Catching up

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I've fallen behind in my posting: a reading in Eganville last Wednesday, a weekend away to go to a friend's 60th birthday party.

To catch up:

There were so many cars parked at the church in Eganville I thought there must be a funeral on. But no, they were there for the reading: a wonderful crowd of well over a hundred. I asked friend and professional filmmaker Jackie Levitin take videos. She got some wonderful shots. I especially enjoyed her interviews with some of the people in attendance. I'll post them eventually, when my Net speed is up.

I missed sketching out my five scenes one morning, but I have otherwise kept to my goal, even while travelling on the weekend.

For the last two days I've been an on-line guest for a UCLA extension course in writing. I enjoying thinking about and articulating process and will share some of it here where I get a chance.

I also came up with a title for my PEN lecture in San Miguel in February: "What: no panties? The 17th-century revealed."

Somewhat fatigued! We have much to do preparing for 7 house guests this coming week-end and a dinner party for 29 on Sunday. It's the Leo season: birthdays for both my husband and daughter Carrie, who will be turning 30!

On waking

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This morning the five scenes seemed like quite a lot. Perhaps it isn't a modest aim at all.

I woke thinking I should give thought to my "archives" — a lofty term for the boxes of papers in my basement. Might a library take them on? Now — in that between-novels stage — would be the time to at least inquire. Of course I expect rejection. One, I'm not a lit star, and two, I imagine that the days of libraries having much money for this type of thing might be over.

I must also finish preparing for my reading in Eganville tomorrow night. Yesterday I steamed my gown, and organized my props (wig, poke, bumroll). Today I will transfer the edits from my U.S. reading copy to my Canadian edition. I thought of simply changing the covers, but the Canadian is slightly larger. I might read from the U.S. edition, but without the cover. Or with the cover, and talk about the two designs. It's a wonder I get anything done at all with all this dithering.

I'll type and print out my talk onto cards: the ones I used throughout the US are now scribbled over. Too, I want to say something special. I've done this countless times by now, but in the three weeks since my last one in California, I feel I've never given a reading before. Too, a presentation before friends and neighbours is always more stressful than one before strangers.

It's also time to give thought, shape and title — that's the hardest part — to my talk for PEN in San Miguel de Allende next spring. I'm glad that they are so well-organized, that they are working on promotion so far in advance, but it's certainly far, far from my thoughts right now. I've set an end-of-month deadline for myself.

Beginning is hard

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Beginning is hard. I remind myself that resistance is the first stage of writing. This morning I described — in only a sentence or two or three — possible scenes in The Next Novel. I wrote these out on 3x5 index cards. I intentionally held to five scenes — five cards: a modest beginning. I want to start something I'll keep up. If I keep to five scenes a day, every day, I'll increase it.

This is the first stage of the "dream-storming" method described by Robert Olen Butler in Chapter 5, "The Writer Prepares," of From Where You Dream; The Process of Writing Fiction. He cautions against writing a scene out fully, even if you can hear the voices, see it clearly. (I'm not sure I have the discipline not to write it out, especially dialogue.) He says only to give one sensual detail, one small thing to hook the scene — a smell, a sound, a feel.

I read this book over a year ago, and the procedure appealed to me. I resolved that I would try it for The Next Novel. It's not out-lining, but it's not just jumping in, either. It's a fluid visualization technique that's somewhere between the two. I'm hoping, in this way, to have a clearer idea of the novel as a whole before I begin to write it next spring. (I'm hoping not to take eight years to write The Next Novel.) Of course once I begin to write, the entire thing will change, derail, veer off in some unexpected direction. And then one goes back to the cards.

I'm a sucker for systems, anything to offer a step-ladder out of the swamp. I'll try this; it appeals to me.

Managing the workload, finding time

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I'm giving some thought these days to how to manage my workload: how to carve out time to write. I'm a full-time writer, in theory, and yet ... . And yet there always seems to be a great deal of "other stuff" to do.

