I was going to share photos of my little part of the world today, as it is all snowy and pretty (my tramp to the Library on Monday was through knee-high drifts when I crossed the field), but I think I will forgo that and simply write about what’s been going on overall.

You see, this has not been a great week. It started out okay; the snow meant the buses weren’t running on Monday, but I got some exercise walking to the library. But on Wednesday I noticed that one of my guinea pigs, Isabella, wasn’t looking too well, and I began Thursday by holding her as she passed. Then yesterday, the cat proceeded to leap onto a hot burner on the stove.

The cat is fine, but we’re down to one guinea pig.

I hope you understand, then, when I tell you that I haven’t gotten much writing done this week. It’s too bad, too, because I’m at the point in We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse where the whole thing becomes really interesting and we start to see how things got to the point they were at in the opening scene.

I did begin the first read-through of Tumbling, which is the YA novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2008. This is the one that’s about a 14yo autistic girl who has to testify in the trial of the man who sexually abused her. Fun times all around. No, really, I quite like this character. She’s sarcastic and has a solid idea of who she is and what she needs, and she’s not afraid to tell her friends when they’re being stupid. I am doing this read-through in Word with Track Changes turned on. I’m also putting in little comments here and there about things I need to change, things I’m questioning, and what I need to research. When I’m finished with this, I’ll do my research, and then I’ll open the yWriter file and the Word file and start going through the yWriter file, making full changes, rewriting things here and there, and incorporating the information I’ve gleaned from my research.

Oh, and before I started working on Tumbling, I did an edit of Creation. Now I need to get some thoughts on it before I can do the second edit. But I’m not in a hurry with this; I like to space out my edits so I’m not too attached to each version.

I haven’t heard back yet about Fortresses Crash to the Sea. I will be posting when I hear back, for sure. I have started to look around for a market that might be interested in The Sacrifice of Isaac, but I’m a little concerned that my retellings of Bible stories may not find a home outside of a collection of my short stories. We shall see.

So, I can’t show much progress with my writing this week. But some things have progressed, nonetheless. And other things will progress more this week. Life just gets in the way sometimes.

Alas,  my little story was not accepted. I did receive a personal note from the editor, though, and it was, overall, a positive reaction – the story was just not right for that market. I turned around and found another market that looked promising, taking a hint from something the editor said in her kind rejection note, and sent it off. Still waiting to hear back on that one.

In the meantime, I’ve finished the most recent edit of The Power and sent it off to a few friends for review. I warned them that it needs a lot of work, that it may not make tons of sense, and that while there are strong evangelical Christian overtones to the story, I took a lot of theological liberties. I asked them to let me know what they like and what they don’t like, where they get confused and need more information (plot holes, ahoy!), and which characters need to be fleshed out more. After working on this thing for over ten years, I can’t tell anymore.

We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse is coming along slowly. It started out well, but then I hit a wall. I know what’s supposed to happen in the scene but I can’t find the words. That is so frustrating! So right now, scenes that normally would get written in one sitting need at least two. This means that the story is probably not going to be finished before the end of the month, and it is putting me behind on my stated writing goals for the year. Already, I’m behind, and I’ve barely started! (Not helping matters is the fact that the next story on the list is also at a difficult-to-write place.) I will press on, though, and hopefully I’ll be able to catch up later this year.

I keep track of all of my writing projects in a table in a database my wonderful fiance made for me using MySQL. Hooray for free programs! I note the title, genre, hoped-for word count, and then the date I start writing, the date I finish the first draft, and the word count of the first draft. I also track the dates and word counts for two edits and the final draft. I have my original list in a spreadsheet in OpenOffice… and while I was updating it last week, I discovered that I had missed adding a couple of pieces to my database.

This means that I have a short story to edit into final draft this week. I’ve also moved up the next piece on my list for first edit from February to January – might as well keep working on these things. If all goes well with the final edit story, I’ll have another piece to submit next month.

So I keep working. Pushing through writer’s block isn’t easy, but it’s not really all that bad. Basically, I just keep trying. I sit down day after day, read over what I already wrote, remember what I planned to happen next, and try to find the words I need. If I write just one word, I’ve succeeded.

First, the big news: I actually submitted Fortresses Crash into the Sea to a journal. I will report back on that when I hear from the editor. Forever Yours is going to be incredibly difficult to find a market for. I have a suspicion that it’s too religious for some markets and too controversial for others. That’s what I get for following ideas.

