The Lighthouse Keeper's Wife

I can now announce that my short story, The Lighthouse Keeper's Wife, will appear in Tesseracts 17: Speculating Canada From Coast to Coast to Coast, coming this autumn from Edge Publishing.   Here's the release I was e-mailed this morning:

We are pleased to announce the official Table of Contents for Tesseracts 17: Speculating Canada from Coast to Coast to Coast.

This anthology of speculative Canadian writing will be out this fall from Edge Publications. It was no easy task choosing from the over 450 submissions and we had to turn away many a good tale. In the end, we have a representation of Canada that spans all provinces and territories (with the exception, alas, of Nunavut). The tales themselves reach far into the past and much farther into the future.

TESSERACTS 17: SPECULATING CANADA FROM COAST TO COAST TO COAST

·         Introduction: Colleen Anderson

·         Vermilion Wine: Claude Lalumière

·         Night Journey: West Coast: Eileen Kernaghan

·         The Wall: Rhea Rose

·         2020 Vision: Lisa Smedman

·         Why Pete?: Timothy Reynolds

·         Bird Bones: Megan Fennell

·         Bedtime Story: Rhonda Parrish

·         Graveyard Shift: Holly Schofield

·         Path of Souls: Edward Willett

·         Sin A Squay: David Jón Fuller

·         Hereinafter Referred to as the Ghost: Mark Leslie

·         Anywhere: Alyxandra Harvey

·         Secret Recipes: Costi Gurgu

·         Star Severer: Ben Godby

·         The Lighthouse Keeper's Wife: Dave Beynon

·         Graffiti Borealis: Lisa Poh

·         My Child Has Winter in His Bones: Dominik Parisien

·         Team Leader 2040: Catherine Austen

·         Sand Hill: Elise Moser

·         The Ripping: Vincent Grant Perkins

·         Unwilling to Turn Around: J.J. Steinfield

·         Pique Assiette: Catherine MacLeod

·         Leaving Cape Roseway: John Bell

·         Everybody Wins: Rachel Cooper

·         In the Bubble: William Meikle

·         Hermione and Me: Dwain Campbell

·         Blizzard Warning: Jason Barrett

·         M.E.L.: Dianne Homan

·         The Calligrapher's Daughter: Patricia Robertson

·         Afterword: Editing Anthologies Made Easy: Steve Vernon

Whether by design or accident, my story falls precisely at the centre of the anthology.

It should be out in September at your favourite book store (get them to order it in), or you can pre-order from Amazon.

Elora Writers' Festival 2013

I sit on the committee for the Elora Writers' Festival and this year we have an impressive line-up.  You can visit the Festival's blog here.  Or you can visit the Facebook page.

If you can, please join us on May 26th at the Elora Centre for the Arts for an intimate afternoon of readings and conversations with six wonderful Canadian authors.

A Giant

Today I have been writing about 2 giants.

The first is Gerry.  Gerry is the story about a young giant boy who finds himself without his parents.  Initially raised by a family of bears, Gerry feels a need to find others of his own kind.  After falling in with a bad crowd of Rock Giants, Gerry befriends a human girl who helps him on quest to find his parents.

I started Gerry when my daughter was very little.  Although I've told the story aloud a few times, I've never put it down on paper.  I figure I should get on that before my daughter is too old to enjoy it.

The other Giant is this one.  The park being built by our local Heritage Committee pays tribute to this key Industrial family which contributed to the success of our town.  I've been cobbling together the information plaques for the park.  I'll be passing along the info I put together for the plaques onto other members of the committee and the folks at our local Archives for checking.  The last thing I want is some amateur historian pointing out inaccurate information after the plaques are printed.

Man, give me fiction any day.

3 Day Done

Well - it was kind of down to the wire this time around - finished the last hand-written page at around 10:20 last night. That left a little time for editing but not much.

This morning I look around

All my treats are gone - there are empty diet Coke cans spilling out of the recycling bag - coffee has no appeal to me (that'll change) but that can of Red Bull stayed in the fridge (temptation was there around 9:30 last night).

So - what do I have to show for spending a glorious weekend - maybe the best Labour Day weekend in years - sequestered away from my family?

