are not getting finished. I was afraid I'd spew little toxic clouds all over the place and they're hell to get out of the carpet. Not to mention, no one wants to hear me whine about my life. Really, it's not that bad. It's just too crowded. And before you suggest I remove something, let me assure you I've done that. Remember how I failed to write for three months? That didn't help. The tick of the clock reverberated in my belly all that time. Not pleasant.

So I took a quick trip to Toronto yesterday. I verbally erupted all over Stashaholic then settled in for a lovely afternoon at The Purple Purl . Look at these walls.

I fondled yarn, even picked some out for a sweater I've been wanting to make for some time. I watched the owners, Jennifer and Mikko move through the shop ensuring everyone had what they wanted or needed, engaging in conversation, directing students downstairs to class and refilling coffee mugs. As the crowd slowly dissipated, the circle shrank to a handful and the political discussion was neatly deflected, I felt the pressure ease.

I pulled out the project I'm working on that needs to be handed off to the organizer by Friday. When I was asked what I was doing for the Olympic Challenge, I opted for WIP wrestling. My whole life seems to be about works-in-progress these days. It feels like nothing ever gets finished.

Mikko invited me to join the year long challenge. Starting February 1st, one has to knit all the projects in one book. Stashaholic is doing a book of lace patterns. I think she's nuts. But I could feel the words bubbling up out of my throat to accept that challenge. You all know how well I work with deadlines and challenges. But as the pressure in my belly mounted with those words, I managed to decline. I said I would finish all the projects - knitting,spinning, and writing - that I currently have on the go in the next year.

Driving home, I thought of so many places to go with the Sweater Book. Names, scenarios, plot points. But none of that starts until Hell to Pay and Heal, Casey are revised and out the door.

2010 is the year of finishing. It's the only way to siphon off some of the pressure so that I enjoy all that I'm doing.

What happened?

2010-01-17T11:17:00.003-05:00

It wasn't all that long ago that I used to jump out of bed every morning and head straight to the computer so that I could write. No matter how long I had worked the previous day or how tired I was from the night before, I wrote every single day. And loved it.

Lately, not so much. In fact, hardly at all. Not loving it. Not writing. I'm not sure why that is. I've been busier, less focused and more frustrated and still written. My excuse tends to be along the lines of catching up, other commitments and even industry disappointments.

I went to a writer's conference a few years ago with a reader friend who is an accountant. After three days of industry talks, of listening to writers discuss their craft and their business, she thought we were nuts. There was no financial incentive for us to continue writing. I won't tell you what she thought of how publishing works as a business. She was appalled; as much as my easy acceptance as at the entire industry. Believe me when I say it was a long and interesting car ride back to Canada.

NYT bestselling author Jennifer Crusie often says that the only control you have over this business is your writing. Once you send it in, it is literally out of your hands what happens next. Focus on the writing, make it the best damn thing you've ever written each and every time.

For whatever reason, my focus is shot. Maybe it's a combination of factors. Fear of success? Fear of failure? Both? Neither? Mental breakdown?

All I know is that either I get back to it or shut up about it.

I've always worked best when I'm accountable so I'm going to use twitter for the rest of the month for daily posts on my writing productivity. By this time next week I'll either have a substantial offering in revisions or a really fantastic excuse. 'cause my imagination still works. It's just my discipline that's missing.

A cautionary tale

2010-01-10T11:35:00.004-05:00

Casey is running around in his brace, pouncing through the snow and generally living like any normal dog. His therapies continue and despite an overlong break due to kennel cough(him) and my usual insane schedule, he's improving again.

So last night we went off to celebrate a traditional Christmas Eve dinner with wonderful friends(postponed like everything else was this past holiday season). We gave each of the dogs a marrow bone and while it did run through my mind that we shouldn't leave them unsupervised with the bones we did so anyway.

A few hours later we came home and proceeded to let the dogs out into the -22C yard. Casey was flipping his bone in his mouth. Except that it didn't hit the floor. The bone had slipped over his lower canine teeth and was wedged on his lower jaw.

Given the amount of swelling and his anxiety, it hadn't been there very long. We moved his tongue out from beneath the bone but it didn't give us enough room to move it back up and over his teeth.