Following ideas has gotten me into some hot water in other ways, too. Remember that story I wrote about last week, We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse? Well, I’m not done yet, but it’s turning out to be quite the ride. I’ve had to research Italian first names, Italian first names, and Italian operas and composers. I’ve had to research timpani music. Did you know that there are actually concertos and symphonies written for solo timpani with orchestral accompaniment? Some of them require seven or eight timpani to one musician! Of course, I’m no percussionist – the closest I’ve come is playing shakers and tambourine in band for church. This could cause a problem, if I let any of the scenes be about the playing of the instruments. So far, so good.

In editing news, I’ve now got two picture books that need a final edit and an illustrator. Or maybe an agent. Whatever. I need to figure out what to do with them. And The Power is going apace. I deleted a whole bunch of scenes out of it today, and that could easily cause problems for people, but this edit is primarily about making sure I get rid of the stuff that’s really bad. Once I’m done, I’ll have to find someone to read it and tell me where they need more information and where things don’t make sense, so I can make sure I add the right scenes.

I say that following ideas causes problems, but really the main problem is needing to write the stories based on the ideas. Ideas niggle and wiggle and want to come out. And trust me, come out they do. Each of the four named stories in this post was borne of a different idea:

1. Fortresses Crash to the Sea is based on a song of the same name, by a now disbanded Christian rock band based out of Calgary. The imagery evoked by the music and the lyrics gave me the idea for the fairy tale I wrote.
2. Forever Yours is, at its most basic, about what people do when the foundations of their lives are shaken in some way. The triggering idea was the question of what would happen if the Roman Catholic Church decided to allow priests to marry.
3. We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse is about the musicians’ mob, which, to my knowledge, doesn’t exist. The conversation that gave me the idea was actually about moving a set of timpani from the concert location back to the rehearsal location after Remembrance Day, but something in the way things were said made me think of contraband timpani, and, well, the rest is history.
4. The Power is basically about finding oneself and refining and depending on one’s faith in God. The idea behind it has to do with the power of Holy Spirit, the reality of the supernatural (i.e., angels and demons), and how people respond to the gifts they are given. I definitely take liberties with accepted theology in this story, but there are reasons for those liberties, and I made each choice purposefully.

Stories start with ideas. I dare you to follow those ideas and see where you end up.

Maybe fingers to keys?

I am going to try to update here weekly with information about my current projects. Not too much information – just enough to whet your appetite.

Currently, I am attempting to write the first draft of a short story called We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse, which is a farce about the musicians’ mob. The idea was born at a band rehearsal back in November 2009, and the title came from a fellow Municipal Liaison (ML) over on the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) web site after I shared the idea with them. All I can really tell you right now is that it involves a valuable set of timpani, and I may have to listen to an opera before I finish writing the story.

I am also working on the “first” edit of my YA novel The Power, which is about a girl who can see angels and demons. This book may never be finished, but I refuse to give up on it. I wrote two of the chapters as short stories when I was in high school. Then, in university, I fleshed out the characters, added a whole lot of story, and wrote a 98-page novella. (I forget how many words it was then.) It’s been edited before, but this time I’m really having at it, cutting scenes and laughing at the tragic parts as I read them and tighten the prose. When this draft is done, I’ll have to find some poor soul to read it and tell me where I’m missing information and where the writing and/or plot is weak. Right now, though, I’m enjoying getting to know my characters again.

I just finished my second edit of a picture book called Lullabye. It’s very short, just a sweet melody to use to sing a toddler to sleep at night. There’s a tune, and I’ve written that, as well. Once I’m sure the text is in final draft, I’ll try to find an illustrator (I do already have someone in mind, of course) and a publisher. Or maybe an agent first. We’ll see. I need to research how to break into children’s books.

The next second edit will be Ryan’s Song, another musical picture book. I wrote the first version of this one way back when I first started working with autistic children. I’ve fleshed it out and written out the melody. I need to have another pass at the words, then it’ll be at the same stage as Lullabye.

And, finally, I have two short stories that are ready for submission. Yes, that’s right, people, I have writing that might get published! I just have to do my market research and gather my courage and send things off.

Forever Yours is a 3,000 word story about the decision of the Catholic church to allow priests to marry. The main characters are a young Catholic priest and the woman he would have married had he not been destined for seminary. It explores their emotions and reactions to the news.

Fortresses Crash to the Sea is an original allegorical fairy tale about a princess who shuts herself away from the world in order to avoid being hurt.

I am hopeful that I will finish the first draft of We’ll Write You an Opera You Can’t Refuse this week, and when I write next week’s post I will be able to tell you all about the next project I want to finish. My goal this year is to finish the first drafts I’ve got sitting on my hard drive, so that next year I can start working on the other ideas I have waiting in the wings.

