Conferences, Vacations and a SNEAK PEEK!

Visiting the Grand Canyon

May has been an awesome month. In fact, it's been 'Spoil Brenda Month'. Started out with a three day trip/one day writing conference with my BFF (where I won a door prize and a Kindle!), continued with Mother's Day, and then a 5 night vacation to Las Vegas with my hubby was just the icing on the cake. Not only that, but my latest YA not-so-urban fantasy manuscript "SKIN" is polished, and ready to go, and now in the hands of a couple of fabulous agents for review. Yay!  Let the obsessive email checking begin...

I've also gotten back to writing an adult contemporary manuscript I'm working on...thanks to the inspirational workshops at the Ontario Writers Conference, and the ongoing writerly banter I've had with several writer friends. I'm about 21,000 words in. Hoping to at least have the first draft completed by the end of July, in anticipation of WriteOnCon a wonderful online conference that happens in August. If you've not heard of it, check out the conference details out here. This will be my third year at WriteOnCon...can't wait! Last year I even got a couple unexpected of partial/full requests by agents, just by posting in the forums.

Vegas and the Grand Canyon were AMAZING. Cannot believe we actually went there. So worth it to have a little anniversary getaway by ourselves! Hubby and I had an awesome time. Pic above is me trying not to look nervous by the 2000 foot cliff.

I'm really excited about my new manuscript (SKIN)!  Selkies and secrets on the red sands of PEI...sound interesting?  I thought I'd leave you with a little taste. :) Enjoy!

The roads are red. I know everyone said that they would be red, but I just didn’t think they would look like this. Pinkish, orange-ish red, like sunsets. They’re weird in a pretty kind of way.

I’m sitting in the back seat of the van, mushed between five million suitcases and my very annoying little brother somewhere on Prince Edward Island. I seriously want this trip to be over, but unlike the hundreds of thousands of tourists who’ve crossed that awful bridge this summer, I don’t want to be on this island at all.

We’re moving here. It’s August and we are crammed into this crappy van and we’ve been driving for three freakin’ days to get here. It’s hot. Our air conditioning is dying a slow and painful death, and I can’t wait to get out on those long stretches of red beach just to get away from the van from hell.

So behind...

Hello, April...! Oh. My. 

The last time I wrote the snow was falling, and now the daffodils are blooming. How does that happen? The good news is, LOTS of great things are happening in my life right now, and I've got some wonderful things to write about...soon! So stay tuned.

Good to see you!

Reflection on Remembrance

I had the amazing opportunity on Sunday to take a break from my mad NaNo writing-fest and attend a Remembrance Day ceremony with my daughter. She's an Army cadet (much to the chagrin of her Air-Force father) and her unit was marching in support of their sponsor, a local Legion.

Veterans, Legion Members and Cadets stand at attention.

It was a bizarre little ceremony, as the memorial gates they were marching to are located on a main street in a busy city. There was a police escort, several bicycle cops and two police cars with flashing lights. The cadets (age 12-18) looked sharp, marched well, and came to a halt in the middle of the intersection, the police officers directing traffic around them and the few war vets healthy enough to stand with them. In spite of the setting, and the low attendance, the Legion members led us through the National Anthem and played (via recording) the Last Post. We had a moment of silence. Like every ceremony of this nature, I struggled with the tears that inevitably well up when I think of the lives lost. Perhaps it's survivors guilt, perhaps it's the memory of so many friends and neighbours who have lost their lives in the service of our country, or perhaps it's fear that some day I could hear that bugle call someone I love dearly home. Whatever the cause, the moment of silence, to me, is sacred. And on that busy street with police officers directing traffic Sunday morning, it was no different.

As the moment of silence ended, I was shocked to hear a middle-aged woman start to yell. "You ruined the last post! You ruined the moment of silence! You should be ashamed!" she screamed at a poor unsuspecting police officer just behind my daughter. I'm sure I wasn't the only one confused. My poor daughter, standing there protected by the police officer helping the traffic through (which, by the way, was now backed up at least 6 blocks in each direction), looked like she was about to bolt.

I think (but I'm not sure) that this woman was mad at the police officer for letting the traffic through during the moment of silence. In her ignorance though, she not only insulted someone who was bravely doing his job, but those in front of her, who were doing what was important...remembering. I can't tell you how furious I was at this loud, angry woman who for some reason thought she had the duty to blast someone for ruining a ceremony that she herself was ruining. I wanted to run into the street and scream at her. Had she worn a uniform for her country? Did she watch the father of her children get on a plane for a 6 month tour in the desert? Had she held her son as he cried silently for the father he knows is in danger? Had she seen the rows, upon rows of gravestones in a lonely French field? Had she sat up late at night waiting for her husband to come home from a rescue mission in the middle of a blinding storm?

I have.

And as much as I wanted to give this sad woman a piece of my mind, I didn't. The men and women who die every day so that we can stand and pray freely in a city street deserve better than that.

