Category: Laura Tobias

My Favorite New Thing

The key word of this summer is noise. Noise from the neighbor’s chain saw as he removed the old pear trees bordering our properties (sob!); noise from the gut and rebuild taking place around the corner from us (the jackhammers are back for the second week); noise from a neighbor on the other side bulldozing part of his lawn and hauling in loads of gravel so he can park more cars.

And noise from Team Sheltie as they protest the auditory assault that has been relentless for weeks. We could shut our windows, but it’s been a hot summer and we don’t have air conditioning; we rely on air flow to keep things cool. I’m fine with that. Noise doesn’t normally bother me, at least not like it has lately. This summer the noise seems extreme . . . or maybe I’m more sensitive to it. Perhaps it’s a little of both.

Either way, after several weeks of listening to me moan and gripe, Mr. Petrol Head surprised me with a pair of wireless Sennheiser noise-cancelling headphones. They’ve quickly become my new favorite thing. I put them on, pull up some soft background music (orchestral, no lyrics, but not quite meditative or I’d get sleepy), and I start writing.

It’s only been a few days but my focus is sharper and my word count is up considerably. With any luck, the key word of the rest of my summer will be productivity.

Hat (soon to be) In Hand

In six short weeks, Ms. Uptown Girl will be married. She’ll need a name change for my blog at that point since she’ll no longer be a Ms. or living uptown, but I digress.

In order for the wedding to proceed with any kind of class, I need a fascinator. Ms. Uptown is marrying into a British family (not that British family obviously) and the wearing of hats and fascinators for weddings, even a relatively simple 70 guest affair taking place outside beside the ocean, is something one does. The groom’s mother is wearing one, a number of her friends are wearing them too, and while I haven’t been told I must, it does seem a little, well, lacking in enthusiasm (if not taste) for the bride’s mother to turn up hatless.

And so I began to shop. Selection was thin to non-existent; I even struck out in the big city across the pond. There was nothing remotely suitable. I was either looking at hats big enough to power a small helicopter or pieces of lacy frippery designed more for a baby’s head than mine. Ordering on line was out of the question. I wanted to try it on for size and comfort, and it needed to work with whatever I ended up wearing. I was about to be hatless in Victoria.

Enter Lynda Marie: http://www.lyndamariemillinery.com/

The idea of having a fascinator made hadn’t occurred to me until I ordered my dress. When I mentioned then that I was looking for a fascinator and having some trouble finding one I liked, they pointed me in Lynda Marie’s direction.

She works out of her studio in Victoria where many of her creations are on display.

 

I quickly fell in love . . . with her style and with her enthusiasm. Shopping had never been so much fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

She told me about her training in England where she studied under a milliner to the Queen Mother . . . and then how she’d trained in New York where she honed an edgier, more contemporary style. I learned that hats are made from hat block forms or moulds . . . that fascinators are light, decorative headpieces usually made with feathers or flowers or beads  . . . and that those larger fascinators we saw on display at Harry and Meghan’s wedding are referred to in the trade as hatinators.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I learned that the sky is the proverbial limit in terms of color and style and all the fun, frippery bits that go along with it. As I write this, Lynda Marie is working her magic and creating something just for me. I can’t wait to see what she comes up with.

Check back because when she’s done and after the wedding, I’ll post a picture. I’m sure whatever she creates will be gorgeous! 

My July Reads

We’re staying close to home this summer, which isn’t exactly a hardship when you live in a city as beautiful as Victoria. Since we’re planning a move in the not-too-distant future, we’re savoring what my hometown has to offer while we can. We’re also keeping on top of garden chores and tackling a few inside renovations as well. It doesn’t leave much time for reading but when the opportunity presents itself (and when Mr. Petrol Head isn’t looking), I seize the moment. Here’s what I’m diving into this month:

Beside the Pond: The Sunshine Sisters by Jane Green

On the Kindle: The Past Life Perspective by Ann C. Barham

Before Bed: The Runaway Midwife by Patricia Harman

Books read to date in 2018: 46

Summer Time . . . Book Time . . .

It’s that time of year when friends are packing up and heading out on holiday. Books inevitably find their way into carry-ons and suitcases, and I’m sometimes asked to recommend titles. It’s easy if I know their taste (and especially if I share it) but that’s not always the case. When I’m at a loss I always recommend they talk to their favorite book seller or check out some of the lists that pop up at this time of year.

