I am going to self-publish a book.
There. I said it.
After years and years of writing, editing, hand-wringing, submitting, editing, hand-wringing, waiting and editing some more, I have decided to self-publish a manuscript. Note I say 'A' manuscript, because I have decided that self-publication is the route to go for this manuscript, and this manuscript alone. Well, so far, anyways. If you've been following along with my drivel, you'll know that I have three complete, edited manuscripts in various piles around my messy house, and at least two in various stages of completion (35k, 9k). The manuscript I've decided to publish on my own is a fun YA historical fiction story with a hint of magic set in late 18th C New Brunswick. It's a quick romantic read, written as my 2010 NaNoWriMo project. Yah, I've submitted it to a few agents, even gotten some great, personal and encouraging rejection letters, but my heart isn't in it. It's just not a mass-market book. Don't get me wrong, it's a great story! But it doesn't fit the mould, nor does it run with today's popular YA dystopian, paranormal or other genres. It's different...and I like it that way.
For these reasons (and a few others) I've tossed around the idea of self-pubbing this manuscript for almost a year. I've REALLY tossed it around. My poor husband is sick of hearing about it. I've stared at my computer screen for HOURS, wondering and thinking and stressing. I've read and searched, and stalked my favourite indie authors' sites and I've come to the conclusion that it makes sense. I still am working toward traditional publishing with my other manuscripts (for reasons individual to the stories), but for this one, self-publication is the way to go.
And now that I've admitted it publicly...I'm going to do it.
I am slowly, with the help of my family and friends, coming to terms with the fact that I am, indeed, a writer. My husband has been a ROCK of support. He lets me wail and moan and gnash my teeth, and then tells me what I need to hear...it's my decision. I love him dearly. One particular friend of mine has also been struggling with am-I-a-writer-or-not-itis (and she's been PAID for her services) and we've been leaning on each other for support. She may or may not have even written a blog about it (check it out here). Every writer needs reams of back-patting and kick-in-the-butt-ing, and she's done both. Thanks V.
So...over the next few weeks/months/years, I'll be taking my first steps to self-publication. Cover art, formatting, final copy-editing...these are just a few things I'll be banging my head repeatedly over. My impatience to get moving will no doubt be an issue, but so be it. I've read some pretty AWFUL self published stuff, and I've read some FABULOUS self published stuff (check out Tammara Webber on Amazon. I LOVE her 'Between the Lines' series.). I aspire to be like the latter, and I know that good indie publishing takes lots and lots of time and hard work. I'll do my best.
Self-publication here we come.
Brenda
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Impatience
Writers need to be patient. It's a fact. Crafting a manuscript takes time. Time to plan the story, time to write the story, time to edit the story, and then...(gasp!)...time to release the story to the world. Every step of the process takes hours, days, weeks, even years of waiting and wondering. We've all heard of authors who recognized the first inklings of a story in childhood and published the finished products in the sunset of their lives. It's a wonderful, full-circle idea. Really, it is.
Of course we've also heard of the geophysicist who scribbled his or her ideas down at afternoon tea, sent them off to a friend that night and, voila! Story published and on the NY Times Bestsellers list mere months later.
If you've done just that, I hope you know how lucky you are. Perhaps your mother rubbed a rabbit's foot on your cradle and fed you four-leaf clovers in your soup. I'm trying very hard to be happy for you. Seriously, I am. Okay, not really. I'm just doing my best not to hate your stinking guts.
I am a complete failure in the patience department. Well, at least in the writing patience department. I can wait for ages for some things (I'm the type that never peeks at Christmas presents, and never reads the ending first). But when I'm writing a story I want it to be done and done now. The words come flying out of my brain too fast for my fingers to keep up. I can't wait to send it off to the editor, and then I check my email hourly (okay maybe every five seconds), until it's back. I zip through the edits and then I want to send it out on an express train the next day. Sadly, it doesn't work this way. I know this...and I'm sure just about every newbie mistake I've made has stemmed from my lack of patience.
However...the manuscript I'm working on now has been almost eight years in the making. EIGHT YEARS! That's like a hundred in dog years, isn't it? And this manuscript is slowly shaping, forming, aging...like fine red wine (Merlot, anyone?). I'm excited about it. It's taken time because it's real, honest, and true. How does impatient little me end up writing something like that? I have no idea. Lots of cleansing breaths and buckets of coffee I guess.
How 'bout you? Do you suffer from impatientitis? Or are you cool and calm about the whole thing? I'd love to hear how you cope with the long spaces of time in between the magic. I'll share a coffee with you while we wait.
Brenda
Of course we've also heard of the geophysicist who scribbled his or her ideas down at afternoon tea, sent them off to a friend that night and, voila! Story published and on the NY Times Bestsellers list mere months later.
If you've done just that, I hope you know how lucky you are. Perhaps your mother rubbed a rabbit's foot on your cradle and fed you four-leaf clovers in your soup. I'm trying very hard to be happy for you. Seriously, I am. Okay, not really. I'm just doing my best not to hate your stinking guts.
I am a complete failure in the patience department. Well, at least in the writing patience department. I can wait for ages for some things (I'm the type that never peeks at Christmas presents, and never reads the ending first). But when I'm writing a story I want it to be done and done now. The words come flying out of my brain too fast for my fingers to keep up. I can't wait to send it off to the editor, and then I check my email hourly (okay maybe every five seconds), until it's back. I zip through the edits and then I want to send it out on an express train the next day. Sadly, it doesn't work this way. I know this...and I'm sure just about every newbie mistake I've made has stemmed from my lack of patience.
However...the manuscript I'm working on now has been almost eight years in the making. EIGHT YEARS! That's like a hundred in dog years, isn't it? And this manuscript is slowly shaping, forming, aging...like fine red wine (Merlot, anyone?). I'm excited about it. It's taken time because it's real, honest, and true. How does impatient little me end up writing something like that? I have no idea. Lots of cleansing breaths and buckets of coffee I guess.
How 'bout you? Do you suffer from impatientitis? Or are you cool and calm about the whole thing? I'd love to hear how you cope with the long spaces of time in between the magic. I'll share a coffee with you while we wait.
Brenda
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Conferences, Vacations and a SNEAK PEEK!
 |
| Visiting the Grand Canyon |
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.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Bad Blogger. Bad.
Yah, so somehow it's May 30th. That would make it a month and a half since my last post. Somewhat failing in the content department, no? The excuses are many, but time is short, so I won't bother. Let's just say I've wanted to post, but haven't.
The problem with leaving something like this for too long is that the topic possibilities pile up and start staring you down. "Cummon, Brenda. I DARE you to post on me!" they scream from within my brain.
Oh yes, I've read all of the advice. Posting regularly is important. Weekly, daily, hourly...you MUST post. Post in your sleep if you have to! The pressure!
