Juan Valdez and I, Together Again

Okay I tried. Though I didn't go the glamorous route and check into Promises Rehab Center I did try very very hard to give up coffee.

I had read that coffee plays havoc with hormones. And in the past year my life has been ruled by the roller coaster of peri-menopause. Every morning I would get up wondering what kind of symptom would rule my day. Would I be the cheerful tearful. Would the hot flashes have me stripping down to my underwear. Or would I be so exhausted, just adding two plus two would require a post-game nap.

I also suspected that the two cappuccino's I drank a day had something to do with the twenty something pounds I could not remove.

So I gave it up. For two whole months. I substituted green tea, African Red Tea, iced water...and for awhile it seemed to work.

But then the kids went back to school. Then my business financial year-end hit. Then my hard drive crashed. Then the hormones returned big time. It's been two weeks of nasty headaches, aching joints, cramps, and enough hot flashes to cause a supernova.

Only a cup of coffee would make me feel better. I nice dark espresso, nice frothy milk on top, with a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar. [sigh] Small pleasures.

A Mother's Worst Nightmare

Forgive me, it's been 10 days since my last post. But I have a really good excuse.

Last week my family went out for supper. My eldest son left early. He had arrived by motor scooter and since he only has a M1 license, he has to be off the roads by 30 minutes past sunset. My husband and remaining family lingered a while longer before I left with most of the crowd in my van while my husband rode his motorcycle home.

As we turned off Yonge St onto Sheppard up ahead we saw three police cars and one ambulance with traffic being diverted. I don't know why, but I immediately knew my son was involved.

As I made the turn with the rest of the traffic my mother confirmed my worst fear. My red motor scooter, the one my son had been riding was lying on it's side in the middle of the road.

I then went through the longest five minutes of my life. Trying not to panic with my younger kids in the back seat, while focusing on get back to the accident site ASAP. I hoped I was wrong--perhaps it was another red bike--but knowing deep down I wasn't. I know the accident statistics for motorcycles and I have never prayed so fast.

When finally made it around the corner, I saw a million shards of broken motor scooter scattered on the street in a 25 metre radius. And no sign of my son.

I flew from the car my heart in my throat. A police officer held me back and told me I had to move my car "You'll cause another accident Mam."

Suddenly from the crowd my son, my 6'3" 250 lb baby walked casually over to me. I ran into his arms, too big for me to hold him, and cried. He was alive and despite a couple of scratches on his leg, perfectly okay.

My husband arrived a couple of minutes later. I'd expected a similar reaction from him but he was oddly calm. I later found out that my son had called him right after the accident so he had arrived knowing our son was okay.

How did it happen? My son was at the back of a train of three cars. My son turned his head to check the left lane and move out when the first car, a taxi, did a hard stop to pick up a fare forcing both of the cars following to do the same. By the time my son reacted it was too late to stop and he crashed into the car in front of him.

Thank God there was no car in the left lane. Thank God his helmet worked. Thank God the people in the other cars stopped to help him.

And thank God I still have my son.

Meanwhile back at the Circus

Monday Evening: School #4 PTA meeting

Tuesday Evening: DS#1 works, Music lessons DS#2

Wednesday Evening: Newspaper route, Curriculum Night School #4, Book Circle Launch

Thursday Evening: Music Lesson DS#4, Music Lesson DS#5, Curriculum Night School #3, Fencing Lessons DD#1 and DS #4, Puppy Class with DS#3, Curriculum night School #1

Friday Evening: Newspaper route, DS #1 works

Thanks god Saturday hockey hasn't started yet.

Pretty Tired When you Can't Add to Nine

I just realised I forgot one film in yesterday's ranking.

Romulus, My Brother. An Australian film with Eric Bana based on a famous Aussie writer's life. I had hoped to hear Eric's Aussie accent but he played an Romanian. LOL. Bonus was Marton Csokas. An excellent drama but by the end I felt a couple of notes too often. Got to meet see Richard Roxburg in the Q & A afterwards. Which was a relief since there was a big question left dangling at the end. If you do, Susan is left in a foster home despite Hora trying to adopt her. Rai finds her later in life and they become close.