Well - there's a dime-sized callous on my middle finger, my eyes are red, my gut rumbles constantly from all of the sugary, fatty crap I've been spilling into it and my lower back is a chiropractor's wet dream.

Oh - and there's this:

And take a look at this:

That's right kiddies, 137 hand-written pages of fun. If you're not even a little impressed, I encourage you to try it some time. But they're not just words on paper - it's a fully self contained story with a plot, interesting three dimensional characters and everything.

But it's not all joy. There were a few dead soldiers who gave their all and didn't survive the journey:

Actually, I think the guy on the left might have a bit of life left in him.

I must thank my wife who lovingly typed the pages as I brought them up and who shepherded our wild children over the weekend. She even brought me snacks. I'll say it again, I certainly married up.

Now The Platinum Ticket and Patriot have company:

I think three looks much better than two.

And to my new pal Herne?

Thanks for the ride, Antlered Dude!

Up and at 'em

Back at it after about 4 hours sleep.

The crappy food and caffeine are starting to take their toll but the story is flowing nicely with purpose and direction. I re-read a lot of the stuff I did before I went to sleep and have churned out a pair of pages in the last few minutes. There are three or four major scenes left in the story and I think I have a clear picture of it all.

A fresh pot of coffee is perking behind me and it actually smells good. I have a few personal maintenance duties to perform and then right back at it.

Thus far the can of Red Bull is still under glass.

Sunday - closing in on midnight

It has been a most productive day. Page 94 sits waiting on my blue chair while I work out a few details in the next part of the story. Herne has made an appearance and he's strange and wonderful and frightening. I think if I am finished by mid-day tomorrow I'll have ample time before midnight to put a light polish on things. Things are coming together better than I expected and a while ago the story's ending clicked into place like I'd been planning it that way all along.

I split the day writing in the basement and then, because it was a glorious day, outside in the backyard. I even accompanied the family to the local pool for a swim and a whirlpool (my lower back is a nightmare).

Tomorrow afternoon the family plans to go to the local conservation area and, if I'm in editing mode, I'll accompany them with laptop in hand.

I'd best get back at it...

Day 2 - 9:00am

Well, here we are at day 2.

Last night I packed it in around 3:30am and slept until just before 8:00am - I'm not as young as I used to be. Unfortunately that sleep was won on the living room couch which doesn't seem as comfortable as it used to be (I went up to bed, but soon discovered an entire family - mom, 2 kids, 21 year old cat and an ark full of stuffed animals...with no room, left for tired old dad).

My lower back is a mess this morning so I opted for a soak in the tub and was rewarded with 2 1/2 more handwritten pages to put on the pile. Herne still hasn't shown up physically - guess he's kinda shy - but he's on his way...antlers and all.

20 hours in...

Just a quick update. Things are going very well. Throughout the day I've managed to eat a little healthy food, drink a few non-caffeinated beverages, grab a couple of 2 hour naps and still pound out 46 handwritten pages so far. I even made myself go for a bike ride out to the Shand Dam to clear my head and feel a part of the world around me.

Everyone here has been great. The kids are both so encouraging and have done their best to let me work and my wife...well, you can't say enough good things about the woman who types your chicken scratches for you. (She also replenished my supply of chocolate covered coffee beans!) Man, did I marry up!

Well, back to work...hopefully by midnight we'll get to meet Herne...

12 hours and counting...

The kids are home again today - after 3 days of school the teachers needed a PD day before the Labour Day Weekend apparently...

I have been preparing for this weekend's ordeal.

Here is where I'll be spending the lion's share of my weekend. For a tiny basement office it is a surprisingly bright space.

Most of the actual writing takes place here:

As you can see by the tools laid out on the chair, I am planning to hand write the novel this weekend.

This is the folder I've used the last two times. Hopefully 3 times is the charm. Last time I ran through 3 rollerball pens and about 135 pieces of lined paper. I should be covered.

Just in case I'm not:

During the 3 days of the contest it is important to keep your energy levels up. Snacks while writing I find are better than meals.

