Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Countdown. How A Deadline Gets Established..

Suddenly the motivation and energy to go through the novel my agent critiqued recently has descended on me. As it is, I am counting the days (sleeps) until the pin in my toe is removed and I can start to walk with full weight on that foot. It dawns on me that after this date, my life will become busier again. If I don't face the comments about this novel now, will I have time like this later? Not likely. Especially since I am already revising short stories and considering again a manuscript of my memoir. And wondering if I can finish my mystery novel in the next few months.

So I began to reread the novel called Would I Lie To You? again. Yes, I can see areas where it slows down. I can see the ambivalence of Sue, the main character, about the man who attracts her after the death of her husband. Also that she ought to start to think about the child she gave up for adoption, something she ought to have done much sooner. That theme is too important for it to be on the second tier of the story. It is likely the most important life experience for Sue to come to grips with. So I am engrossed in this now, half way through the pages. Shifting sections around. Taking sections and realigning the focus. Not sure what else yet, but it is a changed novel already. And I will likely finish tweaking it, working on it by the end of the weekend. And then I can have the conversation with the agent she suggested when we discussed her reactions just before I went for surgery.

Yes, surgery. The last day of August now and I have spent an entire month on the porch! Not venturing out into the city as I protected my foot and got around on crutches, hoping the surgery and subsequent will allow me to walk and dance again soon. And to get out and listen to readings of writers who interest me. To go to movies at TIFF. With a new appreciation of the health and freedom to do those things.


So writing has been a large part of this time even when simply watching the world go by. With the reflection that occurred in that time suggesting nothing in particular. Except perhaps as the time comes to an end, I think I will continue to appreciate more my family and friends who have been so supportive. And at the same time, have more capacity for the isolation writing demands. For a long time, I've run from it even when I've faced it. I hope that now I can face it on an ongoing basis. And without cutting or damaging my ties with the world beyond that.



Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Jack Layton Inspires A Country.

What a sad day for Canada when Jack Layton died, a truly humane politician. He has inspired a country, Canada, to be even better than we are. Hopefuly his legacy will be that no one drops the ball and especially young people and the younger politicians carry on to new heights of taking care of the most vulnerable in society.  That he could find common ground across extreme differences, or at least see that there were talking points that could lead to solutions is a rare gift in the polarized pit of politics. He was a man of courage and commitment and care. Would that he had been able to follow through in Parliament as leader of the official oppostion. His would have been a strong voice. The letter he wrote two days before his death will hopefully inspire the rest of the party. And all of us as citizens of Canada who have lost a strong and compssionate voice that spoke so eloquently for 'ordinary Canadians.'

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Team Work.

Blueberry pie made with wild Ontario blueberries as a late afternoon treat. Earlier for lunch, hummus and spinach dip with fresh pita bread. Chicken taken out of the frig as well when my family turned up unexpectedly. All of these treats brought by friends making sure I am managing as I hobble around on my crutches.Why ever did I think I would feel bored or isolated? My friends are generous with their time and in bringing treats for my meals. Sometimes I wonder if writing a blog or article (or both) on how to set up a support team if one lives alone in a city without family in that city would suggest ideas for others to follow in similar situations. I know if anything comparable arises again, I will once again send out an email to anyone I think might like being involved on a support team as my experience has affirmed people really are willing to help out when they are asked. And that they actually like to be asked!

Here is what I did. I wrote an email letter describing the situation I faced (surgery on my foot) that would lead to a recuperation period of six weeks when I would be unable to put the front of one foot down. During that period I would be on crutches and there would be various things I would need help doing. I mentioned that in building a team my intent was to spread things around so nobody would feel they were doing too much. I also said that I was on a cancellation list for the surgery and so wouldn't have a lot of warning for when all this would happen. I was hoping to have the surgery in the summer so I could sit out on my front porch a lot, watching what was going on on the street, speaking with neighbours, reading. And since the surgery did happen at the end of July, that is exactly what I am doing. Watching the world go by from my porch or living room window.


Living a sedentary and rather quiet life is unusual for me. I am more apt to be out at a dance class or a dance. Perhaps doing yoga. Taking a long walk. Taking courses here and there. Writing is, of course, sedentary. But because that is so, I attempt to remain physically active as much as I can be in other ways. But this experience is very sedentary and isolated. Except it isn't because moving around on crutches takes a lot of different muscles and is exhausting. And due to my great support team, there is always a phone call or a visit to keep me connected to the outside world.