I'd rank it after Normal.

Five Days, Nine Movies…hopefully eight hours of sleep.

It's Friday night. I've done nine films in five days and I'm ready for a good night's sleep. How in the world does anyone do 45 films in 9 days.

I must say I enjoyed the whole experience. I loved the Q & A with the directors. (A couple of actors made it out too). I liked talking to perfect strangers about what they had seen.

Here's my ranking of the films I saw.

1-Across the Universe. I would pay to see this one again. I find myself breaking out in song all day long.

2-The Jane Austen Book Club. Grab all your girlfriends and have a night out. There's something in this for everyone.

3-Chrysalis. A French Sci-Fi. You might only be able to get this one on zip.ca. But worth the rental.

4-Normal. A great Canadian film. All about loss. Very sad great acting. And Kevin Zegers.

5-Honeydrippers. Slow but amazing acting.

6-Buddha Collapsing in Shame. I great film. Subtle. The children are adorable.

7-Silk. Sorry….Lost in Translation. There's almost zero tension in two hours. Ms. Knightly does nothing but look great even when she was dying. Michael Pitt is dull as dishwater. Alfred Molina is the one bright note.

8-Christopher Columbus. Awful. Don't even think of seeing this one. It took 70 minutes what could be said in 10. I slept through half.

Glad it's over but I'm going back next year.

Well, I'm here.

I just did my first TTIF film , The Jane Austen Book Club and I'm rolling on a high.

Getting here was fun. The dog and I walked at 6:3O am just so I could get here in time. I found out that you needed to be at films 30 minute s ahead of time or they resell your tickets. That didn't leave me much time to get from Sheppard to Queen. Luckily 9:00 am showings are only popular with the blue rinse crowd and there was plenty of space. Mind you I took the stairs instead of the escalator and my heart is pumping.

Just enough time for a sandwich before my next one.

TTIF Virgin No More

For years I've wanted to do the Toronto Film Festival but have never managed to find the time. It falls right at back-to-school which has to be the worst time for a mother. If the kids go off track in September they never get back on track.
But this year, after listening to fellow script writers talk all year about all the great films you can catch before the public release I decided to risk it and get the daytime pass.
Then I told everyone so I couldn't back out.
It looked so simple. Then I found out that the box office is downtown. Limited hours. No parking. On line they only took VISA and mine has a tiny line of credit (purposefully to protect myself from internet fraud) which I had maxed out for kids’ camp etc. And honestly, by the first week of August I was maxed out from dealing with the kids.
When I finally got my act together in the last week of summer the day-time passes were all sold out.
I was soooooo angry with myself.
Determined to recover, on Sept 5th I got online again and after fritzing away two hours figuring how the TTIF sit worked, paid full price to see 8 films.
I'm now standing in line with a bazillion other people to get them. The TTIF computers are down but there is a camaraderie amongst the lineup that we are part of something special. And then I realize that this is half the fun.
This is going to be great.

Back in the Saddle Again

Today is my first day on my shiny new bicycle.

Three weeks ago my bicycle was stolen out of my back yard. But it took a couple of days for the thief to actually register. It had been a post Midnight Madness, post new dog kind of week...one where logic, emotion and action didn't exactly have paths of intersection...so I wasn't positive I hadn't left it somewhere and had just forgotten.

And then I wasn't exactly upset about it either. I hated that bike.

Years ago I had a bike I really liked. But it was an older off road style and it bugged my husband it was so clunky. So for our anniversary that year he bought me a new sleek one. But in August he had had only the dregs of the season to choose from. For a start, the one he chose only had a male seat. The gears were noisy no matter how much I adjusted them. And none of my accessories fit. But honestly it was the dull black and grey paint that bothered me the most.

