Bits of My Life

The last ten days has been interesting. Of course my new iPad has been taking up my time. I've still got a lot of learning to do. Here it is with my tv adapter. Haven't got that little beauty out of the package yet. So much to learn.

And then there's the impending visit of our granddaughter and our preparations for said visit. Here we have another new purchase--a stool for Chelsea (and Ben) to use. We already had the potty seat.

Ron is happy to have a new vacuum cleaner. With this one he doesn't have to crawl around on the bedroom carpet with the hand tool in order to clean. This model actually works the way it is supposed to. And it didn't cost a mint! All good.

Oh, and one other bit. This morning I finished yet another version of my novel in preparation for the final final really final copy. Just have to do a final read through of the printed copy to check yet again. This writing is a lot of work, but I love it.

Mrs. Simcoe's Diary Day

For the last week of my holiday and up till today, I have been reading very early Canadian history. During that time I met Mrs. Simcoe. She was the wife of Governor Simcoe of Upper Canada whose time in this province (present-day Ontario) has left so many marks. (I grew up a mile north of the Governor's Road, built by and named for Governor John Graves Simcoe.
Amazingly his wife came with him to this untamed country and kept a journal of her time here. Below is the present-day version available on the web. The picture here is not how she looked. It is one she donned Welsh ancestral garb for; she did not dress like this all the time.


The copy I got from the library is pictured below, with all its fadings and tears, its yellowed pages and its vintage binding from 1965 when Mary Quayle Innis edited and published it. The original diary covers the time the Simcoes were in Canada, September 17, 1791 until October 16, 1796.I was excited about doing this research for another book but not prepared for the pleasure I would get from meeting Mrs. Simcoe. I would have loved this book even if I weren't doing research. I even kept it five days past the library due date so that I could finish it.
The chapters are headed as follows:
1. Journey to Canada
2. A Winter in Quebec
3. Journey to Niagara
4. A Year at Niagara
5. Life at York (later renamed Toronto)
6. Life at Niagara
7. Visit to Quebec
8. Niagara
9. York and Niagara
10. Departure

I learned many things about life in my country at that time and much more about Mrs. Simcoe. We tend to think of women from that time as frail creatures but she was anything but. She was artistic and many of her drawings provide excellent views into life of her day. An astute observer of her surroundings, both nature and human, she provides insight into the lives, foods, medicines and geography of this new world.
I'm taking it back to the library in a few minutes so you, too, will be able to take it out and voyage back to 1791.

Waiting and Hoping

Three hundred and seventy-six pages, about 102,000 words, and a lot of loving work--here is my first novel: Loyal to the Crown.

I have the final revised novel out to eight previewers and am somewhat on pins and needles. My work over two years is out there, not for the world to see yet, but certainly for a wider circle than just me. I have talked about this writing project with my family but have not really given them much to read, except for the first chapter to my daughter for her opinion on a problem I was having.

So here I am. Waiting. Waiting to hear from the helpful and ambitious previewers. Hopeful. Hopeful that they will have good suggestions and give the work close scrutiny. Of course, I want them to love it but I also want them to be truthful with their comments. This is a tightrope for them to walk, I know, but necessary.

I gave my work to my husband a few days ago with instructions just to read and enjoy it. I didn't really want to put him in a critical position because that would be difficult for both of us. Well, he read it in a couple of days, rushing back to it whenever he had a free moment, and now we talk about specifics and he can see what I've been doing for two years. Last night he made a special point of coming to me and telling me he was proud of my accomplishment. Pretty nice. Think I'll keep that guy!

Over the two years of researching, writing, revising, taking courses, forming a writing group, and bringing this book to its current place in my world, I have changed. My whole life I have been outwardly confident, full of strength and vitality but inwardly too shy to talk of my composing or writing forays. Well, that has all changed. Not long ago I even filled out a form and listed my occupation as 'writer'.

While waiting my typing fingers are not idle. I have an idea for a sequel to "Loyal to the Crown" and am starting to put my thoughts into rough notes. Also I have a memoir in mind, some parts of which I have already thought out as well. Now I am going to get back to the business (and fun!) of writing. Wish me luck, please.

A parting shot--the new 23" monitor my husband bought me on the weekend!

Revision, Revision

No one ever told me that writing a novel would mean hours of going back over my (to me!) wonderful work and ripping it all apart, virtually starting over again. I guess I was vain enough to think that my writing was good enough that revision would be a snap. Well, what has almost snapped is my patience.

In March of 2008, I put the finishing touches on my final chapter and thought my work was done. Oh, I knew there were things I had to revisit, but really I was finished my year long project. And then I took an extreme editing course. And found out a lot about myself and more about revision.

Things I've learned:
1. Not everyone likes or is qualified to critique historical fiction,
2. The choice and understanding of point of view is subjective and dependent on a reader's experience,
3. I have hours of work revising and rethinking elements of my manuscript,
4. I have to have a lot of time to mull over others' criticism, good and bad.

