What are you doing next Tuesday, May 19th? Can you spare an hour? If so, plan to catch this Facebook live event (find it under events on your Facebook page) at 4 pm, Pacific time. That’s when a group of us will be talking about writing and illustrating and all things children’s books. I’ll be answering questions about my latest YA, No Right Thing. Thanks to Crwth Press for setting everything up. We’re looking forward to it, and we hope you can join us!
The garden sent me a lesson the other day. It’s a lesson I’ve witnessed repeatedly in writing and gardening. But it’s a lesson I’ve yet to master. Everything happens when it’s meant to happen. The unfolding of life has its own rhythm. And as much as I’d like to think I’m in charge, I am not.
I’d seeded tomatoes and peppers and broccoli and basil. Sweet peas and eggplant and cilantro too. The broccoli popped up first, quickly followed by basil, tomato and sweet pea seedlings. The eggplant was slower, but it eventually germinated. The pepper and the cilantro seeds languished under the starting soil. I hovered and fretted and hovered some more.
Cocooned in their dark bed, the pepper and cilantro seeds paid no attention.
Meanwhile, the effects of the Covid-19 slowdown continued. I learned of more work cancellations and delays. I heard of more writer friends having their book releases postponed. Or having their books come out without the expected fanfare of a launch (if you’re a writer with a book releasing during the Time of Covid, email me and I’ll plug it on this blog).
Nothing was going according to plan, one friend wailed after she’d been hit with a particularly bad piece of cancellation news. Indeed.
In the big picture, she and I both know what matters is life and health and slaying the Covid dragon. We know it’s shallow to worry about book releases or cancelled tours when people are dying. We’re wearing our grown-up pants (yoga pants) these days. We have our priorities straight. But at the same time, we wish things were different. We wonder why things are the way they are. We worry that maybe if we’d made different choices or worked a little harder or taken a different route, things would be going according to plan. According to our plan.
But they aren’t.
Maybe they will eventually.
And maybe they won’t.
The peppers finally germinated. In spite of my very best hand-wringing, the cilantro never did.
Life has its own rhythm, my seedlings whispered. Maybe someday I’ll learn the lesson and won’t need the reminder.
If you’re in Victoria this Wednesday, June 7th, please join us at Munro’s Books where a group of us will be launching our spring releases. I’ll be talking about my latest book, In Plain Sight. It’ll be a fun evening. I hope to see you there!
This blog post originally ran in 2013. Aside from needing a few tweaks, it’s as fresh now as it was back then. And since we just celebrated Thanksgiving, I decided to run it again. Happy
Thanksgiving, belated though it may be!
***
When I do author talks or school visits, one of the questions I’m often asked is what I like best about being a writer. Until now, my answer has usually been twofold. I’m most thankful, I generally say, that I can write in jeans and slippers (there’s something incredibly freeing about not having to pluck, mousse, iron, and endure heels before plonking down at the desk). I also like that I can spy on people at the grocery store without feeling at all guilty about it. Character is truly revealed in the mindless acquisition of food. Is my subject buying Kraft dinner or quinoa? Wearing sweats or silk? Do they stack and toss? Smile or glare? Rush or linger? Treat the cashier with kindness or indifference?
But there are many other reasons I’m thankful to be a writer.
I can ask questions of anyone, anywhere, and at any time, all under the guise of research (Although I do refrain at weddings, funerals and during bikini waxings).
I have a valid excuse for a few extra pounds since writing requires sitting for many long hours. Even a regular gym routine and using a treadmill desk hasn’t helped (and, no, copious quantities of mint Girl Guide cookies have nothing to do with it).
I get to read. A lot. And this I can do on a treadmill or an elliptical. Even in the car at a stop light. Until the guy behind me honks.
I can write anywhere and at any time. Though I don’t recommend mixing laptops and hot tubs. Especially after midnight. Trust me on this.
I set my own hours which means I can get a root canal or take off to watch a movie do intense research at the archives in the middle of the day. And I don’t have to ask my boss.