So now I have a beautiful two-tone blue bicycle. The gears are as smooth as butter. It can fit my mirror, rack and bottle holder. And I'm back in the saddle again.

19 more days....

...till the kids head back to school. Technically it's 18 days and 23 hours and 15 minutes but I'm too spent to count the seconds.

My summers start off with the best intentions. We were going to get out and explore the city. Get really physical. Stay away from the from the TV. Typical of every year.

So now it's the third week of August and wonder what stops me. Well first the kids want to sleep. There is only so much force you can apply to a 250lb 6'3" teenager. The attitude flaming off my hormonal daughter is even worse. Then to keep them occupied I find I'm running one here to friends, having another one's friends over.

Then I do have work to do. Both at home and at my business so I always feel like I'm playing catch up. There's additional work in cleaning up after four kids. No one is on the same eating schedule so family suppers are on hold until September.

My bike was stolen a couple of weeks ago so I've become dependent on my car again.

So now the challenge is to get some quality time into the last two weeks without killing my kids.

Ode to Algonquin

 

I said goodbye to my true love,

Algonquin bound this morn.

He seemed to have packed all the essentials,

including my own first born.

 

He said goodbye in the dawn light,

Off to paddle and grunt in the rain.

To burp, sit and fart at his leisure,

And to show all the bears he's got game.

 

Oh I shall miss my truelove,

And his socks upon the floor.

But at heart I'm a true opportunist,

Bring the coolers, the party's at four.

The Puppy has Arrived

For sixteen years of parenthood I've resisted dog ownership. I knew that no matter what promises my children made, I would be the one looking after it. So on top of all my regular and seasonal jobs and responsibilities I'd have to add another.

My husband and I did make compromises. We tried fish (a ton of work), birds (kids were allergic to the feathers), hamsters (they only live so long), a rabbit (a wonderful pet) and a snake (not cheap). But last December our third child asked us out for coffee on a Sunday morning.

He wanted a dog. He laid out his plan carefully. What he was prepared to do, how he would care for the dog, training schedule etc. Actually pretty impressive for an 11 year old.

And of course my husband and I took the bait. Between the love for our son and our pride in his presentation how could we say no? We did have a number of conditions, most importantly was his allergies. It would have to be a non-shedding breed…and one that we could afford. The dog would only be allowed in certain areas of our home. And he would have to take a couple of dogs for test-drives to show us how serious he was.

By the end of January we (my son and I) had a breed, Golden Doodle but it took us until June to convince my husband to put the money down. Our puppy was born June 16^th and Aug 14 was the arranged pick-up day.

Last week we went for a peek at our dog (a female) when much to our shock and excitement we were informed she was okay to go home. It seems her mother weaned the litter early and puppies had had their shots already since the males were leaving early. So I was alone with four excited kids to make the decision to bring her home. I needed to find a bank and get the money. I needed a box to bring her home in, I needed to call my husband and get the house ready…all the while wondering if she was too young to come home.

I'll tell you it was like an early unplanned labour. We had nothing ready. I spent the next two days in a daze of puppy proofing the house and toilet training.

She is one beautiful dog. Great temperament, fun, happy. And most of all she appears to love us as much as we love her.

10 things I hated about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

SPOILER ALERT:

