Ye gods – I’ve been online for four hours. I finished my editing a couple of hours ago, and have since been gaming in a Changeling chat room for the very first time, instead of lurking and getting a feel for who and what and how. And I really, really ought to sign off and go to bed!
Curse you, Roo, for introducing this to me! (And I mean cursing in the nicest way, of course…)
I currently have a black fairy kitten between my keyboard and my monitor as I alternately tear my hair out over editing an author’s most recent batch of chapters, and eavesdropping on what’s going on at the Firnost Freehold chatroom so I don’t completely lose my mind. Nixie has been helping by smacking the pointer every once in a while as it flies around the screen. I think she wants to play Changeling too, but it would take too long for her to make a character.
Watching Roo interact with others, and being cuted out by Nix are the only things keeping me sane at the moment. There; she just patted the text as I typed. Painfully cute.
At this time of year, my husband and I get restless because we’re housebound so much due to the extreme cold. So naturally, we begin to think of ways to make the house more pleasant.
I went out for three hours on Saturday to do administrative teacher-type stuff, and came back to a cheery yellow kitchen. The transformation was literally that simple; I was present for practically none of the emptying of the room, the preparation for painting, the actual application of colour, and the replacement of the removed items. I left one boring kitchen, and came home to a different, bright one.
Yesterday, the bathroom was painted sage green and white. It looks fabulous. HRH even went so far as to paint the outside of the claw-foot bathtub sage green, which looks very cool. I was here for half of this particular endeavour, but I was away at the Beethoven rehearsal for the latter half.
It was, in fact, a very busy day. I had a three-hour rehearsal for the Beethoven, then came home to study group already in progress (in which time flew, making us late for…), then a Changeling game (which also went late thanks to our belated arrival, plus various things like dinner and bookkeeping and the first combat session of the story!).
The Beethoven: It never ceases to amaze me that I can sight-read brilliantly, but fall apart at simple passages that are played really fast. The symphony already sounds phenomenal; I can’t wait to hear the choir with it. I’m incredibly fortunate to be able to play with this ensemble.
The study group: Ah, the joys of discussing deity concepts, and the balance of male and female energies. Always fun. The nice thing about this group is that it’s made up of experienced people, so the discussion is very different from the discussions I usually have with students, for example.
The game: It’s been so long since I’ve made a character for a new game that I’d almost forgotten how much I hate it. Unless I have a very clear concept that pops into my head, I have to slowly try out bits and pieces that either work or don’t. This is the third session of world-building and intro games, and I’m still not settled on who this character actually is. It’s been frustrating because I’ve really missed gaming, and to struggle with a new character when I so desperately want to dive right in has been so maddening. Last night was as close as I’ve been able to come to feeling comfortable with her; dropping her age from eighteen to eleven has really helped nail it down and free me up to enjoy the game and explore her personality. I know that part of my problem is derived from my habit of firming up a character’s personality through gaming; it’s hard to know what a character is like until you’ve put him/her through some paces in context. I’m lucky to have an understanding group who chose to play a couple of experimental sessions to introduce the system and the world, which gave me a chance to stretch my muscles a bit and discover the character’s actual personality.
On today’s agenda: fleshing out the anthology series proposal for my publisher; working out a couple of brick-wall type passages in the Beethoven; and refilling my black ink cartridge with the ink that just arrived in the mail. Of course it leaked, so I have to email the company and ask for a new instruction sheet. Not much ink was lost, but as anyone who has ever had a leaky fountain pen knows, even a small amount of ink creates a disaster of epic proportions! And tonight, my CD-ROM drive gets replaced by the burner drive! Hurrah!
Because it deserves its very own post:
The Bad:
Last week I got the sad news that my sweet little sewing machine is going to cost about a hundred dollars to fix. It was exactly what the man who took it in suspected: the timing has gone on it. A lightweight machine like this one isn’t designed to sew anything heavy, and that’s pretty much all I’ve sewn with it. The repair shop was impressed that it had lasted eight years, but the man warned me that to fix it would likely not be worth the money it would cost. His phone call last week confirmed it. He told me that even if he fixed it, I’d likely run into the same problem within a year or so if I used it for the same projects.
Now that I have a functioning printer of quality, my original plans to buy a new one no longer apply. I think that when the cheque for the first project I finish at the US publisher comes through, I’ll use a bit of it to treat myself to a new sewing machine instead. One with a bit more oomph, a little more weight, the design to handle heavyweight material and projects, and maybe a range of speeds that embraces more than bunny/turtle.
