The Sweetness . . .

bee1A few weeks ago, bees invaded my office. It started with one bee. I got a glass and a sheet of paper, trapped it, and let it free outside. By the time I returned to my desk, there were four more bees on the window. They were loud and angry.

Uneasy and not knowing what to do, I walked back to the doorway. By the time I got there, two more bees had materialized. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from but they were clearly joining their angry cohorts in my office.

And I was heading out of it.

Yes, I’m a wimp. I shut my office door and stuffed a towel at its base. One bee was doable. Even two I could have handled. But six? There was obviously a hive nearby and my office was on the flight path. I needed human back up or a beekeeper’s suit or a plan.

I wandered outside and waited for Mr. Petrol Head to arrive (Did I mention Mr. P. used to be allergic to bee stings? He says he’s outgrown it but I’m not sure. However, I’m allergic to fear so I figured we each had something at stake). My office has an outside wall and when I got outside, I spotted a lot of flying activity around it. Sure enough, once Mr. P. got home he confirmed what I suspected: there was a large hive under the eaves. And they obviously had back door access to my office.

Mr. P. suggested I sit at my desk and watch to determine where the bees were coming from. I suggested renting office space outside the home until bee season was over. Like until next Christmas maybe. Mr. P. quickly got busy looking for that back door.

Eventually he discovered a microscopic opening around a drain pipe running through my closet. That, he said, was the problem. He stuffed the tiny hole with coarse steel wool and declared the problem solved. “Even mice won’t chew through that stuff,” he reassured me.

I got back to work. Two hours later, immersed in my latest manuscript, I felt a tickle on my neck. And I heard a buzzing in my ear. Let’s just say I scared the bee more than he scared me.

Mr. Petrol Head returned. The short version of a very long story is this: mice may not chew through steel wool but determined bees will crawl through it looking for nectar rich flowers. So out came a pressurized can filled with expanding foam that hardens when it dries. The tiny hole was sealed once and for all. The bees no longer had back door access to my office. Now they come and go through the front door of their hive. As they should.

What does this have to do with writing? A writer friend asked me about a week later why the bees had shown up in my office in the first place. What were they trying to tell me? (Because that’s what writers do – we make ourselves crazy looking for meaning not only in the books we write but also in the lives we live). I told her I’d been wondering the same thing.

So I looked up bee symbolism. Bees are an unstoppable force of nature. They symbolise love and cooperation, the magic of believing. They remind us that anything is possible. They ask us if we’re busy (I was) and putting out 100% effort (mostly, yes, except for my occasional HGTV habit). What are we feeding ourselves, bee magic asks. Are we rewarding ourselves for our efforts? Basking in the sweetness of life?

Um. That would be a ‘no.’ At least the part about basking in the sweetness of life (I have no problem feeding myself, and doing it well). But as for rewarding myself for my efforts, I’m bad for that. I don’t take nearly enough breaks. In fact, I haven’t had an actual holiday in a couple of years. So I decided to listen to the bees and book one. We leave tomorrow.

Mr. Petrol Head is going too. Given that he (possibly) risked his life looking for the back door, he deserves it. Besides, it’s our anniversary. And I don’t know anything sweeter than that.

cuba_beach_sailing

My May Reads

pollen-1880x1249It’s allergy season around here. Like so many other climate-related things, it seems to be happening earlier and earlier. Years ago, my allergies would hit in June. We got married at the beginning of June and I was a congested mess for weeks before and after. I had a reprieve for many years and barely suffered at all. But this year, my hay fever is back, and it’s been uncomfortable for weeks. So I’m avoiding dairy, popping decongestants and working in the garden when the wind isn’t blowing the cottonwood around. When I come inside to read, I make sure I have tissues nearby.

Here’s what I’m reading this month:

At the Gym: The Humans by Matt Haig

On the Kindle: The Light Between Us by Laura Lynne Jackson

Beside the Bed: Some Nerve by Jojo Moyes

Books read to date in 2016: 32

Congratulations White Pine Winners!

