Category: Fiction

My July Reads

sweetpeasThe sweet peas are blooming though they’re a little confused. They don’t know whether to produce long, sturdy stems with deliciously scented blooms or short, stumpy little wisps with rather ambivalent flowers. I blame it on the weather. It was hot for a while but then it cooled off. As I write this, we’re in for a few days of rain. I’m not bothered. Sweet peas love cool, moist weather; the rain keeps the forest fire threat low; and an indoor day or two means more time to curl up with a book.

Here’s what I’m reading this month:

At the gym: Leaving Time by Jodi Picoult

On the Kindle: Anything for You by Kristan Higgins

Beside the Pond: A Mother’s Reckoning by Sue Klebold

Books read to date in 2016: 40

It’s all in the Details

Mule DeerOne morning last week, I was walking Team Sheltie down an urban street about a block from home. The sun was up but it was early and hardly anybody was around. The dogs were charging ahead, in tandem, heads down and on the scent of something. They didn’t see the deer. I didn’t see it either until the subtlest of movements caught my eye. A leaf caught on the wind, a squirrel? I glanced into the yard I was passing and there it was – three arm lengths away and partially hidden by a hedge. It was so still that for a second I thought it was a deer statue (a nearby homeowner has one). Then I saw its ear twitch. It was the subtlest movement, hardly noticeable, but it was enough to tell me I was closer than I’d ever been to a wild deer.

In the moment before I walked on, one thing stood out. Not its size, or its stillness or the flash of fear that flickered in its brown eyes (though later I’d think about all three). Instead what captivated me was the softest whip of chocolate fuzz that I saw on still-forming antlers. That single detail summed up everything I needed to know about the creature in front of me. It was a sweet, young deer, harmless yet vulnerable. The sight also brought an unexpected rush of emotion because it reminded me of the down of my children’s hair when they were infants.

Details, in life and in novels, speak volumes. And those antlers did.

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

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.

My March Reads

DaffodilsonBirchHill The daffodils are blooming, and so are the flowering cherry and plum trees. It’s time to clean up the greenhouse, thin the plants in the pond and dust off the patio furniture. It might be a little premature for the furniture but spring is definitely here so my thoughts are naturally turning to outside activities. However, before I can get out there, I need to ready my taxes for the accountant. Every year, I vow to tackle all the paperwork in January and every year it’s March before I do. Luckily, I have some great books to read when I put the papers aside at the end of the day.

Here’s what I’m reading this month:

Beside the bed: The Art of Stillness by Pico Iyer

At the gym: Fly Away Home  by Jennifer Weiner

By the fire: Someone Else’s Love Story by Joshilyn Jackson

Books read to date in 2016: 16