Category Archives: Diary

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

MutterMutter

I am much, much too awake for almost-eleven-thirty on a weekday night.

In a fit of irritation with Canada Post’s ineptitude at tracking XpressPost packages this afternoon, I searched the USPS site for my lost-in-transition packet of contracts. (You know, the one that was supposed to be on the managing editor’s desk by Tuesday? The one that was guaranteed to be at its destination on Monday by the very latest?) It was delivered Wednesday afternoon. I’m so relieved that it got there, I’m not even upset that it missed the deadline by one day. (Okay, I’m a wee bit upset. Just a wee bit.)

A single day remains until NaNo begins. I now have a couple of 5×7 inch pages of notes. Not, of course, on plot, but on potential characters. I’m beginning to understand that my approach to novel-writing mirrors my approach to role-playing: the story grows out of the characters and their choices. I’d write terrible mystery novels; I’m just not interested in working the puzzle out. I like watching how people interact while they puzzle-solve, instead.

I’m going to go light some candles, put on some relaxing music, and read in bed for a while. Maybe that will help the wakefulness.

Just Because

There’s nothing like receiving a present on someone else’s birthday!

We went out to Fondumentale last night (highly recommended!) to celebrate Roo’s first quarter-century, and Maia-at-Twilight gave her a tin of tea from Betjeman & Barton, the Westmount tea shop on Sherbrooke. I bounced around because I love that shop, and seeing the red bag meant that good things were inside. Then Maia-at-Twilight handed me a little packet of tea, a present for no particular reason – the very best kind. “I had to,” she said. “Look at the name.”

Sonate d’Automne. Well, of course she had to.

It’s an eau de fruits, similar to a tisane, and it’s delicious. It has almonds, and a mellow smoky fruit flavour. Perfect for an overcast fall day. I think it’s about to become a NaNo tea. Last year’s NaNo tea was, of course, Twining’s Lady Grey. The drink of choice for the Great Canadian Novel (when I’m working on it, that is; once I realised that I had accidentally finished writing it, I decided to leave it until 2004 and then edit it, since it’s essentially finished and requires only the current chapters rejigged, and possibly a chapter added) is Vanilla Coke. Odd how I associate certain beverages with certain projects.

I scurried about tying up loose ends of work and such yesterday. As of eleven-ish, my contracts still hadn’t arrived in Massachussets, so I’m rolling up my sleeves to give the US postal service a kick to help them along. The Canada Post tracking service informs me that the packet left Canada on the 22nd, so the delay is on the US side. XpressPost guarantees three to five day delivery, so it ought to have been there last week. That sound you hear is my foot tapping.

muttergrumblegrr

I hate, hate, hate that my whole day can be put off by a single, small, event.

I had a terrific evening with close friends last night which involved poetry, much discussion of phobias rooted in childhood, fairy tales and nursery rhymes, Little House on the Prairie, and lots of my father’s delicious red wine. I woke up with my day all planned, and settled down to review and correct a pile of student homework.

The very first thing I picked up was a journal which began with negative response to, and criticism of, the material covered in the first two classes, and questioned the teachers’ qualifications to teach them.

It soured everything. The next two journals and sets of homework I read were fantastic, full of reflection and creative, thoughtful responses to the home exercises. If only I had picked up one of them first!

Why do we focus on the negative issues to the exclusion of the positive? Why do we remember the bad things, but not the good?

I resent the fact that this person has affected me to this extent. Logically I know that it’s a personal response, and it’s perfectly valid in a journal, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was the very first thing I read. I’m irritated because it had such an effect on me. As a result, now I’m grumpy, and nothing I seem to do snaps me out of it.

To quote a very old friend: “muttergrumblegrr.”

Just People

I just received news that the annual Hallowe’en party for which I create my costume has been cancelled this year. On one hand, this is bad news; I love this party. On the other hand, it’s just fine, because the only investment I’ve made in my costume this year so far is make-up. It also means I can tuck this idea away and use it next year. Voila! I am so prepared for 2004!

I had a wonderul weekend with Trish Telesco, our most recent visiting author. It’s always a good sign when the first thing an author says after she’s introduced to you is, “She’s wonderful! Can I take her home?” Turns out she’s done work under a pen name in the past for the US publisher I’ve signed on with, so we ended up talking business about potential titles over dinner on Saturday night. (Further proof that it is, indeed, a Very Small World.) There was a moment over dessert that made me freeze up under a coolness wave, when I realised that if she writes a title for this new series, I’ll be writing a two-page preface for it.

Having worked in the book business for twelve years means that I’ve met more than my share of authors, and have discovered that they’re Just People. More than that, being a writer myself, I know that creating books is Work, Hard Work. So when I hang out with authors, they’re just people who do the same thing I do. Of course, there’s a tiny part of my brain screaming that they’re Famous People Who Do What I Do, but that’s the fangirl part of me which is kept firmly under control. (At least, gods, I hope so! I don’t remember ever gushing to any of the authors I’ve hosted…)

Slowly But Surely

Ah, the first cold I’ve had in months. I so have not missed being sick. The general ache, the out-of-it feeling due to the sinus pressure, the boxes and boxes of tissue….

Thursday night I had a dynamic pair of students in a workshop, which was an enjoyable switch from the usual silent note-taking type. Friday night I got to make a flying visit to the first Montreal NaNo coffee gathering and met some terrific new people while re-acquainting myself with terrific people I’d met last year. And, as a result of a highly amusing misunderstanding, I have resolved that my story will have a psychic ferret involved in it somewhere (you just had to be there). (And I called Tal insane. Ah, well. There’s a reason we’re related by choice.)

It was a lovely Thanksgiving weekend (apart from the cold, of course, which ensured that I couldn’t taste my in-laws’ wonderful harvest feast to the degree it deserved), with a nice gift at the end: Salem, my favourite local cat-who-is-not-mine, ate about 30 ccs of food after refusing to eat for a period of days. Sure, it took three of us to hold her (including one and a half animal techs), but she ate; she even ate willingly after being force-fed a bit of it. Then I got to cuddle a corn snake while I watched the new trailers for Matrix Revolutions and The Return of the King.

This afternoon is a legal presence at the Palais de Justice (no worries, it’s all good), and then an intimate get-together at Hurley’s to celebrate a few different milestones achieved over the past three months.

(Palais de Justice, for our non-Quebec-resident readership, is the fancy French term for the city courthouse. It does not, in fact, have anything to do with a superhero team. More’s the pity.)

Slowly but surely, I’m getting my mind back into the writing mode. I managed to get my printer working again (using the popular kick-it-hard method combined with replacing an ink cartridge) and printed out the existing copy of two half-finished stories, then took them to the Second Cup with me Friday afternoon to edit and add to them. Re-reading work that I haven’t touched in months is a remarkably good carrot to use when I’m stuck; it’s often better than I remember it being. Must stop drinking lattes and mochas while doing it, though. Herbal tea all the way!

Real

Oh my sweet gods — I have a contract.

It’s full of legalese, and I just read it in shock, so I’ll have to try again tomorrow. But —

I have a contract.

I keep having this awful feeling that eventually they’ll figure out who I really am, and take it all back in horror. I mean, they’re using me as a selling point. Me, for heaven’s sake.

Tomorrow. It will be different tomorrow.