CBC Canada Writes Series
Check out today's CBC Canada Writes article Audio Margarita Nights is out in audio at Audiable.com, Amazon audio books, and Apple iTunes. Hurray! Talmadge Reagan does a wonderful job. Monday, May 7/12 Bright and sunny. We're going to have a whole week of it. The community garden has turned into a small social club where already stars are juggling for position and every plot is being groomed differently. Now these rocky plots are only 15 x 15, and not in metric. One 80lb woman bought a tiller for her tiny plot. I love the crazy courageous woman with a machine that weighs more than her. All she really needed to do is stand in place and go in circles. Remember the rocks? "Duck!" Another garden, with the addition of hundreds of dollars of spanking new 2 x 12 cedar planking, has been turned into wonderful raised beds. There's a dump truck load of top soil to be wheeled in. In the meantime we have a ragged row of peas up, radishes, onions and beans. With no string and the point of the trowel jiggled about by stones it looks like we were in the grip of alcoholic tremors when we laid out our bed. We'll get the lazy gardener award for sure, but nice to be in the winner's circle even for the worst. A walk in the woods on Sunday April 29/12 We walked down to the community garden this morning to admire our bumper crop of radishes that are making their appearances. The peas are poking up their heads, as are the green onions. We feel like heroes and we may have to take a stall at the local farmers market. On the way back we followed a path into the woods, a strange little stand of trees that is about two acres and totally surrounded by houses. But with the giant cedars and firs it is a mighty wood. I noticed shattered blue eggs on the ground. They were about the size of chicken eggs. Blue eggs? A little late for Easter and the large amount of bird droppings didn't seem to be part of any holiday celebration I've ever taken part in. I looked up to see 6 big sloppy nests in the top of the cedar. Herons were sitting on those nests. Strangely, they were all on the same side of the tree. Do you suppose, like us, that birds prefer a southern location? I'm torn between wanting to know how that little part of forest got left behind and being afraid of calling attention to it. Maybe the nesting herons were what saved those tree. If so, bless them! 
Being a poor speller, and totally illiterate when it comes to grammar, this gave me a smile. Palm Court Literary Society Don't you love that name? I have visions of an Edwardian tea party, tea sipped from fine china and cucumber sandwiches, while refined people discuss the merits of a particular work. In reality it is part of the Florida Writers Association. They've chosen one of my short stories to be considered for an award. Very nice! Sunday 15/04/2012 A $25.00 garden plot may bankrupt us. Tools, manure, lovely gardening gloves, bits and pieces...and we hadn't put a seed in the ground. The beans should be served on a gold platter, peas more expensive than caviar treated worshipfully. After being assigned our spot, we started picking stones and discovered there's a reason they call Salt Spring "The Rock" and, after taking out all the rubble, we were left with a hollow depression...and not just in the ground. You think euphoria would last longer than two hours but there we were Sunday morning, on the day of rest, spreading manure and putting in our $7.99 rhubarb plant. What sounded like grand idea sitting on a beach in Florida is hard work in British Columbia. The good news is there will be rain here for the next three days so we won't have to feel guilty about ignoring it. Back in Canada April 12,2012 Returning to Canada after six months away makes you a tourist in your own homeland and you look at everything with fresh eyes. The first amazing thing was a street in Sydney with flowering cherry trees lining the sidewalk and snow covered mountains in the background. You can never get too much of that. The ferry felt like a special event rather than the nuisance it can be when it's a normal part of your life and the places that looked rundown last fall have suddenly became quaint. I looked for all the familiar things, like the smallholding with the goat pen next to the road. Sure enough, there was the goat standing on her shelter and looking over the fence to watch us go by, as curious about us as we were about her. Her partner now has horns that are six inches long and growing straight up. At the house, our friend Ann had turned the temperature control up to 75 degrees to bedevil Lee and please me, and then she arrived the next day with wine and flowers. You can never get too much of that either. It's good to be back on Salt Spring. Today, Friday, Lee went to bottle our wine. Tomorrow morning I go to yoga and Saturday we get assigned our garden plot and visit the market... like true Salt Springers. Mistress of Nothing by Kate Pullinger I'm just finished reading this wonderful novel that won the 2009 Governor General's award for literature. Set in the 1860s, it's the story of two women, an aristocrat and her maid, who travel to Egypt for the good of the lady's health. I highly recommend it. Short Listed I'm thrilled to announce that CHAMPAGNE FOR BUZZARDS has been nominated for the "Bony Blithe" mystery award. This is a new award and the first year that it is to be given out. The winner will be announced June 2 at the Bloody Words mystery conference. Here is the complete list of nominees. Janet Bolin, Dire Threads (Berkley Prime Crime) Alan Bradley, A Red Herring without Mustard (Doubleday Canada) Gloria Ferris, Cheat the Hangman (Imajin Books) Mary Jane Maffini, The Busy Woman’s Guide to Murder (Berkley Prime Crime) Phyllis Smallman, Champagne for Buzzards (McArthur & Company) 
A Handsome Man Once in a while a picture will arrive from a book signing. Most of the time they make me wince, but not this one. 
