My First Public Book Reading

The publicity and marketing phase of Blown Red continues.

Yesterday, I participated in my first ever book reading at a Books and Brunch event hosted by Blue Heron Books in Uxbridge. I think I must be getting somewhat used to these public appearances as my anxiety level was not too bad. I think the lovely three-hour drive down from Little Partridge Lake helped. It was sunny and warm in the car and I was listening to Sunday morning CBC radio, which is always illuminating.

I thought I'd use a little Stoic philosophical practice to reflect on my performance. During evening meditation, Stoics ask themselves these three questions:

1. What went well? That's easy. I think the reading I gave went very well. I picked a good passage and gave it my all - reading as creepily as I could. I was happy with my performance and the feedback was positive.

It was also very helpful to have Sue Reynolds as the host of the event. Sue was one of my writing teachers and she not only has an intimate knowledge of Blown Red but is also wonderfully supportive. It makes the world of difference to have a friendly face cheering you on when you risk moving so far outside your comfort zone.

Ian Hamilton, author of the Ava Lee series, graciously agreed to share the stage with me, and he couldn't have been more friendly. He told me some great stories about his first forays in the public appearance world - some of them quite hair-raising, and he was a fun guy to spend an afternoon with.

2. What did I do Wrong? During the Q & A session, I think I answered some of the questions well enough, others not so much. I tend to ramble, go off on tangents and worst of all - blab about boring stuff. You know how drivers tend to head directly toward the object they are trying to avoid - that's what I do with excruciating stuff no one wants to hear. Gotta remember to focus on juicier topics and to be more succinct.

3. What didn't I do? I think maybe I could be more prepared with some funny stories to tell. Ian Hamilton had a few 'go-to' stories that made the audience laugh. I know that when I'm listening to people speak, a little humour goes a long way to keeping my eyelids from drooping. I think it would be wise in future to have always have few riveting anecdotes at my finger tips.


Live and learn...live and learn.

That's what it's all about, right?

#DresscodePM - A Dumpy Grace Rant

I am tired of being told what to wear...by anyone. I am exhausted by the endless debates over what is, or isn't appropriate attire for grown human beings.

Let me start with a couple of caveats.

Number one - I loathe annoying clothes. I have an almost pathological hatred of:

• tight waist bands
• scratchy labels 
• brassieres - in my opinion there is a special level of hell just for bras
• underwear
• zippers or buttons that pinch
• high heels
• narrow shoes
• clothes that are too hot
• wool
• hats
• bulky scarves
• collars that choke
• heavy clothes
• layers
• jewelry of any kind
• I could go on but I think you get the point.

Number two - as my friends and family will attest with eye rolls and groans, I don't care about fashion. I can't tell Gucci from Joe Fresh or Prada from Payless. I don't notice what other people wear and I mean that literally. I wouldn't remember if you were wearing pants or a dress a few minutes after you left the room. I certainly wouldn't notice the size of the rock on your finger, the length of your skirt, or your whether the streaks in your hair need freshening up.

I really truly don't care about clothes. If I was lucky enough to live in a hot climate, I would happily walk around nude all day.

That being said, I understand that most people get a great deal of pleasure from their clothes. The slippery feel of silk or the jaunty tilt of a fedora really turn some people on. Others love nothing more than a tight corset and a pair of six-inch stilettos. I'm fine with that. Whatever floats your boat.

But, please - don't tell me what I should be wearing. Whether it is the fashion industry, cultural norms or religious edicts, I am sick of being told what I can and cannot wear.

In my particular culture the rule is that I cannot step foot out of the house unless my breasts are tightly bound against my chest. WHY? What is so terrible about letting the girls dangle free? Is it that men might be overcome by desire and attack boob-free women on the street. Really? I think it would take less than an hour before the sight of all those free-ranging breasts would bore the hell out of most men, and if not - then it is the male of the species that need to address their weird obsession with mammary glands. Not my problem.