I suck at prompt posting. I am the queen of bloggy procrastination. Procrastinating Poster's Anonymous Chairperson: That's me.
Bad blogger. BAD.
Today the sun is shining. It's Monday and I don't have to work at my 'real' job. The kids are at school. Hubby is off saving the world. The dog is walked. The house is relatively clean. The lawn is mown and the gardens are weeded. And I feel like writing.
I could write about the new house that we are building. I could write about sending my manuscript to a professional editor (scary prospect, that). I could write about kids, rain, sunshine, horses, work, blahbity blah-blah-blah.
But today I just feel like saying hi.
Hello all you friendly follower peeps! What's new with you?
Monday, March 14, 2011
And So It Begins...
Finally! Our posting message is in!
After over a year of waiting, we know where we are going. And I’m exhausted already.
Last Wednesday (five days ago) the message came in. Thursday we contacted real estate agents both here and in our next location. Friday night we filled out the listing paperwork. Saturday and Sunday we cleaned like MAD. This morning (Monday) the photographer came to take pictures for our virtual tour. This afternoon the relocation company’s appraiser came to do his paperwork. Tonight the sign goes up on our driveway. Tomorrow morning the listing goes live on the internet and the REAL fun begins.
The posting process slowly builds as you wait to find out where, and begin the general process of cleaning out and getting ready. Then the bubbling frenzy of the pre-listing period hits. You scrub, paint, tidy, chuck, hide, dust and primp your house into looking like something from a magazine cover. In the past two days I’ve made curtains, flower arrangements and lovely clean piles of firewood. We started at 7 am and went until 11 pm. Last night I swear I dreamed of dust rhinos taking over the world. Our house has not been this clean in the two and a half years we’ve lived here. Sadly, military family organizational nirvana only happens in the brief period between listing and sale.
As a military family, we’re not new to this craziness. This will be our 8th move in 14 years. I’ve moved once with a toddler and a 4 week old baby who screamed every minute of our four day drive. And once with two toddlers and a 3 month old baby. Not fun. But, wonder of all wonders, this time our kids are actually HELPING in the process. It’s an odd development. Our twelve year old is a whiz at cleaning windows. Our ten year old can sweep and shovel like a pro. Even the eight year old is discovering the wonders of the home staging world. Very cool! And last night, after working hard ALL DAY, they were actually playing with one another! HAPPILY! And without making a mess! What’s with that? Who’d a thunk it?
There’s still work to do, but the preparations are almost finished. Now comes the annoying ‘keep-the-house-clean-because-showings-only-come-when-two-kids-are-barfing-and-the-dog-decides-to-eat-the-laundry-room-door’ phase. It’s a whole new category of Murphy’s Laws. The kid that forgets to flush his poo-poo before we leave. The dirty sock that doesn’t quite make it to the laundry basket. The (don’t laugh because it’s happened) boogers rubbed on the entryway wall. This momma’s got hawk eyes, but I know that something will be missed. And I also know that someone will come along and love this much just as much as we have.
Please God, just make it quick.
After over a year of waiting, we know where we are going. And I’m exhausted already.
Last Wednesday (five days ago) the message came in. Thursday we contacted real estate agents both here and in our next location. Friday night we filled out the listing paperwork. Saturday and Sunday we cleaned like MAD. This morning (Monday) the photographer came to take pictures for our virtual tour. This afternoon the relocation company’s appraiser came to do his paperwork. Tonight the sign goes up on our driveway. Tomorrow morning the listing goes live on the internet and the REAL fun begins.
The posting process slowly builds as you wait to find out where, and begin the general process of cleaning out and getting ready. Then the bubbling frenzy of the pre-listing period hits. You scrub, paint, tidy, chuck, hide, dust and primp your house into looking like something from a magazine cover. In the past two days I’ve made curtains, flower arrangements and lovely clean piles of firewood. We started at 7 am and went until 11 pm. Last night I swear I dreamed of dust rhinos taking over the world. Our house has not been this clean in the two and a half years we’ve lived here. Sadly, military family organizational nirvana only happens in the brief period between listing and sale.
As a military family, we’re not new to this craziness. This will be our 8th move in 14 years. I’ve moved once with a toddler and a 4 week old baby who screamed every minute of our four day drive. And once with two toddlers and a 3 month old baby. Not fun. But, wonder of all wonders, this time our kids are actually HELPING in the process. It’s an odd development. Our twelve year old is a whiz at cleaning windows. Our ten year old can sweep and shovel like a pro. Even the eight year old is discovering the wonders of the home staging world. Very cool! And last night, after working hard ALL DAY, they were actually playing with one another! HAPPILY! And without making a mess! What’s with that? Who’d a thunk it?
There’s still work to do, but the preparations are almost finished. Now comes the annoying ‘keep-the-house-clean-because-showings-only-come-when-two-kids-are-barfing-and-the-dog-decides-to-eat-the-laundry-room-door’ phase. It’s a whole new category of Murphy’s Laws. The kid that forgets to flush his poo-poo before we leave. The dirty sock that doesn’t quite make it to the laundry basket. The (don’t laugh because it’s happened) boogers rubbed on the entryway wall. This momma’s got hawk eyes, but I know that something will be missed. And I also know that someone will come along and love this much just as much as we have.
Please God, just make it quick.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Re-Readable Books - A Top Ten List
I love to re-read books. There’s nothing better than picking up a book for the second, (or third, or fifteenth) time and entering the author’s world afresh. I read quickly, and sometimes I miss things. Or I’ll forget something in between readings. And depending on what’s going on in my life, I may discover entirely new meaning in the story.
I remember reading C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe when I was eight. I LOVED it. Escaping to a world where animals can talk? And magic is real? Just by hiding in a closet? Perfect. I read the whole series at least ten times. There was absolutely no part of my mind that searched for Christian references.
When the movie came out a few years ago, I bought the series and read it again. It amazed me to see what Lewis had hidden in the pages. And this time thinking all the while of how my children will enjoy the story, not just enjoying the story for itself.
I read for entertainment. If a part of a book doesn’t catch my interest, I’ll (*gasp*) skip whole pages to get onto the good parts. Sure there are millions of really good books out there. But only books that entertain me (or speak to me in some way) qualify as re-readable.
I recently picked up a book (let’s just say it’s from an insanely popular vampire series) for the second time. My daughter is reading the series, and I wanted to refresh the story in my mind. Sadly, this book (and series) does not qualify for re-reading status. It’s killing me. Too much mooning. The heroine is driving me insane. Not to mention the fact that I don’t like the casting of the movie, and all I can see are the movie characters when I read it. I don’t have a lot of time to read anyway, so it’s being shelved.