This picture was taken at the Canadian Booksellers Association's annual conference in Toronto in June 2010. The handsome man with me is Mark Lefebvre, President of the Canadian Booksellers Association. Mark is Director of Author Relations at Kobo. Kobo has the most wonderful staff to work with, so helpful and approachable. Fly away home We've had the best winter ever! With family renting a house within walking distance for three months, there were lots of before dinner drinks, day trips and long conversations with enough laughter to make the neighbours show up because we were having far too much fun without them. We'll never have this time together again…it was perfect…but we're all starting to look northward. Two weeks from tomorrow Lee and I head to Oregon on the annual migration. I hate leaving Florida. And it's not just the weather. It's only in the forties on Salt Spring Island, cool enough to make be cling to the Sunshine State, but it's saying goodbye. It's a big wrench to leave our little family here. Until then, there's golf to be played, food to be enjoyed and a few more dances out at Snook Haven. Party on! Who said that? Jane Barnard had the funniest comment. She said, "There's nothing wrong with her marriage that a shovel and a body bag wouldn't cure." I so wish Sherri had said that. A little mystery! The Smithsonian magazine has created a little stir. It seems Colonel Parker, Elvis Presley's manager, was not who he seemed to be. A claim has been made that he did not grow up in West Virginia as he claimed. He wasn't even born in the U.S.A. but in the Netherlands. This article says he fled the Netherlands as a teenager after killing a woman in a home invasion. He made his way to the United States and worked in carnivals as a palm-reader and elephant handler. Elvis only made one appearance outside of the U.S., in Canada, although he was popular all over the world. The claim is made that this was because Parker couldn't get a passport. It's all very interesting and the truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. I suppose they could solve the problem by a DNA test of the family in the Netherlands that is claiming Parker as their own. Read more at Smithsonian Magazine March 01, 2012 Yesterday we broke temperature records in three cities in Florida. Spring has definitely sprung. The birds are going crazy, waking us in the morning, and the afternoons are in the 80s. We had a little rain this week, about fifteen minutes, but we need more. We need an all day soaker. An allotment On Salt Spring we now have a plot of land, 10x25, to grow veggies . For the princely sum of $25.00 a year we can grow our own vegetables in a community garden. There has been lots of discussion between Lee and me on what we should try. Peas have been ruled out because they take up too much room for too little return and Lee says no corn because it's too hard on the soil. How very ecological of him, but I rule it out because the coons will come to party. Lots of beans and tomatoes are on the menu - as are rhubarb and strawberries for next year. What an optimist. And I want raspberries. How Mom and Dad would laugh to see me this excited. They garden-farmed ten acres and had a job getting me out there to pull weeds. Now I'm going eagerly. We'll see if it lasts. I remember Mom planting things in the spring and me asking why she bothered. Her reply was, "How do you know the time of year without a garden?" So I want to know what time of year it is for me…time to pick the rhubarb, strawberry season or time to harvest the tomatoes. I'm trying not to think of time to water and time to hoe. We'll see. Maybe this well be an experience better to think about than to do or maybe I'll reconnect with my past. We'll see. Bonita Springs Tomorrow the Friends of the Bonita Springs Library are having a fund raising luncheon at a local golf club. I'm the guest speaker. I was a little surprised when the facilitator told me that she would leave my name at the gate so I could get in but I'd also have to show ID. Now that was a bit of a surprise. I've never had to show identification to get into a club before. What are they protecting in there, golden tees? But I'm not quibbling. Right now libraries need all the friends they can get. With the funding cut to all libraries in California, some have already closed. Without libraries, the gulf between the haves and the have-nots will grow even wider. I know, from when I worked in a library, that they are often