Signs You’ve Lost Control of Your Life

I realized this weekend that my life has totally lost control. I’m pretty much used to hectic being my new normal but when I glanced at the calendar and realized that next Sunday is the Oscars and, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I have only seen one of the nominated Best Picture candidates, I freaked.

WTF??? How did this happen?

It was then that I knew I had completely lost control of my life. You may laugh and say, “Oh, please. The Oscars?? It’s not like you forgot your kid in the emergency room when you stepped out to get cough syrup at the all night pharmacy and you left your stove on with a pot of soup boiling on it. Now THAT’s losing control of your life.” Sure, not seeing any Oscar nominated movies for 12 months is not a sign the apocalypse is coming but for a movie addict like me it’s a sign that I have not been managing and maximizing my time in the most beneficial way.

Intellectually, I know this last year has been one of the busiest and most challenging of my life but, still, that’s no excuse for not seeing movies! And, yes, I know that I’ve tended to wait longer to see films if I think they’re more DVD material or will be on Netflix soon, and yes the cost of going to movies is crazy, but, like the purchase of tangible books, I will never stop going to movies completely. I WANTED to see The Help. I’m curious to see The Artist. I definitely want to see The Descendants. All I’ve seen is Moneyball. And that was because we got it on demand through our internet services. I didn’t even see it in the theatre. Sigh. It’s like there’s a hole in my life that I won’t be able to fill (at least not in less than a week!)

So in the next five days, I have to fit in three movies. I know, I know, there are nine nominated films but I may be a movie addict I’m not an insane movie addict. All this while hockey playoffs and practices are going on for The Boy, when I have to travel back home this weekend to see my folks, when I have to do things like, oh, buy groceries, do laundry, deal with house reno decisions and try to get at least 3 or 4 hours sleep a night. Let’s not even discuss squeezing in some writing time in there. That’s the second sign I’ve lost control. My writing output has diminished considerably in the last six months. Double sigh.

Maybe I can squeeze in ONE movie. But, really, how will I be able to enjoy Billy Crystal’s jokes if I haven’t seen most of the films?? Triple sigh. At least I can still enjoy the dresses and the acceptance speeches. It just won’t be the same.

How about you? What signs tell you all control has left the building?

The Devil is in the Details

I'm in the midst of the reno from hell and, for the most part, my husband has had to deal with stuff. Mechanical, plumbing, HVAC, etc. Not very glamorous (to me anyway) but all those little details add up to a working house that I will one day celebrate and not curse because it doesn't have adequate heating, low water pressure etc. Now that we're getting toward the last third of the reno I now have to become immersed in the details. Lighting, paint colour, tile selection, ack! I know if I screw up on those things that no matter how well my husband has taken care of his details, my details will be out there for everyone to see. So, you might ask, what's your point? What does this have to do with anything - especially writing??

So many writers are doing NaNoWriMo (NaNo for short)this month that I keep reading about the deluge of submissions agents will be inundated with in January. I also keep reading that writers should please, for the love of God, please hold off on submitting. Why? Because it's the details that make your submission stand out. You might have got the bones of the book down this month. Maybe even some flesh and blood. But do you have the right nuances of character? Are your secondary characters fleshed out enough? Like a house that needs the right furniture, have you gone through the book and made sure the setting is solid and evocative and does it contribute to the overall mood of the room ... I mean book! So, so many DETAILS. You get my drift?

Those details - and like a house reno there can be hundreds of details/decisions to attend to - are critical if you want that book (or house) to shine. Even if you get sick of going through every scene (room) to make sure it flows with the rest of the scenes, even if you are sick of looking at lighting fixtures ... I mean descriptions! you need to to make sure your scene is as bright or as dark as you want it to be.

So, yes, the devil is in the details but the beauty will show in the book. And, I hope, my house. Good luck you NaNoWriMo's! Come January our books and houses may not be quite ready but they'll be on their way!

When Panic Hits - Keep Calm and Carry On

I thought I had things together. Figured that this past week when I was on vacation I'd get so much done before September hit. I would prepared. Yeah. What's that saying?? Something about best laid plans...?

Well, I woke up today, realized I was already two days into September and hit full blown panic mode.

Our house reno is so far behind I think it's in a different time zone.

My son's birthday is in two days and I haven't planned a thing!

I realize my MRI to look into this wonky back is scheduled the same day as son's said, unplanned birthday.

The four new toilets for the reno were delivered today but the guy wouldn't deliver them to the basement so had to put them in the garage where The Boy practices his hockey shots. I may have four new cracked toilets to put in the new still not finished house.

The Boy's hockey schedule firmed up and, yes, he has a tournament starting next Wednesday, going all weekend, and yes, he has one the same weekend as my mom's 75th birthday and, oh, yes, all his practices until November occur on Saturdays and Sundays too.

Our main computer got some weird virus so now all of us have to share my poor, overworked laptop until it's fixed (and I still haven't taken it in yet! School starts in four days!)

