Honest critisism

Birthday Sully. This is his 'crazed on catnip' face.

I'm late...but until now, I didn't have anything to write about this week. And besides, it was Sully's 2nd birthday yesterday.

I had nothing to say until I realized...I never told you the details of how the book club appearance went! In all the excitement I'd almost forgotten about it--it had gone so smoothly.

I'll admit to being really nervous...they would have questions about my first stab at novel writing. Urf. These people didn't know me...not as a writer or a human being. I imagined them sitting hunched and wary--my jury waiting to decide if I were truly worthy of the title of 'author'. Or maybe they would label me a hack. It didn't help that I was an hour late, but at least they understood why.

After Lynda introduced me, there was a hush. Were they as nervous to talk to me as I was to them? Nah...NOBODY was as nervous as I.

The first question came from Rachel. She asked where I came up with the idea for Thoeba. I told her it came from a dream. That relaxed her somewhat, I think. We got into a small discussion about the religious tones, and I assured her and the room that my ideas were pretty much fiction...ideas bounced around for entertainment. It's something people have noticed before and maybe I should clarify. I AM NOT L. RON HUBBARD. I'm didn't write Thoeba to convert anyone to my way of thinking. That would be weird and narcissistic.

I said it with humor, and the comments flowed a little more freely after that. They asked about formatting and character development. Grammar mistakes were discovered. They pointed out where I could use more show and less tell. They talked about detail and which characters they liked. I was surprised to know that Dr. Stuart Thompson was popular, despite his short character arc.

Some of the details have already faded from my memory, but all in all I found it to be a good experience. They later told me of their trepidation in talking to me, worried about a writer's delicate ego.

Rachel has a book blog where she does reviews. She told me a story of how she gave one author an average and honest review, only to get blasted for it. The author wrote her a scathing letter, demanding she remove her critique.

That surprised me...Wouldn't you want the truth? If someone takes the time to read your book and tell you where you can improve, wouldn't you take it? How else will you grow? Yes, Thoeba is my 'baby' too, but I'm willing to put my pride away for the opportunity to hear ideas on how to write better. I don't want to suck. I don't want to look back on my career and think, "Those were terrible. No wonder my work doesn't sell."

So it's overdue, but I'd like to say Thank You to the Fox Creek Book Club. I enjoyed our discussion and I appreciate the feedback. Happy reading!! <3

Driving myself crazy

I hate fear. Not the flight or fight kind. The kind that prevents a person from doing something because the repercussions, as unlikely as they seem, might reach out and smite them.

If you read the last post, then you'll know I had a car accident. It wasn't that bad. I got a bruise, and it only took five days to go away. The trepidation lingered...

Funny how adrenaline works. When I had the accident, I wasn't scared. I grappled with the wheel, certain that if I kept my head, I could steer my way out of that mess.

When the car rolled to a stop in the ditch, I searched the floorboards for my Yoda dash ornament, despite the fact that I thought I smelled smoke. (Not very smart, I know. I was afraid he'd burn up, and my husband gave him to me.) I accidentally hit Yoda's yellow button, setting him off...

You know what he said? "Hard to see, the dark side is."

I cried, but not because I was frightened. I was angry at myself and worried about the passengers in the truck.

I can't say I ever felt actual fear.

So why did it take me five days to get behind the wheel again? Well actually, I was resting. I didn't have any pressing business outside my home and besides, my husband needed the truck for work. Right? RIGHT?

But I knew I'd have to do it, and soon. We made plans to go shopping, and you better believe I was gonna drive. Damn straight.

The day we went out, the roads were a slushy mess--more so than the day of the accident and dirtier. I got less than three blocks from the house when my long-suffering troll tried to make an easier directional suggestion, and I turned into a psycho.

"CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO F*CKING DRIVE?! SHUT UP! DON'T TALK TO ME WHILE I'M TRYING TO F*CKING DRIVE!!"  Helloooo dark side. I see you.