To his credit, the police officer listened to her quietly, attempted to placate her, and continued doing his job. The cadets, legion members and veterans ignored her. The ceremony finished and we walked away. I'm sure there are better ways to hold a ceremony than with a few straggly spectators in the middle of a busy street. But our discomfort was minimal. The act of remembrance is what counts. 

To the men and women who have died so that I can sit here, writing my unedited thoughts...thank you.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Laurence Binyon

NaNo Countdown

If I was really cool, and really techno-savvy and had all kinds of time to spend figuring things out, I'd put a NaNoWriMo widget on my Blog right here

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But sadly, this is not the case. Well, not today anyway. I have an hour before I have to take off for my real job, and would really like to spend a few minutes actually preparing for NaNoWriMo.

National Novel Writing Month starts in just

6 days

Have I prepared at all? Nope. Well, I guess I have a bit, as my plan for this year's NaNo is to redo (ie from the beginning) a manuscript that I fiddled with this summer. I've got the basic plotline in my head, the main characters, setting (more or less) and a title. But the conflict is a bit iffy. Will the story become a 50,000 + word manuscript? Who knows?

Last year I started NaNo with just about as much info, had a week long visit with my parents and welcomed my hubby home after a 5 month deployment in the Middle East. And I won! Not only that, but my little manuscript has been sent off, edited by the fabulous Jesse Steele of The Editorial Department, and as far as I can see, it's ready to go. Which I think is pretty darned cool. It took my 14 months to write my first manuscript, and it's still not ready 4 years later! I LOVE that at the end of NaNo, if all goes well, I'll have something else finished.

I'm looking forward to it. How 'bout you?

B

Time Flies

Yes.

It's October.

I am officially sucking at keeping my blog up to date.

Seriously, though, I have a mental block when it comes to imputting (I never know how to spell that one...are there two t's or just one??) my email and password, so as to write a simple blog post. Why is that so difficult? It just took me two seconds to do, and here I am.

There is, of course, the slight life-upheaval thing that comes from packing your entire family's material existance into a tractor trailer, driving for hours, and then inserting said family into a newly built hobby farm. We have been working non-stop for weeks planting grass, building fences, making gardens, and (ugh) putting away box upon box upon box upon box of stuff. We win in the 'stuff' department. Thank God we move every few years or we'd be overcome with stuff.

Anyway, so now we're here, the horsies are happy in their little paddocks, kidlets are in school, and I'm finally able to concentrate on some writing-related stuff.

Lets hope I can input that little email address more often.


Brenda

It's baaa-ack...

*cue drumroll *

My manuscript has returned from the editors. Yup. It's back. The wonderful people at The Editorial Department even returned it on time. Now that's professionalism.

I'm not sure if I'm nervous, scared, excited, stressed or depressed. Probably a mix of all of the above. And I haven't even opened the file yet!

Today I'm allowing myself an hour to read over the editor's notes and skim through the side comments. And after that, I'm off to a funeral. Let's hope there is no connection. (Rest in peace, Mr. Hamilton.)

Will let you know how it goes!

Editing

If you've been following along on my rants (God help you), you know that I currently have two completed first drafts sitting on my desk waiting for something exciting to happen to them. The problem is, they are just that - drafts.

The first manuscript was completed in 2008. I "edited" it, queried it, submitted it for contests, and quickly realized that although the story was good, the writing needed a little work.

Here's where things get a bit sketchy.

You see, I LOVE to write. Putting my words on the 15" screen in front of me gives me a high I never realized until I started taking it more seriously. But when I try to alter those words, make them flow better, correct grammatical mistakes, remove those nasty words with -ly at the end of them, I lose my focus. I second guess myself. I change things that should be left alone, and leave the things that should be changed. And when I think of someone else critiquing my work I hyperventilate.

Enter my new friends from Twitter. My four wonderful crit group members, in our varying states of busy-ness, have introduced me to the real world of critique. And my other friends at #WritersRoad have made me realize that editing doesn't have to be painful. When I discovered that some people actually like editing BETTER than writing, I was shocked. Seriously?? You LIKE to do this?

And then it hit me. If I'm ever going to get my completed manuscripts into print and my assorted works in progress there as well, I need help. Professional help. The kind that's worth paying for. Talk about scary. It's like the next step in the 12 steps..."Hi my name is Brenda and I suck at editing."

Thanks to a friend from my critique group, I've discovered the wonderful people at "The Editorial Department". And, no kidding, they've been wonderful. Jane has even sent me her virtual vodka-valium-latte to help with my pre-editing jitters. In a few days I should get back my edited draft from the amazing Jesse Steele. I feel like I do when the kids are at camp. My baby is off in the big world, and I'm waiting to go pick it up--cuts, bruises, and alterations included.

So...wish me luck. I'll let you know how it goes. Who knows? Maybe something exciting will happen.