1-Could Hermione cry anymore if she tried? I think as the main female character she could have been less over the top. If she wasn’t crying she was arguing.
2-What about Luna Lovegood? J.K. Rowlings created one funny, quirky character and never used her potential.
3-The 200 plus pages in the middle where nothing happens? I thought that was what Editors are for. I guess they’ll print anything when your sales are out of control.
4-What’s so great about Dumbledore? He never worked as a mentor for me. He was too aloof. Nor did he stand out in greatness from the other adults like Mr. Weasley (who I loved).
5-Fleur was flighty? It’s the feminist coming out in me again but I do recall at one point she excelled enough in magic to be chosen to compete for the Goblet of Fire. Why does she come across as an angry domestic Paris Hilton?
6-Anyone else notice that the invisibility cloak got bigger? Remember back in the Philosopher’s Stone how the cloak just grazed over the floor. So if it barely fit one 11 year old. How does it completely cover two 17 year olds...sometimes three?
7-Where’s the big bad magic? How did three high school students with six years of negligible learning about the Dark Arts avoid detection from the greatest evil wizard of all time. He-who-shall-not-be-named loses some fear factor points.
8-If you set-up something, pay it off. Sorry, a big pet peeve of mine. Rowlings set-up all sorts of things and didn’t use them: a blind dragon heading straight for Hagrid, Aunt Petunia and family, the angry centaurs in the forest, Quidditch, the feet showing under the invisibility cloak, the search for Snargles, Etc etc etc.
9-Dobbie shows up just to die. This reminds me of a similar scene in Pirates of the Caribbean Part 3 where the commodore shows up to free the protagonist only to die before the scene is over. It’s a cheat. Characters have to provide more than just an easy escape. Better to have sent an angry Kreacher with conflicting loyalties.

And my top 10...We didn’t go anywhere unexpected? Okay, this might have been difficult with bazillion readers pressuring Rowlings for the final instalment but the ending is what will prevent Harry Potter’s elevation into the greatest books of all time. The ending was predictable and expository. No awe. No special twists. And Voldermort was ultimately a blank threat, a character of no dimension; his outwitting by Harry was no surprise for anyone.

Red Virtue---[blushing]

This is the name of my 7 day 15 page script for the NYC Midnight Madness.

Don't ask where it came from. It was 11:54 pm and I had 5 minutes to submit.

Here's the link if anyone wants to read it.

http://www.thisisnotawebsite.ca/4-redvirtue.pdf

Cheers

Karen

This blog has been locked by Blogger's spam-prevention robots.

I tried to post earlier this week and this is the message I got.


"Blogger's spam-prevention robots have detected that your blog has characteristics of a spam blog. (What's a spam blog?) Since you're an actual person reading this, your blog is probably not a spam blog. Automated spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and we sincerely apologize for this false positive.
We received your unlock request on July 25, 2007. On behalf of the robots, we apologize for locking your non-spam blog. Please be patient while we take a look at your blog and verify that it is not spam. "

Dumb robots...at least I'm back. And my brain cells are beginning to rub together again.

Fried Green Tomates

Fried Green Tomatoes

That’s what my brains are. Furious writing, making the MYCMM deadline with only seconds to spare can do that it seems. Four days after I’m still having difficulty putting 2 + 2 together.

I didn’t do myself any service by taking until Wednesday to start my actual writing. My BIL and SIL were arriving with families on Friday night. So there was a house to clean and groceries to buy. With four kids in the house, that’s a two steps forward and one back type of thing.

My writing took place between midnight and 2:00am. By Saturday I had a rough first draft down and a day to rewrite. I decided whatever I completed by 11:00 pm would have to do. I would take thirty minutes to correct typo's then email the script by 11:30 which gave me 29 minutes to spare for the 11:59 pm deadline.

Talk about your Midnight Madness.



My script was finished at 11:02. I put my timer on for 30 minutes for the edit.


At 11:31 all hell broke lose. Kids screaming and crying. My teenager begging me for the copy of Harry Potter. Fighting over beds and toys. Did I mention I had 9 extra people in the house?



AT 11:45 I locked myself in my office and tried to focus. I still had to make my Title page. I had a crappy logline but no time left to improve it. At 11:51 I tried to save it as a .PDF. My scriptwriting software has an odd way of doing this. It's not in the SAVE section but in the PRINT section but I couldn't remember the exact steps...and the directions were saved on my other computer which I had just turned off. Shit.



There was allot more swearing and cursing, finding the email with all the directions, saving, renaming files, emailing, while literally juggling two laptops in my 3” by 3” space know as my office, before I finally sent the email.