A trip to the emergency vet clinic was necessary. They put him under anesthetic for 10 minutes and sawed off the bone. Casey came home an hour later. According to the vet this is not all that uncommon. The hollowed out ring slips over the lower canines but can't come back. Swelling of tongue and mouth is the most dangerous part of the whole trauma.

Be very careful when giving your dog a marrow bone. Make sure it's too long for a tongue or teeth to get stuck inside. Monitor the dog in case the bone splinters and gets caught in teeth or jaw. Know the phone number for the emergency vet clinic off by heart like I do.

Casey's mouth is still swollen and tender today. He's eating soft food and lots of snow. All marrow bones have been removed from the premises.

It always comes back to -

2010-01-03T11:30:00.002-05:00

Perspective, of course.

While most people were relaxing over the holidays, I worked. It's the busiest season for retail - and this year was one of the busiest. I've never been run off my feet the way I was the last two weeks. I don't know about your economy but ours is booming. People are spending again.

All that spending gave me the impression that the recession is on its way out. It could be a false impression which brings me to my point. It's all a matter of perspective, gained on personal experience.

I needed that reminder about perspective.

Last week I read a jacket cover that was the synopsis for one of my books. The one-of-a-kind-no-one-has-ever-thought-of-this-angle book. Apparently I was wrong. And that was hard to take. Why finish up and submit something that isn't unique after-all?

I'll tell you why. Because my voice and my way of telling a story is like no one else's in the world. My perspective, if not my idea, is unique. It's based on my life experiences, my world-view and the angle at which I figuratively and literally stand upon this earth.

That sense of perspective is why some writers and stories resonate with some people and not others. Some of us are drawn to perspectives wildly divergent from our own while others prefer the more familiar. Regardless of perspective we all have a unique one.

Put ten people at the scene of an accident and they will all vary slightly in their witness accounts. We are programmed to see what we expect to see for one thing. But if two people are standing in roughly the same spot, their range of vision is still not exactly the same. Those millimeters apart can mean a world of difference.

I'm going to submit the one-of-a-kind-no-one-has-ever-thought-of-this-angle book. There are thousands of successful versions of Romeo and Juliet. While I'm not suggesting my story is on par with Shakespeare, I do think it deserves the same chance to be heard.

Happy Holidays - and what they all mean

2009-12-23T08:24:00.002-05:00

Santa Claus
The dhredel
Christmas trees
Pomegranites
The Nativity

All of them are symbols of the holiday season. Hanukkah, Yule, Christmas, Kwanza - December is a sacred month for several belief systems. Understanding why some thing are relevant, and to which belief system can be a challenge for any child, even more so for an autistic child who has trouble making connections.

My friend asked me to search for one book that explained all of the season's stories in simple easy to understand language. She wanted a book that not only dealt with the belief systems but also discussed the numerous stories that are told at this time of year - Father Christmas, Black Pete, and Frosty just to name the first three that popped into my head.

I couldn't find such a book. So my challenge to you, and myself, is to share a holiday story or tradition. I'm going to spend the year gathering them all together(a task I suspect could actually take much longer) as a gift for my friend's son next year. Different cultures celebrate in a multitude of ways. This young man, is questioning all of them. I'd like to give him some answers.

Have a wonderful holiday season!

Need to know

2009-12-13T08:42:00.002-05:00

Lani Diane Rich is a wonderful time sink for me. Her books and blogs always make me think, and laugh. Or laugh and think. It doesn't matter in which order but there's insight mixed in with the amusing bits.

The other day she wrote this about a self published book that is brilliant. It's called Need to Know by Christine Merrill. And I got sucked into the excerpt on Christine's website. So deeply entranced was I that I was almost late for work.

Need to know is a self published book by a published author. Apparently the book defies marketing's ability to slot it into genres. It's a little bit of several things. It's unfortunate that publishing has those parameters because they're losing a great story. It's fast-paced, descriptive and I was hooked right away. It is a good read. But don't believe me, or Lani. Go check it out for yourself. Then go tell Christine.

John Grisham started out self-published and selling books out of his car trunk. It's a lot faster, and less suspicious, to use the Internet these days to help Christine sell copies.