I also want to keep working on my editing; I want to get as much as I can done so that I have more finished pieces to submit.

And, of course, I am going to force myself to submit my final drafts. If it’s done, it needs to go out into the world. I am really hoping that 2010 will see me adding at least one fiction publication credit to my resume.

Monday was a holiday, so Juniper and I decided to go on a bit of a day trip.

We had a leisurely morning and packed our swim suits and towels and a change of clothes, and headed off to Manitou Beach.

We went the back way, which means that we didn’t turn off the 16 onto the 2, instead continuing until we got to the 365. The sky was cloudy, and we began to fear that we would be hit with rain as we traveled, but luckily the weather held.

The back way turned out to be a dirt road. We saw a couple of abandoned farm houses, both old and run-down. One of them was part of an abandoned farm, and was right next to a field that had nothing growing in it.

We drove past fields upon fields of canola – that unmistakable yellow that is nearly green – and wheat and oats.

Eventually we came to Little Manitou Lake, which we drove across(!!) on a berm. It was disconcerting since it was like a bridge only different. (I am petrified of bridges.)

Little Manitou Lake, for those who don’t know, is a saltwater lake in the middle of Saskatchewan. It is full of minerals and salt, and apparently is denser than the Dead Sea – which is saying something! Our goal was to go swimming in the lake.

Once across the lake, we continued on into the village of Manitou Beach and drove along the road nearest the water to see what was there. It was still cloudy and somewhat cool, so we elected to swim indoors at the Manitou Springs Hotel.

The hotel is an older building. I can’t speak to the rooms or other amenities, just the pool. The water in the pool is piped in from the lake. There are actually two pools, one of which is heated. There are signs up saying not to stay in the hot pool for more than 20 minutes at a time, but since the temperature isn’t really much more than a hot bath, we didn’t concern ourselves with that warning.

It cost $19 apiece for a day pass, but that would allow us to leave and come back, and a single entry was $14.95 apiece, so it wasn’t that big a deal. Apparently guests of the hotel get free passes to the pool for the duration. There is also a full-service spa there, with massages and pedicures and even cranial sacral therapy, but we didn’t avail ourselves of any of that.

The pool water is brown. That’s the only word for it. Signs proclaim it to be deep gold in colour, but the signs lie. If you can get past the colour of the water, however, you are in for quite a treat, because you cannot sink in this pool. Juniper had to jump in feet-first in the deep end so he could actually touch the bottom: diving from the surface of the water didn’t work.

We floated around the cool pool for a while, then moved to the warm pool. It was wonderful. My right arm, in which I have been dealing with a tendonitis flare, actually stopped hurting!

After a while, we got out of the pool and dressed in our warmer clothes, then headed down the street to The Diner, a small restaurant that is run by a lovely older couple. The husband sat at one of the tables and rose to greet everyone who walked in the door, seating them graciously. His wife took orders and served the food. The menus are one laminated 8.5×11 sheet of paper, and there are paper placemats that include a small map of the area – which is how I learned that Camp Easter Seals is just outside the village.

The menu offered typical diner fare, with a twist: there was a small section at the bottom of the food page that listed traditional Mennonite meals, including perogies and sausage. Juniper and I were only looking for lunch, however, so he had the deluxe burger and I ordered a chicken cordon bleu burger. Mine had Swiss cheese and a real chicken breast on it, and I had crinkle-cut fries to go with it. Excellent food!

After we ate, we went down to the main beach, since it wasn’t very far away (nothing is, really, when you’re in a village). The minerals and salt in the water collect along the edge of the lake, forming white piles of what looks like foam. There is a playground right on the beach, only a couple of feet from the water.

The air is like the air near the ocean, only heavier, if that’s possible. It tastes like saltwater, smells like seaweed, and feels like heaven.

We went back to the pool then, and this time Juniper brought his book into the hot pool with him, electing to float on his back while he read his book. He didn’t sink. I decided to try submerging my ears, though I was somewhat apprehensive since my right ear has been acting up lately (I am not sure what it is, just that it’s definitely not an overgrowth of ear wax). It was lovely to float on my back for as long as I wanted, unable to hear anything but the sound of the water coming into the pool.

When we finally came out (after I explained that the reason we didn’t have pruny fingers and toes had to do with osmosis and how it affects us in regular water compared to salty water), we headed over to the Village Perk Cafe, a small coffee shop situated across the street from the hotel. Juniper had tea and a piece of Saskatoon berry cheesecake, and I had a mocha and a piece of chocolate cheesecake. Everything was very good.