Religious rules are particularly touchy. Recently, what Muslim women wear on their heads came under attack by our Prime Minister. Hijabs are a loathsome symbol of an anti-woman religion, Harper claimed, and women should not be allowed to wear them when taking the Canadian oath of citizenship. What a dork.

Here's my two cents worth on the head covering topic.

I can remember when I was a little girl, my mother would take us to mass on Sundays. In those days women and girls were expected to cover their heads while men were required to leave their hats at the door. On the rare occasion when I forgot my hat, my mother would slip a tissue from her purse and stick it to the top of my head with a bobby pin. I was a pretty religious kid in those days, but I just couldn't get my mind around why God needed me to have Kleenex plastered to my skull before I could hang out with him.

Being forced to act a certain way, think a certain way, or dress a certain way in order to ostensibly be more pleasing to God did not sit well with me. It didn't make sense to me, and still doesn't. In fact, the power imbalance and need for control inherent in those restrictions eventually severed my relationship with the Catholic church. But that is ME.

YOU are different. If your killer shoes makes you feel great, if your lacy bra gives you confidence or wearing a wig over your natural hair helps you feel closer to your spiritual side, then go for it.

Just please...please...whether you are a priest, an imam, a magazine editor or a politician with your own twisted agenda, stop pushing me around.

I'll wear what I damn well please.

Plotting Woes

Life has finally settled enough for me to get back full-time to Book Three. The past few months have been a whirlwind and there is more to come. Several speaking engagements loom in the near future, but for now, I'm ready to start writing.

I have a basic plot sketched out. For me, that involves writing the title of each scene on a sticky note and plastering it to a story board on my wall. And then I stare at the board for hours, ensuring I've captured all the key elements of a good story.

I need to make sure the central theme shines through. In book three, the characters will betray and be betrayed, setting in motion an unstoppable chain of events that spelled disaster for Signy in her past - and now threatens her future.

Next, I ensure that the plot serves to answer the over-arching question - Can Signy save the girl?

Finally, I make sure I have a clear understanding of my characters and how I want them to grow as a result of this adventure.

Character is even more important than plot in my opinion. Plots are interchangeable. As long as they are basically entertaining, we've all been there, done that with most plot ideas. What matters is how your unique group of characters respond to the conflicts you place in their path.

It was during a conversation with Jay Rodan last week, the amazing writer who has been hired to bring Signy Shepherd to the small screen, that I realized I had yet to truly understand a most important character that will be introduced in Book Three.

Mr. X will be the over-arching villain throughout the entire series. He will come and go, wreaking havoc, ruining lives. I need to be absolutely sure that I get him right the first time. At his core, he is a psychopath, but that fact alone cannot explain the twisted relationship he forges with Signy.

I realized I had only scratched the surface in my own understanding of Mr. X. And, for me, the best way to show what makes him tick is by watching how he responds to barriers in his path. In other words - a fabulous plot is essential to drive Mr. X's character development.

When I looked at the plot I had sketched out (note the word sketch) I realized I needed something far more intricate, a set of events that would truly challenge Mr. X. I knew I wouldn't get to know the real Mr. X by having him jump through a few tried and true plot hoops. Mr. X. needed a huge challenge to crack open his mask of sanity.

So, I went back to the drawing board. Actually, more like the canvas. I had already roughed out the broad pencil strokes, but Mr. X needs far more in order to come to life. He needs subtle shading, vibrant colours, depth.

I'm getting there, but it's a struggle. The dark psychopath character has been done to death and figuring out ways to keep that archetype fresh is not easy. It's exhausting work but essential.

There are some writers who can start a new story with only the vaguest of ideas. They blurt out the words and somehow, magically, a coherent story and strong characters appear. That is not me. I have to slog it out, sticky note by sticky note, analyzing every major twist and turn - making sure it all fits together like a giant jigsaw puzzle.  

What I've learned from experience, is that if I can get it right now, then I will save myself a tsunami of angst in the future. There is nothing worse than getting three quarters of the way to the finish line only to realize that your story is not working.

When that happens, there is nothing left but to drown in your own tears.