the only cultural resource that some people have. Unable to afford movies, cds, books, museums, art galleries and computers, the library provides all of this. And where do you go if you can't afford organized sports and clubs? Always welcoming, libraries were a safe place for children to hang out, and yes, sometimes they even hid out there. If we lose our libraries, we not only lose a great cultural resource but we condemn people to ignorance and unfriendly streets. How does that make things better? It's a very short term saving that must be paid for later. So please support your libraries in any way you can. In the cool, cool, cool of the evening. Our plants wore bed sheets on Sunday night because a cold front came down from Canada. I don't know if it really came down from Canada but that's usually what the weather man says. I always feel personally responsible. Warming up now, but even if it wasn't it's sunny and beautiful. Just when you think things can't get worse I had a note from a friend to tell me that California is closing its public libraries due to financial difficulties. I understand they are in trouble but for me this is just making a bad situation worse. Can't they close all the public golf courses, tennis courts and Frisbee Parks instead? I know that here in Florida, as the economy went down, library use went up. When I was flat broke and even when I wasn't, the library was there to welcome, encourage and entertain. I learned how to cook, do crafts and stone work, and, most importantly, I learned how to dream. I can't imagine life without a library. It truly is a depression for me. February 8, 2012 All of the outdoor furniture is covered in yellow pollen from the pine trees but at least we've had some rain. Furious rain on Monday and light showers yesterday. I hope it holds off today. We're playing golf with people we only see once a year. There's a lot of catching up to do. I'm rewriting Highball Exit. I'm hoping to have it finished in a couple of months and ready to publish come fall. This fifth book has probably been the hardest book for me to write. I wanted this novel to be more serious, to talk about grim social ills. When I got my solemn tome back from Elle she'd redlined all my lofty thoughts, wiped out all Sherri's ponderous inner dialogue and basically got me back to basics. So the old Sherri returns from the editor. I take comfort that the writing experience is just as miserable from one writer to another and that I'm not the only one who isn't in control. Winston Churchill said, "Writing a book was an adventure. To begin with, it was a toy, an amusement; then it became a mistress, then a master, and then a tyrant." Oh, yeah, a tyrant. Happiness is writing a line of clever dialogue or figuring out how Sherri will actually discover who the murderer is. Or for that matter, I'm happy when I know who did it. I'm just grateful that I'm not writing the history of the world like Churchill. I can't imagine having to know things, tell the truth and not being able to curse. No fun at all, only a tyrant. Spring in the South Spring is coming to the South. The mockingbirds are singing and yesterday it rained, ending our drought at last. The birds wake us every morning and we eat out on the porch to listen to them. The afternoons are hot and the evenings are cool, pure perfection. Gators love the hot weather. They line the banks of the ponds out at the golf course. We're playing golf this afternoon with a couple that we met out there before Christmas. We agreed to meet there the second Saturday in January to play another round. The only problem was they couldn't remember what we looked like and neither could we remember them. I figured out who they were when I saw them going up to people and asking something and then saw those people they questioned shaking their heads. They figured it out when they ran out of prospects. We've played late Saturday afternoons since and it's lovely. I got the first 15 minutes of the audio tape for Margarita Nights. It's very well done but I have to let go of the voice of Sherri I have in my head and listen to Talmadge Reagan's voice. She's done a wonderful job and the audio will be available later this month. It's a little strange to listen to my words, makes me want to start changing them and trying to make them better. Thankfully, I remember Louise Penny talking about the first time she heard an audio for her book and so I knew what to expect. It really is a bizarre experience. 