Creativity

2009-12-08T21:33:00.003-05:00

I've been crazy busy trying to get all of my holiday gifts made. Playing with lots of fibre and yarn has fed my creativity quite a bit in the last few weeks. Something about all of that colour and texture just makes me happy.

On Sunday I went to the Fiber Garden - and didn't buy a thing.

The guys had some beautiful fibre - bison, Icelandic and targhee. There were several skeins of merino hand dye that I adored but they were laceweight. I'm not proficient in lace yet.

One of the other things that stopped me was the realization that I have two writing projects that desperately need my attention. My spinning wheel inspires a great deal of material for the sweater book but even she's been silent the last couple of weeks. Until all of the holiday gifts are complete I have to manage my time very carefully.

One thing I've been sure to do is spend a few minutes every day with my writing. I've alternated between Heal Casey and Hell to Pay. Not much gets done by this method but progress, no matter how minor, is a step forward instead of standing still.

Right now my creativity is racing in many different directions. I'll let you know where it all leads.

Reasons I haven't written this week

2009-11-29T11:51:00.002-05:00

I've knit four scarves, two hats and one shawl.

Casey just did a head stand in order to fit the entire earth in his mouth. He used his brace slightly for leverage. Ky has the world now.

Gene Kelly in a sport coat wandering the fields of Scotland. (Brigadoon)

Cary Grant striding up the gangplank in a full suit and tie, complete with hat (Houseboat)

Fred and Ginger. Forget Dancing with the Stars - these two set the standard over seventy years ago.

All that romance, gentlemanliness and grace have made it difficult to look at my crude demon with any enthusiasm. Truth be told, those movies were great research. I need to get away from the hard core erotic word choices in some of my scenes. They give the wrong flavour for the book. These three classic movie stars may be old-fashioned but their wit and style are full of taste.

I'll get back to Hell to Pay shortly. Right after I watch North by Northwest

Computer vacation

2009-11-22T20:53:00.002-05:00

I've taken a serious vacation from my computer the past week. I've been editing on hard copy. There's something about all the handwritten words scribbled in purple all over the neatly typed pages. It's a visual cue that the story is gaining substance. While I still haven't settled onto one project, progress is being made on both fronts.

I don't know about you but when so much is going on inside my head, I get quieter. I can chitchat with the best of them but once it's time to get down to work, I do it. Less time is spent in my own conversations when I'm listening to my characters. I used to process out loud. The sound of my own voice often led me to some interesting insights.

I'm not sure what changed but lately I need silence. I need the peace that comes from the hearing pen scrape across the page. The crisp Autumn air fills my lungs, the rain splashes against the leaves and my brain gets to work. Perhaps it's the continued mild weather. Perhaps it's the noise in the rest of my life. Whatever caused this new working method, I have no real desire to examine it too closely. It's working. I'll switch it up if this stops.

In the meantime, don't expect much in the way of profound thoughts. I'm distracted with the work in front of me.

Platitudes

2009-11-15T10:36:00.002-05:00

"Confidence - fake it til you feel it."
"If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will." Which is usually followed by "It's not rocket science. Anybody can write a book."

It's amazing to me that we even continue to write. Through life dramas, illness, jobs, and day-to-day living, authors still carve out enough time in their day,whether it's pre-dawn or past the witching hour, to create little worlds in which the rest of us can escape.

I'm sure you could sense my growing despondence with the lack of progress in my own writing career. A lot of it was generated by unrelated issues that crept into all aspects of my life. While most people were encouraging about the writing, one friend was about two sentences away from sharing the idea of monkeys producing Shakespeare, aka the 10,000 monkey theorem.

That's when I took a good hard look at why I write; at the sense of accomplishment I feel when the story is told; how powerful it is to create worlds and manipulate characters; how satisfying it is to have total control over that one aspect of my life, whether it comes to my attitude, commitment, dedication or schedule.

What drives me back to the computer time and again is not the platitudes plastered all over office walls and self-help books, but rather the need to know where my imaginary friends are going and how they're going to get there.

Both my curiosity and imagination must be appeased.