The Good:
I had an hour-long chat with my editorial contact at the US publisher – the imprint specialist is a go, with the contract being tweaked before it’s sent down to me. The series proposal is being fleshed out as I go. This is becoming more and more of a full-time thing, a real career. I’ll be going down to Boston somewhere around the end of February to pitch the proposal and meet everyone, and possibly one of my authors as well. There are the fall bookfairs to think about too, where publicity for the new imprint might require me to be on hand for talks and info session with buyers.
Yes, I’m still stunned.
I’ll need new clothes. Jeans and t-shirts (beloved uniform of home-based freelancers everywhere), however fetching I look in them, are just not going to cut it in a conference room or a marketing sales floor.
I just got a parcel from my parents in the mail. In it was the manual that goes with my printer.
Now that I know what all the buttons mean, I can photocopy. Thank you, gods!
And thank you, Mum, for the January treat!
Update: Aha. If I don’t click on the black & white button, the copier assumes it’s in colour – even if the original is b&w. And I end up with green music to practice with. Well, it’s, um… different.
Yesterday was the first rehearsal for Beethoven’s Ninth. Walked in, sat down, smiled at the bassist, said hello to the cellists I played with last November, and set up. The conductor (who’s a riot) announced that just for kicks, we’d start off with the fourth movement.
Yes. The movement. It’s what the Ninth Symphony is all about, really.
Me: Erk! Gulp!
(You see, the cellos figure prominently in the forth movement. Erk, indeed.)
And then the conductor lifted his head from his score and said, “Is that good for you, Brad? Can you do half a rehearsal here, then half off wherever else you need to be?”
Naturally, not knowing everyone in this symphony orchestra, I turned my head to follow his line of sight. As I did, a voice said, “No, I’m all yours today. It’s good.”
I blinked. I know Brad. Last time I saw him was, oh, seven years ago.
So we played (and what a ride, to sight-read the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth – I mean, really), the cellos got lots of compliments, and eventually we took a break. I put away my cello and got my water bottle, then picked a path through the chaos of instruments and strangers wandering around playing random bits of music to themselves all the way to the back where Brad sat with his trumpet on his lap, talking with someone else who was, oh my gods, the music teacher from my old high school.
I waited politely until they’d finished their topic of conversation, and when Brad turned to me, I said, “Last time I saw you, you were standing in the doorway to my apartment, holding out a bottle of IBC root beer and telling me that you couldn’t stay for my housewarming.”
We exclaimed and laughed a bit and caught up on the past seven years. He’s married, too. He complimented me on having reached a level of ability equivalent to playing with this symphony (and ooh, didn’t my ego need that bit of bolstering, although I admitted I was an emergency fill-in). Then he turned to introduce me to his friend Murray. I smiled and say, “Yes, Murray Rosenhek. You taught music at Mac High while I was there.”
He charmingly admitted that he didn’t remember me, which was highly amusing since, as I quickly assured him, I never took one of his classes. All my friends took music, but as our school didn’t teach strings, I took drama instead. When he asked with whom, and I told him Elaine Evans, he said, “Oh, that was twenty years ago!” as if that explained his memory lapse. Brad got a good laugh out of it.
It was good to share memories with someone who had been instrumental (if you’ll pardon the pun) in getting me into orchestra. It all began rather oddly. Brad, having access to Concordia’s database of students, contacted me via e-mail with compliments after he’d seen me sing in LLO’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. We started messaging, got to know one another, hung out a bit, and then one day he proposed an interesting gig: his wind orchestra was performing a really modern symphony by Johan de Meij called Lord of the Rings, and they had the idea of writing a dramatic narrative to introduce the symphony as a whole, as well as the individual movements. Would I be interested in performing something like that? And did I know someone with a good deep voice who could co-narrate with me?
Heck, yes!
Thus it was that Tal and I were guest performers with the Lakeshore Concert Band in May of 1998. (Okay, so Brad and I haven’t seen one another in six years. Feels like longer.) One of the last times I saw Brad was when he invited me along with some of the concert band to attend a Canada Day chamber orchestra concert in Pointe-Claire village. They all urged me to talk to the conductor and ask about joining. As secure as I was in my dramatic abilities, I was just as insecure about my cellistic talents, and as much as I wanted to play with an ensemble the level of technique displayed in the concert scared the hell out of me.
Has anyone made the connection yet?
Yes. I eventually managed to screw up the courage to call that conductor and inquire about a place for a cellist in the Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra. It’s now my third season with them.
And now Brad and I are playing together in Cantabile. Small world, indeed.