Link love
I am lucky to count some pretty awesome writing women among my friends, and it just so happens that three of them have news to share. Vicki Pettersson, urban fantasy writer extraordinaire, has a shiny new website here. If you’re one of those people who likes to wait for a series to be complete before you start it, it’s time to get reading. The final installment of her NYT Bestselling Signs of the Zodiac series will be out at the end of May. Vicki’s one of the most focussed writers I know, an inspiration to anyone who struggles to put her butt in a chair and get to work. She’s amazing. The lovely Rose Holck, writer, librarian, parent, and talented cocktail mixer, is eagerly awaiting the release of her first book in March, called Leavenworth. I happen to know she has author copies in her hot little hands already, and I’m thrilled for her. Her new website is here. And finally, today, a book deal announcement from my friend Linda Grimes, here. Like Vicki and Rose, Linda put aside the book she’d poured her heart and soul into learning the craft and wrote the one that got her a book deal. Tough choice to put aside a book you’ve spent years with, even temporarily, but it worked for these three. Something to think about… Congrats on the new sites and the new books, ladies! Share...
A cause for everyone…
Ever felt strongly enough about something to write a letter to the people involved? We all have our causes, sure. But every once in awhile, I’m reminded of just how varied those can be. One of the blogs I read from time to time is called Letters of Note. It’s a great place. Real letters, mostly to or from famous people, are posted there every day. Today, a few Muppet-themed letters went up, here: http://www.lettersofnote.com/2011/02/i-love-my-muppet-life.html When I got to the last few in the bunch, I had to shake my head. There’s someone out there who can make an issue of just about anything. Beware the Count. You have been warned. Share...
Housework philosophizing
It’s a dark, rainy Sunday afternoon here in the Lower Mainland of BC. There’s a separation of clouds and ground today, but only just. I’m pretty sure I could reach up and touch the heavy gray weight of the drippy masses from my rooftop. It’s a perfect day for doing nothing, reading a good book, or even writing. I got away with the first for a couple of hours this morning, except for making waffles, but none of the rest is on the list today, sadly. Instead, it’s a catch-up, clean-up afternoon. Self-imposed for the most part, I suppose, but necessary. The one good thing about having to do my own housework (and I may as well believe there’s at least one good thing about it, no?) is that it’s a good time to think. Vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms and loading the dishwasher occupy my hands, but not my thoughts. And so my mind is free to wander, to construct future scenes for the WIP, to daydream, to simply think about whatever comes to mind. The silent philosophizing I get involved in while I’m folding laundry or cleaning the kitchen floor makes me wonder about the women, now and in generations gone by, who spend/spent the bulk of their time tending to their homes. I know the sort of stuff that goes on in my own mind when I’m alone, my hands occupied with a mindless household chore. So I wonder, what went – or goes – through theirs? What sorts of daydreams and arguments and solutions to the world’s problems present themselves when you spend your child’s entire school day in pursuit of household perfection? Is there a certain kind of zen peace in doing that day after day, or frustration that daydreams are the best adventures in a day-to-day life? Both, I imagine. Household perfection will never be mine, I’m afraid. But a couple of hours here and there of daydreaming while I dust… that’s pretty much unavoidable. So I’d better get on with it. Share...
Disbelieving Camera
It’s January 27, technically the depths of winter here in the northern hemisphere. But as all Vancouverites know, unless we’re hit with something unseasonable, we’re almost ready to head into spring in our fair city, regardless of what the calendar claims. Sure, it’s chilly and damp out there, and it gets dark way too early. My poor fingers were stiff with cold by the time I got home from walking the dog and standing around the playground with my girl today. But my garden has pushed up the first evidence of the lush season to come. My phone camera refused to focus on it, for unknown reasons. Perhaps it couldn’t believe its lens? (Edited to note that I neglected to submit this post, so it’s showing up a few days later than written. Sorry!) Share...
A New Year
The last few weeks, I’ve been away from all forms of social media. I haven’t blogged, been on Twitter or even checked Facebook. Truth is, I’ve hardly even been on my email. The break has been nice. Disconnecting online to connect in person over the holidays isn’t a bad thing at all, except for missing a lot of my favourite people, whom I connect with here in the ether because we live too far away to hang out in person. But it’s a new year, and time to get back to work in earnest, and time to jump back into the social media pond. I won’t be attempting to catch up, except on a few favourite blogs. One quick glance at Facebook this afternoon showed me that would be impossible. That way madness lies. Instead, I’ll look for the significant updates, like news of my friend’s surprise Christmas baby, born five weeks early. And the rest, well, I’ll just call it a fresh start and go from here. For me, September is the time for new goals and plans for the new year, not January, so this is more like coming back from holidays, trying to find my groove again. So, a little blog post here to dip my toes in, and I’ll call it a start. Wishing you all the most wonderful of new years, filled with laughter and the kind of joy that bubbles up inside you, filling you to the tips of your fingers and toes. Share...
December 6, 1989, Remembered
I was a first-year university student, away from home for the first time at the University of Victoria, the day Marc Lepine massacred fourteen women and injured many others before turning his gun on himself at the Ecole Polytechnique in Montreal on December 6, 1989. Before he shot them, he separated the men from the women, specifically targeting the latter. I can only imagine the fear they felt standing there in front of him. Even from far across the country, it was a terrifying, awful day to be a woman at university, and the day of the massacre is seared in my memory forever, along with the hollow feeling in my gut that always comes with it. The Ecole Polytechnique massacre anniversary has become a day of remembrance in Canada, not only for those women, but for all women who experience violence simply because they are women. But today, I’d like to remember these specific women, the youngest of them twenty, the eldest just 31, who got up that morning to go to school or to work and never made it home: Geneviève Bergeron Hélène Colgan Nathalie Croteau Barbara Daigneault Anne-Marie Edward Maud Haviernick Maryse Laganière Maryse Leclair Anne-Marie Lemay Sonia Pelletier Michèle Richard Annie St-Arneault Annie Turcotte Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz Share...
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