I'm still only half-way through my revision to the wip and still not sure it's working.

I have to write the dedication and acknowledgements for THE BREAK and the one, freaking line for the dedication is giving me more grief than writing the whole book. What is UP with that?

I'm only halfway through a beta read for a friend who I told I would get to it in a week and feeling very guilty about it.

And that's only the start of my panic. Let's not forget that I'm back to work next week and school starts too.

But you know how I get through the panic? I remember that all these things are small and the panic will soon pass. The Brits survived the Blitz and had the best saying ever to come out of a war: Keep Calm and Carry On.

It's all in the attitude. And remembering that there are way worse things happening to people who are handling true crises with grace, humour and way more courage than we shall ever know.

How are you all handling your busy lives? And how do you handle it when the panic hits?

Take Cover! Fall is Coming!

You've felt it haven't you? The slightly cooler nights. The change in the sun's angle. The crankiness from your children. The opening of the CNE(the Canadian National Exhibition for non-Canucks out there). The slight, inexplicable feeling of anxiousness seeping into your skin. Oh, yes. You know what it is. All the signs point to it. It may be a month away but Fall is definitely coming. And no one is safe.

Don't get me wrong. I love Fall. In fact, my favourite month is October. I love the cooler days, and the changing season. But I also know what that season means. School will start soon. Clothes will have to be organized and laundered on a more frequent basis (the Boy cannot go to school in a swimsuit and flip flops no matter how much he might argue for it). Hockey season starts right after Labour Day with an early bird tournament. Homework commences. Food for lunches will need to be ready (*shudder*).

Any one of those things might be enough to send me into a tizzy. Put them all together and I feel a fainting spell coming on. Put them all together with the last three months of a reno thrown in, then a move in November plus a personal deadline to finish the revision to a wip and also send THE BREAK off to my publisher as spic and span as I can get it (just got my line edits a few days ago) I have a sudden desire to follow the very sensible bear population and go into hibernation for six months.

Alas, I'm not a bear (except for a few hours very early in the morning) and no matter how much I wish I could sleep away the busy season I know that for some weird reason I tend to be WAY more productive when I have absolutely no time to do anything. Is that some kind of scientific phenomena? Less time = More product? Who knows, but once Sept 1st kicks in I seem to get a sudden burst of can-do energy. Maybe it's a primal survival instinct. I'm running on adrenaline because I know if I don't keep ahead of the tidal wave about to crash over me I'm a goner. Man, I knew I should have started that exercise regime earlier…

How about you? Have you thought about Fall? Or are you still sipping a wine spritzer and dipping your toe into the pool?

"I Vant to be Alone" - at least sometimes...

I grew up with huge swatches of time when I was, for the most part, alone. Parents out working on the farm, older brother away at school so I got used to quiet time with my books or my TV shows. Don't get me wrong - I wasn't abandoned! One of my parents was always around outside, a shout away, so it's not like Children's Aid needed to be called or anything but there were definitely hours that went by when I didn't need to speak to a living soul. And you know what? I really kinda liked it. Hence my Marlena Dietrich quote and picture on this post. Remember as well that alone is not lonely. Not by a long shot.

Now, with the life I lead as a working mom, alone doesn't happen so much. Maybe I'll get a half-hour in the car on the way to do the groceries if I'm lucky. But there's always that pesky cell phone that I feel guilty about turning off should somebody need to get hold of me. But that's not really alone. I can be alone in a room somewhere in the house but with other people yakking or squabbling with each other a wall away from me that's not so much being alone as 'hiding'.

What I crave is real alone time. I'm talking like an entire afternoon when no one is in the house, not even the dog. I don't have to be doing anything special. It could be an afternoon of laundry, I don't care. But that silence, that blessed quiet, when you know there isn't anything that will interrupt your thoughts or create stress, when you can revel in the peace that silence brings. Oh, my. That is gold to me, people.

What about you guys? Does being alone make you twitchy or does it rejuvenate your tired, over-stimulated soul?

And 2011 Begins...

...with a slight case of exhaustion. Happy New Year everyone! I hope you had a restful and joyous holiday with friends and family. In our clan this year it was a holiday of driving. Driving to see my family in Windsor, driving back to Toronto before driving to Ottawa for a hockey tournament and driving back to Toronto to drive my daughter to London to university. I have to say welcoming in 2011 was a low key affair for us because The Boy had a 7 a.m. hockey game (they got to the Finals) on New Year's Day. Yup. That meant up at 4:30 to check out of the hotel and get to the arena by 6. Unfortunately, the boys lost but came in second overall in 20 teams. And they got to play on NHL ice (Ottawa Senators arena) and see themselves on the jumbo-tron. Very cool.