Of course he didn't react very well..."What the hell is wrong with you? I'm trying to help-"

"I DON'T WANT YOUR F*CKING HELP. LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M TRYING TO F*CKING DRIVE!" I hadn't reached the intersection yet, and the tirade continued.

As I approached 99th and 163rd, praying that I would stop in time, I didn't see the pedestrian crossing or the houses lining the street. I saw driving snow and a freakishly long highway that suddenly turned to a grassy ditch covered in a dusting of white. I heard the blown-up, paper bag pop of the airbag. And then I couldn't see anything through my tears.

My poor husband was so mad, he wanted to walk home. He'd endured enough verbal abuse. But God bless his patient heart, he wouldn't leave me crying. I couldn't turn left. It was at least three minutes before I could turn right. I ended up going around the block to go home for a cup of tea.

The second attempt went better...I guess. It took as an hour of driving around to figure out there was no parking at West Edmonton Mall, but at least I drove.

I guess my fear is normal. (Cue cheesy but appropriate piano music.) I've learned that it's okay to be afraid. It's perfectly acceptable to feel as though...Nah. I'm gonna beat this bitch. Apparently it's going to take some time, but it's doable. Fear is to be overcome.

The troll is giving me the truck today. I'm going to take my time. I'm going to get through this. Lots of people have this happen to them and manage to conquer it. (Thanks Suzanne and Kevin) Nobody is responsible for my emotional recovery but ME. Then I can stop bugging you people with my drama.

What does Yoda say? "Control! Control! You must learn control!" Yeah...I definitely want it back.

Silver Linings

So glad I didn`t end up looking like `Zombie Gord`

Okay, so I'm a little late for our Thanksgiving to give thanks, but I'm early for the American one.

You know that trip to my hometown I talked about last week? Yeah, I went. But I had a car accident on the way there. I'm fine, but the front end of my Grand Marquis is Metalliburger.

It was snowing when I left, but it wasn't that bad. After all, I'm a Canadian AND an Albertan and we drive in random crap all year long. I wasn't worried. In fact, the highway roads were better than the ones in the city. Well, at least until I got about halfway to Fox Creek. That's when it really started to get nasty.

No one did the speed limit. We all pretty much limped along, at mercy to the violent gusts of snow...Except those who owned those gargantuan pickup trucks. They moved marginally faster. I saw a white GMC Sierra coming up on my left to pass. His truck took up the whole lane, and I worried that he'd clip me on his way by. So I decided it would be a safe and courteous move to pull to the side a little to give him some room.

I was wrong.

As soon as my tire touched the shoulder, I realized it was SLUSH, and the car began to spin. I kept my head and worked hard to correct, but I hit the guy trying to pass and we both hit the ditch. I smashed into an embankment, crushing my front end and setting off the airbags. He got a broken headlight, and a scary close-call with the opposite lanes of the double highway. His poor 8-month pregnant wife was a wreck. His two- year old daughter looked confused and frightened. I felt like a heel for putting them through such a horrible experience.

As I staggered out and watched my car bleeding antifreeze like an arterial spray, I immediately counted my losses. My freedom to go anywhere I wanted, my time, my various activities that require a car, the money I'd need to get another vehicle, plus my insurance premiums might go up...I cried in frustration, anger and shock. (Thank you to the Edmontonian hunters who turned around to stop and help. They were on their way home to the garrison when they saw the crash. They even offered me a ride home. Special thanks to Peggy, who hugged me while I sobbed.)

Now that I've had a few days to think, I'm counting my blessings. Bear with me. Despite my light-hearted view at times, I don`t think this is a joke.

I'll get more exercise.  I've been trying to fit more activity into my routine. Now that I don't have a car, I'll be doing more walking. And there`s no McDonald`s, Wendy`s or KFC within walking distance.

I don't have to worry about fixing the air-conditioning. Or buying gas, or paying insurance on a second vehicle. A bus pass is less than my monthly premium, and it costs over 50 bucks to fuel up.