The fact that a book I enjoyed so much the first time (and yes, I REALLY loved it the first time) could be so un-entertaining the second time got me thinking. What are my favourite re-reads? And why are some books re-readable? Hence the list.
So—Ta da! Here are my top ten favourite re-reads of all time (in no particular order):
1. Harry Potter (1-7) by J.K. Rowling—Do I need to expand on this? Fantasy, excitement, brilliant entertainment. Sure there are a few parts I skip through, but for the most part I could re-read these books twenty times and not get bored.
2. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen—I love, love, love the snippy, barbed dialogue in this book. Who wouldn’t want a Mr. Darcy to rescue them? So romantic. And to top it off I really like both movie versions (BBC and Hollywood). Sigh.
3. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte—Again, romance at it’s best. A few parts are skippable, and I want to shake Jane when she’s hanging out with St. John. Or slap him. But still, I could re-read it yearly.
4. The Narnia Series (1-7) by C.S. Lewis. I’m proud to admit how many times I climbed into my closet as a child, hoping to be greeted by a faun.
5. Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick—This book gets me in the gut. Very entertaining. Even the third time. I’m eagerly awaiting book three.
6. Are We Having Fun Yet? (16 Secrets to Happy Parenting) by Kay Willis and Maryann Bucknum Brinley—This one you may not have heard of. It is an AMAZING guide to parenting. My copy is dog-eared and well worn. Kay Willis, may she rest in peace, is my hero.
7. Dragonsong by Anne MacCaffery—Another escapist’s dream series. I love Menolly. And dragons.
8. Anne of Green Gables by Lucy M Montgomery—I have to admit, I tried to read Anne when I was ten, and had to put it down. I think Anne’s dialogue was just too much for me then. Now, it’s charming.
9. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins—Seriously. This book is so incredible on so many levels. Ethics, romance, drama and entertainment. I love it. Cover to cover.
10. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants by Ann Brashares. I can’t remember who recommended this book to me the first time. I know I begged my book club at the time to discuss it. And I’m looking forward to discussing it with my daughters in a few years. A feel-good series for teens and up.
So there you have it. I’m sure I’ve missed some. And don’t think me shallow for the lack of classics or deep philosophical books. If you agree, disagree, or think me a wacko, feel free to comment. I may come up with more and do a revised list later. I’d put the Bible down as one but I’ve never read it cover to cover. And my own manuscripts? Well they’ve been read a million times, but I can’t recommend them to you, as they’re not published. Yet.
Brenda
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
My Life. In Six Words.
On Monday evening I was dropping my daughter off for an extra-curricular activity at a local school. While standing with her, my eyes drifted to the bulletin board in the hall. There was a double page spread from a national paper stapled there, and a whole bunch of white paper sheets with what looked like mini-poems on them.
Intrigued, I walked over and checked it out. The article was on ‘Six-Word Memoirs’. Basically, boiling your existence into a short, six-word blurb.
The memoirs on the bulletin board were amazing…
I am a sneaking ninja. Stealthy.
Six Siblings Make a Girl Tough!
Father died young. Grew Up Fast.
Working Janitor. My ambition lacks ignition.
And on, and on. Some of them were just lists of traits…Loving, Working, Sleeping… things like that. Some of them were full sentences.
I’ve since searched the internet—turns out this is quite a phenomenon. Magazines, newspapers, and news channels across the world have done articles on the six-word memoir. There are even books on the subject. So I'm a bit behind the times.
Anyway, as I was driving home Monday night, daughter safely ensconced in her activity, my mind whirled. Could I do it? How could I turn all of the things I do into a six word bio? My life is a neverending series of hats—I wear a different one every hour.
I couldn’t get it out of my head. Even while I was falling asleep that night the words were rolling through my mind. I help. I heal. I work, play, laugh, cry, push, hold, write… I’m a mother, a wife, a physio, a horse-holder, a diabetes nurse, and a shoulder to lean on.
And then it hit me. Everything I do involves building someone else up. My success is their success. My triumph is a good A1C. An A+ on a test. A patient rolling in to the clinic in a wheel chair and walking out his own feet weeks later. A military man standing at the front of the parade. Even in writing, I just want to share. I want to make you, the reader happy.
My six-word memoir?
Success doesn’t always mean coming first.
For me anyway. My success is standing in the wings. It makes my heart sing. Yah, I might have cheated a bit with the contraction. But I think that’s me in a nutshell. I haven’t been ‘first’ at anything since high school. But I’m content with where I am right now.
What’s yours? I’d love to hear it. Leave it in the comments. Or maybe make one up for someone else you know. Give it a try.
Intrigued, I walked over and checked it out. The article was on ‘Six-Word Memoirs’. Basically, boiling your existence into a short, six-word blurb.
The memoirs on the bulletin board were amazing…
I am a sneaking ninja. Stealthy.
Six Siblings Make a Girl Tough!
Father died young. Grew Up Fast.
Working Janitor. My ambition lacks ignition.
And on, and on. Some of them were just lists of traits…Loving, Working, Sleeping… things like that. Some of them were full sentences.
I’ve since searched the internet—turns out this is quite a phenomenon. Magazines, newspapers, and news channels across the world have done articles on the six-word memoir. There are even books on the subject. So I'm a bit behind the times.
Anyway, as I was driving home Monday night, daughter safely ensconced in her activity, my mind whirled. Could I do it? How could I turn all of the things I do into a six word bio? My life is a neverending series of hats—I wear a different one every hour.
I couldn’t get it out of my head. Even while I was falling asleep that night the words were rolling through my mind. I help. I heal. I work, play, laugh, cry, push, hold, write… I’m a mother, a wife, a physio, a horse-holder, a diabetes nurse, and a shoulder to lean on.
And then it hit me. Everything I do involves building someone else up. My success is their success. My triumph is a good A1C. An A+ on a test. A patient rolling in to the clinic in a wheel chair and walking out his own feet weeks later. A military man standing at the front of the parade. Even in writing, I just want to share. I want to make you, the reader happy.
My six-word memoir?
Success doesn’t always mean coming first.
For me anyway. My success is standing in the wings. It makes my heart sing. Yah, I might have cheated a bit with the contraction. But I think that’s me in a nutshell. I haven’t been ‘first’ at anything since high school. But I’m content with where I am right now.
What’s yours? I’d love to hear it. Leave it in the comments. Or maybe make one up for someone else you know. Give it a try.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Blogshead Revisited
Days hubby was gone.....151
Days til he returns.....NONE!
Current Work In Progress... Editing 48,000 wd manuscript from NaNoWriMo
Well, so much for November and December. Ummm...I lost them somewhere in the snow. How is it that when life is complicated and crappy I find lots of time to blog, but when it's busy but good...? Not so much.