Google time… 12:00am Sunday, July 22nd. 60 seconds late!!!

But there’s a happy ending to this story. After 48 hours of anxious pacing I received my confirmation email to say my entry was accepted.


Except for the last 20 minutes, it was a rewarding experience. I think just writing FADE OUT: was worth the money. It's been a long time since I forced myself to finish anything.



But if I do this next year...I'm going into hiding.

Waiting for Midnight Madness

I entered a scriptwriting contest. The NYC Midnight Madness Scriptwriting Challenge...aka How to Burn Your Brain Out in One Week.

I have one week to write a 15-page script based on an assigned genre and set-up. I've never done a writing blitz before since my lifestyle of kids, home and business doesn't permit it. But I thought with the kids out of school perhaps I could attempt one. I can seriously only write for a couple of hours at a time anyway.

So in about two hours I'll know where I stand.

Maybe I should take a before picture. J

Summer Break Week 2

I feel I am writing a survivor log.

It's week two of summer break and already I feel the strain. The kids have been out of school all of 10 days and already I feel like I'm losing my sanity.

Since no one wanted to go to camp this year, I've instigated a couple of rules.

First-Everyone gets out of bed by 9:30 am and breakfast is closed by 10:00. This is my attempt to keep everyone on the same feeding schedule. Making meals is not my favourite task so when I make the effort I want everyone hungry. Hopefully getting teenagers out of bed at this hour will also avoid the middle of the night prowl. The downside is I lose a third of my energy stores in enforcing this rule.

Second-No TV or video games before 5:00. If the kids are determined to be at home, it's not going to be to vegetate in front of the TV. And the minute someone says they are bored, I will put them in camp. After one week no one's complaining. Note: they found their GAME Boys so I needed to add them to the rule.

So wrangling the younger boys, dealing with my hormonal teenagers, summer school, jobs, rugby practice etc etc. Etc leaves zero time for blogging.

Happy Father`s Day

Today we celebrate fathers. In this day of ex-husbands and long-distance dad, ex-dads and long-distance husbands, I am truly grateful for my amazing in-house husband and my around-the-corner father both of whom I love dearly.

My father is away at a Rotary International Convention so I phone call will have to do for him.

My husband gets to make pancakes for us all. It`s his regular Sunday thing and gives him joy to see all his family at breakfast. I was going to make him a cappuccino but he used all the milk for the pancake batter...cafe Americano it had to be.

This afternoon we will hit Montana`s and see Ocean`s Thirteen. His choice. Gifts to follow.

I hope we make him feel as appreciated as he is.

 

Warning! Teenagers make you old.

Way back when my first child was born, I was involved in a business group of people of similar circumstance. Every meeting would begin with 15-30 minutes of chatter about diaper changes, sleep times and teething issues. The oldest member of the group, the one whose babies had grown up, would sit quietly, a pitying look in his eyes. Every so often we would get "You have no idea how easy you have it now?"

We would all laugh. What could possible be worse than babies not sleeping through the night, a fever and mysterious rashes.

Well, now I have teenagers...two going on three (and I've told my youngest he is never to grow up)...I understand exactly what he what trying to say. Teenagers make you scream laugh and cry at the same time.

It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't remember my own teens so well. I wasn't exactly a wild child but there are still enough stories about that I would rather my parents not hear. Explanations I fudged a bit. Times I was out with people other than whom I said I was. Sleepovers that didn't involve sleep. But trust me, in the world of teenagers I did not stand out. And the few times my parents caught me in the grey zone, they had bigger problems to deal with.

It's that point of view that keeps throwing things off. Relating and identifying with your teenagers can only lead to sad 'Paris Hilton' situations. I am the parent now. I have to be the responsible one. I have to deal out rules and regulations...and enforce them. And when they are forgotten or broken, I am the one responsible for dishing out the consequences.

Instead of diaper changes I make sure they know how to use condoms.

Instead of worrying about them sleeping through the night, I wonder if they are in bed and what strategy to use to get them up before noon.