Time Magazine has compiled a list of 22 new books to read this summer:  http://time.com/5285980/best-books-summer-2018/

Since Canada Day is less than a week away, my attention was drawn to the CBC’s 100 Novels That Make You Proud to be Canadian list. Check out their recommendations here:  http://www.cbc.ca/books/100-novels-that-make-you-proud-to-be-canadian-1.4194710

If you’re buying for children and teens, Scripps National Spelling Bee has released its 2018-2019 Great Works (and Great Words) book list. I especially like that they break their recommendations into very specific age ranges (they use grades but you can easily extrapolate to determine suitability for the children in your life). I also like the fact that they mix classics with contemporary reads. http://spellingbee.com/book-list

Finally, if you’re looking for an easy summer beach read you can’t go wrong with one of these romances: https://www.bookbub.com/blog/2018/05/22/summer-romance-books-preview-2018

Happy reading and happy travels!

Right Now

Though I tend to stick to topics related to writing or the writing life on this blog, watching children being ripped from their families in the United States was enough to change my mind. With the horror, however, came a feeling of helplessness: it wasn’t my country or my government so what impact could I possibly have on events unfolding south of me? I was already boycotting the country in more ways than one, and my actions certainly weren’t helping those children.

Then I learned of a petition Canadians can sign that will be forwarded to the American ambassador to Canada, Kelly Knight Craft. I was in the middle of writing a blog post about it when Trump announced he was about to sign an executive order putting an end to the practise. Whether or not that materializes, and whether it does, in fact, lead to the reuniting of children with their parents remains to be seen. So here is the link to the petition: https://act.leadnow.ca/stop-trumps-policy/

There’s another injustice unfolding right now and this one is much closer to home. Vancouver children’s author Lee Edward Fodi and his partner, Marcie, have adopted an infant from Japan. But they and four other families have not been able to bring their babies home because the Canadian government is deferring to US immigration policy. That government decision has had devastating consequences for all of them, and they’re now caught up in the middle of a bureaucratic nightmare. Lee explains this much better than I ever could so I urge you to visit his blog, read his story, and write in support to Ahmed Hussen, Canada’s Minister of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship.   https://kendrakandlestar.wordpress.com/

Overheard This Week

 You don’t realize how hard you bite until you bite your own tongue.

I overheard this comment in the produce section of my grocery store recently. Two women were talking in front of the daily free sample: glistening red strawberries proffered in little white cups. Given that they were laughing, I assumed the comment was reflective rather than indicative of recently inflicted pain.

Biting my tongue made me think of biting back words, and that led me to contemplate the power we yield with our words, both those spoken and those written. I’m familiar with that power as a writer and as a reader too. It’s clear when the words in a particular passage lift me up or bring me down. The simple prose of a story or a poem can, and has, moved me to tears.

But we rarely contemplate the power of our spoken words. Since I overheard this comment right when Anthony Bourdain died of suicide, I was struck anew by that potential power and how blind we can be to it. We all know the pain of being on the receiving end of someone’s anger, but even a thoughtless brush off or a snarky put-down could, quite literally, mean the end of the world to someone. Conversely, a loving comment or a few words of praise might be enough to raise someone up from a very dark place.

It just so happened that a few days after I overheard those words, I was finishing up a rather arduous clean up and pruning job on the front garden. I wasn’t in a particularly dark place, unless you counted the dirt on my hands and knees. As I stood surveying the results of my work, the neighbor wandered over. She stood there for a few minutes chatting and then she said, “You know, this looks just amazing. You did an absolutely fabulous job.” I smiled and thanked her. As I went inside to wash my hands and pour a glass of water I realized I was glowing. Sweat from the hours of labor? A hot flash? Relief at having tackled that particular chore? No. The glow came from the power of what she said to me.

You don’t realize the sweetness of a few simple words until you’re the unexpected recipient of them.

Words . . . they have far more power than we give them credit for.

My June Reads

I’ve been in the weeds of late. The garden is producing them at a rate beyond which they’re controllable. The path you see to your left has been weeded several times already but you’d never know it. The butterflies and bees are happy, even if I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s not an unusual feeling for me at this time of year; the garden is at its most demanding now. This year, however, we’re juggling spring garden chores with indoor renovations as we’re contemplating selling our house. Lots of changes . . . and very little downtime to read. But when I do stop for a break, here’s what I’m reading:

At the gym: The Fifth Petal by Brunonia Barry

On the Kindle: Flipside – a Tourist’s Guide on How to Navigate the Afterlife by Richard Martini