So spring is coming to the South and we're starting to talk of flying north, checking flights and picking routes, while the rest of the country dreams of coming south. To make up your mind, here's a beach picture. Pull up a chair and sit yourself down. Fridays with Jim Here's a little more of that e-mail from Jim on March 7, 2006. Oddly enough, I was thinking about you one morning while the CBC was recapping the Olympic results. You'd been musing one lunch about whether you'd ever get published and it came to mind during the recap of the bobsled results. We were out of the medals by a few thousandths of a second and away from gold by just a thousandths more. A few thousandths, how the heck do you trim a few thousandths off your time? We writers have it so much easier by comparison. I don't think a story is ever 100% finished. There's always a tweak here and there to improve the story with every reading. Some are the equivalent of those fractions of a second. Sometimes we see a way to improve things that are the equivalent of minutes. Yes, we've got it all over the bobsledders - your first sale could be just a tweak away. Of course on the downside, we don't have their cool uniforms. Jim has a knack of being supportive while nudging you on and making you laugh but I'm trying hard not to picture myself in a bobsledder's outfit. Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, it's all about how good the rewrite is. Mary Higgins Clark says you can improve what's on the page but you can't do a thing with a blank page. So sit down and start writing. Don't worry if it's good enough, it isn't. You'll have lots of time to rewrite. I wish I could rewrite my books. I could make them much better now. Maureen Jennings - Season of Darkness Need a good book to read? Try this new offering from the author of the Detective Murdoch Mysteries. It's set in 1940 England and has spies, love affairs and murder among the hedgerows. It's the kind of book to curl up with and turn off the world. January, 10/12 I met Jim Ordowich at Mohawk College where we were both taking the same short-story writing course. We started having lunch together every Friday over the summer. One week I'd read his work and do a critique and the next week it would be my work. Needless to say our friendship was sometimes tested by the other's words of faint praise but somehow we survived the slings and arrows. When I was in Florida our writing partnership was continued by e-mail. At first I didn't keep those missives but I finally realized what gold there was in them and I told Jim that one day I'd publish our letters, that it might be the only publishable thing I wrote. This week I found an old e-mail that for some reason I'd printed out. I wrote and asked Jim if I could post it. Here's a bit of his answer. Jim's words I'm in Hawaii looking out as the sun sinks slowly into the west. Well, technically it sunk twenty minutes ago but I'm trying to teach myself to stretch the truth in the interests of a superior story. I'll start with little lies and work my way up into public office. Jim's wit would never allow him to get elected. Here's the beginning of an old e-mail to say his renovation project was finished enough for him to start writing again. Jim/ Mar 7/06 A bird flew in our bedroom window Sunday morning. The screens were in the basement, still covered in construction dust and needing to be taken outside for a good hosing. I was lying there reading the Sunday Star with the window still open from the night before when I heard a scratchy, scrabbly sound I thought was the cat playing with something on the floor. But it wasn't the cat, it was a bird that flapped out from under the blinds and flew across the room coming to light on the corner cabinet where I'm temporarily storing sweaters. I'm not one of the nuts and berry set. If a flamingo was suddenly to appear in my room I'm reasonably certain I could identify it with three guesses. Beyond that I wouldn't have a clue. This particular bird was black, not as big as a crow, about the size of a smallish robin. He sat on top of a pile of books I had on the cabinet and passed a non-verbal judgment on my reading material. He looked at me ( I say "he" because it was a look of such utter contempt that only a male could pull it off, women by nature being more charitable and prone to compassion no matter how much they loath someone). He looked at me with contempt but when he surveyed the rest of the room he definitely looked pleased with his new digs, as if he was bound to be a hit with the ladies when they saw his pad. And then it hit me: if the place met with the approval of the wildlife, perhaps I could ease up on my frenzy to finish off those last few details. Maybe I could just chip away at them, yes and do a little writing by golly. So that e-mail is from six years ago. What do you think, has he finished those last few details? In our house they'd never get done. When a job is declared, "good enough" it's over. From Jim in Hawaii and from me in Florida, all the best. The craziness that is Florida. Every New Year's day the local paper wraps up the year with the weird press stories of the off the chart bad behaviour that is Florida. Here are some stories that inspire me: A 92-year- old woman fired four shots at a neighbour who refused to kiss her. Someone should buy her the book He's Just Not That In To You. At the Miami airport, a Brazilian man was trying to smuggle out baby pythons and tortoise hatchlings... in his skivvies. Send him All Things Great And Small. How about this one? A grade school teacher received a gift from her eight-year-old student's GRANDMOTHER. It was a loaded handgun. That woman really understood her grandchild and sympathized with the teacher. Florida, you gotta love it...and keep your head down! You need one! "Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one." Jane Howard (1935 - 1996) Remember those years from twelve until your children arrived? Those were the years where nothing on earth was as important as your friends. The world was very small and revolved around what was happening in their lives. And then