Thoughts

JULY 21, 2008

SUNSHINE MAKES ME OPTIMISTIC

I'm seeing the end, that beautiful, lovely bright light at the end of a long, writerly road that means, perhaps, I might be finished my novel some day soon. When I say the word finished, however, I mean that it might be finished soon on my end, not, of course, taking into account the editing it will inevitably need. But I'm feeling optimistic today, maybe because the sun is shining and I'm feeling magnanimous and flush with vitamin D and a tan the likes of which my skin hasn't seen since that summer I worked at the Pacific National Exhibition as a sweeper (a funny euphemism for the teenaged girl who cleans up crap).

Of course, now that I say all this, the novel will somehow take fifteen steps backward and I'll be working on it until my hair starts to thin and my back is permanently bent into that crouching position I take on every time I begin typing.

To be honest, I need a break. I feel like I've been on a novel-writing tear, if that's possible. Now that I think about it, it's probably not. Can you imagine a rioting crowd of novelists running amok in the streets, snatching books from the hands of innocent bystanders, scribbling nonsensical plots in the margins and making devil horns on the tops of their heads with their fingers while chanting, "Down with Dickens," or, "A whammy on Murakami"?

Seriously though (are you starting to wonder if I'm ever actually serious?), The End of East has developed a strange kind of life of its own, which means that I've been out and about supporting it for something like 16 months, which is much longer than I ever expected. This is great; I love that people respond so well to it and to me too. But I've never been this busy in my entire life. When I'm not writing, I'm away talking to audiences and workshops about writing, and then, when that's over, I'm back to writing again. I fear it's all taking a bit of a toll and, soon, I won't be able to even write birthday messages in greeting cards. All the words will have been wrung out of me.

So this post is really just a long explanation for my fatigue. And a warning that, after this novel I'm working on now, I might do something completely unexpected and go work at a plant nursery (something I've always not-so-secretly wanted to do, so if you own a nursery, email me!) or write a different kind of book. Who knows? Right now, I like the not knowing.

Last weekend, I was on Denman Island for their fine, fine festival. It was a really special time, not least because the island itself is so beautiful and full of enthusiastic people who are passionate about their books. bill bissett was at the festival as well and it was a thrill for me to listen to him read, but also to re-meet him. I first met him many years ago when I was 16 and he appeared at a high school writing event I attended. In fact, I did my very first public reading in front of him, so seeing him again was an especially resonant moment for me. He did much to light the fires of my poetry-writing.

Outside, a warm breeze. Inside, a novel that needs finishing. Not such a bad life, is it?

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JUNE 17, 2008

BEING CRUSTY DOESN'T PAY

Perhaps some of you are wondering how my trip down the West Coast went. San Francisco was warm and sunny and beautiful and I read at three bookstores in the Bay area. I had a fun time at all of them and met some amazing independent booksellers who manage to fit everything you'd ever want to read in small spaces. And all of these stores were busy, full of people hungry to get their hands on new books, which heartened me greatly. At Book Passage in San Francisco's Ferry Building, Ron and I had a nice chat about our shared Toisan heritage and even made a few jokes in the county dialect about bodily functions.

In our defence, when your fluency with a language is restricted to what you learned as a child at home, it's potty humour or nothing! Which is not to say that potty humour isn't funny. Because it is. Just ask me.

In Seattle and Portland, I learned that I was reading at the same stores as Salman Rushdie, only just two days ahead. I concluded that he must be my biggest fan and was following my tour because I'm so awesome. No, actually, I found it quite intimidating to know that we were going to be standing behind the same microphones in the exact same spots. The only thing that would have scared me more was if I had the chance to meet him. Probably the only words that would have come out of my mouth are, "I loved you in Bridget Jones' Diary."

When I was touring, I found that many of the people who came out to see me were aspiring writers and they asked me advice about publishing and finding an agent and the like. One thing I forgot to mention is that, in publishing, so much is out of our control. Either a book catches on or it doesn't. But, the most important thing that writers can control is how professional we are. Bringing a book out into the world is an emotional process, one that I comapre with sending off a barely adult child to university. But I've learned that it's always better to keep your cool, to be nice to the people you meet, and to make every working situation as easy as you can for those around you. Sounds obvious, I know, but it really isn't. We love our books so much and have put so much time into them that it can be hard to put aside how we're feeling. And, you know, I'm a naturally crusty person who, normally, snipes at people who walk too slowly ahead of me on the sidewalk (seriously, people, if you can't keep up, then get out of my way), so being nice isn't as easy as it seems. I'm only half-kidding. Or am I?

Next for me? Some weeks of actual writing (hooray!) and a stop at the Denman Island Readers and Writers Festival. Long evenings, a few mint juleps and I'm a happy girl for the rest of the summer.