And the good news about writing is that in the spaces in between, I have begun to work on some stories and have revised two in the last couple of days. They are part of a collection I am working on that includes a series of linked stories, some stand-alone stories and some flash fiction. I have even included a couple of poems. So although I am not yet rereading a novel that ny agent had some reservations about, I am at least starting to write once more.

I welcome any comments, questions or suggestions!

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Finding Time to Write When On Crutches.

With the prospect of weeks of having to remain at home off my feet, I visualized words flowing as I sat at my computer. Alas, instead I spend my time writing and responding to email as I attempt to stay in touch with the outside world. Still, I have written a couple of blog posts and done a bit of revision on a short story or two. And patted myself on the back for creating a team of friends who have been absolutely amazing in making sure I am not isolated, that I have food to eat, fresh laundry, cut grass, library books, good conversation. Oh yes, transportation, too, to medical appointments. And one friend drove me to an ice cream parlour where we had huge scoops in waffle cones that we savoured, watching the action on a busy street. A break from the chair on the front porch, which in this season is also wonderful. Neighbours come to talk when they see me with my foot wrapped in white in a black surgical sandal and my crutches leaning against the house.
           So I savour this time of friendship that has given me an incredible sense of support and of knowing how generous and caring people can be. I can be so independent most of the time that I don't ask for help and forget that is all I have to do for someone to be able to offer that help. It is also sobering to be reminded that there are people who are not so fortunate who struggle all the time with one level of disability or other. I will strive not to forget about them as time goes along and my own time on crutches ends.
           Now I will try to do a bit of writing before the day gets any older, before the phone starts to ring and the neighbour who drops off a newspaper arrives. When I have the morning Globe and Mail, I will sit out on the porch to read it and enjoy a bit of this sunny summer day before it reaches its height in terms of heat and humidity. And when the crutches are no longer necessary some time in September, I will strive to keep up with all these friends who have been so generous. I will hope that the folks who drop by will continue to do so. And I will hand out gold stars to all my wonderful friends and let them know I will be there for them when they need me.


Saturday, August 13, 2011

My Toes. Are They Really Mine? Are They Apt to Provide Inspiration for a Story?

Is that really my foot, that somewhat swollen thing at the end of my leg? The toes are, thankfully, different. There is a pin sticking out of one that will be there for another four weeks. I won't be able to put weight on the front of that foot for that much longer. Crutches will be my regular companion, the challenge not to go fast and risk hitting the pin, or coming down on it. That would render the surgery pointless. So patience is  likely the major challenge.

Quite soon after the stitches are removed (ouch!) and the surgeon pronounces that I am doing good work (and I tell him he is), someone else rewraps the foot and, this time, covers the pin at the end of what was until the operation a wandering hammer toe. So I won't know for quite a while now if the foot will transform so that next time I see it, I will recognize it.

What does this have to do with writing? you might well ask. Maybe it means I have scads of time for it while I stick close to home to heal. Or maybe it means everything else takes so long that there is almost no time left in each day for creating anything. Not even revising a story that awaits that careful eye. What can I say? Like many experiences, I suspect I won't know until later how this one has contributed to my life in general and my writing life in particular. I don't even know if I'll write about it elsewhere.  But past experience tells me I will. And that this is likely only a beginning. After all, the idea that the foot may turn out not to be mine seems like an interesting premise.




Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Milestones in a Writing Career.

A comment on my blog caused me to start thinking about what the milestones have been around my life as a writer. In this post, I focus on workshops and retreats. I haven't included workshops I have subsequently taken through the Writers' Union around publishing, promotion, etc. Nor have I commented on the writing group I joined in 2005, something I hadn't previously thought would be helpful (how wrong I was). Nor the many single workshops I took at Humber School for Writers prior to attending a concentrated workshop in the summer of 2006. Perhaps I will write about them another day. In the meantime, I recognize they were all important, but my focus today is on workshops and retreats.

One has to be serious about one's work and have a body of work that one creates in solitude, but workshops and the community and feedback that flow from them have been critical in moving me forward and in providing milestone experiences. I also benefited from the Writer in Residence program at the University of Toronto in the 1970s when Adele Wiseman was the writer when I was a mature student at the university for a year. We became friends as well as colleagues and encouraged each other until her death in 1992. I consulted writers in residence through the Toronto Public Library as well on more than one occasion, including Austin Clarke, Janis Rapoport and Lyn Hamilton.