we had children and created a new family that our days spun around and nothing in the world was as important as them. And then things moved on and changed but not the need to hold others close. Friends, family and our network prop us up and make life worthwhile. I don't need a lot of people in my life, just a few who care. Even a protagonist needs a friend. Sherri's friends play a big part in each of the books. Really, in many ways my books are about friendships as much as they are about crime, none more so than Champagne For Buzzards. Sherri's family and friends come to her rescue. We all hope to have people in our lives who come to our aid when we need them, people who call when they need us. Just like in the song, we get by with a little help from our friends. Enjoy this season of friendship - the season of hope and new beginnings. Hold onto the best of 2011 and let go of the rest. Most of all hold onto what we all need, whatever we call it. Cheers, Phyl Subversive Humour My friend, Jim Ordowich, sent along a little essay to share with you. Jim has a sly, slightly askew, sense of humour. I blame this on a life in retail. It's a little too long to put on the blog so clickJim Ordowich Story to see it. Here's Jim's take on the world. Free stuff A free Sherri Travis short story has just gone up on all the e-book sites. It is called Bitty And The Naked Ladies. There is also a second short story called Jack Daniels And Tea which is selling for .99 cents. The novel I didn't write Here's a facebook post by Jayne Barnard. She suggested these could all be Sherri Travis novels. #noveltinis are all the rage on Twitter right now: "Tequila Mockingbird" "Last of the Mojitos" "Catcher in the Rye Whiskey" "Are you there, God? It's me, Margarita" "The Portrait of a Pink Lady" "The Turn of the Screwdriver" Can you come up with any good ones? There is actually a drink called Love in the afternoon. Great title for a book but I suspect that people would buy it expecting something besides a mystery. I think I shall have to work this into my next book somehow. Marley asks, "Why is this drink called Love in the afternoon?" "Because it makes you sleepy." Sharky's on the beach, December 7th Still a hot day but there was a brief shower at 4:30 that cooled it right down. From the 80s we are supposed to dip down to about 68 tomorrow. We had lunch out at Sharky's and then walked out the pier. Everyone call's it Sharky's pier but I suppose it's officially the Venice pier. Today it was definitely a Shark pier. Before we were half way out to the end we saw two small sharks brought in by fishermen. The first was a hammerhead about 2 feet long. A woman stood in the water twenty feet below us hollering at the fisherman on the pier to let the shark go. It didn't seem to worry her that she was in the water about ten feet from the shark and if the guy with the rod cut the line she'd be within biting distance of one angry shark. Her heart was in the right place but I'm not sure where her head was. As we walked out to the end of the pier we looked down on huge schools of bait fish, so many that the water was black and bubbling from them. The sound of all those fish was almost like rain on the water. Twenty feet off the pier were the pelicans, both brown and white, waiting to feed. I wonder if they were waiting for the bait fish to leave the shelter of the pier. The pelicans sure weren't coming in to feed. At the fish cleaning table a pigeon was putting his beak up into the hose to get a drink. One of the fisherman said the City of Venice had spent over $300,000.00 to get rid of the pigeons. It didn't work. This is a quiet time for us, a time to explore all our favourite haunts. Tomorrow we'll wander around old Englewood. Maybe Sunday we'll go to Snook Haven and listen to the music with all the bikers while we eat pulled pork under an old oak. Lovely selfish us time, a time to recharge and breath. Stay well and safe. Friday, December-02-11 The cool front came through yesterday, high sixties, but today we are back to around 70, perfect weather. And as always, it's sunny. We went out and played golf yesterday. I played really badly so it turned out to be a lot like hard work that left me saying @#$%#@. I'll never understand that stupid game. From not bad to horrendous, sometimes I wonder if I only play because I've already invested so much time and money in it. @#$%##@ Highball Exit has gone to Elle to get a first edit and her comments. I'm expecting them to be harsh, as in, "What the @#$#%#@ is this?" I'm not in a hurry to get her response because I know I have a big rewrite coming. In the meantime I'm going to read Jim's manuscript. I've had it for 2 months and haven't got to it. Christmas shopping is almost done, one to mail and two to send on-line. I think December should be a quiet month and not the normal hectic runabout. Those are dangerous words, tempting fate. We'll see. In the meantime I'm going to the library and stocking up on great big thick books and lots of films. Let's hope I get to enjoy them. Nov. 22/11 HOT, HOT, HOT Call the fire department hot and the students at Lemon Bay are setting up their Christmas tree lot. It'll be a Charlie Brown Christmas tree by Dec. 25th, a few sad needles still to fall and the angel dipping towards the floor. Christmas trees wrapped in netting and we haven't even had Thanksgiving yet! Too confusing for a Canadian girl...there we knew the season by the thermometer. The lady in the Target Store line, weighed down by wreaths, said she was getting into the spirit. Now I know how to get into the spirits, but these days the spirit eludes me. There will be five of us for Thanksgiving. I liked Vivi's attitude to dinner. She said she'd bring anything I wanted for dinner, even a pie, as long as she could buy it at Publix. We laughed and laughed. I should have told her to bring the turkey, although she didn't promise to cook it. While Viv was joking, I wasn't. I didn't tell her that the dressing was coming in a box. To fool everyone I'll put in some apples and dried cranberries. I'm sure no one will be able to tell. Torrey and Carole are driving