Instead of the pain of the first tooth, I pay for orthodontists to make them perfect and pray when they get home from rugby they still have a full set.

Exhausting work. My face has become wrinkled overnight. And I won't say how much weight I've gained.

Thank-god it will be over in 10 years. Just in time to be a grandmother.

 

Stephen King on writing

The prolific and successful Mr. King spoke at Harbourfront last Friday night. Here's what I took away.

1. No one should tell you what to read or not to read. Margaret Attwood of all people stated this. When she took the podium, you could feel a collective post-traumatic groan from the audience...It seems we were all scarred from some high school English class where one of her early works was required reading...But unexpectedly she was very entertaining. And quite clearly stated that if it had not been for Stephen King novels, her sons would never have learned to read a novel. We were momentarily stunned as a CANlit favoured author gave such praise for popular fiction.
   
2. No one should tell you what to write. Just write from inside. I've heard this so many times over the years but it's funny but I never really HEARD it until Friday night.
   
3. Pass it on. Clive Barker gave an emotional speech on how a Stephen King's review of Barker's first book gave him a sales boost that made him a success. King didn't have to do it but it turned a floundering author into one with an immediate following.
   
4. Guys get more breaks. King told of his battle with booze. How he ignored his family, wrote all day and night, played with fame etc but at the end of the day his family forgave him and now sober and successful he promises never to do it again. How many times have you heard similar stories of successful men that get away with this? Does any one know of any women? Women who have said goodbye to their families, worked on their careers boosted by booze and drugs until they almost kill themselves. Then when they choose sobriety they are welcome back into the fold to begin again. I can't think of one.
   
5. If you are going to recommend one of your books as "my favourite" always chose the one out in Hard Cover. LOL.
   

Did you win the $37 million?

Are you the lucky person that will be collecting $37 million from the lottery corporation office this week.

Over ten years ago I made the pack with myself that I would not buy lottery tickets unless the pot was over $10 Million. I was at a low point in my life. The kind where a wack of money would make everything better so I had gotten into the habit of buying lottery tickets every week. It wasn't like the $10 bucks was going to make or break my life and I rationalised that the entertainment value of "What would I buy first?" was worth it. My problem started when it became PLAN B. I stopped looking at what my real issues were and postponed actions and decisions time and time again on the possibility that this week might be the big one. So I made the rule.

I've been pretty good at avoiding that trap ever since. But the past couple of weeks I've noticed these large pots of 6-49 up for grabs and see how easy it is to slip into old habits.

It starts quite subtly. Life has been a challenge lately. The daily grind seems to be on a coarser setting. The family is going in six different directions but everyone still presumes groceries will be in the house, supper on the table and socks and underwear in the dresser. Wouldn't it be great if we could hire a housekeeper just to take care of all that? See we wouldn't need to win a lot. Just enough to get rid of the jobs no one wants to do.

Then my thoughts begin to grow. If we won we could afford to send my teenagers off on some educational third world projects, my daughter to NYU film school. Make a bigger room for my youngest son (his is 7 x 10). I could help some kids in my neighbourhood with scholarships.

See I'm not asking for a Mercedes or anything. But despite my altruistic thoughts greed does eventually roll in and I'm thinking of makeovers for myself and daughter...in NYC. And we could buy that gorgeous piece of property we saw outside of Picton. Build a nice little hide-a-way for Tam and I where the kids could visit and ride out in the bush. It would be off the power grid and environmental neutral of course.

And start a charitable foundation with the rest. Start booster math programs for kids falling behind. Help refugees start again in Canada. Help build schools in Afghanistan. Feed and treat the malnourished in Africa. We would be great human beings.

But alas our numbers did not come up. We didn't even win a free ticket. And I look back at the disaster of the last couple of weeks and see how I've let so much slide again. I've been in my own little imaginary world.

As I sort through my pile of Mountwashmore, wondering if anyone missed me, I vow not to buy any more lottery tickets unless the lottery is over $20 million. Give me some breathing space. Get back on track.