I found that several people in my class gave excellent, insightful, useful suggestions for me which showed they were familiar with the genre. Others did not. My quandry in the beginning was knowing whom to believe, and I went through much soul-searching, self-flagellation, and weeks of not writing at all while I wrestled with the problem.

My reading of published authors' work for the last six months has shown me that, indeed, chapters can be written from multiple points of view as I have done. This is contrary to the advice of several criticisms I received telling me that I had to choose one point of view and tell the whole story with it. I have known and used multiple points of view--omniscient it is often called--for years. And much of my historical fiction reading has used this as well. My struggle was gaining the self-confidence to ignore these criticisms, a task which took me months. In the end I have decided to reduce the multiple points of view in the chapters where both my major characters are speaking in order to make the reading smoother and the storyline clearer.

Rereading has shown me that there are many flaws and inconsistencies in my story. What is in my head is not necessarily on paper and I must make the story flow from the words on paper. I like this challenge as it involves crafting the sentences and rethinking my word choice, studying the cadence of words and sentences and the language of each character. A big task is keeping the particular personality of each of my characters in mind as I write their dialogue. Here I am wrestling with using period dialogue or slipping into more modern language patterns. I have to say writing the way we talk today is much easier.

While others may be wondering what New Years' resolutions to keep, I know what mine is: keep going and get my novel revisions done so that I can go on with my plan to publish. One of my Christmas gifts from my son is a website titled with my novel title, to which I can add material that is pertinent. So I have that as a carrot to help me finish. For now, though, I've already revised for two hours today, written this blog, and had lunch out with my sister. The sunlight streaming in my window beckons me to bundle up and walk out my frustrations.

I Really Must Try Stopping It...

Sometimes I despair of ever being able to stick to my goals. Oh, I know that's a negative thought and I am mostly a positive person, but, really. I get frustrated with myself. I so want to be the person I am in my dreams. What do I mean?

Just now I am struggling in so many ways. Today is Weight Watchers and I have to weigh in once again and I know I haven't stuck to the plan--which is very good--for the last week. I want to, I try to, and then I just forget about the whole thing and scarf down half a bowl of honey-covered peanuts. Last night, thankfully, my husband took them away from me, as I had asked in one of our food conversations.

Eating isn't the only place where my will power turns into won't. I have been planning to finish a little sweater for my sweet granddaughter since the summer time. Well, actually since last March when her mother and I bought the buttons in Victoria's lovely little button shop. All I have to do is finish the last ribbed edge and sew on the buttons. The sweater is all put together except for that. Yet there it sits.

Every day I plan to do more editing of my manuscript in preparation for getting it published. I have wonderful friends who are reading and commenting and each time I receive their emails I think about how I'm falling behind on my end. And yet, I want to get this done so badly that I lie awake nights thinking about getting it published. I visualize myself getting the acceptance letter. I see my title finally decided and on the dust jacket. I feel the glow of pride in a job well done. But in the daytime I procrastinate.

One of my roomies from university, oh, so many years ago, had a sign on her wall that has stayed with me. Procrastination is my fault, it brings me endless sorrow. I really must try stopping it; in fact, I'll start tomorrow. I think of it and laugh, yet see myself.

And housework! Don't even get me started! I never met a broom I couldn't ignore, a layer of dust I couldn't avoid or a vacuum I couldn't use for a clothes horse.

The thing is, eventually I get everything done but not before hours, days, months of I shoulds. Well, it's time to give myself some positive self talk (see, I've read all the how-to stuff!) and do something. Anything. Just get up and get going. Well......maybe after I play another game of MahJong.

She was short, plump, with blonded hair, a few spots telling her age, and laugh lines, her ready smile. Her eyes sparkled with every new idea and softened with love as she thought of her new granddaughter and expected grandson. Whenever she mentioned “her” Ron of 42 years marriage her voice warmed and her smile widened. On the surface she was a happy woman.

But underneath the loving-life persona lurked questions and doubt. Was there not more to life? She understood the lyric, “Is that all there is?” and continually looked for new fulfillment. She swam, walked, biked for a healthy heart. She read, read, and read some more for her mind. Ideas excited her, especially those which came unbidden as she thought about what she was reading. And then she expanded to writing.

Her first book was for her husband and two grown children, the self-published account of her childhood, growing up in a loving family of thirteen children on a farm in Oxford County. She inserted pictures, each one a song of her childhood. Her children were entranced.

Then she wrote a similar book of her love affair with her husband and their joy in raising their boy and girl. Again pictures prompted memories and she laughed and cried as she composed at the computer. Another popular self-published volume.

Her thirty-something son challenged her to write: “Mom, you’re sixty years old, in perfect health, with lots of writing skills. If you don’t write that novel now, when will you?” And so she started. And she wrote. She wrote of history, and love, of war and death, of babies and heartache. She wrote a novel of over 100,000 words.

Now she is stuck in a rewrite funk, trying to decide how best to bring this baby to its birth day. And she has put it aside for a few weeks while her life smooths out again and she regains the strength and, yes, the fortitude to persist.

And so I am here.

NOTE: The above is the bio I have written for my writing piece for our inaugural writers' group meeting tomorrow. Hope they like it.