The Village Perk is the main floor of a small house. The back room holds about six fifties-style tables with matching chairs. Each table is different, and all but two are the type with the plastic top and metal edging (the other two are wooden). The small kitchenette is barely large enough to make the coffee in, but the espresso maker is new and very shiny. The front room holds a variety of items to look at and, I suspect, purchase, though we didn’t take time to look them over.

When we were finished at the coffee shop, we headed home – this time taking the main route. We took the 365 to Watrous, then got onto the 2 going north, where we turned onto the 16 and continued home. Next time we go, we’ll try the Burger Buoy, a walk-up burger place that looks rather interesting.

The beast of it all? The weather turned nice while we were in the pool for the second time, but it was still too windy (and I wasn’t interested in swimming anymore) to go into the lake.

The sound of the syllables
as they fall onto the page,
the phrases turning perfectly
in beautiful rage.

Writing words as music,
music as words.

Thoughts sound in my head
and drop from my fingers,
the words creating
a mood that lingers.

Writing words as music,
music as words.

Creating something from nothing
and putting it out there,
hoping that others
will truly care.

Writing words as music,
music as words.

I read a short novel today. It’s a young adult novel by Canadian author William Bell. His books have won awards. I discovered him when I was in high school and read what I could find; I found another two books of his at our local library a few weeks ago and have finally had time to read the first. It is called Alma, and it is about a young girl who loves to read and longs to be a writer. (Sound familiar?)

Alma befriends an author – her favourite author, no less – and near the end of the book, the author says a few words about the passion writers have for telling stories. Tears threatened as I read the words, for they are true:

“But the main thing, I think, was that I had simply lost my passion for telling stories. That’s something you know about, Alma, the passion, because you have it.”

Alma thought she knew what Miss Lily meant, but she wasn’t sure. “Tell me what it’s like,” she said. “Please.”

“Perhaps,” Miss Lily began, “it is, above all things, lonely. So many hours by oneslf, lost in research or imaginings. Then there is the lack of understanding. So many people seem to think that all one has to do is find an idea for a story and write it down. They talk of inspiration as if it replaced grinding toil, the wrestling with ideas and character and narrative structure, the revising, the arguments with editors. And worst of all, the corroding self-doubt that will not go away no matter how well received the books are.”

Miss Lily looked away again.

“All of which sounds like a complaint,” she went on, “but I don’t mean it that way. What gets us through is the thrill of making something out of nothing. It’s the passion to tell the story that means so much to us.”

William Bell, Alma (Doubleday Canada, 2003) 112-113

I don’t think there is much else to say on the topic; Mr Bell has summed it up so well here.

I love words. I have, in fact, loved words for as long as I can remember – probably longer.

My mother says that, when I was two years old, I got up on a stool at a party (clergy parties at the bishop’s tended to include children, for whatever reason) and recited a poem about my new baby brother.

When I was three years old, my mother taught me how to read using those Ladybird readers about Peter and Jane and their dog, Pat. It was sight reading; phonics came naturally to me.

Before I knew how to form letters myself, I was “writing” stories in the little notebooks my parents kept me supplied with. It sure looked like handwriting to me! Never mind that the story changed every time I “read” it.

I was a voracious reader, and when I ran out of “age-appropriate” reading material, I would raid my parents’ book cases. I read parenting books at the age of eleven, which happened to be the same year I read Jane Eyre, The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and Gone With the Wind.

These days, I raid the library when funds are too tight to allow me to feed my habit at the book store. I toe the line and will never attempt to have more than the allowed 50 books out at one time.

I read practically anything. My tastes are diverse. Give me a well-written story, with characters I can care about, and I will devour the words as fast as I can.

I have my favourite authors, of course: L.M. Montgomery, Orson Scott Card, Lurlene McDaniel, Robin McKinley, Margaret Atwood, Charles de Lint, Jane Yolen, and Ursula K. LeGuin are mainstays in my collection. They are the authors I look for in a book store – their presence on the shelves (all of them) tells me I am in a quality establishment, for it stocks the authors from whom I take my inspiration.

I read Young Adult novels (and I write them). I read science fiction novels (and am working on a science fiction screenplay). I read fantasy novels (and I write them).

I also read non-fiction, more than I do fiction, at times. I got into the habit when I was in University all those years ago, and it never quite faded. I read biographies, autobiographies, books by psychologists, books about writing, books about philosophy, about creation, about religion. I read to learn, to educate myself, to build the foundation for my fiction – and, more importantly, my life.

Though, I suppose, words are my life. I live in them. I move in them. I breathe them in and I breathe them out.

Yet, oddly enough, I sometimes think in pictures.