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I’m just back from a wonderful tea break with my oldest friend. Like me, over the past two years she’s been going through depression, reorganising her priorities, weeding out what’s holding her back and creating room to focus on what she considers important.

It’s so good to have a friend with whom you can share everything… yes, everything. The one in whose company you can bring just about any topic up and know that she’ll take it seriously, no matter what. The one who laughs at the same kooky things you do. The one who knows where you’re coming from because she feels pretty much the same way.

We may drift out of each other’s lives every few years or so, but we always drift back. And that’s nineteen years of drifting away and back, baby. Nineteen.

Eep. On one hand, that’s grounds for a “we’re how old!?” check. On the other hand, it’s certainly a reason to celebrate.

We’re quite alike. So much so, in fact, that we joked about our significant others checking in with each other to compare notes, making sure that we were still on an even keel.

Friends are blessings. Some come, some go, but I’m lucky enough to have several friends who have come back into my life some time after our first interactions, and they’ve become the best support system a girl could ask for.

So, thanks, y’all.

Now I’m torn: I desperate want to open The Rebirth of Witchcraft, but I keep thinking I should review my class for tonight, even though I prepared it first thing this morning.

I think the book wins.

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Argh!

Ceri and I have been e-mailing back and forth about various things Celtic and mythological, and it’s been driving me up the wall that I know I have information somewhere concerning these topics, but I can’t remember where.

See, when you start reading and researching things just because you’re interested, you rarely keep notes. It’s just for fun, after all. Then you become more serious, and you make notes here and there on things that interest you. Then the random notes start coalescing into the connections you make between different authors and myths and characters, and before you know it, you possess a body of knowledge that’s impossible to document, because it’s a comglomerate of ideas and readings from all over the place.

We can’t write down every single thing we learn from the outset. That’s absurd.

Nor can we write down where we found an interesting idea, because it won’t necessarily encompass the whole set of associated things that sprang into our minds when we first encountered it.

So what does one do?

Well, evidently one re-reads as much as one can get one’s hands on, and reads with awareness, with a highlighter, sticky notes, and a pencil by one’s side. No, better make that a pencil and a pen, the pencil to make notes in the text (come on, you’ll have to do it sooner or later), and the pen to write notes on the post-its (because pencil smudge son sticky-notes).

One invests in a stack of lined notebooks from an office supply shop and begins to make notes outside the texts, as well. As one runs into ideas found in other texts too, one slaps a sticky-note with the other title (and pertinent page numbers and chapters) at the appropriate spot. It sort of creates an off-line world-wide web. (Except it’s library-wide. Specifically, your library.)

This means photocopies of chapters from books you don’t own (personal use, fair use of property and all that). It means investing in second-hand books. It means asking for books for your birthday, Kwaanza, Midsummer, whatever. It means using other people as resources.

It means documenting your sources, and leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.

Why is this so hard for people to do? WHy don’t people understand the necessity of documentation? Why do people insist on making things up, or reading one text and assuming it’s correct? (I love the Internet, don’t you?) Granted, my way is a lot more work, but it’s a lot more rewarding. It’s a heck of a lot more enriching, too.

It also means you can cover yourself in case of difficulty later on when you feel the need to discuss the topic. Shoddy scholarship makes me spitting mad. I also frustrate myself because when I started all this, it was out of personal interest. Now, it’s become something more. And I’d give anything to go back and keep better records, take clearer notes, in those first couple of years. It physically hurts me to see people refuse to keep track of their research in an effort to avoid more work. It only wastes energy, in the end. Sure, you’ve got the knowledge… but where I come from, unless you can back it up, that knowledge is just pretty wall covering inside your skull.

I know the average person doesn’t operate by academic standards. I just wish more people would understand the importance of keeping track of research.

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Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

That, gentle readers, is the sound of a bibliophile who has in her little paws on an out-of-print text that�s nigh-impossible to find at an affordable price.

Yes, indeed. The Rebirth of Witchcraft by Doreen Valiente. And it�s mine, mine, mine!