I find a combination of sweet and savoury works best and yes, that bowl in front is filled with chocolate covered coffee beans.

Caffeine is key, but too much coffee leads to gut-rot. Hence my second favourite means of caffeine intake.

And, as a carnivore, one can never underestimate the importance of meat on demand.

Inspiration is even more important than nutrition and sleep, so I keep these close by in the office to remind me that a short novel can be written over the course of a long weekend.

Those are the original handwritten manuscripts of my previous 2 successes. That's The Platinum Ticket on the left (129 hand written pages) and Patriot on the right (119 pages, again, lovingly hand written).

But even with my office, my paper, my pens and various snacks, I realize that there may come a time when I need a little extra something to keep me going. I normally don't approve of such measures and react badly to the stuff (last time I had this it felt like my hair was on fire - and not just the hair on my head) so I consider this my "Break Glass in Case of Emergency" measure.

Until just before midnight I plan to get out and enjoy this amazing day. More later...

Swarf

Swarf is the waste generated by drilling or turning metal. Here's a picture:

I mention swarf for a couple of reasons. First - it's a fun word to say. I can imagine the person who coined the term saying it with disdain. "I'm knee deep in this goddamn....this goddamn...this goddamn SWARF!"

Second - it's interesting stuff. It really is beautiful to look at because it is usually coated with a thin layer of oily fluid called cutting fluid which keeps the cutting bit and the workpiece from overheating. Depending on the metal, the oil tends to reflect the light imparting a shimmering rainbow effect. A single coiled strand of swarf can be hundreds of feet long and usually works itself into a rough ball-like structure like some kind of razor sharp cotton candy.

Third - I grew up with swarf. My dad was a tool and die maker and there was not a working day he didn't come home with a tightly condensed coil of swarf hitchhiking in some fold or cuff of his clothing.

Finally, I speak of swarf because it is the introductory image in the new story I'm working on. Almost the entire story takes place in a machine shop with one exterior scene and a very brief glimpse at the main character's home life. It is a story about human cleverness, opposable thumbs and alien need and envy. This one is shaping up to have a very Twilight Zone-ish feel to it.

On another note - got a letter from the good folks at the 3 Day Novel Contest. They're looking to past participants to sign up for this year's ordeal. It's a tough old haul of intensive, almost non-stop writing which takes place over the Labour Day Weekend each year. I've done it twice before and have been very pleased by the results. I skipped last year because with kids heading to the first day of school the next day it seemed a little daunting. This year - due to the calendar, the kids head back to school before Labour Day. My wife asked if I wanted to do it this year and whether I had any ideas for a short novel that might be written over three days.

I'll need to ponder...

The sick things I look at...and a lovely little Corner

I have spent the last couple of days immersing myself in the flu.  

All kinds of flu - avian flu, swine flu, horse flu, dog flu - even duck flu.  All of them - potentially the next great pandemic that will shake we humans off the earth's back like so many fleas off a dog.  

I have also been going over the numbers for SARS.  All of this is background material as I flesh out Patriot.  SARS appears to have been the global wake-up call for serious pandemic planning and we are seeing the effectiveness of that planning with the handling of the current swine flu outbreak.  

The problem is, in Patriot, the world's Pandemic Plans need to fail - and catastrophically so. Hence the research.

Beyond obsessing over horrific respiratory diseases and influenza, it has been a fairly fruitful week.  As I have written before, I am a member of the local heritage committee.  I also chair the BT Corner Sub-committee.

"What's a BT Corner?" you might ask.

This is:

And here it is in three dimensions:

It is a small park that commemorates an industrial and social powerhouse in my community.  In 1874 a pair of brothers came to Fergus and started a machine shop which grew into, at one time, the largest producer of farm implements in the British Empire.  Those brothers were George and Mathew Beatty and their company was Beatty Brothers Limited.

We've been raising funds etc for some time and had a bit of luck last week.  The Grand River Agricultural Society has generously donated $15,000 over the next three years.  Thanks to them, our little commemorative park is a definite go.  

Next time I'll add a bit more about the Corner, but for now it's back to the Pandemic...

Which Witch is Which?