I'll have more time to write. True, not having a car means there's few things I'll have to give up. But my plate was getting a little too full anyway, and there was less and less time to write. It's winter and I have no vehicle. What better time in life to sit and work on my novels for hours on end?

I got some GREAT sensory details out of the experience. I was alert and present for the entire ordeal and   my writer's brain immediately conjured up useful descriptive phrases I can use in some future mishap some poor character will have to endure. Did you know a deployed airbag smells like burnt latex and dust?

Airbags. Whoever invented those has saved countless lives, and thanks to that safety device, I walked away with a bruise on my breast and nothing more. I chuckle when I realize the airbag never made it to my face. For once I'm glad I have big boobs to block stuff.

Good friends. Lynda and Ian dropped everything to come and get me in their nice, safe Toyota Tundra. They brought me to their home, and comforted me. They listened to me whine, even though less than two years ago they'd lost their daughter-in-law and grandson in a winter highway accident much worse than mine. And to everyone who expressed their concerns on Facebook. THANK YOU.

Nobody suffered injuries. I don`t know what I would have done if my decision had hurt, or worse killed those people. The witnesses, and the cop, told me not to take it personally when the pregnant woman wouldn`t look at me when I apologized. But even though this is classified as a `no-fault`accident, I made a mistake that could have destroyed their family. Thank God I don`t have to live with blood on my hands.

I'm alive. Alberta weather on Alberta roads kill hundreds of people every year. I wasn't one of them. (And no one else got killed.) My attempts to correct my wild spin may not have prevented the accident, but I DO think it prevented the car from rolling. I'll never really know. All I know is I'm here to tell the story. I'm here to love my husband and my two beautiful cats. I'm here to hug my family and friends, and to appreciate everything I have. And to continue writing.

Enough sadness. Let`s focus on something positive.

So...How did the trip go otherwise? Quite well, actually. We were an hour late for the book club, but I got awesome feedback--good and bad. (As in useful. I can grow from all the comments.) I made new friends.

Due to poor planning on the 'acting' principal's part, no students came to the library to meet me. But I met the librarian, Mrs. Starkey who was super fantastic and it turns out she knows my parents. An old highschool pal, Sharie, dropped by to say hello. Hailey came from the local paper, and I was able to meet her face to face and tell her I used to babysit her. We got pictures together, and ones of me with Mrs. Starkey. They took a photo of me beside my old locker. I still remembered my combination. Later Hailey dropped by Lynda and Ian`s house to introduce me to her kids, and her daughter looks EXACTLY like she did at that age. I am humbled that she did this.

I got to spend quality time with two people who are extremely important to me. I love Lynda and Ian like parents, and obviously they love me too. I`m going to cherish the time I spent with them...and their awesome massaging chair!

Despite the accident, I feel like I did a pretty cool thing and I`m happy.

Anyway, I hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween.

Homeward Bound

This Sunday I'm going back to my hometown of Fox Creek to talk to people about my book. Sigh...The very idea makes me want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep.

I haven't been back in at least a decade. I like city life too much.

I'm going as a favor to a friend. She has a book club and has been bragging up Thoeba for months. She's told her peeps not to sugar coat anything, and to feel free to criticize at will. After all, this is to be a learning experience for me. I hope they remember to be nice about it.

THEN, my friend is arranging for me to come to my old school and talk to kids about writing. Lovely. I don't know which will be worse--If all 700 kids for an assembly or if only two show up at the library. Do I prepare a speech or just wing it? How do I emphasize the importance of education when I never graduated myself?

I'd like to ramble on about how this scares me more than anything Halloween can throw at me, but I've got a million things to do. I will leave you with a picture of the treats I'm handing out this year.

Pretty cool, eh? The bag says "Treat without the Sweet."  I think it's a pretty good idea. Who doesn't love Playdoh? I got this from Shopper's Drug Mart in with the makeup and decorations.

My Creativity is Frozen

Today I'm getting my furnace replaced. More gargantuan household expenses, but definitely worth it.
But this means for pretty much the entire day, I have no heat running through the house, and I'm freezing.