Note: I would be interested in other writers' comments/reflections on their experiences. The following are some of mine.



Workshop. York University, Toronto. 1970s. The writer who facilitated the group I attended was Austin Clarke who paced the front of the classroom like a caged lion. Then suddenly he would impart some pearl. I recall the phrase, 'The Fear of Invention.' It had a profound impact on me as I struggled to put stories together. On the other hand, this was the first time I had some external validation from a writer who was already established that I could write, too. I had taken one course at McGill University in the 1950s with Constance Beresford-Howe where I didn't experience validation of what I wrote then, nor did my work yet deserve it, but I did read wonderful books. In the years since, I have reread two novels in particular, Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse and Ethel Wilson's Swamp Angel, which still strike me as jewels.

Writers Retreat at Bracebridge, Ontario. 1980s. Sponsored and supported by the Writers' Trust a group of writers of both fiction and non fiction gathered at a lodge on a lake near Bracebridge for two weeks. This time was magical, an opportunity to work without distractions, to eat good meals in the company of other writers and to converse with colleagues in the evenings if one chose to do so. I was fortunate to meet writers such as Isabel Huggan, Jean McKay and Betty Jane Wylie while at this retreat. And to discover that there is a special way of being for writers in such an environment, a way of moving through the scenery with a dream like expression that might portend a poem, of taking a canoe out on the lake to let one's thoughts flow through at the same time as one paddles along the shore.Ways of being I took for granted in myself, but didn't usually find in friends in other fields.

Banff Centre for the Arts. Alberta. 1992. Adele Wiseman encouraged me to go to Banff where she was the Director of the Writing Program. Unfortunately she was unable to be there because of illness and died that spring. Edna Alford and Marilyn Bowering were the two writers I worked with over the six week period I was at Banff, working on Ile d'Or, a novel that was ultimately published in 2010. This workshop was a turning point in many ways. I worked with writers from across the country, for the first time participating in a group of other writers where I was also accepted as such. Mavis Gallant was the special guest for two weeks in the middle of the program and I had the privilege of an hour with her when we discussed her life as a writer and mine also. It was exciting and inspiring.During the two weeks Gallant moved among us, but this opportunity for a conversation with her on my own was a moment I still cherish.

University of New Brunswick. Fredericton. 1997. Writing Workshop. One week with Ann Copeland as facilitator. I worked on short fiction at this workshop. I chose to go because I'd heard the program was a good one, but also as an opportunity to spend time in Fredericton. After the workshop I went to St. Andrews by the Sea to meet friends with whom I drove up through New Brunswick to Riviere du Loup on the St. Lawrence in Quebec. At this workshop, I met people like Nino Ricci and Janet Lunn as well as the Acquisitions Editor, Laurel Boone, from Goose Lane Publishing. I had had much correspondence with Ms. Boone and it was a treat to meet her and speak in person.

Humber School for Writers. Toronto. 2006. At this week long workshop in July, I was assigned, much to my delight, to the group who would work with Alistair McLeod. I had decided when I retired from doing other work that it was time to work towards seeing books published. Over the years many short stories had been. So I submitted the first chapter of Ile d'Or in its latest version to this workshop. After the workshop, the book that was published first (in 2007) was a collection of short stories, One Day It Happens. At Humber, I learned from Alistair McLeod that he had accepted two of my short stories, ten years apart, for publication in the University of Windsor Review. Somehow this tied together many parts of writing experience and I felt the courage and confidence again to continue submitting my work. In the next three years, I had two books published. The short story collection, One Day It Happens, and finally, the novel, Ile d'Or. And now, I am working on others!








Friday, August 5, 2011

Surgery as Inspiration.


This is more about not writing than about writing. When one has had surgery and is recovering, writing a story or poem or novel seems pretty remote. However, I have made a lot of notes about my hospital experience. All the contradictions of what one is told in hospital begin to fade quickly, so the notes will still be there if I want to try to create something later. Now I am simply pondering the reality of sitting at a computer at the same time needing to keep my right leg elevated to avoid swelling of the foot where the toes in question are now recovering. Also contemplating the reality of moving with crutches for the next few weeks because I can't put the front of that foot down for quite a while. I am far more mobile than I expected to be so that's a good thing, but there are endless challenges. I will try to see them as an adventure in healing. The carrot beyond healing is to get back to dancing. Long before that I will be writing, of course!