Before bed: No Time to Spare: Thinking about what Matters by Ursula Le Guin

Book read to date in 2018: 37

A Creative Pause

Today is National Creativity Day. With that in mind, I reached back into my memory bank for a TED talk on creativity that I found particularly inspiring. Here’s one from Elizabeth Gilbert. It puts in perspective any doubts, rejections, or bumps in the road we encounter on the creative path.

https://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_success_failure_and_the_drive_to_keep_creating?referrer=playlist-10_talks_from_authors#t-415339

On an unrelated note, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about GDPR over the last few weeks. I won’t bore you with the ins and outs of the new regulations (GDPR stands for the European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation) but given the changes, I thought it was a good time to thank you for subscribing to this blog, and to reassure you that if you’re happy receiving my posts, there’s nothing you need to do. If at any time you wish to unsubscribe, you’ll find the link to do so at the bottom of the email notifications, before you click through to my post.

Even though most of my blog and newsletter subscribers reside in Canada and the US, I have upgraded my privacy policy to comply with the GDPR. Word is amongst those in the know that the new regulations will soon spread to North America, so I thought it was prudent to make the changes now.

Stories, Stories, Everywhere Stories

Along with working on my own books, I also hire myself out as a freelance editor. Switching gears allows me to step back from my own stories but still do the work of a writer, only to the benefit of someone else. Last week I was immersed in a contemporary love story featuring the mythical (or not!) sea creature Cadborosaurus. Caddy, as he’s sometimes called, was spotted years ago in the waters of the Pacific Northwest close to my home. It was a lot of fun to witness the developing relationship between a skeptical reporter out to find Caddy and the protective photographer who wants to make sure Caddy stays hidden from the prying eyes of the public.

Later this week I’ll be head down and editing an historical cozy mystery. In June, I’ll be switching gears yet again and editing the third book in a dystopian YA series that I quite enjoy! And of course my own books will be getting their fair share of my attention over the next few weeks too.

If you’re looking for help with your manuscript, check out my editing services here: http://lauralangston.com/editing/

 

Overheard This Week

You’ve lost weight.

Thank you.

Word for word and overheard last weekend. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out who was speaking and in what context. I was in a dressing room desperately shopping for The Dress That Will Live Forever when a couple of women crowded into the changing cubicle next to me. Within seconds they were discussing their respective appearances; in particular, their weight.

If you think about it, you’ve lost weight is a statement, not a compliment. Yet if you’re like many women living on this blue planet, you’d probably take it as a compliment. A compliment, however, is an act of praise or admiration. In that context, the unsaid part of that exchange is that the woman being spoken to, the one who has apparently lost some weight, is being complimented because she’s more attractive now that she’s thinner (there’s a wealth of politics in that assumption but that’s another blog so I won’t go there).

Given the volume at which the two women were speaking, I can guarantee I wasn’t the only one who heard their exchange. And I’ll bet I wasn’t the only one relieved to have her naked jiggling flesh firmly behind closed cubicle doors where no well-intentioned friend might feel the need to comment on it.

You can never be too rich or too thin. It was the Duchess of Windsor who coined that famous phrase, and it’s an attitude that’s been, for many of us, absorbed into our psyches. Certainly if I wrote a scene with two women in a dressing room and I used those same words, even without context, most readers would jump to the same conclusion and take them as a compliment. They wouldn’t think anything of it.

But if I used the words you’ve lost weight in a scene set in a doctor’s office, or during a visit from a hospice nurse, and if I made my characters come alive in a way that demonstrated they weren’t obsessing about their appearance, hopefully the reader would draw a far different conclusion. A twenty pound weight loss to someone with a heart condition or diabetes could mean health instead of illness. A ten pound weight loss to a pregnant woman could portend trouble ahead. A mere five or even a three pound weight loss to someone who is terminal could mean their life is winding down. The response in a scene like that would probably go from a shallow thank you to a deeper what does that mean? Or even what do we do now?

My mother-in-law died in late March. Having been there while she slowly faded over a period of months, steadily losing weight and unable to swallow at the very end, the words you’ve lost weight came to have a significance beyond appearance to me. Bones need flesh to cover them; without it, we suffer tremendously. Trust me on that. Of course I’m still happier keeping my naked jiggling flesh behind closed cubicle doors. Except now when I catch sight of those jiggling bits in the mirror I’m not so quick to judge. I look at all that padding . . . padding that protects my bones and makes my life comfortable . . . padding that’s a testament to the fact that I carried two brilliant children for nine months (and enjoyed a few too many pieces of carrot cake in the process) and I say a silent thank you. You’ve lost weight means something quite different to me now . . . and that’s not such a bad thing.