I hope the rest of 2011 isn't so frantic, to tell you the truth. I am so happy I have today as a holiday because I seriously need to recover. Who knew I'd ever look forward to a day of laundry and vacuuming?? But I am in one place and not the van. I am heartily sick of that van and hockey arenas, let me tell you. And as for writing? I am feeling distinctly guilty for not doing one word on the wip. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions but I am determined to finish that wip. It's a good story. I can feel it. I think I'm just scared of messing it up - funny because one of the themes in the story is our fears and having to face them. Beyond that one goal, the only other thing I want to accomplish in 2011 is trying to get a little less stress in my life. Not sure how I'll accomplish that with a house renovation the big ticket item this year. However, that's what the start of a New Year is for, right? The fresh, idealism of hope!

Do you make any New Year's resolutions? Or are they more like guidelines, really?

Reflections on 2010: The Highs and Lows of a Year

Well, tomorrow is December 1st. Only 30 days left in 2010 so I'm feeling a bit reflective and, with the holidays (and my birthday! GAH!) approaching, also feeling somewhat maudlin. I have this overwhelming urge to just curl up on the couch with a fuzzy blanket and a mug of hot chocolate and do nothing except stare at the pretty silver and blue lights of my Christmas tree (yes, we just put it up on the weekend. I'm that keen on Christmas decorating. Cut me some slack.) and think, "Wow. I made it through."

This year has not been a restful one for me. In fact, it's been highly stressful in so many ways that I'm kind of glad to see it go. Not to say it's been all bad mind you. But there has been a pretty even mix of highs and lows. After all, I saw my first book published in the spring - one of the biggest highs a writer will ever experience. But on the personal side, it's been more drama and angst than I like. My mom diagnosed with cancer at the same time the book was released, so the high was immediately tamped down with a pretty devastating low. The ensuing months of surgeries and treatment and me being four hours away feeling pretty helpless most of the time weren't fun. But Mom's almost through radiation now and doing well. So we're creeping up to a cautious high in that area now. Then there was the excitement of my daughter getting accepted and choosing her university tempered with facing the reality of her leaving home. Not exactly a low but a pretty major change in our lives nonetheless. Finally, the high of taking the leap of doing our home renovation, hiring an architect and moving out of the home we've been in for twelve years. Highs in terms of "Yay! We've finally moved forward on this albatross of a reno!" to lows in terms of "Gah! I'd forgotten how stressful a move is!" and "When is that G*%$d*# building permit going to come in??"

And, of course, threaded throughout all of these major life changes the usual stressors of raising teenagers and being hockey parents and handling day jobs and feeling like you're not writing enough or not doing whatever your supposed to be doing enough. So no wonder I just want to sit, stare at pretty lights and be thankful the year is almost done. Unfortunately, I can't do that for very long. We've got two hockey practices this week, plus a drive to Coburg for a three day hockey tournament on the weekend, plus dealing with a few home reno decisions we've been putting off, plus Christmas prep, plus a school concert to attend, plus a Christmas party or two, plus a kick in the pants to push past the 30,000 word mark on the WIP and make myself finish the dang thing already, plus…

Oh, heck. Forget the hot chocolate and pass me the wine. Happy December everyone!

The Lost Weekend

It's been awhile since I've had one of those weekends. You know the ones - where you open your eyes Monday morning more tired and exhausted than when you fell into bed the night before? Where the past two days seem a blur and you can't quite figure out what you did, where you went or what, if anything, you accomplished? No, I did not have a bender. Please, who had time to even down a glass of wine? What I'm talking about is two days where your entire existence is for, about and in service to your children.

My kids are not infants or toddlers. They are, supposedly, getting more independent as the days and years go on. But honestly, with the demands put upon me these past two days with The Boy's hockey and a dreaded school project, we had more angst and drama than when one of my babies was up all night with colic. Please, I'd trade a colicky baby with having to motivate an eleven year old boy to get a school project done and getting studying accomplished for yet another math quiz on Monday any time. Throw into the mix that on the heels of having an awesome hockey game on Friday, the poor kid then has an unfortunate hit against another player on Sunday and gets his first ever game misconduct (thrown out of the game and suspended for one more) we had an extremely emotional end to an already conflict-filled weekend. This latter event caused some major upset for the poor kid. He always plays by the rules (both in hockey and in life) and when something like this happened he felt so horrible about it that both husband and I were thrown into instant counselling mode (as were several of his coaches from the team - we have a very supportive team and we know we're lucky).

So, by 11 pm Sunday night (a full two hours after The Boy is usually in bed) he's finally calmed down enough about what happened, he's finished his project and has done a bit of studying for his test. But not only is the poor kid wiped out today so are his parents. Needless to say, no writing has been done on my part (even missed one of my bi-weekly blog posts). Sometimes life just throws a few curve balls at you to remind you to put writing into perspective. Family first always - even if it wipes you out. You can recharge later. The words will always be there waiting for you even if you ignore them. Your kids may not be.

