Category Archives: Books

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.

Calling All Local SpecFic Fans!

I have a cold.

This would be a yucky thing at any time, but I am currently in the middle of a ton of Real-Life work that is pushing aside regularly scheduled stuff like orchestra, practicing (yes, it does happen), teaching, prep work for teaching, and writing.

Not only that, I’m working a convention this weekend. What convention, you ask? Why, ConCept 2003!

Do you like fantasy or science fiction and live in Montreal or nearby?

Do you know someone who likes science fiction or fantasy?

This Saturday is the 2003 edition of ConCept, Montreal’s annual non-profit, volunteer-run science fiction and fantasy convention. This year’s guest lineup is very impressive. There will be guest of honour speeches, discussion panels, gaming, author signings, a dealers’ room, screenings, a charity auction, an art show, and more.

Check out the website for information: www.monsffa.com/concept2003.html

What the website won’t tell you:

Robert J. Sawyer, 2003 Hugo award winner, will be there.
Karl Schroeder, 2003 Aurora award winner, will be there.

Admission info etc is on the site. Things kick off at 9:00 AM.

So yeah. I’m currently experiencing severe withdrawal from my NaNo work, as well as crushing guilt over the fact that I wanted to have a ton of exam and homework correction done this week. And on top of it all, I’m fighting this rotten sinus/throat/chest thing.

I’m grumpy.

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

Hail, Saint Jerome!

Since no one else is going to say it:

Today is the feast-day of Saint Jerome, patron saint of librarians.

Here’s to those brave souls who deal with people who don’t know their alphabets or can’t read signs that plainly indicate that books are not to be reshelved, and who are the keepers of worlds of wonder.

Here’s to those men and women who seek to add to their collections in order to offer the greatest range of knowledge to seekers.

And here’s to those moms and dads who read to their kids, encouraging a life-long love for literature and a thirst for story.

Hip hip hurrah!

Red Letter Day

Six thumbs up for Ceri’s apple pie. Not too tart; not too sweet; not too gooey. Perfect pastry. Her Nanny would be proud.

My husband enjoyed another piece for breakfast and says it was just as delicious the morning after.

Over tea last night the topic of ancestors came up, and I was thinking about it this morning. It’s always such a pity that by the time we’re old enough to appreciate the stories and the knowledge that our grandparents possess, they’re gone. It’s some sort of comfort that my spiritual path involves honouring my genelogical ancestors, and my spiritual ancestors as well. I have a connection to the past that extends past the living face-to-face exchanges, and I value it greatly.

I also have an adorable black kitten who actually jumped up on my lap for a cuddle when I got home this afternoon. And I was initiated into the mysteries of making perfume waters at work today. I even labelled them, and they look just like the ones on the shelf. I am terribly proud of myself. I picked up my beautiful, pristine, luminescent copy of Neil Gaiman’s Endless Nights this afternoon as well. So, all in all, quite the red-letter day.

Now, if I could only get news of how the submission of my contract to the publishing board of the US publisher went today, my happiness would be complete.

In Which She Muses On Stress

I know I haven’t been terribly communicative, but it’s my sandbox, and I’ll play when I want to. Expect me to be very absent over the weekends, because I simply have no time or inclination to fire up BiFrost, Computer of the Gods after three solid days of teaching.

It’s been a pretty exhausting weekend. Apart from the teaching of four three-hour classes, there was a birthday gathering, and three separate stressful situations that I was involved in or peripheral to. The highly ironic aspect of the weekend was courtesy of the stress-management lecture I gave, and the subsequent lecture I taught on how to function as an effective counsellor.

(See, Tal? Those ten-plus years of offering you tea after a break-up gave me training! Thanks!)

I will not go into details, because all of it’s confidential. As a priestess and a teacher I function as a counsellor, and I stick to a counsellor’s rules of engagement. I can, however, offer you my basic conclusions:

A) People in general have to smarten up and become aware that there are other individuals in the world around them who matter too. Grow out of the six-year-old I’m-the-centre-of-the-universe identity thing, and join the adult perception of cause and effect. Please.

B) Common sense is all too uncommon. I think it’s connected to (A) somehow.

C) Taking advantage of others just sucks, okay?

D) While it’s acceptable to feel tear-limb-from-limb anger, acting on it is a no-no.

Today is dreary and I have candles lit to help cheer things up while I read an excellent book for review. If anyone wants to take a look at how and why a Wiccan ritual is set up the way it is, read Deborah Lipp’s Elements of Ritual.

I’m also reading Sarah Water’s Fingersmith, a stunningly well-plotted and -written work about a Victorian underworld scheme to liberate an heiress from her fortune. I’m taking Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Avatar in small mouthfuls to savour it, unlike my consumption of the previous two books in the series when they were released. And I’m still going at Hermione Lee’s Virginia Woolf and Lucasta Miller’s The Bronte Myth. The latter isn’t so much a biography as an examination of the whole marketing/legend that has grown about the Bronte family. Fascinating stuff, if you’re a literature addict or a Victorian pop culture nut (score two for me!).

I think I’ll go for a walk. Fresh air, some rain, exercise, maybe the used book store.

When Worlds Collide

Oh. My. God.

Neil Gaiman sent me my next story assignment.

No, I don’t mean I’ve been inspired by something he wrote or a quote on his blog. Nothing so abstract.

There was a postcard in my mailbox this afternoon from Neil Gaiman. And he used green ink in his fountain pen.

The address part was, of course, filled in with Ceri’s neat printing. I expect that this is her delicious secret. I thought that it had something to do with Scott’s birthday, but apparently not.

I’m rather stunned.

Oh, the topic?

A line of people that never ends…

Which, when you think about it, really sums up the moment in which it was written.