I could bore you with tons of details about how my wonderful hubby came home(my kids had absolutely NO IDEA until he was standing in front of them), I took part in and won NaNoWriMo (along with my three children), and had a great Christmas with family and friends locally and in my home town...but there were no major catastrophes, blood sugars stayed relatively normal (well, except for the emergency roadside site change in Montreal), and people were happy in my house. I was happy in my house. November and December were good.
Enter January.
Snow. Cold. Dark. Editing.
As much as I dislike the snowy, dark, frigid days of late January. Editing really makes me shiver.
I've been a really good girl. I put away my NaNo manuscript for almost six weeks. And now, for the first time since I did my final NaNo update on Nov 29th, I've taken it out and am reading it.
It's always a bit shocking the first time I read something I've written. I wrote that?? Me?? Cool. It's not bad! Seriously! Sure, it's not publishable material yet, but the feeling is there. My problem is taking that feeling and expanding it to something vortexy. Something that sucks you in and spits you out panting on the last page. The bones are there, but my editing skills are not. Help!!
So....instead of editing (my plan for the evening), I'm blogging. Hmmm...avoidance is the best policy. And as a working, writing, miltary spouse and mom of three kids, there's always something else to do than edit!! Laundry! Dishes! Vacuuming! Cleaning the kitty litter! Scraping boogies off the wall! The list is endless.
But those all sound too much like work.
I'd rather just sit here and talk to you.
Brenda
Days til he returns.....NONE!
Current Work In Progress... Editing 48,000 wd manuscript from NaNoWriMo
Well, so much for November and December. Ummm...I lost them somewhere in the snow. How is it that when life is complicated and crappy I find lots of time to blog, but when it's busy but good...? Not so much.
I could bore you with tons of details about how my wonderful hubby came home(my kids had absolutely NO IDEA until he was standing in front of them), I took part in and won NaNoWriMo (along with my three children), and had a great Christmas with family and friends locally and in my home town...but there were no major catastrophes, blood sugars stayed relatively normal (well, except for the emergency roadside site change in Montreal), and people were happy in my house. I was happy in my house. November and December were good.
Enter January.
Snow. Cold. Dark. Editing.
As much as I dislike the snowy, dark, frigid days of late January. Editing really makes me shiver.
I've been a really good girl. I put away my NaNo manuscript for almost six weeks. And now, for the first time since I did my final NaNo update on Nov 29th, I've taken it out and am reading it.
It's always a bit shocking the first time I read something I've written. I wrote that?? Me?? Cool. It's not bad! Seriously! Sure, it's not publishable material yet, but the feeling is there. My problem is taking that feeling and expanding it to something vortexy. Something that sucks you in and spits you out panting on the last page. The bones are there, but my editing skills are not. Help!!
So....instead of editing (my plan for the evening), I'm blogging. Hmmm...avoidance is the best policy. And as a working, writing, miltary spouse and mom of three kids, there's always something else to do than edit!! Laundry! Dishes! Vacuuming! Cleaning the kitty litter! Scraping boogies off the wall! The list is endless.
But those all sound too much like work.
I'd rather just sit here and talk to you.
Brenda
Monday, August 23, 2010
Limbo, Laundry, and Paddington Bear
Days since hubby deployed:75-not quite half way
On my reading list:
On Writing by Stephen King (I'm savouring this one, reading bits at a time and loving it)
My Name is Memory by Ann Brashares
Eagerly awaiting: Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins (Really eagerly awaiting)
Current Work in Progress- Adult fiction (something different!)- 15,000 wds and counting.
The evening's silence has descended(well, sorta- the dog is whining to go out and the cat is crying to come in), and I do believe my blood pressure has come down...so I'm taking the time to sit and write a few thoughts. The kids have been home from camp for all of about fifty hours and I'm already starting to feel frazzled. And really, it has nothing to do with the kids. Well, it has something to do with the kids, but it has everything to do with the dog. And hubby being gone now for over two and a half months. And being a physiotherapist at a busy clinic. And being a writer who hasn't enough time to write. And kids being kids- mess-making, sibling-picking, chore-grumbling, taxi-needing, money-gobbling kids.
As most of you know by now, my youngest has type one diabetes (ie.Jeuvenile diabetes-insulin dependent), so sending her to a non-diabetes camp was a bit of a leap of faith on my part. We have tried to give her a normal life since diagnosis two and half years ago. However, anything more than a sleepover requires alot of work, and a wholelotta trust. There are blood tests, carb counts, and pump site changes to be considered. But...if brother and sister were going to camp, so was she. And the best part about this camp--it was free to kids of deployed personnel. Yup. F-R-E-E. Well, except the medication that they gave my kid without my permission..but that's another story and I don't want this to be a camp-bashing blog.
So. Seven days without kids, without blood tests and the immediacy of diabetes, without fighting siblings, and constant taxiing...was pure bliss. I needed it. I'd like to say I cleaned the house from top to bottom, but NOPE. I didn't. I wrote. I read. I ate brie and rosemary foccacia. I hung out with my sister. And I slept. True respite.
All good things must come to an end.
I could suck it up, and act all happy and gushy, saying this is "sooo easy!"(said in an annoying high pitched voice)...but I want to be honest here. It's not. Two and half months of living in the limbo of deploymentland is getting to me. Things are starting to break down around the house. The pool vacuum started to spew sand instead of picking it up. My new laptop has not returned from the Geek squad guys, and the old one is painfully slow. Our prehistoric PC refuses to accept the internet stick. Our stockpiled lawntractor gas is gone. We're out of garbage tags, the bathroom sink is plugged, we have ants, and wasps, and a squirrel nesting somewhere our vents. The cat ran away for 5 days. And then the kids came back from camp with seven days worth of filthy laundry. Individually, these things would not bother me. Together, and combined with my partner/love/best friend being 8000km away...not so much.
I know, everyone wants to hear the socially acceptable: "Oh, I KNOW! I can't believe it's been almost three months!!!! Time is going so FAST!!!! We're all doing so well! :) We're almost halfway!!!" (complete with extra exclamation points and smiley faces) And really, the statements minus the expressions are true. But the glass can be half full or half empty- and the context in which you look at that glass determines the description.
I remember sitting with my friend, a few years ago, talking about what it means to be a military family. She was employed by the Military Family Resource Centre, and I was the Chairperson of the Board of Directors. We were working on deployment programming, I think; trying to help the younger members and their families cope with deployment stress. Somewhere in the conversation one of us used the phrase "Suck it up, princess!" God, I hate that phrase now. I HATE that I used it. I am ashamed that it even came up in our conversation. Deployed spouses should not be told to suck it up. Deployed spouses should be championed. They should be supported. They should be loved.
Anway, today was one of the days when the glass was half empty. It rained. The dog ate the butter out of the dish on the table. He ripped up his LLBean dog bed. Dirty laundry is still piled everywhere. The kids bickered. My daughter's post-camp blood sugars are completely out of whack. And I was a less than stellar mom through it all.