Just Keep Pushing

No, I'm not advocating rude subway or bus riding behaviour. I'm talking about pushing through when you don't feel like any progress is being made. This happens to me in so many aspects of my life I feel like I could just write blog posts about only this topic. Sometimes it feels like all I'm doing is pushing but I'm not getting through. Like I'm holding a wall that feels like it's about to topple on me if I don't keep the pressure up against it. And that's exactly the feeling I have when I'm working through the middle of the book which I'm doing right now. And that's exactly the feeling I have when I'm dealing with family/life commitments that I can't possibly attend/deal with because there is a whole section of wall that is about to topple first so I have to let the other side crumble.

The last few weeks and the the few weeks coming up I have/had to:
- miss my mom's birthday
- miss my Uncle's surprise 65th birthday party
- delay getting my daughter's skating program started
- delay cleaning out the old house
- manage Thanksgiving weekend around two hockey games which means we might have our dinner on Saturday night so I can drive four hours on Sunday night (after the hockey game) to surprise my mom with a quick overnight visit from her grandkids, drive back on Monday afternoon, drop off my daughter at her university on the way and get back home by Monday night
- probably miss my husband's annual early extended family Christmas get together on the first weekend in December (another hockey tournament)
- slow my writing down to a painful crawl but still try and maintain some forward motion with a page or two written while waiting for the Boy to finish Tae Kwon Do practices

Yup, the wall is certainly crumbling and cracking but am I about to stop pushing and let the whole thing fall? No. I may not be entirely successful in keeping the wall straight and unbroken but, darn it, I am not going to stop pushing against it because I know if I do that I'll be a quitter and if there is anything writing has taught me is that you can't be a quitter. Not if you hope to succeed in this business. Not if you hope to suceed in completing a novel. Not if you hope to succeed in growing and expanding your own strength of character. Yes, it is hard. Yes, not everything will be perfect. But the beauty is not in perfection - the beauty is in the effort and in the holding on in face of seemingly unsupportable odds.

So for all of us holding on to those walls (or boulders) keep your strength, don't give up, don't give in. The effort will be worth it (and, if all else fails, at least your arms will get really toned).

There's No Place Like Home - Now If I Could Just Stay There

We came home late Friday night from two weeks at the cottage. Great weather, no appointments and quiet time that allows me to read are luxuries I'm not always privvy to and I did enjoy my time there - although there were quite a few things needing to be done so cleaning out a basement, installing a water heater (well, hubby did that but I helped haul and lift the thing), painting a shed, installing a screen door (again, mostly hubby, poor thing) weeding the beach and trimming and stacking lots of brush did take up a bit of time. Still, it was away from the hectic pace of my life in the city and the kids do love not having to get up and rush and come home and rush and just, well, RUSH. But even with the nice feeling a break from the day to day craziness of my normal life it felt wonderful to be home. I don't usually experience that post vacation let down some people have. Usually, by the end of two weeks, I'm itching to get back home. I guess, I am at heart, a homebody. Probably why one of the main themes in my writing has to do with that elusive feeling of what home means to you.

For me, home is very much about establishing a physical home base. Somewhere where I can plant roots and make a safe haven for my family. I love the feeling of driving up my street after a time away, seeing my house and walking in my door, dropping the luggage and just sitting on my favourite leather chair in the living room and letting the feel of my house seep into me. I love my own bed and my own comforter and knowing I have everything I need right here without having to worry about whether I remembered if I brought the toothpaste or bandages. I'm in awe of people who can live like nomads and just roam the world, going where the wind takes them. I don't think I could do that. I read Elizabeth Gilbert's sequel to EAT, PRAY, LOVE titled COMMITTED and she wrote about how her partner was happiest when he had a home base, where he could have his coffee maker and a kitchen where he could cook his own food. She didn't mind going from hotel to hotel for six months while the U.S. Immigration service decided whether he'd be allowed into the country to marry her. He, on the other hand, was miserable. I totally identified. I need to know that after a certain time I have a place to come home to. To me, it's almost as good as being on vacation itself.

Unfortunately, this year, as soon as I've come home, I need to leave again. I have to go take care of my mom for a couple of days after her second surgery. Then I'll be going to Stratford next weekend with my girlfriend to see Evita and spend a couple of days catching up with one of my dearest friends which will be a total destressor if it wasn't for the driving to get there (which Jan is doing, bless her). And then when I get back I'll be busy packing up to move the contents of my home to another, temporary home (which isn't really my home)so that we can renovate my beloved house. This is causing me no end of stress. I know I'll settle in to the other house and my normal routine but I will miss living here - even if the house is old and the kitchen is a 1947 reject and the roof is ready to blow off. I still love my street and my neighbours and my old house. Sigh. There really is no place like home.

What about you? Are you homebodies or travellers?