 

The Ontario White Pine awards ceremony was held earlier today in Toronto. Congratulations to Jeyn Roberts who won for her title The Bodies We Wear. Honour book status was awarded to Don Aker for Delusion Road and Nick Cutter for The Troop. I was privileged to be nominated for The Art of Getting Stared At. The Ontario Library Association does a tremendous job of running the program which encourages thousands of students to read the nominated titles.

Here are the three winning titles:

bodies-We-Wear-2-e1414534497262The Bodies We Wear by Jeyn Roberts. Faye was eleven when a powerful new drug named Heam was forced on her and her best friend, Christian. Faye saw hell and vowed retribution. After years spent training,Faye is ready to take revenge on the men who destroyed her future and killed her best friend.But vengeance has its price and a mysterious young man doesn’t want Faye to pay up.

 

 

 

 

delusionroadDelusion Road by Don Aker. Willa Jaffrey is beautiful, rich, dating the perfect guy and determined to have a fabulous senior year. Enter Keegan Fraser, a handsome new student who wants no part of the games everyone plays at Willa’s school. Despite a rocky start, Keegan and Willa gradually become closer, even as Willa’s carefully constructed universe begins to fall apart. But little does Willa know that Keegan’s past holds the darkest of secrets – and it’s about to catch up to him.

 

 

 

troop-NickCutterThe Troop by Nick Cutter.  Scoutmaster Tim takes five boys for a weekend camping trip to Falstaff Island. He thinks the worst he’ll have to deal with is the boys’ different personalities clashing, or perhaps the leader of the pack challenging his authority, but the truth is much worse. A disturbing stranger stumbles onto their island campground and their camping weekend turns into a fight for survival as they find themselves with a monster in their midst.

 

 

 

All three sound like edge-of-the-seat reads! Congratulations again to the winners!

Taking in the View

mountainimageWhen mountain climbers reach the summit, they stop to take in the view. They might even rest a while, have a snack, and reflect on how the climb’s been going so far. That pause, I am told, not only refuels them but also provides helpful perspective.

Writers aren’t much for taking in the view. We’re not inclined to look back either, at least not the writers I know. And I include myself in that group. We’re all about the next set of edits, the next re-write, the next book, the next challenge. It’s good to strive, and to look ahead. But I think we miss out a little bit when we don’t stop to take in the view.

A few years ago, I was in a library getting ready to talk to a group of high school kids. They were still in the classroom; they hadn’t arrived yet. I organized my set up on a table at the front of the room and then I left to get a glass of water. When I walked back in, it was like I was seeing that table for the first time. All those books . . . and I’d written every single one. I remember feeling almost startled. And then satisfied. And then, as I scanned the table, somewhat reflective because each book was a signpost along my career path.

Last week, Orca Book Publishers and Munro’s Books hosted a spring book launch. It was a welcome opportunity to pause and celebrate the release of our books. But since then, I’ve been looking back – not a lot, just a little – and thinking about my career path so far, how things have worked or not worked, what goals I’ve let slide that maybe I need to recommit to, and what detours have taken me in a direction that needs some correcting.

I can’t say I’ve reached the summit – I’m not even sure I can see the summit – but I am taking in the view, both the path that’s in front of me and the path I’ve already walked. I’m having the odd snack as I do it. Taking the occasional rest. And in the process I’m gaining much-needed perspective.

Take a breath, take a break, take in the view. You won’t be disappointed. I guarantee it.

It’s Book Launch Time!

If you find  yourself in downtown Victoria this Wednesday night, join me at Munro’s Books while I launch Stepping Out.  I’ll be in fabulous company – Penny Draper, Sarah Harvey, Laurie Elmquist, Monique Gray Smith, Jillian Roberts and Jeff Rudd will also be there.