over from Delray so they'll be too tired to notice unless I find the spirits and forget to take it out of the box before I drop in the cranberries. Now if I can just con Lee into cooking the turkey I'll be all set. So have a HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone, even if it does come in a box. Mail Lady News Sometimes I worry that when people meet Phyllis Smallman they expect to meet Sherri Travis. What a disappointment! That Sherri is so boring. I got a lovely surprise this week when the mail lady said she'd read all four Sherri Travis novels. She got them from the local library. It's always so nice to meet someone who has actually read my books. Since she likes the books perhaps I can convince her to lose the bills. Short Stories I have a Sherri Travis short story called Jack Daniels and Tea going up on e-books in Dec. I wrote it back in 2002 when I was trying out the Sherri Travis character. It feels like a much younger Sherri, still Sherri but maybe less cynical. It's going to cost 99 cents and I'm hoping to make my fortune off it so I want everyone to buy it. Tell all your friends. Tell all your enemies too, we all have them, some days more of the latter than the former. And in January, think of it as a late Christmas present and my presents mostly are late except I sent a present to our family in England this week and it cost $56.00 in shipping, only slightly less than the present cost, and it will get there within one to two months which will make it late but I thought it was going to be early - as in don't open until Christmas early- wait a minute, what was I saying? Short stories. Okay, Bitty And The Naked Ladies is going up in January and since it's free I probably won't make my fortune off it but it is special to me. It was my first short story and it won a little award. Again, a much younger Sherri. We're saving on the cover by drawing our own naked ladies. I wish I had the courage to put up Lee's. I laughed 'til I cried. I think it's safer to use my own little doodle. UGLY but, hey, it's free. Wait a minute...3 people coming for dinner...maybe one of them can draw. Can't be any worse than ours and who wouldn't want to spend their Thanksgiving drawing naked ladies? Home in Florida Sat. Nov. 12/11 We arrived to eighty degree weather which quickly dropped into the sixties but it's still sunny and nice. We arrived Tues night and by seven-thirty the next morning we were in the pool. Weds morning we went for a morning walk on the beach and watched a fisherman land a baby shark. Makes you wonder what's out there. Best not to think about it or you'd never go in the water. The orange tree is loaded with fruit...on one side...the oranges have mysteriously disappeared from the north side. I'm looking at a certain neighbour with suspicion. Why wouldn't he pick them from all over the tree so I wouldn't know? Even after picking two baskets, the tree looks like it hasn't been touched so I guess I can share. I'd just like to be given the option. Another happy thing, a fuchsia coloured orchid growing in a pot we placed under a bush last March, lovely, lovely thing to come home to, it makes up for a kitchen floor covered in dead ants. Seems they had a party after we left. Well, the party is over and I'm ready for them when they return- and they will. If I can kill a couple of people in a book, zillions of ants are no problem. I bet these are the descendants of the ants I fought twenty-five years ago, a continuing problem in the tropics...and the beat goes on. It's going back to the eighties today and we're heading to Ft. Myers and golf with John and Judy. Hoooorrrray! Let the games begin, we're home. Changes in latitude, changes in attitude Oct. 29/11 Five days from now I'll be in Ontario for my mother's birthday and four days later I'll be in Florida. It's time. This far north, the sun rises late and goes to bed early. Altogether there's an hour more daylight down in Florida. Today on Salt Spring it probably wasn't more than 50 degrees, while down home in Florida it was 80. Oh, yes, it's time. The beach is calling. We're eating down the fridge, wierd meals these last few days with carrots figuring heavily on the menu. I can't bring myself to throw out a thing so carrots it is, plus some unknown casserole and some grey meat to empty out the freezer. Definitely time. John F. Kennedy Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future. ____________________________________________________________ I was part of a tiny article on the CBC radio this week. The report was on e-publishing. Writers seem to agree that e-books are a good thing while the publisher interviewed on the show thought it was a very bad thing. Now isn't that a surprise? I seem to be the exception to the rule among writers; "the hybrid" reporter Margo Kelly called me. I have the e-rights to my books while McArthur has print rights. Not all of us want to see the change to e-publishing but unfortunately no one ever asks us. Why did we change from albums to c.d.s? I was perfectly happy. Why change from 8 track, or from analogue to digital? Do you remember anyone calling and asking if you wanted to change? It just happens. I figure that 75% of the books I've read in my life have been used books or library books. That's going to be a huge change for me. I can't see anyone giving me their Kobo or Kindle to read their copy of a book. Fortunately, the prices of e-books are much lower than print. An e-book now is about the same price as a used book but how long will that last? Not a thing to be done but to surf the wave of change and try to keep from crashing on the rocks. We'll talk from Florida next. Stay well. CBC Radio Interview CBC reporter Margo Kelly is doing a special feature on e-publishing on CBC Radio World Report and The World at 6 Thursday and Friday October 27 and 28. I'm one of the people she interviewed for the piece. It's a new world out there. Some pictures From Saltspring I haven't had any luck getting pictures of fog but I've taken a few lovely pictures of fall on Salt Spring. Unfortunately this lot look more like a botanical book than a mystery. 