But tonight as the kids went to bed, they asked if mom would read them a book. Book reading used to be part of the bedtime ritual...but the kids read so much now (8 year old is reading HP and the Half Blood Prince), that I find it's hard to keep up with them. They chose tonight's book: The Paddington Bear story. It was wonderful. Snuggles, and memories of our visit to Paddington Station, what a great end to the day.
I came down and joined in on a little online chat with WriteOnCon organizers. More happy thoughts. And now I'm doing the thing that seems to be keeping me sane these days...writing for you.
Only three and a half months to go.
Brenda
On my reading list:
On Writing by Stephen King (I'm savouring this one, reading bits at a time and loving it)
My Name is Memory by Ann Brashares
Eagerly awaiting: Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins (Really eagerly awaiting)
Current Work in Progress- Adult fiction (something different!)- 15,000 wds and counting.
The evening's silence has descended(well, sorta- the dog is whining to go out and the cat is crying to come in), and I do believe my blood pressure has come down...so I'm taking the time to sit and write a few thoughts. The kids have been home from camp for all of about fifty hours and I'm already starting to feel frazzled. And really, it has nothing to do with the kids. Well, it has something to do with the kids, but it has everything to do with the dog. And hubby being gone now for over two and a half months. And being a physiotherapist at a busy clinic. And being a writer who hasn't enough time to write. And kids being kids- mess-making, sibling-picking, chore-grumbling, taxi-needing, money-gobbling kids.
As most of you know by now, my youngest has type one diabetes (ie.Jeuvenile diabetes-insulin dependent), so sending her to a non-diabetes camp was a bit of a leap of faith on my part. We have tried to give her a normal life since diagnosis two and half years ago. However, anything more than a sleepover requires alot of work, and a wholelotta trust. There are blood tests, carb counts, and pump site changes to be considered. But...if brother and sister were going to camp, so was she. And the best part about this camp--it was free to kids of deployed personnel. Yup. F-R-E-E. Well, except the medication that they gave my kid without my permission..but that's another story and I don't want this to be a camp-bashing blog.
So. Seven days without kids, without blood tests and the immediacy of diabetes, without fighting siblings, and constant taxiing...was pure bliss. I needed it. I'd like to say I cleaned the house from top to bottom, but NOPE. I didn't. I wrote. I read. I ate brie and rosemary foccacia. I hung out with my sister. And I slept. True respite.
All good things must come to an end.
I could suck it up, and act all happy and gushy, saying this is "sooo easy!"(said in an annoying high pitched voice)...but I want to be honest here. It's not. Two and half months of living in the limbo of deploymentland is getting to me. Things are starting to break down around the house. The pool vacuum started to spew sand instead of picking it up. My new laptop has not returned from the Geek squad guys, and the old one is painfully slow. Our prehistoric PC refuses to accept the internet stick. Our stockpiled lawntractor gas is gone. We're out of garbage tags, the bathroom sink is plugged, we have ants, and wasps, and a squirrel nesting somewhere our vents. The cat ran away for 5 days. And then the kids came back from camp with seven days worth of filthy laundry. Individually, these things would not bother me. Together, and combined with my partner/love/best friend being 8000km away...not so much.
I know, everyone wants to hear the socially acceptable: "Oh, I KNOW! I can't believe it's been almost three months!!!! Time is going so FAST!!!! We're all doing so well! :) We're almost halfway!!!" (complete with extra exclamation points and smiley faces) And really, the statements minus the expressions are true. But the glass can be half full or half empty- and the context in which you look at that glass determines the description.
I remember sitting with my friend, a few years ago, talking about what it means to be a military family. She was employed by the Military Family Resource Centre, and I was the Chairperson of the Board of Directors. We were working on deployment programming, I think; trying to help the younger members and their families cope with deployment stress. Somewhere in the conversation one of us used the phrase "Suck it up, princess!" God, I hate that phrase now. I HATE that I used it. I am ashamed that it even came up in our conversation. Deployed spouses should not be told to suck it up. Deployed spouses should be championed. They should be supported. They should be loved.
Anway, today was one of the days when the glass was half empty. It rained. The dog ate the butter out of the dish on the table. He ripped up his LLBean dog bed. Dirty laundry is still piled everywhere. The kids bickered. My daughter's post-camp blood sugars are completely out of whack. And I was a less than stellar mom through it all.
But tonight as the kids went to bed, they asked if mom would read them a book. Book reading used to be part of the bedtime ritual...but the kids read so much now (8 year old is reading HP and the Half Blood Prince), that I find it's hard to keep up with them. They chose tonight's book: The Paddington Bear story. It was wonderful. Snuggles, and memories of our visit to Paddington Station, what a great end to the day.
I came down and joined in on a little online chat with WriteOnCon organizers. More happy thoughts. And now I'm doing the thing that seems to be keeping me sane these days...writing for you.
Only three and a half months to go.
Brenda
Friday, August 13, 2010
Humble Pie and Hard Drive Errors
Days since hubby deployed: 67
Days til return: 138 (approx)
Status of Completed manuscrip: um...well... (more later)
Reading: On Writing by Stephen King, Black Powder war by Naomi Novik (book 3 of the series)
Hours worked (paying job):6
Hours taxiing:2
So. I don't know about you, but I am SO GLAD IT IS FRIDAY. Insanity has reigned in the Dunne household this week. I cannot tell you how good it feels to be sitting in my comfy chair with my feet up and my laptop on my lap. And tomorrow I do NOT have to get up at 6:00. Nope. Maybe 7...but definately not 6.
It has been one freakin' crazy week. F- factor was WAY up there. It all started when I got this crazy idea that it was high time this momma did something for herself. It didn't look that busy at work, we had minimal time commitments (or so I thought), and there was this wonderful little online conference for writers of children's fiction going on. And, amazingly enough, it was free! I like free. I like writers even better. So I signed up.
It was to start at 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning. I had to work, but no biggie, I could bring my superfast brand-new laptop to work, and peek in when things were quiet.
When the first lull hit...I whipped open my laptop and typed those wonderful letters... www.writeoncon.com and voila! FORBIDDEN Error 403. Well friggity-jig! Tried again. No luck. Checked twitter, my favorite news source. Elana's tweet reassured me that yes, they were working on it (God bless 'em), and yes, it would be up soon.
Treat a few more patients...check again...and YES! I got on!
But then...my laptop froze. I shut it down and restarted it. Hard Drive Error. Restart. Hard Drive error. Missing hard drive. Restart. Hard drive error. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!
Yup. She was dead. Done like dinner. With my recently revised query, my recently edited manuscript, and all of my recently started works in progress. GONE. I could have cried.
