Pressure

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?

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

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 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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

Dilemma

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

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

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

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

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.

New goals

Hell to Pay is off with my critique partner. I am confident she is completely engrossed and unable to put it down for even the tiniest of instants.

In other news, Stashaholic is visiting this weekend. Which of course means we had to got play with yarn and fibre. A wonderful shop opened up in Jordan Village last week. It's a spinner's delight. The Fibre Garden has a wide range of sheep fleece (we found the Scottish Blackface that I picked up from a field in Scotland) as well as bamboo, silk, corn and milk fibres. I bought a lovely ruby red bamboo to spin with Ky's soft black and white fur. Casey may be telling his story but Ky's creating a sweater. No, it will not have that wet dog smell.

As always, a visit with Stashaholic results in good conversation, our own stimulus of the local economy and a renewed fervor to write the sweater book. The research stage has been a lot of fun.

While I play with our purchases, my next writing goal is to finish the first draft of Casey's story. In the next two weeks. My darling nephew is moving west this week so I'll need a big distraction. I can meet that goal.

Which title do you like best?
Heal, Casey
Casey Heal
Heal Casey, Casey Heal

Deadlines and commitments

Long before I wrote for the newspaper, I wrote to deadlines. They were usually self-imposed but they were a good practice. I still operate that way. Without a publishing contract, it would be very easy for me to write whenever I felt like it. I've certainly slid in my productivity a time or two. But this is a business as well as pleasure, so I impose deadlines.

Whenever I dally too long on research or goof off with other things, I give myself a writing goal. Last week was creeping along until I realized I had a writer's meeting tonight. So I sat down every day to input Hell to Pay from the page on to the computer. At the same time I was playing with Casey's story. I intend to have a rough draft of his saga on paper by the middle of October.

Today's deadline looms. I'm making great progress towards it. If I don't meet it then I'll finish up by Wednesday to give the ms to my critique partner later in the week. Barring the discovery of any great plot holes or character deficiencies, I'll be sending that project out at the beginning of next month.

It's important to make and meet deadlines, even self-imposed ones. That commitment to your craft can make all the difference in this business. You're more likely to get the book written.

Douglas Adams was always one of my favourite writers. But his legendary inability to make a deadline means that readers were denied a great deal more of his work. Not that I have the audacity to compare my writing to his brilliant perspective but that deadline flaw keeps me at it when I'd rather be sitting on the porch drinking a glass or three of wine. Due to Adams's sudden death in 2001, The Salmon of Doubt remains unfinished. A book published under that title contains several short stories, interviews and essays and the eleven chapters from the unfinished sequel to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's an unsatisfying end to a story that has spanned thirty years, every medium available in his time and a great deal of joy.

It also serves as a valuable reminder to reject his famous quote, "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."

Crash

After finishing the revisions on HTP last week, my productivity hit a wall. I did go to Niagara Falls and wander around Alex's place, took a few pictures and stared at the water rushing over the edge. My friend Theresa completely understood the siren call of the river but agreed that it's difficult to express the strength of that call without actually experiencing it. That conversation gave me something to consider when I'm inputting the changes this week.

Casey's story is progressing in the journal. In reality, we went for another brace adjustment and a swim. He's holding his leg up more than I think he should so I'd like to put Pilates back into his routine even though the brace gives him more flexibility now. I suspect his therapy will be ongoing throughout his life.

Wednesday was our anniversary. It's been one year since that brown bundle of fut bounced through the front door and completely rearranged our lives. There have been some tough times but all worth it to see the joy on his face as he greets each morning.

My writing goal this week is to get back to the computer and actually input all of the work I've done this month. HTP first, then Casey's journal. I can see the pages falling off the calendar. Where has this month gone?

Can't talk. Writing.

I've been using Twitter (over there in the right of my sidebar) to keep track of my progress. It's been good. In fact, I might actually finish the edits on Hell to Pay late tonight or tomorrow. I've been handwriting Casey's journey. Pretty pleased with myself.

After this, I'll be inputting everything into the computer. And that's where I fall down. I've been changing desks, painting office furniture and trying to get outside to enjoy the end of summer. Who wants to be stuck at the computer any more than necessary right now?

But I set myself a challenge. To write every day for as long as Maggie Shayne is on her 40 Day Challenge. That is her non-negotiable deadline. I jumped on it for support. I'm honestly not sure where we are in the timeline but I'd guess about halfway. It's my goal to have the first draft of Casey's Journey, and the final version of HTP by the end of the 40 days.

So while it's always great to chat with you, I have some work to do. We'll talk again soon. I have to go write.