Had a busy day today with various commitments with the local heritage committee and a luncheon at the Rotary Club, but I did find time to revisit a story started a while ago that needed some distance.  

The Witch was supposed to be a quaint little story about a depressed outsider in a small town.  It grew and grew into a coming of age story about a group of friends and a special friendship between an 8 year old girl and the town's most shunned resident.

I shelved The Witch some time ago when I decided to start writing some scary stories.  I have been thinking about the story lately and read over the first little bit today.  I like it.  I like it a lot.

The subject matter is difficult but exciting.  It's one of those stories with autobiographical content swimming in fabricated lies.  I'm not quite ready to return to The Witch, not just yet.  I have Farstrider to update and finish and am working on something with Old Timer.  I am also, each Friday while watching the kids at swimming lessons, working on Middleman Aquisitions and, I must say, am having a lot of fun with it.

In further news I seem to be having a little run of bad luck - nothing major, just a bunch of little things, since my little collision a few weeks ago. 

Appears that God had a favourite deer...and I killed him. 

Late nights

I had another opportunity to speak before a group last night and find that I kind of miss presenting to a room full of people.  I've been discussing a park that our local Heritage Committee is working to get build in our small town.  The project is finding a groundswell of support and I like to think it has everything to do with my wonderful persuasive skills.

Actually, it has everything to do with the concept, design and relevance - all of which I can take minimal credit for.  It's a great project.  I'll keep you posted.

I got home around 10:30 to find the kids asleep and my wife falling asleep with a book.  Only the lovely Willow decided to stay up and keep me company while I worked.  Earlier in the day I had finished a rough draft of a new story - a story short enough for a specific magazine with limited space and hence a limited word count on its submissions.  When I read it with Willow at my elbow I saw all the rough spot that needed to be polished.  My wife had also marked up a copy of the story before retiring for my consideration.  Around 1:00am I had the story at a point where I could go to bed.  I'll let it rest a couple of days, then off to the magazine.

I must be getting old.   I need a nap.

 

Strange Days, Indeed...

It's been a strange one here for me.

First of all, I had a very satisfying day at the key board.  Root of Evil keeps growing but I think tomorrow or the next day and the 1st draft will be finished.

Secondly - my birthday came and went and I was having a wee bit of a crisis.  I have been a little frustrated with rejections of late and after a disheartening Friday I gave myself a slap in the face and told myself to smarten up.

A wonderful thing spawned from my birthday.  In the fall we added the wonderful Willow to our family.  On Sunday my daughter gave me her big birthday secret that wasn't finished in time to share with me on my actual birthday.

My daughter found a pattern on-line and with some help from her mom cut out the material and sewed it together.

It's amazing.  It sits.  It stands and it lies down.  It has four points of articulation and it is entirely handmade.  It will live with me in the basement office.

The weather has been a roller-coaster.  Mostly we've been in the bitter grip of Arctic air but for a short, miraculous pair of days it was merely freezing.  Here are some shots of our river - normally this time of the year the flow is far less frozen.

The next thing I have truly mixed feelings about.  This morning I heard that my former employer - the one that canned me after 16 years without cause - filed for bankruptcy protection along with its US parent.  I am worried about the friends I have who still work there and the uncertainty of their futures but I predicted this three years ago and my timeline was pretty much spot on.  There's the satisfaction of "I told you so" but there's also a lot of folks not sleeping well tonight that deserved better governance of their company.  Oh, did I mention that the top five executives of the company took bonuses well in excess of one million dollars only a week before declaring bankruptcy.  Oh, there's bankruptcy all right and not all of it is fiscal.

The last thing I'll share is one of those moment you have when inspiration hits you from out of the blue.  I was washing the dishes a little while ago and my mind drifted to The Witch.  The Witch has been shelved for a while - fermenting, I guess - and as I was scrubbing something stubborn off a pan, a huge portion of the story gelled in my mind.  I now have a very good idea how to proceed with The Witch.  

I should wash the dishes more often.

A whole new year

The holidays were busy and filled with delight but it's nice to settle back into routine.