Chaos is about to Descend

So the rest of the kids come back tomorrow night. Not gonna lie, it has been fairly restful while they've been at the grandparents. I haven't had to worry about getting the boy to various sports lessons or summer camps, the girls haven't been at each other's throats in two weeks so the house has been blessedly quiet. Hubby and I have had a (more or less) stress-free relationship (remember, the oldest one is still at home so it hasn't been a complete picnic). All in all, quite nice. So as of tomorrow night that will all change.

Laundry will start accumulating the minute the front door is opened. Dishes will pile sky high. Beds will remain unmade, bathrooms left as if a tornado has ripped through the room, milk will run out in a day and a half (if not sooner), whining will intensify and Advil will be popped in ever increasing dosages.

Sigh. Life will be back to normal. Maybe then I can actually start to write more than a page or so every few days. Chaos and my writing output seem to be symbiotically connected. Or maybe, that missing, messy, noisy tumult that is my family is my muse.

Welcome back kids. Mommy missed you!

Limbo and What it Does to Your Head

And I'm not talking about the dance game.

I'm IN limbo. So many things are up in the air, waiting to hear about things, waiting to start things, just a general state of limbo. Not just with writing but with homelife too. And it's seriously messing with my head and my already less than patient attitude.

I've mentioned before that we're on the cusp of a major renovation. We've been on this cusp so long I've worn a groove in it from the pacing. I've also got a few things out there in the writing arena and with the expected summer slow down in publishing I figure I'll be waiting a while on those things too. I swear, some days the groove is quickly becoming a pit. Sometimes it feels like I'll never get out of this limbo. I even looked up the definition of the word to see if it captured this frustrated, helpless, trapped feeling I'm living with:

LIMBO (of limbus limbo, fr. L, border - more at LIMP) 1 often cap: an abode of souls that are according to Roman Catholic theology barred from heaven because of not having received Christian baptism 2 a: a place or state of restraint or confinement b: a place or state of neglect or oblivion (proposal kept in …) c: an intermediate or transitional place or state

Oh, yeah, baby. Captured what I'm feeling times a bazillion.

Sometimes I do actually feel like I am physically constrained and, in my worst moments, believe I am being neglected/obliterated. But what I really should focus on is that Limbo is also that last definition: an intermediate or transitional place or state. In a real life example I can relate to: Limbo is the time you spend in an airport waiting for the flight to get you to that really awesome island vacation destination. I hate airports but they are a necessary evil in order to get me to that ultimate destination. They may be boring, even stressful, maybe downright uncomfortable but they are, above all else, TRANSITIONAL. Which leads me to another definition:

TRANSITION: a passage from one state,stage, subject, or place to another.

Or, better yet:

a movement, development, or evolution from one form, stage or style to another).

Yes, I like that. I'm not in Limbo. I'm in Transition - my house will evolve from its old leaking, dysfunctional shape to a beautiful, made for our family work of art. My writing is evolving from one form (submitted proposals) to one day accepted, publishable, real life books.

Now if only someone could tell me how long I'll be in Transition. And what I can do to make this airport more comfortable...

The Tsunami of Dread

I'm leaving for a quick visit home later this afternoon and, besides the usual dread I feel over the long, boring 4 hour drive to Harrow from Toronto, there's another layer of dread over top of this visit. My mom's surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer two months ago so the long wait for surgery has been preying on all our nerves. I'm hopeful that the cancer has been caught early and that she'll only have to undergo a lumpectomy and radiation after. We'll only know for sure after they do the surgery. This will be the first major operation either of my parents has ever had and a whole slew of worries go through your mind. But with my mom's ever present anxiety no one speaks of them. Well, she speaks of them - often and to the point of obsession. But our job is to try and calm her down and keep the positive outlook on life that is so hard for her to maintain.

So it's been a good thing that I made a conscious effort this last year of trying to keep an optimistic outlook on life. I've needed it this past month to keep her dread level down. Thinking positively has worked in many ways and I've been blessed and fortunate in so many aspects but I am also a realist and life doesn't always run smoothly. Those niggling worries you try and suppress sometimes peak through and, if you don't nip those nasty little buggers quickly, all that hard won optimism is buried under a tsnuami of dread.

All I can do is keeping hoping for the best and maybe that tsunami will turn into a little wave lapping on the shore. Hope is fragile but it's tenacious and we couldn't navigate through life without it. Here's hoping all goes well and that we'll be back to our regularly scheduled blog filled with the ups and downs of a writer's journey through publication by Thursday. I'll let you know how we all coped. How about you? How do you all deal with worries and anxiety? Any tips and suggestions most welcome!

Decisions, Decisions...

There are just some weeks where your life has a theme to it - whether you want it to or not. Just like a novel, sometimes that theme is apparent only after some minor or innocuous scene or comment from a character that suddenly crystallizes everything that's been happening and gives it a cohesive underpinning. Like the 'why' of a characters actions, the theme is the 'why' of the book. Why are these things happening? To what purpose? So when my friend and fellow writer, Cynthia Reeves left a comment on my last blog post about how much she hates making decisions I knew that this had been my life's theme lately. Well, at least my family's theme.