I am always learning. Fun, neat facts like ‘intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair’ and ‘women blink twice as often as men do.’ Without these random bits of trivia my life would be seriously incomplete.
I don’t have to draw – not characters, not covers, not inside art. And everyone else is thankful for this too, believe me.
I get to experience the thrill of the unknown twice a year when the royalty checks land in the mailbox. Sometimes I even get to shop afterwards. On a related note, self-publishing as Laura Tobias means I don’t have to wait nearly as long for royalties. The money shows up much faster. And that’s much better.
I’m allowed to daydream. Staring into space for long periods of time is mandatory. And my family understands that even when I look like I’m paying attention, sometimes I’m not.
I play every single day. And that, really, is the thing I am most thankful for. I play with words, with worlds, with people and emotions. In my slippers, on my laptop, at the gym or in my office. I play. Only everybody else calls it work.
When 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.
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!
TD Canadian Children’s Book Week started with a bit of a jolt when I arrived at my first presentation in beautiful Elora, Ontario to find my audience waiting! A communication mix up between two librarians resulted in two grade three classes arriving half an hour early for my talk. Luckily, they were happy to wait while I set up and it meant I had more time to get to my second presentation in Guelph later that day.
I’m in Waterloo today where I’m talking to grades five and six students at two local libraries. This morning’s talk is about writing Hot New Thing. This afternoon, I’ll focus on Lesia’s Dream.
I’m off to present in New Hamburg and then Stratford tomorrow before driving to Woodstock where I’ll spend the night. Friday, I’ll speak to students in that community before driving back to Waterloo where I’ll drop the rental car and catch a bus to Toronto.
Highlights from the road so far: when talking about how story ideas often come from real life events, one grade three student told us how his father had been shot in the knee with a rifle. A neighbor did it, the student said. By accident, of course. But there was tons of blood and everybody was scared, except the family dog didn’t mind because he actually finds the smell of blood appealing. It was just the opportunity I needed to talk about how conflict – in this case, a shooting – can impact everybody (even dogs) differently. After the session ended, the teacher quietly informed me that the ‘real life’ rifle shooting incident the student spoke about was all fiction. She knows the family. It never happened. Given the range of details in the student’s ‘real life’ event, I suspect I was listening to a future writer.
It’s a real honor to be picked to tour. I must thank the Canadian Children’s Book Centre for coordinating the week, as well as all the teachers and librarians who have greeted me so warmly in every community. I’ve really enjoyed the chance to get out from behind my desk and talk about books and writing to so many excited students.
A friend of mine just left for a month in Italy. Barb packed everything she needed for four weeks in her carry on. She wasn’t austere about it either. She took scarves and jewelry to change up her outfits, an extra set of glasses and even a replacement glass eye in case the one she wears meets – I don’t know – some kind of shattering end. She took a second pair of shoes and a couple of books, but she left all her electronics and any extras at home. She is on vacation, in the true sense of the word.
I used to be pretty good at traveling light too. I remember once packing everything I needed for four months in Europe into a small duffel bag. Seeing my friend’s bag brought back memories of minimalist travel. There’s a real freedom that comes from traveling unencumbered by stuff.
I’m heading off at the end of next week to tour for TD Canadian Children’s Book Week and I am packing a load. In fact, organizers are billeting me for the first night and I feel like emailing an apology to my hosts before I arrive (I’d also like to ask if they have a hair dryer I can borrow for that first morning but I’m too embarrassed. Anybody viewing my large suitcase and substantial carry on would swear I’m bringing an entire salon with me).
In fact, much of what I’m bringing is material I take into schools. I’ll be talking to almost nine hundred students over five days and I take props. As well as reading from my books and talking about where my ideas come from, I pull out character bags and I show them what the editing process is like with a marked-up manuscript. I’m lucky enough to have rough sketches from some of the illustrators I’ve been paired up with too, and a set of color separations to show them how a book goes together, so those go into the mix as well.