Walked the kids to school today then came home and got right down to business.  Business today was completing my application for the MFA I intend to begin in the autumn.  I am still assembling the "package" - transcripts, letters of reference and a portfolio sampling some of my work but the application itself is done.

While putting together "the package" I rewrote a chapter in my novella Patriot.  I needed to clean it up and flesh it out and I am very pleased with the finished result - so pleased, in fact, that rewriting Patriot to novel length has moved up the priority list.  Root of Evil still needs to be finished and The Witch has been waiting too long and Gerry has barely stumbled out of the gate but Patriot is beckoning.

I guess I have a lot to do...

It's starting to look a lot like...

The atmopsphere is very festive.  A pair of kids are eager for Santa's annual visit and are currently bouncing off the walls.  The tree is lit and decorated and a multitude of gifts are crammed beneath.  In the spirit of the season we are snowed under.

Last night I took Willow out for her midnight constitutional and snapped a few pictures.

I actually find myself not minding the snow...too much. 

 This morning my wife and I were shovelling out when the most musical Christmas noise imaginable drifted on the wind...our neighbour with his borrowed snowblower heading across the road to clear the end of our plowed-in driveway.  Ahhhh - like a choir of angels!

I've been under the weather this past week or so.  Unfortunately Gerry won't be done in time but I plan to secretly work on it while we visit the in-laws over the Holidays.

We have been entertaining visitors - friends from Vancouver - my mother before she left to spend Christmas with my sister in Newfoundland - and I even had a nice little chat with the local Jehova's Witness guy before wishing him a

 Merry Christmas and sending him on his way.

As the holiday descends I, Santalike, am making a list.  I currently have nine items on submission with various publications.  I am in the midst of preparing an application for an MFA Creative Writing 

program.  I have several stories in different degrees of completedness that will need to find homes in the New Year AND I have two kids, a dog and a wonderful, patient wife who all need some extra special attention at this time of year.

Merry Christmas to all.

Here There Be Giants!

It has been a while since the last post but I haven't been idle. I'm continuing to chip away at Root of Evil and revisiting The Witch every now and again but for the past few days I've had something spinning in my head that needs now to get down on paper.

Years ago, when my daughter was a very little girl, I was about to read from one of her story books at bed time when she asked, "No, Daddy. Tonight I want a made up story." I was surprised how easily a story gelled in my mind and how effortlessly it spilled from my lips. That story was Gerry the Giant and for the past few years I have been promising to write it for my daughter but I just couldn't find the right beginning.

Well, yesterday, just as Root of Evil was about to take a turn for the grisly, those thoughts that have been rattling around suddenly fell together. I am happy to say that Gerry (the new title of the story) is off to a strong start and with any luck will be ready to present to my target audience by Christmas or, at least, by her birthday.

Time to get back to Gerry.

Bonfires, Poetry and Fireworks

A lot has happened since my last posting.

Let's see...

Hallowe'en was a joy as always. It's my favourite holiday and always has been. Unfortunately our street is one of the oldest in town with large spacious lots so the number of steps between houses create a poor distance to candy ratio for the trick and treaters. We got about twenty or twenty five visitors before the older kids started showing up in their teenager costumes.

I submitted a collection of poems - yes, poems - to the CBC Literary awards collected under the title Sign Post Deep in Snow. I've never really been much of a poem writer but I am pleased with wjat I came up with. Now it's wait and see.

During the weekend to family attended a Guy Fawkes celebration a few days late hosted each year by some ex-pat brits we know. There was of course a bonfire and fireworks - our host told me that the fireworks were technically illegal as Victoria Day and Canada Day are the only two days you can lauch fireworks in Canada without a permit (don't know if this is true or not but I'll take the word of the guy with the lighter and mittful of explosives). The location makes the annual bonfire an event to be attended. The house is large and was built for entertaining. It is litterally a stones throw from a small lake (more of a pond really - you can walk around it in ten minutes) with a cleared torchlit path around it. The fireworks were set off over the water so you got the double effect of the reflection. The kids loved it. When we got home we even got a chance to catch a bit of V for Vendetta before retiring to bed.

Currently I am working on finishing Root of Evil - before returning to The Witch.