I’d love to see your smiling face too!

spring launch poster EMAIL

Revise, Revisit, Retreat

reviseI’ve been in revision mode for the last few weeks, working on In Plain Sight, a YA novel about a girl who learns her father was a terrorist. I’ve also been cutting and shaping Million Dollar Blues, a women’s fiction novel about a lottery win.

This Friday, however, I’ll be leaving the desk and heading up island. I’ll catch up with a dear friend that night and then on Saturday, I’ll head to the Red Door for a two-day writing retreat with my friends, the Pen Warriors.

It’s a revise, revisit, retreat kind of week. With luck, I’ll find time for a beach walk.

And that’ll make it rejuvenating too.   P1000623

My April Reads

lilacs-vaseThe lilacs are blooming weeks ahead of their usual bloom time. The rest of the garden is ahead of schedule too. That means I’m spending more time digging in the dirt and less time between the pages of a book. And when I do sit down to read, I’m either after information or I’m looking for an escape.

Apparently not everyone understands.

At the gym a few weeks ago, I got on the elliptical with a Susan Elizabeth Phillips book in hand. As I positioned the novel and fired up the machine, the woman beside me glanced over. “That’s not exactly book club material, is it?” She smiled the way condescending people sometimes do and lifted up her novel. “We’re discussing this book next week.”

Yep, book shaming is alive and well at Steve Nash Fitness World in Victoria.

I smiled back and said, “You’ll have lots to talk about. The mother gets Alzheimer’s, the father dies, and the daughter’s marriage implodes.”

Okay, I didn’t say that. But I could have. Because I read the book a while back and that’s exactly what happened. Instead I looked at the woman and said, “You’re at the wrong gym. Skinny thighed book shamers belong at the Pilates studio next door.”

Okay, I didn’t say that either. I said, “Susan Elizabeth Phillips is a very good writer and book clubs are overrated.”

I said half of that (I like book clubs). And then I turned the elliptical up to 15 and pretended the woman’s head was underneath the pedals.

These days, I don’t need to read anything depressing. For the last seven months or so, some Really Big Uglies have hit us hard, one after another, like a series of winter storms that won’t let up. So when it comes to novels, I’m happy to have a soft place to land.

Kudos to the talented authors who do such a good job writing books where the test results are always negative . . . the good guy always wins . . . couples always find their happily ever after . . . laughter is as important as breath . . . and cookies are their own food group.

Here’s what I’m reading this month:

At the gym: The Girls of Mischief Bay by Susan Mallery

On the Kindle: Take Off Your Pants* by Libbie Hawker

In the Kitchen: Everyday Super Food by Jamie Oliver

Books read to date in 2016: 28

*Hawker’s book happens to be about writing. Can you imagine book shamer’s reaction to that title?

Seeding Heavy

I usually plant heavy and I tend to write long. That means my garden overflows even after I thin and prune. And it means my novels sometimes get a little out of control before I revise them down to an acceptable length.

I can plant sparsely. I’ve done it plenty of times. I can write lean prose too. I do it when I produce novella length books for reluctant readers (watch for In Plain Sight coming in 2017).

Gardens and books start with seeds – the seed of an idea or the seed of a tomato – and in the beginning stages, it’s my nature to seed heavy. With garden seeds, you rarely get 100% germination so it’s prudent to allow for some failure. With novels, you never know which tiny tangent, random piece of dialogue, or secondary character might play an important role in the final novel. I outline, but not rigidly, and I like to leave room for surprises.

That means starting out like this if I want a garden bed of basil:basilseedlings 002

 

 

 

 

And starting like this if I want to work my way down to something publishable:april 11 2016 032

 

 

 

 

Then I need to take that overwritten book and revise it, and take that over seeded flat and thin it. I like the process. But last weekend, as I worked outside transplanting peppers I’d grown from seed, I felt a little sad at the number of plants that wouldn’t make it to the garden. They’d germinated but they were either stunted or so far behind the other seedlings that there was no point potting them up.

april 11 2016 023

Coincidentally, the day after I finished my garden work, I was back at the computer editing Million Dollar Blues and feeling a little blue myself at the passages and phrases I had to delete.

