It's Official...

Lucky, Lucky, Lucky.

Well here it is Friday the 13th and so far I've tripped over a black cat while walking under a stepladder in my living room with an open umbrella. I figure with the big Canadian lottery, Lotto 649, sitting at an interesting $22 million, I should really get all my bad luck of the way early.

Not that I have a lot of bad luck. I am in relatively good health - Considering some of my earlier lifestyle choices that in itself is a stroke of luck. I am married to a wonderful, beautiful, talented, intelligent and very patient wife-we should all be that lucky. And, with Father's Day coming up on Sunday, I am especially lucky that I have two precious children, who bring delight and meaning into my life.

As a bit of an early Father's Day present, I decided to push the voice recognition software envelope and purchase, what is considered the best in the field. Nuance’s Dragon NaturallySpeaking, according to most of the reviews, is the pinnacle of voice recognition software. If you visit their website they have some fairly outlandish claims, and they are exactly that - outlandish. They claim that the software is ready to use out-of-the-box - that there is no training required - that no dictation need be done for the program to learn your voice. This is not true. I tried talking to the computer immediately following installation of the software. The resulting gibberish was disheartening. The voice recognition software which comes with Windows Vista was a pain in the ass, but at least it understood approximately 85% of what I was saying. The NaturallySpeaking program seemed to lack the logic and the ability to note context that Microsoft had built into the Vista version. After spending a great deal of time reading some very entertaining bits of literature into the microphone, the NaturallySpeaking program started to get it. It began to understand the nuances of my speech, and my own particular accent. I have been dictating this blog entry with only a few instances where I've needed to correct the computer. There is also an auto punctuation feature that has yet to prove its usefulness to me – it wants to throw commas absolutely everywhere. I guess some things will always need to be done by hand. It remains to be seen if the change in software will be beneficial but I’m feeling lucky…

In the writing world, not so lucky-not just yet. So far no nibbles yet on the several short stories that are out in the world. There is also no word yet from DAW books, but that is hardly surprising considering the manuscript would have only just arrived last week. So far no positive feedback from agents yet, either. Again, that's hardly a surprise as most my queries are only a week old.

I am also beginning to realise that my Story a Week ambition was a little too... well, ambitious. I'm not complaining though. I still think it's a great target. Right now, however, the Mitchell's Crossing story about the witch has taken on a life of its own. It's very liberating for a writer when something like this happens. It's amazing to see characters that you thought were windowdressing suddenly contributing to the dialogue and action of a story. It's great when minor characters become pivotal to the progression of the plot. It's an interesting feeling when the story starts to tell itself. Waiters will understand what I'm talking about-it's something that I like to call, The Waiter's High. It is state of being that occurs when everything goes just right - when you can't make a mistake - it's just impossible for you to do something wrong. Most waiters, if they are any good at all, will, on at least one busy night in their lives, find such a state of near perfection. Your timing is flawless and everything is remembered in exactly the right order. At the end of the night the waiter finds himself physically exhausted but his mind is quicksilver until late in the night. As a sidebar - it is surprisingly easy to get laid in the wake of one of these Waiter's Highs. It's almost as if the universe is conspiring with you, instead of against you. In psychological terms, this is known as Flow. I understand that this state of total immersion occurs across a variety of fields and disciplines, athletic, academic and professional, but I can only speak to the two places were I've found it-waiting and writing.

The witch story is much more detailed than I had originally planned, and at this point, I have no idea how long the story will be, but my best guess is somewhere around 10,000 words. I suppose if I get the story done this week, then it would be the equivalent of three short stories... so I'm kinda on track with the whole Story a Week thing… kinda.

That's all for now, so until next time... be good to your fathers. After all, they only get the one day a year. Good luck.

Like a Chicken with its Head Cut Off

It’s been awhile since last post but it has been a hectic week. Busy with school-both kids went to the RCMP Musical Ride and I attended as a parent volunteer. Busy with the house-some indoor chores here, a little lawn cutting there. But especially busy with writing…

Throughout this week it been writing a rather exciting short story called The Witch. It is another story that takes place in the fictitious village of Mitchell’s Landing. My previous Mitchell’s Landing story was called Small Town Secrets and is currently on submission at The New Yorker.

I’ve also been querying agents this week. With the Loremaster manuscript completed and sent into DAW books for consideration I felt that it was time to send out feelers for representation of the novel.

Last weekend was very busy as well. On Saturday it was the 40^th anniversary of my old high school, Grey Highlands Secondary School. The weekend was packed with activities but the kids’ schedules didn’t allow for anything except a brief visit and tour of the old high school. During the brief visit I ran into some good old friends and had a nostalgic walk around. Everything really does seem smaller when you go back to the schools of your youth. The school was changed over the years. A new wing was added sometime in the not too distant past but it was comforting to see that the old Geography room on the second floor hasn’t changed a bit. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the desk I used to sit in (second row from the door, four seats back from the teacher’s desk) is the same desk that is there today. An interesting thing to note was that also on the second floor across from the Home Economics room there now stands just a regular classroom. I explained to the children that when I went to school that room was filled with typewriters. My five year old son looked up at me and said, “Hey, Dad, what’s a typewriter?”… Enough said.

The other event this weekend was the Elora Writers Festival. After securing a babysitter for the afternoon, my wife and I took the long leisurely 4 minute drive from Fergus to Elora to attend this year’s readings. The writers included Giller prize finalist, Edeet Ravel, travel writer Laurie Gough, comedian Diane Flacks, poet Jacob McArther Mooney (really good, but his “spoken word” style of delivery doesn’t do his poetry justice – bought his book and I’m delighted), Helen Humphreys and Rio Youers. Youers’ novel End Time is about a heroin addict who cuts off his own fingers – not exactly family fun but then again I don’t know your family…

The Festival itself was great but the meal following was out of this world. Last year the readings and meal were at the same venue – The Drew House in Elora. This year the readings were at the Keating Lounge followed again by a meal at the Drew House. Last year my wife and I attended only the readings but throughout we were distracted by the wonderful aroma wafting from the adjacent kitchen. We vowed to stay for the meal and weren’t disappointed. Before the meals many of the attendees and all of the authors gathered in the garden for cocktails. I was rubbing shoulders with such local personalities as Chris Wiggins and Colin Fox when a server came by with the best damn sausage rolls I’ve ever had. There were perfectly prepared and had some sort of buttery glaze on the pastry that made me wonder whose mom I would need to kill for another – but they just kept coming. The meal that followed was an amplification of that heavenly appetizer. It was a buffet feast of masterfully prepared meat, salads and vegetables and the desert was an absolute slice of chocolate bliss.

Coming up next week I’ll give an update on how my Story A Week thing is going as well as some direction on where my novel length fiction is heading.