Since I've been back from my tour, 11 days ago, in addition to the usual laundry and cleaning, I've:

Unpacked (noting what got used on my tour, and what did not, for future reference).

Prepared the house and cabin for four house guests (making up beds; picking, buying, arranging flowers; moving furniture; getting DVDs for their kids from the library, etc.).

Paid and posted a month of bills and bank statements (this isn't finished yet).

Put together thoughts on The Next Book for a writer's group meeting; went to the meeting.


Read/edited a 50-page manuscript and gave feedback.

Sent a signed book plate to a fan in Germany.

Answered over 140 emails (fans, editors, agents, friends and family), regarding, among a number of things, the new covers for my Canadian edition, tour expenses, setting up promotion, contributing to an anthology, The Next Novel, writing a review ... .

"Refreshed" my To Do lists (this takes a surprising amount of time).

Looked into plane schedules for a possible trip to go to my sister's wedding.


Gave some thought to what to get my husband for his birthday.

Entertained wonderful house guests from Mexico for two days.

Set up the horse field, fixed fences, got my horse back into the meadow, set up his feed.

Started an essay for an anthology on ageing.

Had an X-ray.


Cancelled appointments in Ottawa in order to go to my chiropractor (it's a one-hour drive to get there): he's never seen me in such bad shape!


Rescheduled Ottawa appointments.

Sorted my expense receipts from my 4-week tour, wrote a summary letter, sent them off.

Puzzled over an incomprehensible expense fax from my Canadian tour: gave up.

Posted to blogs and social-network sites. Updated my website events pages.

Looked everywhere — everywhere! — for my good reading glasses.

Moved out of my new (and fatally flawed) MacBook Pro, back into my old G4. Backed up, erased and packed off the new but flawed one. Received the new replacement and moved into it. (Yay!) Bought extended warranty on-line.

Made calls about a reading this coming week; emailed the newspaper a photo and query. Fretted that nobody will come.


Reconfigured my 700-page timeline for The Next Novel: this was not easy to figure out.

Began reading four wonderful research texts, one in French.


Looked into the possibility of hiring a Virtual Author's Assistant. Began a list of things that a Virtual Assistant might be able to do (it's not long, unfortunately).

I've been feeling that I'm not getting much done, that I'm spinning my wheels, and making this list has been something of an eye-opener. And although it's hard to carve out time for writing, I'm writing this, am I not — when I could be writing. But I need this reflective regrouping. I'm pleased to be giving time to research reading, pleased (very!) to have my computer woes sorted out, to have a (magnificent) Timeline all of a piece and functioning.

I'm back from my tour and summer is truly here: I've resolved to carve out time for creative nurture, that important recharging — "artist's dates" as in Cameron's The Artist's Way: get on my horse now and then, reflect and read, read and reflect. And maybe, just maybe, begin to give some concrete (as opposed to misty) thought to The Next Novel. This Sunday morning, I’ll begin by going, at long last, to Quaker meeting.

Wise words from CarolineLeavittville

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I love this post from Caroline Leavitt's blog. I just sent a member of my own writing group feedback: "Better, but no." I've been feeling bad about that, but I'm heartened by Caroline's words. "No" is critically important. It takes time to find the right note.

Basically, my feedback was that it was almost all there: just cut away, cut to the heart of it.

I remember the moment I felt like a "real" writer. I had just cut the one scene I considered to be the best in the book. With every draft, I had marvelled at that scene, and now it was in the trash. Proudly, but somewhat bewildered, I walked into the living room and announced what I'd done to my husband. I had blood on my hands, as every writer must.