Remembrance Day

2009-11-11T09:12:00.001-05:00

Regardless of politics we pay tribute to these people's lives today - and every day

Dilemma

2009-11-08T22:55:00.003-05:00

I spent the afternoon at The Purple Purl with great friends. On the car ride up, a passionate conversation ensued about the sweater book. Book or film? What serves the story better? How best should it be told? Think of all the colours. They are so rich and visual.

Once there, other conversations quickly took precedence while I gave Stashaholic the opportunity to convert more wondering souls to the beauty of spinning. She had a few new drop spindles that made their way into my bag. Sadly, she made me give them back.

I pulled out my Icelandic wool and own heartier drop spindle to show my film buddy. She's always argued for the film version of the sweater book and today was no exception. How could mere words capture the textures and vibrancy of the fleece, yarn and community in which we were immersed?

I'm truly torn. There are compelling arguments for both mediums. Pen and paper are readily available; not to mention self-reliant. It's just me and my thoughts to consider. The film requires a crew and budget to accommodate a trip to Iceland for all of us.

The thing is I have the entire synopsis broken down into scenes, turning points, and character arcs which can be tweaked for either/or. Finally my friend turned to me and spewed the very words I fed her back in May at HotDocs "Write a proposal." Maybe that will help clarify the dilemma. I hope so.

Contemplating

2009-11-01T11:29:00.002-05:00

When something doesn't work it's madness to continue. That's not to say one should shift goals but rather the method by which one hopes to obtain those goals. Our local's writer's group did a wonderful experiment several years ago to increase one's productivity. We each made a list of our writing limitations (ie. I can only write on the computer as the click of the keys triggers a creative response) After examining the list our challenge was to write in as many different venues, with as many different tools(pen, paper,sand, branch,pencil, etc.) as possible. Productivity for the group overall increased and mine was shot from a cannon now that I didn't need the laptop.

I feel that I'm standing at another crossroads. For the past year I've been writing something completely different - Casey's non-fiction story. It's hard work, no two ways about it. In one sense I'm merely recording the healing process but in another I'm analyzing our interaction, studying what works and what doesn't then evaluating our roles in all of it. I can't hide behind fiction but have to stare the bald truth in the face and acknowledge the ways in which I've failed as well how I've helped triumph. Honesty is painful.

At the same time, it helps people connect to the subject matter immediately. As soon as you read first person, you're immersed in the story. As a reader and a writer, my preference is for third person. I like omniscience. I'm the person, who not only wants to know everything, often thinks she does.

In the last year as I've worked on Casey's story, while playing with another paranormal and a women's fiction, I've noticed my reading habits have undergone a huge transformation. One of my favourite books in that time frame was The Host. I was shocked at how quickly, and deeply, I identified with the main character given that it was written in first person by an alien. One of my other favourite series was Outlander, also first person. And let's not forget The Art of Racing in the Rain" - another first person point-of-view, even if it is a dog's.

All of which leads me to the conclusion that if readers aren't connecting with my third person protagonists, perhaps it's time to consider first person. That's a daunting task for someone who likes to be omniscient.

Nomads

2009-10-25T12:33:00.002-04:00

Everyone knows the old adage, "write what you know". My characters are nomads. Most of them haven't lived in a place longer than five years, and most view homes are transitory places of abode. One is just the same as the next. Their attachments are to people not houses. Nea takes that to the next level by not residing anywhere.

I'm not quite that bad but I did grow up on the move. Military families are like that. One never knows when marching orders will come in or where they are sending you. Apart from family and prized possessions, it's a new life every few years.

I'm not only third generation Canadian but my great-grandparents weren't exactly stationary back in Scotland either. My paternal great-grandmother moved every few years as well. The only two siblings who were born in the same village as each other were the twins. Given that great great Grandpa Campbell married a MacDonald may account for some of that moving. But for the most part, I think I just came from people with a low boredom threshold. Both maternal and paternal grandparents changed residences several times in their lifetimes.

As much as I love this area of Niagara, as much as I consider it home and always have (most of my paternal family settled in and around here) we're not exactly well known in the community. We can't trace our lineage back to the founding of the town.