And so began the emotional roller-coaster that was my week. Point form:
*laptop dies (utter depression)
*get old laptop running (slight elevation)
*kids orthodontist appointment- in which I discover orthod. wants to pull 12 more teeth from 2 kids mouths, and add a $500 appliance to 11 year old's mouth (extreme agitation)
*visit with mother in law/step-father in law (even keel)
*discover daughter left blood testing kit in MIL's car (Are you SERIOUS?)
*log in to writeoncon and find queries and honest critiques(moment of weightlessness)
*Mark McVeigh's amazing live video workshop (happy rush)
~ 6 hours sleep~
*read/watch/listen to amazing panelists/presenters (giggle like a school child)
*tune in to Elana Roth's live blogging event (anticipation at the top of the big drop off)
*have query completely skipped due to word count not being appropriate (250 foot drop to the darkest tunnel)
*spend 6 hours taking kids to riding lessons and walmart-one of my least favorite stores in the world-(scraping fingers in the dark tunnel of doom)
*catch the last live event of the day- a live video presentation with the amazing and up-beat Daisy Whitney (start to see the light again)
~5.5 hours sleep~
*check in quickly before work to see how my posts are doing, and find some honest, good critiques, but none of those magical PMs (private messages, not prime-ministers)(go around turn and down short drop)
*work 6 hours, rush home to pick up kids, and drive 1 hour plus to youngest's doctor's appt-get good report-head to mall for retail therapy (exit tunnel start long hard climb again)
*get home, find out dog has peed on carpet, yell at dog (small downhill)
*put kids in bed and log on to conference just in time for super-wonderful Regina Brook's live video presentation and Q&A (with out-of-this world closing offer to remove attendees from slushpile? seriously?) (See sunset from the top of the biggest hill :) )
There's a lot more filler, but that's the essence of my week. Up, down, up, down. Phone calls from hubby-up. Conference ends and no PMs-down. Hugs from kids-up. Late for meeting-down.
As this was my first ever writers' conference, I had very little idea of what to expect. I got lots of kind, honest critiquing from people I'd never met, and that was good. I gave critiques too- which is something I found incredibly hard to do-and in doing so recognized some of my own faults. I met lots of new 'friends' some of whom are even following me now- on twitter and on this blog (yay! Hi! Lisa, Elana(you are truly amazing) and Melissa too! Eleven! 11 maaarvelous followers...ah-ah-ah-ah...). And I've still got time to meet more, critique more, and learn more before the site closes.
So on the whole it's been a positive experience. Humbling...probably at a time when I wasn't hungry for humble pie...but I'm not perfect and neither is my query letter. Yet.
Back to the editing screen. That is-IF I can recover my manuscript. Where did I put that memory stick?
Have a great night,
Brenda
Days til return: 138 (approx)
Status of Completed manuscrip: um...well... (more later)
Reading: On Writing by Stephen King, Black Powder war by Naomi Novik (book 3 of the series)
Hours worked (paying job):6
Hours taxiing:2
So. I don't know about you, but I am SO GLAD IT IS FRIDAY. Insanity has reigned in the Dunne household this week. I cannot tell you how good it feels to be sitting in my comfy chair with my feet up and my laptop on my lap. And tomorrow I do NOT have to get up at 6:00. Nope. Maybe 7...but definately not 6.
It has been one freakin' crazy week. F- factor was WAY up there. It all started when I got this crazy idea that it was high time this momma did something for herself. It didn't look that busy at work, we had minimal time commitments (or so I thought), and there was this wonderful little online conference for writers of children's fiction going on. And, amazingly enough, it was free! I like free. I like writers even better. So I signed up.
It was to start at 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning. I had to work, but no biggie, I could bring my superfast brand-new laptop to work, and peek in when things were quiet.
When the first lull hit...I whipped open my laptop and typed those wonderful letters... www.writeoncon.com and voila! FORBIDDEN Error 403. Well friggity-jig! Tried again. No luck. Checked twitter, my favorite news source. Elana's tweet reassured me that yes, they were working on it (God bless 'em), and yes, it would be up soon.
Treat a few more patients...check again...and YES! I got on!
But then...my laptop froze. I shut it down and restarted it. Hard Drive Error. Restart. Hard Drive error. Missing hard drive. Restart. Hard drive error. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!
Yup. She was dead. Done like dinner. With my recently revised query, my recently edited manuscript, and all of my recently started works in progress. GONE. I could have cried.
And so began the emotional roller-coaster that was my week. Point form:
*laptop dies (utter depression)
*get old laptop running (slight elevation)
*kids orthodontist appointment- in which I discover orthod. wants to pull 12 more teeth from 2 kids mouths, and add a $500 appliance to 11 year old's mouth (extreme agitation)
*visit with mother in law/step-father in law (even keel)
*discover daughter left blood testing kit in MIL's car (Are you SERIOUS?)
*log in to writeoncon and find queries and honest critiques(moment of weightlessness)
*Mark McVeigh's amazing live video workshop (happy rush)
~ 6 hours sleep~
*read/watch/listen to amazing panelists/presenters (giggle like a school child)
*tune in to Elana Roth's live blogging event (anticipation at the top of the big drop off)
*have query completely skipped due to word count not being appropriate (250 foot drop to the darkest tunnel)
*spend 6 hours taking kids to riding lessons and walmart-one of my least favorite stores in the world-(scraping fingers in the dark tunnel of doom)
*catch the last live event of the day- a live video presentation with the amazing and up-beat Daisy Whitney (start to see the light again)
~5.5 hours sleep~
*check in quickly before work to see how my posts are doing, and find some honest, good critiques, but none of those magical PMs (private messages, not prime-ministers)(go around turn and down short drop)
*work 6 hours, rush home to pick up kids, and drive 1 hour plus to youngest's doctor's appt-get good report-head to mall for retail therapy (exit tunnel start long hard climb again)
*get home, find out dog has peed on carpet, yell at dog (small downhill)
*put kids in bed and log on to conference just in time for super-wonderful Regina Brook's live video presentation and Q&A (with out-of-this world closing offer to remove attendees from slushpile? seriously?) (See sunset from the top of the biggest hill :) )
There's a lot more filler, but that's the essence of my week. Up, down, up, down. Phone calls from hubby-up. Conference ends and no PMs-down. Hugs from kids-up. Late for meeting-down.
As this was my first ever writers' conference, I had very little idea of what to expect. I got lots of kind, honest critiquing from people I'd never met, and that was good. I gave critiques too- which is something I found incredibly hard to do-and in doing so recognized some of my own faults. I met lots of new 'friends' some of whom are even following me now- on twitter and on this blog (yay! Hi! Lisa, Elana(you are truly amazing) and Melissa too! Eleven! 11 maaarvelous followers...ah-ah-ah-ah...). And I've still got time to meet more, critique more, and learn more before the site closes.