Manuscript evaluations and mentorships

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Gail Anderson-Dargatz posted very helpful information on where to go for manuscript evaluations and mentorships on the Indigo Community Forum. (And on her blog, as well.) Since that post will only be held for 3 months, I'm copying it here:

Outside my work teaching advanced novel and advanced fiction at UBC, in the optional-residency CW MFA program, I do take on private mentorships and manuscript evaluations for fiction when I have time, and if I think I can really help the writer. Anyone interested can contact me at books@gailanderson-dargatz.ca and I'll send back a sheet with details and fees.

Booming Ground (the UBC non-credit CW program) also offers a great mentorship and manuscript evaluation service with some of Canada's best writers, as does the Writers Union of Canada. Just google either and you'll find information and fees.

I'm also interested in hearing from other professional writers who offer mentoring as I'm often approached by apprentice writers looking for mentorship, but I don't always have time to provide it, and would like to have a list of writers on hand that I can pass along. If you're interested, let me know, again at books@gailanderson-dargatz.ca.

On mentorship, Gail explains:

It's just one-on-one teaching or guiding a writer through process. The writer submits a story or portion of their manuscript by email once a month over the course of several months. I use the writer's own material as an opportunity to discuss elements of craft. So I'll give notes about the manuscript that are instructive, and I also give detailed comments on the manuscript itself (using the comment function on word). The writer and I discuss these notes, and then the writer goes off to rewrite and prepare the next month's submission. Manuscript evaluation is also an opportunity for mentorship, so I offer instruction on elements of craft as I offer advice on how to improve the manuscript itself.

Mentorships are not only for unpublished writers. I enrolled in a Humber correspondence course while writing Tales of Passion, Tales of Woe. I was fortunate enough to have Carol Shields, a correspondence I treasure. I realize now, too, that I'm in the process of setting up a mentorship with Dan Smetanka for my next novel. Writers work alone, but it's important to set up a support system, be it a writers' group, a teacher, an editor, friend, family -- or (in my case) all of the above.

Ira Glass on Storytelling

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Chet sent me a link to an Ira Glass video on storytelling. Glass has a lot to say that's relevant to storytelling generally, I think, whether through video or book-form. In this video, Glass explains that there are basically two building blocks:
1) a story sequence -- "He did this, and that led to that, which led to ... " -- which includes a bait opening, and
2) moments of reflection that lets us know why we're spending time with this story.

Interesting. And so I watched the other videos. Number 2 is truly important for novelists, I think. The message is:
1) spend a lot of time looking for a good story (as much time as you make creating it), and
2) ruthlessly kill projects that aren't working, and get rid of the boring parts.
"Failure is a big part of success."

Number 3's message is: you will spend years making junk. Persevere.

I recommend these videos to all writers.

Research stimulation

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I've started percolating, thinking of The Next Novel. The process — which is scary, shapeless and bewildering — is greatly stimulated by research, about which I posted to my research blog: Baroque Exlorations. See you there...

Tour notes

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I've more-or-less unpacked. I've stacks of papers and books everywhere, thoughts scattered. Before I move on, I want to note down some memorable moments from my tour. There were so many.

Diane, my wonderful escort in Chicago, had previously owned a bookstore out west, not long before. She loved the Josephine B. Trilogy and had hand-sold lots. She told me how furious customers could get if the 2nd or 3rd in the Trilogy was not in stock. She and her staff came to call any frustrated customer response "that Josephine B. look." (I love this.)

(An aside: Diane and one of the bookstore owners got into an interesting discussion on the differences between male and female book-buyers. Men, in general: don't browse, need lots of space, don't like being crowded, buy non-fiction, don't discuss a book with staff or other customers, buy greeting cards in 15 seconds, while women will linger over the cards for some time. It was this last I found most amusing. I can't imagine buying a greeting card without reading nearly every one on the rack, but I'd never imagined that I was hard-wired to do so.)

One of the most moving things about publishing is when other artists are inspired to create something of their own in response to a work. I've mentioned earlier in this blog meeting Rachel Maes, who wrote "To Destiny," an 8-page epic poem inspired by the Josephine B. Trilogy. In St. Louis I met the director, Janet Park Datema, and dancer, Beckah Voigt, of the one-woman dance performance inspired by the Trilogy and performed in St. Louis in the fall of 2004.

