Category Archives: Writing

NaNo 2003, Day 10 recap

Thanks to Ceri’s presence yesterday, I hit 14,448 words. Yes, that’s about 5,500 words in one afternoon. There’s nothing that makes you write like the sound of someone else madly typing. I wanted to double my word count, but hitting 18,000 was a dream; I was so exhausted by seven o’clock that I had to admit defeat. Still, 5,500 is just shy of two-thirds of my goal, so I’m pleased. Ceri made me a little sticky-note with a secondary goal of 15,200 words on it on it, and I almost reached it. Granted, these goals were deliberately exaggerated, but they certainly kept me going! We also discovered that the perogies from the Russian shop nearby are absolutely delicious (thanks for the tip, Bev!), so the day was a remarkable success all around. Ceri made yummy spaghetti sauce for dinner, too.

I woke up feeling somewhat human this morning, which is a really pleasant switch from the sub-human feelings I’ve been experiencing lately thanks to this cold. I passed up the Remembrance Day services downtown at Place du Canada in favour of staying home where it’s warm; I’m not going to risk a relapse when I’m so close to getting rid of it. Every year I do a small ritual for Remembrance Day at eleven o’clock if I’m home, and this year was no different. I burn rosemary and a yellow candle, and marvel every year at how the beginning of November is full of ceremonies honouring the dead: Samhain, All Souls, Day of the Dead, Remembrance Day. CBC Radio Two sucker-punched me this year by playing the ‘Nimrod’ movement from Elgar’s Enigma Variations directly after live coverage of the Ottawa ceremony, reducing me to tears. This is a piece of music that unabashedly rips your heart to bits, and playing it with my second orchestra this year has only made me more sensitive to it.

On to writing! Let’s see: got my tea, my afghan, my laptop, my cats, and my stuffed ferret. I’m set.

Bittersweet

This was a particularly bittersweet weekend, now that I look back on it.

Saturday was Montreal’s F/SF convention, and it was glorious to be back in the midst of adult geekdom. I saw people I hadn’t seen in years, talked SF talk I hadn’t heard from my own lips in ages. The main difference between working with the occult community is that people come into a store asking you to save their lives and solve their problems. In the SF book community, the worst thing that happens is they bore you with all the details of a story.

I met two wonderful authors whom I’d never met before, and spent time with two others I had met way back when I was still working at the F/SF bookshop. I met famous artists and other funky retailers (let’s face it, a convention is for networking as well as enjoying). And I counted at least six NaNo participants who ought to have been at home writing. Okay, three of us were working, but still. And there were probably more that I didn’t recognise on sight.

I had to field repeated eager queries regarding our defunct F/SF bookstore, which was the bitter part. It closed three and a half years ago due to loss of customer base to the big box stores like Indigo and Chapters. We resurrected the store sign to hang next to the author signing table for the duration of the convention, and while it was a terrific idea, it dredged up all sorts of cry-in-your-beer feelings among ex-staff and customers alike.

I’ve been struggling with that cold for about five days now, and medication made me foolishly think that my vivacious rosy-cheeked healthy appearance at the convention was a reflection of reality. To my deep disappointment I awoke on Sunday feeling like someone had pummeled me all night and poured sand into my mouth. I was stiff all over, and the sinus congestion, hoarse voice and runny nose were present once again.

If I’d been able to stay home on Sunday it would have been ideal. I had a rehearsal for one orchestra and a concert for the other, however, so off I went. We’ve lost yet another cello in my new orchestra, so they put me in the second chair next to the principal, which scared the hell out of me. I’ve had the music for two weeks and frankly, I suck. I was feeling dreadful as I packed up after rehearsal when one of the other cellists stopped me and said that if our mythical replacement cellist didn’t arrive for the dress rehearsal and concert, she’d sit in the second chair. I fell over myself thanking her. She proceeded to give me a lovely pep talk, telling me that I was doing just fine, that it was difficult to come into any group a couple of weeks before performance, and to do so when the piece was the Elgar was even more difficult. She was absolutely darling, and so genuine that I walked away feeling much better. On top of that, they’ve asked me if I’d be interested in playing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with them in February, and of course I said yes.

My husband had baked peanut butter cookies and prepared a roast beef dinner for me, so I was fed and warmed for a bit before we dashed off to my LCO concert. I have to say that this was the unexpected highlight of the day, and definitely among the top three performances the orchestra has pulled off in the last couple of years. It was thrilling, absolutely thrilling, and it’s unfortunate that we had only a half house. My stand partner turned to me and said, “Seems like this will be one of those nights where the performers outnumber the audience.” “They call this intimate,” I told him with a grin. We blew them away, and it’s a pity that more people couldn’t be there for it. Heck, even I didn’t want to be there: I wanted a warm bath, candles, bed, and cats. I felt completely energised when we left, though, a switch from the dragging reluctance I’d experienced on the way in. Kudos to Ceri and my husband for making it out to support us. At least we have proof that the night was stunningly successful on the artistic front, if not the financial front.