But if I want to get to this:april 11 2016 033

 

 

 

 

 

And eventually this: STEPPINGOUTCOVER9781459808959

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then the work of thinning and revising has to be done. It requires a certain ruthlessness that can be painful. But the end result is always worth it.  basilpot

A Matter of Perception

bigmagicWriters love getting their books reviewed. You hear that all the time, and it’s true. We do. But every once in a while, a review comes along that makes me wonder if I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone. Or if the reader has. Those reviews inevitably reference something – it could be a person, place or a plot point – that never happened in the book I wrote. And yet there are always just enough references to make it clear that the reviewer read my book and wants to share their views. Unfortunately they seem to be viewing things through their very own, highly polished, fun house mirror.

I thought this particular treat was reserved just for me. Apparently not.

Elizabeth Gilbert writes about this in her latest book Big Magic. In her case, a reader approached her at a book signing for Eat, Pray, Love and thanked Gilbert for writing about a restraining order she’d put on her ex-husband because she’d had enough of his violence. The reader went on to say that Gilbert’s words had given her the courage to leave her abusive marriage. Those words, however, were never written. In fact, Gilbert says you can’t even read that narrative between the lines of her memoir because it’s so far from the truth.

Rather than being shocked/angry/frustrated/amused (pick one), Gilbert was philosophical. She decided the woman had every right to misread her book. “Once my book entered her hands,” Gilbert says, “everything about it belonged to her, and never again to me.”

I’ve always known that not everyone will like the novels I write. I also understand that while 100 readers might find one of my characters strong and sympathetic, 100 others may see her as wimpy or harsh or critical or simply rotten. It’s all a matter of perspective. I get that, objectively. But it can be brutally hard to maintain objectivity when a reader reads something into my book that I never put there in the first place. Especially if they don’t like what they think they read. It can be crazy-making.

My cousin is a visual artist. Some of her paintings are abstracts. They’re open to interpretation. People see whatever they see. That’s the nature, and the joy, of her work. But my books, at least the ones I’ve published so far, are reality-based. There’s only so much interpretation possible. What you see is what you get. At least, that’s what I used to believe.

Now, Gilbert’s perspective has me re-thinking. Maybe I should embrace whatever readers find (or think they find) in my words. Hand each book off and let the readers own it. After all, Elizabeth Gilbert says their reactions don’t belong to me. My only job is to create . . . create . . . and create some more.

And that’s more than enough for me to handle.

Eclipse Season

lunareclipseDepending on where you live (and how early you rise) you may have gotten a glimpse of this morning’s lunar eclipse. It was visible in much of North and South America, as well as Asia, Australia and the Artic.

As you may know, eclipses always come in pairs. This morning’s lunar eclipse finishes the cycle which started with a solar eclipse two weeks ago, on March 8th. People who love astronomy (and astrology too) refer to this time of year as eclipse season because the alignments that cause the eclipses to happen actually take a little more than a month to play out.

There are many myths about eclipses. The ancient Greeks believed that a solar eclipse was the sign of angry Gods and the beginning of death and destruction. On a more positive note, Italians believe that flowers planted during a solar eclipse are brighter and more colorful than flowers planted at any other time of the year.

Lunar eclipse myths are similar, with many ancient cultures interpreting the moon’s eclipse as wreaking ‘havoc in the sky’ and believing that the same havoc was destined to happen on Earth. Personally, I like the attitude of the Batammaliba people from Togo and Benin in Africa. Their ancient myth tells them that the sun and moon are fighting during an eclipse, and the people encourage them to stop. To this day, they see eclipse season as a time of coming together and resolving old feuds and anger.

To me, eclipses signal change and new beginnings, which happens to fit perfectly with the start of spring and the Easter weekend.

Happy Solar Eclipse Season . . . and Happy Easter too. Easterpeeps-bouquet-491x368