So on the whole it's been a positive experience. Humbling...probably at a time when I wasn't hungry for humble pie...but I'm not perfect and neither is my query letter. Yet.
Back to the editing screen. That is-IF I can recover my manuscript. Where did I put that memory stick?
Have a great night,
Brenda
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The F Factor
Days since hubby deployed: 55
Days until his return: ? 150 (return date still unknown- maybe December?)
Status of completed manuscript: querying
Works in Progress: 4 (longest work at about 5000 wds)
Reading: 'Temeraire' by Naomi Novik on Kindle
'On Writing' by Stephen King on Kindle
Hours worked in physiotherapy (ie paying job) today: 7.5
Hours spent taxiing kids and waiting at activities: 2.5
Extra kids at our house tonight: 1
Today's 'F' Factor: Low
So you're probably wondering what an 'F' factor is.
Well.
Several years and about 3 moves ago, the Dunne family were in Greenwood, Nova Scotia. At the time we had three pre-schoolers and I was in the process of trying to get re-licensed as a physiotherapist in that fine province after a two year stint in North Carolina.
To go even further back than that, I should tell you that when we moved to North Carolina, we had an 18 month old toddler and a four week old baby. I decided against attempting to get my American license (duh...) which was a good thing as my youngest was born a year and a half later. If you think about all of those pregnancies, all of those kids, all of those moves, and the amount of time I had to myself, you get an idea of the amount of stress I was under.
So. Back to Nova Scotia. Trying to get my license. My application was refused. I was told I didn't have enough hours worked in the profession over the past 5 years (again...duh...), and if I would like to get my license approved I would have to write my National Physiotherapy Board Exams. THIRTEEN YEARS AFTER GRADUATING FROM UNIVERSITY and they wanted me to waltz in and do an exam (to the tune of about $3000)on stuff I hadn't even looked at since I graduated! I was not impressed. Oh-- and I was to write this bell curved exam with kids graduating that year, and with the least detailed topic outline I'd ever seen.
And while I was doing all of this we were building a house, my husband was incredibly busy at his job, and I was volunteering 10+ hours a week as the Board Chair of the Military Family Resource Centre in town.
I like to do all of the major life stressors all at once.
During this time I swore alot. Under my breath, mind you, so that none of the little ears in our house could hear and so that none of local socialites could titter about Mrs Dunne's potty mouth.
There were days when the 'F word' was frequently in my mind and on my lips. A non-stop inner monologue of verbal filth. "'F-ing' alarm clock why the 'F' can't anybody pick up their own socks well 'F' the milk is gone and the 'F-ing' van is being serviced so I don't have an 'F-ing' car what kind of 'F-ing' lunatic tries to canoe across the 'F-ing' ocean in 'F-ing January causing my husband to be 'F-ing' called out at 'F-ing' 2 a.m. while my son was 'F-ing' barfing all over the 'F-ing' last set of sheets and somehow I've got to 'F-ing' study for this 'F-ing' exam..."
Yah, you get the idea. Not pretty. Not lady-like in the least.
Every once in a while, when it got REALLY bad, one would slip out in front of the kids and I'd have to change it last minute: "Well, FUUUUU...riggin-jiggin CRAP!" The kids soon learned to steer clear of momma when she was talking like that.
Thankfully those days weren't particularly frequent. I passed my exams (really!), started working again, our beautiful house got built, we moved in, and SURPRISE!...fourteen months later we got posted to Ottawa.
There's no life like it.
In response to those vulgar, bleary eyed days of the military motherhood trenches, I coined 'The F Factor'. A phrase used to describe how rock-bottom those days really were.
Low F Factor days are the usual kid snot and book-club kind of days. Good friends, lots of coffee and happy family dinners. High F Factor days involve barf, diarrhea, snot, hubby unexpectedly leaving for a two-week trip, freezing rain, kid fights, forgotten dentist appointments, being late for the bus, being late for work, and empty refrigerators. Temper tantrums abound on these days, and it's not necessarily the kids having them.
And now you know. Today was a low F Factor day.
I hope it was for you too.
Brenda
Days until his return: ? 150 (return date still unknown- maybe December?)
Status of completed manuscript: querying
Works in Progress: 4 (longest work at about 5000 wds)
Reading: 'Temeraire' by Naomi Novik on Kindle
'On Writing' by Stephen King on Kindle
Hours worked in physiotherapy (ie paying job) today: 7.5
Hours spent taxiing kids and waiting at activities: 2.5
Extra kids at our house tonight: 1
Today's 'F' Factor: Low
So you're probably wondering what an 'F' factor is.
Well.
Several years and about 3 moves ago, the Dunne family were in Greenwood, Nova Scotia. At the time we had three pre-schoolers and I was in the process of trying to get re-licensed as a physiotherapist in that fine province after a two year stint in North Carolina.
To go even further back than that, I should tell you that when we moved to North Carolina, we had an 18 month old toddler and a four week old baby. I decided against attempting to get my American license (duh...) which was a good thing as my youngest was born a year and a half later. If you think about all of those pregnancies, all of those kids, all of those moves, and the amount of time I had to myself, you get an idea of the amount of stress I was under.
So. Back to Nova Scotia. Trying to get my license. My application was refused. I was told I didn't have enough hours worked in the profession over the past 5 years (again...duh...), and if I would like to get my license approved I would have to write my National Physiotherapy Board Exams. THIRTEEN YEARS AFTER GRADUATING FROM UNIVERSITY and they wanted me to waltz in and do an exam (to the tune of about $3000)on stuff I hadn't even looked at since I graduated! I was not impressed. Oh-- and I was to write this bell curved exam with kids graduating that year, and with the least detailed topic outline I'd ever seen.
And while I was doing all of this we were building a house, my husband was incredibly busy at his job, and I was volunteering 10+ hours a week as the Board Chair of the Military Family Resource Centre in town.
I like to do all of the major life stressors all at once.
During this time I swore alot. Under my breath, mind you, so that none of the little ears in our house could hear and so that none of local socialites could titter about Mrs Dunne's potty mouth.
There were days when the 'F word' was frequently in my mind and on my lips. A non-stop inner monologue of verbal filth. "'F-ing' alarm clock why the 'F' can't anybody pick up their own socks well 'F' the milk is gone and the 'F-ing' van is being serviced so I don't have an 'F-ing' car what kind of 'F-ing' lunatic tries to canoe across the 'F-ing' ocean in 'F-ing January causing my husband to be 'F-ing' called out at 'F-ing' 2 a.m. while my son was 'F-ing' barfing all over the 'F-ing' last set of sheets and somehow I've got to 'F-ing' study for this 'F-ing' exam..."
Yah, you get the idea. Not pretty. Not lady-like in the least.