Daughter One is going to university in the fall. Going, that is, if she ever decides which offer to accept. She's narrowed it to two excellent universities both with equally impressive pros and a minimal list of cons (she likes to make lists). She is paralyzed with indecision. The deadline to make a choice is May 28th. I've shortened that to this weekend so as to give us a cushion of a few days should there be any technological glitch with sending the acceptance and paying deposits on line.

Daughter Two is angsting over whether to continue to participate in a team sport that requires her to miss more classes than she's comfortable with (yes, she is that concerned with academics. She's the only teen who's parents encourage her to slack off).

The Boy can't decide on what to have for breakfast. God help us all when he has to make a major life decision.

The Husband loves to discuss, analyze, dissect, weigh, and plan out every major decision in our lives to the point where it might take months or years to come to a decision that's to his satisfaction. Yes, it drives me that nuts. Our home reno has to be done this year - let's hope decisions are made quickly and painlessly.

Me? I hate agonizing over a decision. Makes me physically ill -really. It does. So, if I can cut to the chase and say "That's what I want to do" and be willing to live with whatever consequences afterward then I know I'll be a happier person. Over-analyzing, not moving forward, indeciveness is not a healthy thing for me. Is it for anyone? Of course, there's the risk of making hasty, not well thought out decisions. A lot of people - Daughter One especially - doesn't like making decisions because she's worried about making the wrong one. Making a decision is such a relief but only if you are willing to live with and accept the consequences of it. Only if you can handle any potential regrets from that decision.

I told Daughter One that's the way I make decisions. When I was angsting over whether to have a third child, I asked myself the following question: "What would I regret more? Having a child or not having a child?" I knew I might regret not having another child but I would never - ever - regret having a child. No matter the hard work and sacrifice involved.

So, I said to her, "Which university would you regret NOT going to more?" A light went on in her eyes. I think I know which one she's going to pick. We'll see. I'll let you know.

Anyway, so that's the method I use to make a decision - thinking about which would be my greater regret. What helps you make those hard to make decisions?

Guilty Pleasures

Geez. That sounds like a wicked, hot Harlequin romance doesn't it? Well, sorry to disappoint but I'm not going to write a post about writing today. This last month has been such a whirlwind of being out there talking about ILLEGALLY BLONDE (and I don't mind it!) that the overwhelmingness of the promo side of things has worn me down a bit - and I really didn't even do that much! But the head cold from hell still lingers and I've decided - and my horoscope agrees - that I'm taking some much needed me time to relax more this month. As much as a working mom with 3 kids can relax. Which got me to thinking about what it is I do for relaxation. Specifically, what is it I do that - even though it relaxes me - that I'm just not that proud of. I'm telling you right now, it's not healthy. No morning jogs, or evening swims. Nothing that I can point to proudly and say, "Not only does it relax my mind, it improves my body." I wish.

So, are you ready for my confession? *Deep breath* Here goes:

I read trashy gossip magazines like the National Enquirer and each copious amounts of junk food when I doing it (preferably Humpty Dumpty bar-b-q potato chips or peaunut M & M's. If I'm really in a sleezy mood both at the same time)

That' right. I admit it. I'm a closet (well, I've just outed myself here) trashy magazine reader. There's just something about reading celebrity gossip that makes me feel all relaxed inside. My favourite issues usually have pictures of the celebs in their bathing suits with their eyes blocked out and arrows pointing to cellulite thighs and beer bellys. Is it my subconscious pulling me towards the magazine stand and telling me, "See, you're not in that bad a shape. Look at that actress right there."

So, I'll fork over the more than five bucks for that throwaway mag and snuggle down into a comfy chair (or if I'm at the cottage, the hammock) with a favourite junk snack and spend a mindless hour devouring mindless gossip. It's relatively cheap entertainment and a sure fire way to de-stress. I think more people should try it actually :)

So, what's your guilty pleasure (keep it rated G people!)

On the Terrifying Cusp of Change

It's March 1st. I can't quite believe it. Spring is around the corner. I can feel the changes coming in the air (cue Phil Collins music here). ILLEGALLY BLONDE releases in T-minus 30 days. On March 25th I'll be making my first appearance on a writer's panel at a local university to discuss how immigration affected my writing. I'm starting to plan my book launch (in April) but I'm also dealing with things like ordering bookmarks, putting together information packages about my book and me, the author. Weirdness times ten. Yes, it will be a month of huge firsts and highly stressful yet exciting changes in my life. I can't quite believe these things are happening. Even my horoscope is hinting at these events. Check this out:

The month ends with big news about your career. The full moon on March 29 will illuminate your standing in your industry, your company, or concerning a job you have interviewed for. You will get answers now, and if you get a new job (very possible), the position you will move into is likely to be one that comes with quite a bit of responsibility. It will bring you lucrative ways to make money, too, and it seems to include a performance-based commission or bonus. Your new job won't be an easy one - you will have to adjust and learn as you go - but this new job will come with power and authority. That's the kind of job that is right up your ally, so snap it up.

