Winter projects

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

Kate Weichelt November 3, 1961 - September 8, 2011

Next step

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.