My Dad's cousin's family settled here a little more solidly than our branch. They owned and operated a butcher shop on the main street that it seems like half the town worked for at one point or another in their life. They were support beams, not pillars, for the church. The minister went so far as to call my Aunt Marg a saint the other day at her funeral. Their roots were firmly settled into the ground here. When someone expressed surprise the other day that I was related to them, that they were my people, I felt this clutch in my belly. I was able to see my context in the web of this small town. It was both unfamiliar and welcome.

In that moment, I truly understood what is missing from Nea's life. What few tenuous connections she does have to people and places have all been torn from her. I'm not writing what I know but rather what I thought I knew. What a relief. Who wants to live like a rejected demon?

Connections

2009-10-18T11:01:00.004-04:00

I was remiss with a post last week because I was enjoying good friends and great conversation on Stingray Point in Virgina. I'm so used to Internet connections all over the place that I didn't prewrite my post to automatically publish on Sunday. I just assumed (always dangerous) that I could post from the cottage.

While I was away, I did absolutely no writing, not a single word scribbled down, despite the ever present Casey journal and a stack of paper in the living room. What I did was listen to my friends talk about books. There was literally a two hour discussion of a Linda Howard book that her avid fans didn't enjoy. They analyzed what they liked and didn't, why they forgave her that one book and made allowances for trigger points that the author knew nothing about. Those readers have a strong connection to that author's work. They enjoy not only her characters and storylines but her writing style as well.

Robin Sorrentino is a brilliant storyteller. Sitting in a circle of Adirondack chairs and listening to her describe the next project, George's Book, was so much fun. She pointed out the island across the way which served as inspirtation, used her entire body to describe his journey and made us laugh with all of her research questions. We might not all be agile enough to hide out in the trunk of a car but we'd all fit. Just not all at the same time.

It was fascinating to listen to everyone share their love for reading; for good books and excellent story-telling. At any given time over the weekend you could enter any room of the cottage and see someone reading. There were even a few occasions when one person would be reading aloud to others.

As a writer, stuck alone in the attic with only your characters for company, it's easy to lose track of your audience. We get so focused on the words on the page, on making a particular scene shine or another scene come to vivid heart-stopping life, that we lose sight of who we're bleeding on the page for.

It's one thing to write for yourself; and honestly I'm my first reader, I need to feel/enjoy/engage with my project. In order to be a successful author, the connections have to radiate across the sky to bathe a multitude of readers in the warm glow.

That awareness came home with me. I was able to keep an open mind when Kate, my brilliant critique partner, told me how difficult it was to connect with Nea. Demons by their very nature are not sympathetic creatures. Understanding what made her so nasty might make it easier for the Reader to go on this journey with her. So the prologue is written.

Casey is so darn easy to connect with that his story naturally flows. As his journey is ongoing, the challenge will be knowing when to stop writing and just continue to live with him.

Soundtracks

2009-10-04T10:31:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting upstairs at my desk, listening to Ky barking his head off (what a visual) at the apartment door. Casey had raced up the stairs and had his head poking through the cat door. He has a strong need to be acknowledged by me first thing every morning.

Right now I can hear him playing downstairs in my parents' living room. He has this funny step-clump stride that comes from the brace hitting the floor. The only time he is silent is when the brace is off. I can hear him pounce on his toys, the crash of the bookcase when he flings his stuffed bear into it and the step-clump bounce move that he does when he's playing ball.

My dad claims he likes to balance his earth-shaped Planet Dog ball on top of the Pilates ball. I've never seen it myself but nothing would surprise me where Casey is concerned.

I mention all this because it's an interesting back drop of sound while I work on the first draft of his story. Unlike my other work, this one is ongoing. Even when I'm not at the computer recording Casey's progress we're living the book. It's happening right now as I type. Sometimes I have to stop writing and go experience it.

When I listen to him play, or watch him leap across the room onto Ky or hear the distinct step-clump on the wooden stairs outside my door I'm reminded that Casey's story isn't just about the medical. It's about what it means to live with him. Day in, day out, through frustration and triumph, he's a blur of energy and exuberance. All he cares about is playing with his pack, getting his belly rubbed or leaning on his people. Figuratively and literally.

Step-clump. Step-clump. Step-clumpstep-clumpstep-clump. This is the soundtrack for his book.