Then my buddy calls. The lottery's $40 million. [sigh] I might be adrift for a while yet.

Seven Steps

Some days I get so stressed out with everything I have to do. But even among those, days like the past couple, I find myself in so deep they are in a league of there own... and it usually involves a writing deadline.

I’ve been through them before. But now I am a mature adult, mother of four, business woman and black belt, it surprises how I solve this situation.

Step One-Check my email. Somewhere, someone needs my advice and that’s easier than dealing with the problems at hand.

Step Two-Watch a movie. Hey, I little escapism never hit anyone. And part of the stress is the pile of DVD’s I’ve rented from Zip.ca that I’m wasting my money on.

Step Three-Declutter my desk because lord knows I can’t possible address any problems when there are report cards to file and post-it notes to rearrange.

Step Four-Start a new book club, movie club, writing club etc for the positive affirmations of my organizational skills.

Step Five-Decide today it the day I will teach one of my children some new skill I have thus far in their young lives neglected to impart.

Step Six-Since I have by now ruled out any hormonal issues, it must be a writing issue. My story is not working and therefore I need to START AGAIN. After eight hours this is usually followed by frustration so great, I toss my papers in the air and declare defeat. I was once a happy person before I started this journey and once I give up my delusions of writing grandeur I could be happy once again. Which then of course triggers the most brilliant idea to solve the story’s problem. I’m left exhausted on the couch in that ironic state of pleasure/pain...joy that my story works but I know full well the worst is yet to come.

Step Seven-Having solved the problems of the story but still unable to continue I decide it must be my computer. This can be often be simply solved with a change of wallpaper but the last time I had this problem I had to buy cool new software. Unfortunately this time I think it’s the laptop itself. It’s too big and bulky. The karma is all off. It’s perfect for the office but not for the bike rides to the coffee shop or library. I believe I could buy a cheap tiny thing for the money in my change jar. But of course my budget goes out the door the minute I step into Staples.But now I do have a shiny new laptop booting up that I promise will only be used for creative purposes.

Is there a step eight? God I hope not. This whole stupid week is all about self-esteem.I know I can write. Okay. I do take on the big themes twist them and they are a $#%challenge to pull apart. But what I am mostly fearful of is that I will make a mistake...which is totally unfair to me...and actually kind of arrogant. Everyone does. I will. Many times.

I just need to give myself permission to get it right on the fifth draft. Or Fiftieth.

It's a Conspiracy

It feels like there’s a conspiracy against me and my writing today. It’s not even 9:30 and I feel like I’m working against a stacked deck.

It’s Monday so I can’t blame the lack of groceries, tired kids. But what’s with the rain.

And each kid needed a lift but of course they go to four schools… at four separate times.

My last stop is near one of my favorite coffee stops…which would have been great if I’d put my writing stuff in the car.

A quick detour to pick them up…then I realize I’ve changed purses and forgot my reading glasses.

My special table…the only one where all my karma is in balance :))… is taken.

They don’t have my dark roast. [sigh]

Still, I am trying to work through this.

Highland farms better have my chicken soup today.

Blank Blogs

I’ve been trying to jump start a blog for the past hour and all I could come up with was a recap of my weekend visit to Prince Edward County. BTW, I stayed at the Inn at the Huff Estates. http://huffestates.ca

All weekend long I could feel the stress of not blogging for almost a week. I thought for sure I could come up with something interesting. And interesting ideas did come to me but alas without a computer, pen or my reading glasses…and it was a weekend spent away alone with my husband, I didn’t feel I could divert any time to writing.

Now I am tired and stressed out about the week ahead. Somehow I have to get my script together for next Monday. I also have a TRW meeting to get my act together for. Plus groceries, work etc. Too much to do as usual.

So I am going to have to come to terms with every blog will not be brilliant. Nor will I have the time to get the great ones down. It’s not like I have a following yet. J

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe next week.