Yes. Adjust and learn as you go. That's really the crux of this whole writing journey, isn't it?

There should be a bloody manual that all new writers get before they put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard for the first time that talks about the terrifying emotional journey you take as a writer. Sure, there is a wealth of knowledge, information, support and advice in the writing community. You can research how to write query letters, how to structure novels, how to market, how to network etc. etc. etc. but until you go through it, until you experience the jaw-dropping amount of information you have to accumulate, until you experience the joy and agony of the query and manuscript submission process, until you experience the difficulty in putting yourself out there when you may be introverted or overwhelmed by the daunting impossibility of having your book be noticed in the sea of books being released, until you realize it's not just the writing of the story anymore, you could literally throw that pen or keyboard away and say "Forget it. It's too much. It's just too much."

And yet.

Adjust and learn as you go.

Every new thing learned requires some kind of adjustment. And in order to grow we need to learn. So, yes, this is a terrifying time for me - and probably for a lot of writers proceeding on the next step of the publishing journey, whatever that may be. Submitting to an agent can be terrifying. But once you do it a few times it's not so bad. Revising a manuscript can seem impossibly daunting. And it is. But once you do it you are that much more likely to be better at it the next time. Never marketed yourself before? Never blogged, never tweeted, never walked up to strangers at conferences and introduced yourself, never sat on a writers panel? Do it once and it is scary, do it a few times and it does get easier. At least I hope so! :)

Adjust and learn as you go. Yes. I think that's going to be my mantra for the next month. Maybe the next few years.

Stuck in the Middle

Well I don't know why I came here tonight,
I got the feeling that something ain't right,
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs,
Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you.

Trying to make some sense of it all,
But I can see that it makes no sense at all,
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,
'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore
Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,
Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.

Stuck in the Middle with You. Lyrics by Stealers Wheel

Why am I quoting a song that I haven't listened to in years? Because it relates exactly to what I'm going through right now with this WIP. Stuck. In. The. Middle. With IT.

Now I'm not totally despairing of the situation. Yet. I know I go through this with EVERY book I write. Every single one. In fact, right about now is usually when I put the WIP aside and take a break from it. I did it with ILLEGALLY BLONDE. Started writing it in May 2006. Stopped in July. Didn't pick it up again until October. Finished it in early December. Total writing time about 5-6 months. Total break time about 2 months. The book I just submitted to my agent was like that too. I'd written the first half then stopped and started another book. But when my agent advised me that the one I'd shoved aside was probably the right one to go with I picked it up again. After that break I finished it in about 3 months.

So the question is: why on earth do I do this?? What is it about the middle of the book that ties me up in knots, frustrates me and makes me put the book aside?

I know I'm not a huge outliner. I don't need to know every single thing that happens in a plot before I write it. But neither am I a complete pantser. I know my beginning, I know my ending, I may know a couple of things that might happen in the story to get me to that end. But is it this hybrid approach of mine that creates its own special circumstances that lead to this struggle in the middle? I still feel like I'm sort of tied to a general outline that I have in my head, yet I know I'm free to waver and move from that outline whether in changing the tone or characters as I get deeper into the book. Is it this struggle between sticking to my orginial idea and having that original idea change up on me that drives me slightly crazy?

I think that's what's happening now. I thought I had one kind of story but it's turning into another kind - much darker and more complicated (a fairy tale retelling that has a murder mystery in it? Really??) that I need to stop and regroup. Because I write the first draft in long-hand it's hard for me to go back and re-read what I've written. So sometimes it helps at this point in my process to go back and start to type the first half of it and see if it's working. I've just typed up the first chapter (I'm currently on Chapter 18) and thankfully I really liked it. I'm hoping that as I type up the next 17 I have written I will see that the story really is working and that I just have to get to that next big event which will eventually lead to the climax and denouement and it'll be gravy.

A good writer friend suggested I should just write up the ending and that would give me a concrete finish line - a goal - to motivate me to get through the murky middle. But I need to go through a story linearly. I can't write up pieces and then fit them together later. I never did like puzzles too much.

So, whether I like it or not, I need to appreciate that this is my process. I do get stuck in the middle and I'll keep singing that song until I finally see my way out - then I can start singing Miley Cyrus's The Climb instead:

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

Return of Super Hockey Mom/Van Driver

My respite in the sun is over.

I have been called to service again. No longer can I hide from the cold, harsh world ruled by ice and infused with the pungent odor of damp, moldy socks and acrid zamboni fumes. I must prepare myself for battle. I must return to my duty.