How important is a book cover? Would someone buy a book because of the cover? I definitely have picked up a book because of the cover but I've never bought a book because of the artwork. Have I ever not bought a book because of the cover? Maybe. So it's pretty important. 
I'm looking for a cover that is different from the Sherri Travis series. I don't want a bright cover but something atmospheric and scary in shades of grey and black with maybe a little red. In the end it doesn't matter what I think because the cover designer will have the final say but it's fun to be out there taking pictures and smelling the wood smoke drifting over the trees. It's coolish here, high fifties or sixties and sweater weather, but sunny. 
Not much work getting done here. I'm half way through my revisions. The printout is sitting on the hassock where I dropped it days ago; waiting for me and making me feel guilty. I promised myself to have it done before I leave here a week Wednesday. Chasing Fog Going out for a walk on Thanksgiving Monday, I noticed fog on the hills across the valley...just what I want on the new book cover. Into the car and off we go chasing the fog except, when we get there, it isn't there. We went up Mt. Maxwell as far as we dared on slippery potholed roads and then along Toynbee towards Mt. Belcher. We could see the fog hanging on the outside of the mountains but in among the trees it disappeared. There's some kind of scientific principal in all this but I'm not smart enough to figure it out. 
I really want this picture of fog on a road, have a picture in my mind of a rising road disappearing into fog and trees.
I took lots of pictures of roads disappearing into tall firs. At one point I realized if I stretched out on the road I'd get a better picture.
I was going down when that little voice in my head said, "Hello. What's wrong with this idea? Come on, Phyl, think about it.
Does the word ROADKILL have any meaning for you?" I could picture tire tracks along the length of my body. Maybe I can talk Lee into doing it.
He's not too smart and doesn't seem to have a tiny voice residing in his head. Besides, I'll listen for oncoming traffic.
Let's just hope it's not an electric car. OOPS!
I did take a couple of great pictures of an old barn.