Every once in a while, when it got REALLY bad, one would slip out in front of the kids and I'd have to change it last minute: "Well, FUUUUU...riggin-jiggin CRAP!" The kids soon learned to steer clear of momma when she was talking like that.
Thankfully those days weren't particularly frequent. I passed my exams (really!), started working again, our beautiful house got built, we moved in, and SURPRISE!...fourteen months later we got posted to Ottawa.
There's no life like it.
In response to those vulgar, bleary eyed days of the military motherhood trenches, I coined 'The F Factor'. A phrase used to describe how rock-bottom those days really were.
Low F Factor days are the usual kid snot and book-club kind of days. Good friends, lots of coffee and happy family dinners. High F Factor days involve barf, diarrhea, snot, hubby unexpectedly leaving for a two-week trip, freezing rain, kid fights, forgotten dentist appointments, being late for the bus, being late for work, and empty refrigerators. Temper tantrums abound on these days, and it's not necessarily the kids having them.
And now you know. Today was a low F Factor day.
I hope it was for you too.
Brenda
Friday, July 9, 2010
Overdunne Writing...a manuscript is born.
I love to write. I always did, but didn't really realize it until a few years ago. Like most people, I wrote through elementary and junior high school, but only when I was told to. Mostly I read. And read. And read.
In high school I started to write articles for the school paper, and then for the local newspaper. I penned deep, teenage hormonally-charged poetry and hid it in my closet. I started university with a full scholarship and the conviction that I was going to be a journalist someday. And, yah baby, I was going to change the world.
But then the practical side of me kicked in. I am not a city girl. The glamourous, exciting, adventure-filled life of a prime time news correspondent didn't sit well with my inner chi. So what did I do? I became a military physiotherapist and moved to Ottawa. Not a whole lotta logic there, but it's what I did.
And before I bore you with any more of my life history, we'll skip over about 15 years. One husband, one military release, 3 kids, 7 moves and a tumultuous physiotherapy career later, and I'm sitting in a village in the UK, trying to figure out how to connect with family and friends back home.
I began to blog.
And I liked it.
Now, if you've stuck with me to this point, you'll know that I have absolutely no fancy computer skills in the blogging department. But for an entire year I filled page after digital page of words, photos, and links. Dunnesinuk was a diary, and a connection to home. My then 92 year old grandmother kept a copy of my posts in a binder at her bedside. I tried to draw a picture of our crazy life, from my youngest's scary night in a Swindon hospital and her first insulin needles, to the Paris Metro, to tea with the Queen. And the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write.
Enter my eldest daughter. This girl eats books. At 9 she had read all seven of the Harry Potter books...five times. Our local British library tried valiantly to keep her in prose, but it wasn't easy. So (cocky me) I decided to write her one. Sure! I could do that! A cinch, really! A little Middle Grade fantasy...a bit of danger, some faeries and elves... why not? In amongst all of the diabetic insanity, military and social engagements, travel, and general family madness, I sat down to write my kids a book.
Well, needless to say, I didn't finish it as soon as I'd hoped. Nope. Another trans-Atlantic move and more of the same slowed me down. But I kept plugging away, feeling a little thrill every time I got my characters through another chapter.
14 long months after I wrote my first words I had a 90,000 word, 330 page first draft in hand. I gave it to my daughter. "Here, Sweetie, try this!"
SHE READ IT IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS.
"Momma, when are you going to write another one?"
Are you KIDDING ME?? It took me 14 friggin' months to write that and you scarf it back in less than a day? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Don't get me wrong, I was elated that she had liked it, read it that fast, and wanted more. But, Holy Cow!
So that was a year ago. I've edited out 20,000 words, and I've gotten my first polite, but firm rejections from publishers. My Twitter education (thank you, Twitter friends!) has taught me that I need a bit more polishing yet, but I wouldn't change a thing. I'm starting the search for an agent. I still love to write. I still love my manuscript. And some day, maybe someday, you'll see my book on the shelf.
Till then, I'll be here, sitting at the computer, with my kids reading over my shoulder...and a smile on my face.
In high school I started to write articles for the school paper, and then for the local newspaper. I penned deep, teenage hormonally-charged poetry and hid it in my closet. I started university with a full scholarship and the conviction that I was going to be a journalist someday. And, yah baby, I was going to change the world.
But then the practical side of me kicked in. I am not a city girl. The glamourous, exciting, adventure-filled life of a prime time news correspondent didn't sit well with my inner chi. So what did I do? I became a military physiotherapist and moved to Ottawa. Not a whole lotta logic there, but it's what I did.
And before I bore you with any more of my life history, we'll skip over about 15 years. One husband, one military release, 3 kids, 7 moves and a tumultuous physiotherapy career later, and I'm sitting in a village in the UK, trying to figure out how to connect with family and friends back home.
I began to blog.
And I liked it.
Now, if you've stuck with me to this point, you'll know that I have absolutely no fancy computer skills in the blogging department. But for an entire year I filled page after digital page of words, photos, and links. Dunnesinuk was a diary, and a connection to home. My then 92 year old grandmother kept a copy of my posts in a binder at her bedside. I tried to draw a picture of our crazy life, from my youngest's scary night in a Swindon hospital and her first insulin needles, to the Paris Metro, to tea with the Queen. And the more I wrote, the more I wanted to write.
Enter my eldest daughter. This girl eats books. At 9 she had read all seven of the Harry Potter books...five times. Our local British library tried valiantly to keep her in prose, but it wasn't easy. So (cocky me) I decided to write her one. Sure! I could do that! A cinch, really! A little Middle Grade fantasy...a bit of danger, some faeries and elves... why not? In amongst all of the diabetic insanity, military and social engagements, travel, and general family madness, I sat down to write my kids a book.
Well, needless to say, I didn't finish it as soon as I'd hoped. Nope. Another trans-Atlantic move and more of the same slowed me down. But I kept plugging away, feeling a little thrill every time I got my characters through another chapter.
14 long months after I wrote my first words I had a 90,000 word, 330 page first draft in hand. I gave it to my daughter. "Here, Sweetie, try this!"
SHE READ IT IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS.
"Momma, when are you going to write another one?"
Are you KIDDING ME?? It took me 14 friggin' months to write that and you scarf it back in less than a day? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Don't get me wrong, I was elated that she had liked it, read it that fast, and wanted more. But, Holy Cow!
So that was a year ago. I've edited out 20,000 words, and I've gotten my first polite, but firm rejections from publishers. My Twitter education (thank you, Twitter friends!) has taught me that I need a bit more polishing yet, but I wouldn't change a thing. I'm starting the search for an agent. I still love to write. I still love my manuscript. And some day, maybe someday, you'll see my book on the shelf.
Till then, I'll be here, sitting at the computer, with my kids reading over my shoulder...and a smile on my face.
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