A STORY LESS COMPLICATED

I've been down this road before. I start with a great premise. Give my protagonist some querky characterisation and an intriguing layered inner need. Add some sub-plots and funny secondary characters. It all seems so perfect. I just need to get it down.

But everytime...and sadly this time is no exception...I find my story lost in the middle of Act 2. It has become so complicated or off track from the original story I was trying to tell that I have to step back...and perhaps start again.

It might be easier if I wasn't attracted to paranormal elements, complex time structure or epic sagas. But then these are the stories I love to read and watch.

Somehow I need to put that all aside and focus on a simple story. A classic three act structure.

And FINISH it. Submit it. Taste some success...or rejection. But I least I would be able to write THE END.

In My Writing Nook

At the end of April, when I returned from my brother’s wedding in Mexico, my garden had burst from the ground. Green was everywhere. At least I presumed it was everywhere as I still had to clear away the dead stuff from last fall. Forget about writing my script due for reading on the following Monday. There was a garden to clear and it called to me every time I sat down.
There is something very satisfying about digging in the earth. Whether it’s fulfilling some primal need, or perhaps just the simplicity of clearing out of the old to let the new come through, for three hours I pulled, dug, raked and sweated.
From the curb, I surveyed my efforts. The tulips and daffodils were ready to bloom and with a couple of plants divisions and shifts my garden held all the promise I could hope for. Not bad considering the ‘Flower Massacre of 2005’ (another story for another time). The next week I dragged a friend with a COSTCO membership out to get some hanging baskets my mother had recommended. Then the out side trip to HOME DEPOT…and another $200…for the plants for the window baskets and misc other plants. Add one mother’s day of serious work and my garden is totally complete.
So today, I sit on my new IKEA garden table and chairs, pansies on the table, twinkle lights behind me. The birds are singing up a storm. My pet rabbit is stretched out in the raspberry bushes beside me.

Life seems incredibly perfect.

And I have no more excuses not to write.

I Can't Wait

This afternoon my daughter auditioned for a roll in a TV series. A big roll. A secondary roll in a new show, shot out in the Rockies over a four month period and…and…and now I have to sit by the phone and wait for her agent to call. It could be two days, one week, never. I have no idea.
When I ask my daughter how the audition went I get, “Fine”. Goddamn it. I paid $15 bucks for parking I need better answers then “Fine”.
And this is when I realized how miserable I am at waiting. I mean, couldn’t they just give her a hint as she walked out the door. You’re not the look we wanted! You sucked! At least I could get on with my life. BTW my daughter is happily watching America’s Top Model and doing her homework. I am clearly suffering alone.

And I’m just coming out of another bad WAITING episode. My youngest had auditioned for our local arts school and made the first cut. Unfortunately the second audition coincided with a family wedding in Mexico that had been booked for over six months. After pleading to the artistic director for another opportunity he advised me “Not to worry. We don’t have a lot of choice with boys.” Which I quickly translated into, “He’s 90% in. We are just going through the motions.” I paced a trail from North York to the Mayan Rivera and back again waiting for the final decision from the school. When the envelop finally appeared in my mailbox it was to say he had NOT been accepted. Three months of waiting for no payoff.

Sigh. In four months my eldest will start sending off applications for university. And unless he pulls up his socks, it won’t be a case of ‘where’ he gets in but ‘if’. I think I’ll be a basket case by the end of that.

Perhaps there is a ten-step program I can join.

On your mark, get set, go.

I am about to shut my eyes and jump into the blog abyss.

Most of my friends will be quietly shaking their heads behind my back. Have I not complained daily about my lack of time? And here I go again with another project.

My hockey convening ends with the finals next week. And my scriptwriting course takes a pause for a couple of weeks. So I should have oodles of time to devote to this blog…and it’s not time to look at my taxes quite yet.

This will free my writing muse. Get the juices flowing. Let my daily joys and frustrations have a daily outlet.

I can hope.