Holy Crap!!! I'm writing poetry today!!!

It's true!

Last week I was reading over one of my posts and it struck me as ever so slightly poetic. I cleaned it up a bit and what you know? It really was a poem.

After that I wrote another and today I find myself struggling with yet another poem. All of them share a common element and so I've decided to keep plugging away and write a few more to enter into CBCs annual literary awards.

A common element they share is snow or wintertime. I know it's hardly original but for the CBC awards the more Canadian the better. I haven't yet written anything about lesbian Inuit heroine-using interpretive dancers - I don't know if it needs to be that Canadian - but hey, the day is still young.

In other news, the Old Timer story that I was pretty sure had found a home was very kindly and apologetically rejected over the weekend. The publication where I submitted Old Timer is moving to a shorter fiction format. They now have a firm 5000 word limit, with preference for stories between 3 - 4000 words. Old Timer, at 6700 words, was just too much for them to accommodate. I have today submitted it to a different market where I am certain it will find a home.

The Witch, is brewing. I've put that story on hold for a little while so that the elements can simmer while I work on something else. The something else is another horror story told from a unique point of view. I also have something else rattling around in my head about a demon and a glassblower. Should be fun.

Whacked

It's been a wild and crazy week and finally, on Friday, I seem to have recovered.

On Tuesday I accompanied my daughter's Grade 3 class to the Toronto Metro Zoo. It was a fantastic outing that afforded me some great daddy-daughter time. We traveled from Pavilion to Pavilion, taking in animals from all over the world. It was especially good for my daughter because it was her first day with her brand-new glasses. She marvelled at how much clearer the world appeared through a pair of prescription lenses. I had an amazing time but a day of corralling children takes its toll. After we finally managed to manoeuvre the kids onto the bus I sank into the seat next to my daughter and breathed a sigh of relief. Despite my aching lower back and my worn-out knees I slumped into the uncomfortable, too closely spaced schoolbus seat and nodded off to sleep. I awoke sometime later to a pounding headache, the screaming words to "This Is the Most Annoying Song in the World" being sung at tooth-shattering decibels from the kids in the seat behind me and to the delighted smiles of the two little girls in the seat in front of me who had been watching me sleep. My daughter, who had been reading a book beside me gave me a look that said, "Don't fall asleep again, Daddy, you're embarrassing me."

On Wednesday was Wordfest III, presented by the Elora Center for the Arts. It was a collection of local writers, poets, storytellers and spoken word artists to celebrate... well, words. It wasn't really my cup of tea and I'm not entirely sure that I'll be attending Wordfest IV, slated for April 23, 2009-William Shakespeare's birthday. I did have a good time but it seemed a fairly closed group and I felt like a bit of an interloper. After Wordfest I headed out to the little pub in Elora for my usual Wednesday night Philosophers Club meeting. The Philosophers Club meets every Wednesday night and consists of a number of local artists, entrepreneurs, craftsmen and businessmen. It's usually an all man sort of thing but occasionally we are graced by the company of one of our spouses. During these weekly meetings to discuss matters grave and mundane, political and environmental, grand and small... and sometimes, maybe, we'll talk about something philosophical. It was an especially late night with the Philosophers Club this Wednesday and when I arrived home-closing in on midnight-the dog still needed to be walked.

On Thursday-a day I really wanted to knuckle down and get some writing done-I had a commitment with our local Heritage Committee. The meeting went far longer and at times was far more tedious than I had anticipated. By the time I was done and I'd come home and walked a not so happy dog it was time to pick up the kids.

Today, Friday, was to be my heavy-duty writing day-and it started out that way. I did revamp a story for submission to Cemetery Dance Magazine before the call came in from school. It turns out that my son was not feeling so well on this Friday before a long weekend. I went and picked them up and detected the merest hint of a smile-it was almost as if he had gotten away with something. I had the sneaking suspicion that he had pulled one over on his Grade 1 teacher-and he knew it... Well, since he's upstairs fast asleep, I'm going to assume that he really was sick... but they're still that sneaky little smile.

After I post this entry, I'll go up stairs and check on him and if he's still asleep I'll let a little more to The Witch.