Good-bye Bunker

.
Today is my last day in my northern office—affectionately called The Bunker. I love the office I'll be moving to in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, but my Bunker in rural Ontario, overlooking fields and a maple forest, is my favourite writing space, and it's always hard to leave. Not only is it lovely and cosy and quiet, but this is where my books are, this is the core of my research library.

Your home is where your books are, someone said, and I believe that to be true.

Books everywhere!
Right now, the desk in the photo is covered with stacks of books: books to be considered, books without a place on my shelves. (Another problem, that!) Which books should I take with me? What research books am I going to need in the six months ahead? This is not a question that can be answered easily ... at least not by me.

With so little time left, I'll aim to simply tidy today, leaving post-it notes on all the various piles.

I can't take my bulletin board, alas
On the wall in front of the desk I have a framed print, a bulletin board and a Edward Gorey calendar. The bulletin board has inspiring images and quotes on it: "Want • Obstacle • Action," for example.

Images of creativity
Two of the images on the bulletin board are especially dear to me. One, of men carving up blocks of stone, is evocative of the heavy lifting of the revision process.

The other image is one I haven't been able to identify. (If you can identify it, I'd be eternally grateful!) It's of two people, possibly a man and a woman, floating on a platform on a lake, half-emmersed in water. This image captures, for me, the feeling of the creative process, of immersion in unconscious.

The two images—one evocative of the unconscious, the other of the conscious, I think—work together in any act of creation.

Should I take my Edward Gorey calendar? I've loved it so! No: I'll fast-forward through November and December, and in the Spring, on return, I'll put it in my keeper box. Ironically, I just peeked at the caption for November:

It would carry off objects of which it grew fond, 

And protect them by dropping them into the pond.

Construction image: Granite for monuments (for future monuments), 1939. Lithograph by Louis Lozowick.


Floating image: unknown to me. If you know, please write.

Sandra Gulland

*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/

On Giving Readings

.
.
I so enjoyed my PEN reading last night — and everyone else seemed to, as well. I don't know the count, but the theatre was almost full, so my guess is about 150, perhaps more — which is excellent.

This time I followed some of the advice given in one of the workshops I had taken at the SMA Writers' Conference this last weekend. The workshop was on giving readings, by Terrence Hill, author of the delightful "Two Guys Read..." series, and a fabulous presenter himself.

His wisdoms:

It's not a reading, it's a performance.

Wear something odd, or come in costume.

Know exactly what you're going to read.

Select your reading based on the audience.

Select readings that form a story.

Offer to write your introduction.

Rehearse, rehearse, rehearse.

Time your presentation.

Arrange for someone to ask the first question, in order to break the ice at the beginning of the question and answer period.

Arrive early and see what's missing. Check the room and the equipment.

Show your book to the audience, but don't read from it. Read from an edited print-out.

Write out everything, even the asides.

End early.

Prepare a closing: "Thank you for listening.

• 
  

I very much like Terrence's approach. In many ways, I've been doing much of it already; he confirmed that I was on the right track. I much preferred reading from copy in 16-point type than from a marked-up book, which can be difficult to handle.

One thing I used for the first time was a spring-loaded notebook, a gift from the wonderful writer, Merilyn Simonds. Instead of a scramble of loose sheets or cards, this time I had this elegant portfolio that lay beautifully flat on the podium. It has become essential to me now. I highly recommend it.

Picking out a signing pen

.
.
My husband can go in and out of an office supply store in 5 minutes. Not me. Yesterday I had the luxury of time, and I walked all the aisles, lingering. I did have a list -- printer inkers, storage boxes (for packing away Mistress of the Sun notes), stick-on dots (for coding the research books on my shelves), and, most importantly, a good pen for signing my books.

When my first book was published, Richard gave me a beautiful Waterman fountain pen, which I treasure. But it proved challenging to use as a signing pen: it sometimes blotched, stained my fingers, and it could leak in-flight. Also, and most importantly, I had to carefully blot the signed title page before closing the book. In the beginning, when I had only few books to sign, I welcomed a time-consuming process. Now, when I'm signing as many as 40 books, I need to be more efficient.

Recently, I stopped into a Chapters/Indigo store in Toronto, and offered to sign my books. I did not have a pen with me, and I was quickly offered a Sharpie. Well. Not that elegant, but — "They don't blot," the clerk told me. "Which is why we use them." The other nice thing about a felt-tip marker, I later thought, is that you are given notice when it's drying up — not like a fountain or ball-point pen that can quit mid-signature. Making a mess in a $30 book is not a good thing.

So I lingered long at the felt-tip marker section. It wasn't an independent office supply store — the wonderful type of store where you can test the pens on a scrap of paper provided — so I purchased a selection, and headed north, to Petawawa Stables, where I had my horse to visit ... and a book to sign.

I've known Dawn and her mother Yvonne since before I began writing Mistress of the Sun. I used to take riding lessons there, and my horse, Finnegan, is wonderfully looked after there during the winter.

I was delighted to sign Yvonne's book, a gift to her from Dawn. I had tested the markers in the car: the Sharpies, a medium tip, were too fat — a fine-point would be a better choice — but the blue Staedtler (1.0 Medium) worked quite nicely ... if only I didn't have to buy a set of eight in assorted colors to get that one blue.

I'll be in New York soon, with time, I hope, for one of my favorite past-times: lingering in the aisles of an office supply store.

Photo: Finnegan and me, taken by Dawn Townshend at Petawawa Stables.