It’s going to be a whirlwind week and a lot of fun. Since I’ll give away my books on the last day of the tour, I’m be traveling much lighter on the way home. At least that’s the plan.
However, I am stopping for a few days in Manitoba to see my dad. And there’s a great deli on Portage Avenue called De Luca’s . . . a wonderful bakery called Gunn’s . . . and I could use another bag or two of wild rice for the cupboard.
So no guarantees.
Tomorrow, I’m heading across the pond to Vancouver where I’ll be joining a number of other authors at a BCTLA gala. Given the prolonged BC teachers’ strike, there was some doubt as to whether the BC Teachers and Librarians would hold their annual conference this year, but the event is going ahead and Thursday’s dinner is being held at Granville Island. It’s a lovely opportunity for me to put on my LBD, slip into some heels, and come out of my cave for a bit of socializing. And if the opportunity presents itself, naturally I’ll be talking up The Art of Getting Stared At as well as Hot New Thing.
Should I feel inclined, there are a number of other ‘bookish’ events happening in Vancouver at the same time. There’s the Vancouver Writers’ Festival https://www.writersfest.bc.ca/ also being held at Granville Island October 21- October 26. Organizers have put together a great line up with something for everyone including a much anticipated appearance by Ann-Marie MacDonald which has people buzzing.
Out in Surrey, the acclaimed Surrey International Writers’ Conference will be underway y. http://www.siwc.ca/ Given the high calibre of writers, editors and agents who present, I’ve wanted to attend this event for years. Maybe this time I’ll actually make it!
But – there’s also a new exhibit about China’s Forbidden City opening at the Vancouver Art Gallery. http://www.vanartgallery.bc.ca/the_exhibitions/exhibit_forbiddencity.html It’s calling out to me.
I suspect the next few days will be busy ones! 
When I do author talks or school visits, one of the questions I’m often asked is what I like best about being a writer. The question came up again the other day. Until now, my answer has usually been twofold. I’m most thankful, I generally say, that I can write in jeans and slippers (there’s something incredibly freeing about not having to pluck, mousse, iron, and endure heels before plonking down at the desk). I also admit that because I’m a writer I feel entitled to spy on people at the grocery store. I do. Character is truly revealed in the generally mindless acquisition of food (is my subject buying Kraft dinner or quinoa? Wearing sweats or silk? Do they stack and toss? Smile or glare? Rush or linger? Treat the cashier with kindness or indifference?)
With American Thanksgiving now upon us, I’ve decided to ponder the question of thankfulness more deeply.
I am most thankful to be a writer because:
I can ask questions of anyone, anywhere, and at any time, all under the guise of research (Although I do refrain at weddings, funerals and during bikini waxings).
I have a valid excuse for an extra twenty pounds since writing requires sitting for many long hours (given that I’ve just set up a treadmill desk, this sentence is subject to revision).
I get to read. A lot. And this I can do on a treadmill or an elliptical. At a stop light even. Until the guy behind me honks.
I can write anywhere and at any time. Though I don’t recommend mixing laptops and hot tubs. Especially after midnight. Trust me on this.
I set my own hours which means I can get a root canal in the middle of the day or take off to watch a movie do heavy, intense research. And I don’t have to ask my boss.
I am always learning. Fun, neat facts like ‘intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair’ and ‘women blink twice as many times as men do.’ Without these random bits of trivia my life would be seriously incomplete.
I’ve met many wonderful people through my writing, and I’ve made lifelong friends too.
I get to experience the thrill of the unknown twice a year when the royalty checks land in the mailbox. Sometimes I even get to shop afterwards.
I am allowed to daydream. Staring into space for long periods of time is mandatory. And my family understands that even when I look like I’m paying attention, sometimes I’m not.
I play every single day. And that, really, is the thing I am most thankful for. I play with words, with worlds, with people and emotions. In my slippers, on my laptop, at the gym or in my office. I play. Only everybody else calls it work.
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