Photo by: Liz Noffsinger/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I'm sitting here distracted and shivering, and it's only 7 degrees Celsius. My goosebumps are the size of gumdrops. All I can think about is the blanket on the couch....but I've already spent an hour and a half under it--not getting anything done. I'm hoping once we replace the ole' Flamemaster my days of sofa-burrowing will come to an end. I just can't function when I'm cold, and it's getting worse as I get older.

Of course, when I'm too warm, it makes me sleepy. I've been crashing just as much under that cozy sleeping bag behind me as I have been in my own bed. I can't win. Whole lot of getting nothing done.

There's got to be a happy medium. Surely, I'm not the only writer distracted by the temperature of their own atmosphere? I often hear the question asked, what do you listen to when writing? I honestly don't care. I just want to be toasty.

What about you? What comfort level do you need to work? I could use a few pointers here.

You're Fired!

  On Sunday, I did something I've never done before in my novels, short stories, or any of my works. I fired a character.

I can admit all this out loud now, because I think I'm past it.

I've been struggling with my third novel, 'Chasing Monsters'. Granted it was a rough summer, with many upsets and sadness, but it felt like more than that. For awhile I couldn't put my finger on it.

As the reviews of 'Thoeba' roll in, I've been getting a little nervous. Four and five star ratings should make me happy, right? Well, they do. But now I'm feeling the pressure. If everyone thinks my debut novel was that awesome, everything that follows should be MORE so. Eep.

So last week, after a few too many Palm Bay Red Grapefruit coolers, I told my loving and ever-so-PROUD-of-me hubby that I'm secretly worried that Chasing Monsters is just a rehashed version of Thoeba.

There, I typed it.

Oh sure, there's new faces with different lives, a new plot, and different villains...But we're still in Alberta, and we're still dealing with angels and demons.

I couldn't shake the feeling. Devaki is not Thoeba, and my hero is not Peter. Noelle isn't anything like anyone I've written before. Much to my delight, my villains are doing things I wasn't expecting.

So what's the problem? More like, WHO is the problem. It's Max. Max is Noelle's little brother. He's a teenaged computer geek. Sound familiar? If you've read Thoeba, you will recognize that personality as Zach, Peter's teenaged computer wizard son.

But no, I thought. He's different! He's only thirteen, and he's got a snarky attitude...just like Kayla, Zach's little sister. Hand smacks forehead moment. Plus he complicates the story. I don't want to give spoilers, but I can tell you he won't be with Noelle when the feces flies.

You know that feeling you get when someone useless you work with or employ finally leaves or gets the boot? Yeah, I haz that. I can move forward knowing I deleted something the reader wouldn't appreciate. Usually I'm attached to my characters, and maybe I should feel bad. But the truth is, I barely knew Max. He was an acquaintance, and when you write people, that just won't do.

I can't believe it took me nine chapters to figure this out.

I am an Unwashed Heathen

I'm sitting at the edge of my chair, watching the clock and sniffing my armpits. My brand new hot water tank has just been installed, and I can't WAIT until the water is ready for a steaming hot, lingering shower, so I can scrape the day off without having to boil water first. It's like camping, without the secure knowledge of WHEN you can go back to civilization.

I know who my friends are...the ones that don't seem to mind that I don't smell the freshest, or that my hair looks and feels like playdoh. But the best ones are the kind that let you come over to borrow their shower.

It's either sneak showers when you can, or sponge-bath no-pants. And dry shampoo? I think I'd rather shave my head.

We don't plan ahead in this house. We wait until something completely, unfixably croaks before we get new stuff.  Replacing a fridge is also like camping...with more coolers. Need a new stove? Hello Take-Out week and barbeque. Don't ask about the furnace. I'm trying not to jynx myself.

If the world ends in 2012, and I survive it, shoot me anyway. I don't think I could ever adapt to a world without hot running water. Or internet. Or toilets. (Insert long Thanksgiving list of things I'm grateful for here.)

P.S.-Alyssa Suzanne, contact me. I still have your contest prize.