My goal? Delivering my charge - the potential hero of the game. He must be prepared. He must be PACKED. He cannot forget his neck guard, shoulder pads, gloves, underarmour, jock strap, knee pads, elbow pads, helmet, jersey. Most of all, he cannot forget his SKATES. This is his armour. His stick his weapon. His mother is his pack mule.

Once again, I must forge through congested rush-hour streets to get to the arena on time. My steady steed - our Chrysler minivan. Only three years old and already nearing 100,000 kms. We have been to many arenas in our travels.

I must, once again, curb my desire to curse at those unsuspecting drivers that are in my way. My charge cannot be subjected to his pack mule's increasing frustration and stress. My charge must not arrive for his battle in a bad mood. His pack mule must remain calm.

If we are lucky, if we arrive on time, with all equipment ready, if my charge has had enough time to eat, if his pack mule has not flipped off more than one driver or run through too many yellow lights, if the minivan steed has not run out of gas, all will be well. My charge will be dressed and on time, waiting to face the enemy. Waiting to enter the cold, hard surface of the arena and conquer all foes.

But wait? What is this I hear? My now fully-armoured charge is whispering in my ear, his small, determined face barely visible through the helmet cage protecting him from the danger of flying pucks and attacking sticks.

Have we forgotten an important piece of equipment in his arsenal? Does he need advice or encouragement from his pack mule?

Nay. It is something much, much worse. He leans in closer to me.

"Mom. I need to go pee."

The pack mule collapses at his feet.

Will Worries Never Cease?

Okay, so I've worked really hard for the last seven years learning the craft of writing. I've gone through the ups and downs of submitting my work, taking classes, going to workshops and conferences, getting form rejections, getting personalized rejections, getting really nice comments that gave me hope and the inspiration to continue, getting so close I could taste it offers, then finally getting an offer from an agent, and then finally -finally - getting a publishing contract. So, you'd think I'd be on a constant cloud nine of "Yes!! Now I can't sit back and enjoy the fruits of my hard labour! Bring on the wine and potato chips!"

Uh, not so much.

Instead of blithely skipping through the next few months in happy anticipation of seeing my book published what am I doing? I'm stressing about the fact that my book is going to be out there in less than a year. That people may (gasp!) actually, you know, READ it??? That my friends and family will see what I've been working on for years and think THIS is what she's spent so much time on? Or worse, have this polite little smile on their faces as they say, "Oh, it was very nice." Or even worse - what if they say nothing about it at all? Or, catastrophe of all catastrophes, what if my teenage daughters - voracious readers and not ones to mince words, and whose good opinion I seek -hate it? Ugh. I get nauseous at the thought.

But it seems I'm not alone in these insiduous, worrisome thoughts. There was a discussion about it on Verla Kay's blueboards and the thought of publication - of 'being out there' - is pretty scary for a lot of writers. It's not that I'm not excited and proud of my book. I very much am. But the worry that someone will find something wrong with it can really start to eat away at the pleasure and thrill of getting published. I hope that this is just another process in the publishing journey I have to go through - much like learning about something new in the writing craft. I'm discovering that publishing is a whole different beast than writing. They are two separate yet parallel roads I'm travelling on. I've been on the writing road for quite a while now so I'm very familiar with all the pot holes there. The publishing road?? I'm driving very slowly with the hazard lights on… All I can say is thank god for the calm support of my editor and agents. I'd be seriously lost without them.

So, even if I'm not enjoying the wine and chips at the moment I hope by the time Illegally Blonde is published I will have passed through this particular road safely so I can enjoy a drink once I reach the finish line. By then, I have a feeling I'll definitely need one.

When Life Kicks You in the Teeth. Literally.

So June descended with all the obligations I mentioned in my previous blog post. I'm tearing into revisions. I'm running around to various sports and other school-related events, I'm helping Daughter 2 with an end of school year party to be held in our back yard, day work is revving up, plans for home renovations are firming up, etc. etc. Everything's going along tickety-boo, when I get blindsided by a mind-numbing tooth infection that lays me up for two days.

Really, people? No, seriously. Really?

After the kidney stone attack that seemed to go on forever in May now June has to start off like this? So, like who did I offend in this universe to have this much physical pain within a span of four weeks?

Four days, a handful of anti-biotics and advice from Mom that boils down to 'be careful - a tooth infection could lead to a brain infection, you know' later I'm back on track and a few of the things on the to-do-list have been checked off while others are still to be accomplished. The most important check off for me is that I'm still on track for finishing the revisions to Illegally Blonde, thank God.

But it just goes to show you that even when you think you have control over your life you really don't. And for a control-freak like me, it's a not-so-subtle reminder to learn to go with the flow. Even when the flow seems to be doing its best to push you away from the shoreline you so desperately want to reach. But, no matter what, you can't let a little setback screw up all your plans. Like that great philospher Dorrie said on Finding Nemo, "Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…"

Sooner or later, you'll get somewhere.