The parcel arrived half an hour ago, and I waited until now to open it. Three layers of packing (Three! I admire their devotion to protecting my purchase from the heartless, brutal postal system, but really!) I had to worry off before at last, it lay in my hands. I actually experienced a shiver when I turned it over and beheld the cover.

This is a text written by one of the central figures in the establishment of the modern practice of witchcraft, about the contemporary history of the practice from the beginnings of the twentieth century right up until the eighties. Eyewitness accounts from someone as influential and as respected as Valiente are rare. Everyone has a biased and subjective point of view, of course, but I�d be quicker to believe Valiente than some others. From an academic standpoint, this is a first-hand account of the politics and social struggles British witchcraft encountered as it re-emerged in the twentieth century and tried to settle into something coherent, and as such it�s a valuable piece of history, as well.

Apart from all of that, this is just a wonderful find. Second-hand, it usually runs between seventy and a hundred dollars, depending on its condition. This copy was only thirty. It�s shelf-worn, but no pages are missing, marked, or bent, and I wanted a copy to read it, after all.

New book! Out of print book! Rare book! Bliss!

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I neglected to mention that my awesome-cool husband bought me a Ravenclaw house mug yesterday.

Mine! Mine! Muah-hah-hah-hah!

(The husband, and the mug. Neener, neener!)

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I know you were all on tenterhooks, so I�ll end your agony: the Toronto Symphony Orchestra has announced their new conductor. It�s Peter Oundjian, the retired first violinist of the Tokyo Quartet who was forced to give up playing a few years ago because of hand problems. (Okay, I don�t know about you, but that�s a nightmare for a musician. Kind of like me worrying about losing my sight, being that I love reading and writing so much. When Oundjian announced his retirement from the Tokyo Quartet I was devastated.) The TSO has been operating under guest conductors for a couple of years ever since Jukka-Pekka Saraste left, so this announcement means that they have an artistic director again who can guide the orchestra under a single vision.

If this sounds vaguely familiar, it�s because our own Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal is in the same position. Charles Dutoit resigned last year and the OSM has sort of stumbled a bit without a leader. However, hope springs eternal, and rumours are flying that Kent Nagano is at the top of the search committee�s list. At the moment Nagano is the music director of Berlin’s Deutsches Symphony-Orchester Berlin as well as the principal conductor of the Los Angeles Opera. (Not that he�ll have to give those up; heck, Dutoit was the principal conductor of a handful of international orchestras. Racks up the air miles, but hey.)

Victory!

Well, we’re both still alive, we didn’t use copious amounts of Kleenex, and nothing valuable got smashed, so I’m calling yesterday’s NaNoWriEx session a success.

I really don’t know who Ceri has edited in the past; most of them must have been arrogant, insecure types, because she’s fantastic at offering creative, constructive advice, and helping you work things out. The point of handing a work like this off to someone else is so that you have a second pair of eyes seeing it for the first time to catch inconsistencies (which, bless her, she did) and take in the work as a whole and see how it balances.

We decided to hand them to each other with a minimal amount of editing, to see if the other reader would catch things we’d already pegged as problems, and sure enough, it was gratifying to hear her point out problems that I had already noted down to address — the resolution of a particular storyline, the use of minor characters in other places, and so forth. The good thing is she also pointed out other ways to resolve problems that I hadn’t seen. Likewise, the problems I talked to her about all seemed to be problems that she was already aware of or had anticipated in some way.

Moreover, Ceri put my mind to rest about things like my characters: she swore that every single one of them was different and an individual, and she loved them all. This made me squiggle with joy because I consider characters one of the most important elements of a story, something too many authors forget. (And for those NaNo participants from Montreal who are wondering: no, I have no clue when any of them were born, and what their favourite colours are. So there.) She also eased my paranoid fears regarding my portrayal of sensitive issues. What I wasn’t expecting was her comment that I had material for one or two more novels about these characters. I specifically did not plan a series, because so many YA novels end up as series — but it’s nice to know that I’ve created a sense of “life goes on”.

So! Back to the laptop! I have to add that penultimate chapter I had decided against in the orginal draft to tie up a couple of loose ends, incorporate her edits and word suggestions, and, well, the next step is shopping it around, isn’t it?