So yes, my overall weekend was quite bittersweet. Good things; painful things. I haven’t added to my NaNo word count since last Tuesday. Ceri’s coming over for another round of dueling laptops today, and I’m hoping to double my current total. I’ve lost five days due to work and illness, although I’ve been writing in my notebook at bus stops and so forth. I have major catching up to do. It will be nice to sit and create as opposed to running about like a mad thing. Lots of tea, more peanut butter cookies, and a hot tasty supper will go a long way towards kicking this cold, too.

NaNo 2003, Day 5

I had a wonderful day amid the snowstorms and onslaught of freezing rain and – 7 C temperature yesterday. Ceri came over to escape the chaos of her water-logged apartment and we revisited the dueling laptops/NaNo jams we had last November. Since the weather was dreadful my husband was home as well, and he engaged in his version of the NaNo process: drawing and colouring artwork. It was a wonderfully cosy day. We started with a pot of Lady Grey tea, and progressed to wine after four o’clock (still not sure if this aided or hindered word count), and for dinner we had the first chili of the season and apple crisp. All in all, it was a perfect way to spend a dreary November day. Working within a community really helps progress, I find; no one is distracting anyone else by doing something different, and there’s a feeling of support and companionship in the air. Even from the cats, who were terribly pleased that at last the humans had figured out the secret to happiness: curling up on a sofa or comfy chair and not moving for hours at a time.

I just checked word counts and we did pretty darned okay yesterday. Even my husband did some significant work. (And if we had an operational scanner, I’d show you, too. Stunning stuff.)

NaNo has really forced me back to my laptop, and I’m remembering what last year’s process was like. Although this is a completely different style of story for a completely different audience, I’m encountering the same odd problems now and again. This year, however, thanks to my solitary hour in the Second Cup with nothing but a notebook and a chai latte, I have An Outline. Now when I’m stuck, I can check the outline notes and just go on to the next idea. Combined with the things that I make up on the spot, it makes for a relatively shorter stretch of time spent staring at a blank screen.

And now that I’m back in the swing of creative writing at home, I really, really don’t want to go into work today. This weekend we’re doing two separate conventions, and the chaos of preparation will be insane. I want to stay home with my cats and my tea and my laptop and find out what happens next in my novel.

Although if I go out, I can come home with the new Sarah McLachlan album that was released yesterday. Hmm.

Current word count of Balsamic Moon: 9,075

NaNo Go!

We had a NaNo launch party at Bev’s lovely house on Sunday (thank you Bev!), and it was so nice to be able to chat with other authors about the cheerful insanity of writing 50K words in thirty days. Emily and I now have witnesses to our challenge to see which of us hits 50K first; Eric thinks I need a title like Emily’s Dread Pirate Queen of Montreal, but Ceri thinks I’m scary enough all on my own.

I took my NaNo notebook to the Second Cup this morning after I’d dropped my husband off at work, and drank a chai latte while trying to figure out certain events. I’d forgotten how motivating it can be to sit alone in a coffee shop with nothing but a notebook and a pen. Rather than sit there and look stupid, you just begin writing and all sorts of things pop up.

Then I made the mistake of stopping by a bookstore while waiting for the bank to open, and I came home with yet another edition of Jane Eyre, my favourite book. This one is about the size of my hand, has thin paper and gold-leaf edges, and a silky ribbon marker. It will be my bedside copy to read when I can’t sleep. (Yes, pretty books impress me, okay?)

Current word count of Balsamic Moon: 4,827

NaNo 2003, Day 2

Yawn. 2,973 words later, it’s so bedtime. I have my first chapter done.

Good thing, too. I don’t think I can stand my heroine like this much longer. Thank all the gods she just did something stupid that will change her life.

The psychic ferret has been introduced. He has not yet been revealed as psychic. That will happen in chapter two.

Current word count of Balsamic Moon: 4,008

NaNo 2003, Day 1

I wrote 1,035 words before bed last night. Not bad for forty-five minutes of work. Of course, everyone’s word counts leapfrogged past me today while I was teaching and rehearsing. My revenge is to write while they’re all off at a Hallowe’en party tonight. Muah-hah-hah-hah.

The Elgar Variations are dizzyingly difficult. The Puccini seems to be intuitive, but Elgar constantly changes tempo and rhythm, and thinks accidentals are integral, which sort of defeats the purpose of an accidental. And he obviously wasn’t a cellist – or, if he was, he was a virtuoso who thinks all celli ought to be able to play treble clef at high speed.

Emily, my noble foe, already it begins. Your 3,072 words mock me. Fear my psychic ferret.

Current word count of Balsamic Moon: 1,035