Absolutely nothing to do with the story I wrote but maybe I'll just hold on to them in case I write a murder in an old barn.There was one thing that stood out, a bowl of salad on the gravel road. Obviously someone set the aluminum salad bowl on top of the car while they opened the door and then forgot about it. There it was, upside down in a pile or Romaine and carrots. It was only slightly damaged so I put it on the side of the road to be picked it up on the way home. No one wants salad with turkey and gravy anyway. #10 Sunday, Oct.2/11 After a gorgeous week the rain is holding off for the weekend, coolish but nice. Much nicer than having filthy hot and humid weather, putting on a sweater doesn't bother me at all and plants really deliver a show this time of year as if they know it's the end of the line for them. I'm looking forward to going out to dinner with friends from Ancaster Ontario tonight and catching up on all the news from home. Notice I didn't say gossip. It's news when we tell it, gossip when others do it. It occurs to me that I'm nearly finished my tenth novel and I still don't feel like a writer but more like a wanna-be writer. I wonder if that feeling ever goes away because, no matter what, we always know we can get better, know we haven't quite got it right. I imagine artists feel the same way but is it true of other professions? There's a place in writing a book, between the half way place and maybe two thirds, where I always feel that I can't do it, feel the manuscript is crap and not worth finishing. At this point I always feel that I know nothing about writing. I've been stuck there for a long time with Highball Exit but this week I think I came out on the other side of that dark place. I can see that I can solve the problems in the revisions. That will take months yet but it won't be as painful as what I've been doing, struggling to find the story and push it towards a believable conclusion. I'm eager now to get back to Last Call, book number 6 in the Sherri Travis series. I've only made a small start and I hope to have it in the rough draft stage by the time we return to Salt Spring in April. With four books already out and two set to go, where are the other four that make up my total of ten? Those four are the ones that haven't seen the light of day, ones for which I couldn't find an agent or publisher. I'm starting to think I'd like to revisit them and see if there is anything to salvage. They aren't mysteries but I have this idea I could make them into smashing historical/romance/mysteries. I don't know if there's a market for a book like that and I don't know where I'll find the time. When I'm out playing golf I feel I should be home writing and when I'm writing on a nice day I feel I'm wasting my time and should just go for a long walk and enjoy the world around me. The truth is I enjoy all these different parts of my life. I just need more energy to pursue them. Rain We played in a Legion golf tournament Saturday and it was a blast, great friends and fellow golfers and a wonderful steak dinner afterwards. It was a perfect day for golf, sunny and hot. One young golfer got a hole in one and that was followed by a second one when a lone golfer teed off as we walked in from our scramble. He aced the first hole. All alone, he called over as he walked down the fairway to the green to have someone go with him as a witness. Sunday the rains started. Just when you think it will last forever the world crashes in. The live-a-board workboats were all in the harbour for their annual rally and we watched them sail away, blowing whistles and horns and even an old steam whistle, as horizontal rain whipped us back from the dock. Fall is definitely here. How long until Florida? It's time this snowbird was gone. Faithful Place by Tana French Penguin Books A wonderful literary mystery, Faithful Place is a novel to read for the characters and the writing more than the mystery. I knew from the beginning where this was going but I was happy to follow, happy for the flashback to the clothes and the music of the eighties. I read it while flying from California to British Columbia, a two and a half hour flight but a trip that took eighteen hours to complete. I bought Faithful Place at the airport and read it while they tried to find a plane for us, read it while we waited for the cancelled ferry and later while we waited for the second ferry. I read all four hundred pages and didn't complain once for the delays. There aren't many books that could keep me from complaining but Tana French managed it with this beautiful and sad story from Ireland. Sept 13/11 Excuse me while I brag! I just had a message from Kendra at my publisher, McArthur & Co, saying Margarita Nights is on the top 50 list at Kobo, actually at #4. Kobo sells e-books in the UK, in Australia, Canada and the US. Great excitement...almost as good as making the New York Times list, but I know it won't last more than a nano second, as fleeting as a hiccup. The numbers are updated hourly and the next time I look I may not be anywhere on the list but oh, the joy of it! It's wonderful to be there no matter how short a time it lasts. This is almost as good as someone writing on my web-site or facebook that they enjoyed one of my books. That's the best. And here's the fun part, I don't have an e-reader although I borrowed a Kobo reader from our library and really enjoyed using it, easy to read and very light. I'm waiting for the e-readers to fight it out. I always choose the wrong technology and I want to know who will be still standing five years from now. But what am I thinking? Like any electronic thing it will need replacing all too soon. An e-reader won't last five years. Even paperbacks last longer than that. We're on the dock at Fulford Harbour waiting to board the Skeena Queen. We're off to California for a week to see family, family about to move to England. It will be a bittersweet visit. How often are we going to get to England and children grow so quickly. I'd give up my number 4 spot on Kobo to keep them closer but unfortunately I don't get to choose. It would be nice to have it all, on the Kobo list and my darlings nearby. Sunday Night We watched Casablanca tonight, one of my all time favourite movies. I love the characters and how they interact... love the tension, which is interspersed with great music, and, of course, the love story made more perfect because it's unfulfilled. I want to write books like that, want my Sherri books to feel exactly like that...me and every other writer in the world. But there is only one Casablanca. How many lines from that movie do we all know? Play it again Sam. Oh, I know that isn't the real line but it's how we remember it. What he really said was "You played it for her, you can play for me." And then there was, "We'll always have Paris." Or, "This may be the start of a beautiful friendship." How many more are there? Something to think about deep in the night when sleep won't come. To see Blogs from previous dates Click Here to go to Blog Archives |