Beckah, Head of Dance Program at Webster University, also does "energy work" — and treated me to an astonishing session. She knew nothing of Mistress of the Sun, yet during the session had a strong image of a flying white horse (which tells me that Diablo is still very much with me).

I loved meeting other authors while on tour. In West Chester, PA, I met Susan Holloway Scott, author of Royal Harlot, Duchess, and coming soon, The King's Favorite, about Nell Gwyn. In a Borders event in Wilmette, IL, I met Aimée Laberge, Canadian author of Where the River Narrows. I had blurbed this wonderful historical novel, so it was a pleasure to meet Aimée. We had previously met, but only briefly, at a Writers' Union AGM in Montreal. At another Borders event in Birmingham, MI, I met aspiring writer Karen Batchelor, a life coach who wants to write about her slave ancestors, and Philine Tucker, an award-winning romance writer who is now turning to historical fiction.

In California, I began seeing family at events. At Borders in Thousand Oaks, just north of LA, my sister Robin and her fiance Betsy (partners for decades and soon to be married this wonderful Summer of Love in California) as well as Betsy's mom Alma greeted me enthusiastically.

While in LA, I met, at last, Dan Smetanka — a brilliant editor who had been so important in the evolution of Mistress of the Sun. We'd worked closely together — the relationship between an editor and writer can be intensely intimate — but had never met. We talked in an exploratory way about The Next Novel.

The following night, at famous Volman's bookstore in Pasadena, I was surprised to see three people. First, Manuel Romo and his wife. My husband and I know Manuel well — we rent a casita from him when we go to a beach in Mexico every January — but I'd never seen him in a jacket and reading glasses and long pants, and certainly never expected to see him in California. He laughed at my puzzlement, "You don't recognize me!"

Then there was Alisha and her husband Andy. Alisha is a cousin's daughter (second-cousin, then?), and a dear family connection. She spends hours each week with the apes at the zoo and has learned how to communicate with them. I persuaded her to share this special language at my reading. I have it on video and will post it as soon as I get my computers sorted out.

And then there was Bonnie Sachs, with whom I'd shared a glorious week on horseback in the Loire Valley. We had a wonderful time relating stories.

Once in San Francisco, in the Bay Area, I was truly in home territory, a wonderful place to end the tour. At Book Passage in Corte Madera, I met virtual friend and author, Deborah Grabien, close family friend Andrée Morgana, who brought Suzy and Val from high school days (!), my brother's wife Jenny with her mother and aunt, and — now back in northern California — soon-to-be sister-in-law Betsy. I've never had so many photographs taken — they were like paparazzi!

Then, the next day in San Francisco, after a full morning of bookstore stock signing, I had a wonderful lunch-meet with historical novelist Christopher Gortner, who glowingly reviewed Mistress of the Sun for the Historical Novels Society. It's a special thing when a reader strongly "clicks" with your work, and the more so when that reader is a writer. Christopher's novel The Last Queen will be out shortly — I'm very much looking forward to reading it.

And then, at a wonderful last event in Oakland, at A Great Good Place for Books: brother Perry and Jenny (again!), aunt Dildar, my 90-year-old dad, Bob Zentner, who I induced to demonstrate in my wig. (Photo to come.)

Also there: writer, anthologist and pal Victoria Zackeim, her daughter and her daughter's two daughters (such a beautiful family), as well as — tra la! — three members of Books et Al, a book club that had read Mistress of the Sun in draft before it was published, and whose feedback had been so important to the final final final draft.

And thus came to an end a four-week tour I had expected to exhaust and deplete me, but which I enjoyed enormously.

This photo was taken by Jenny at this last event:

Unpacking

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I'm at home (ahhhh) and unpacking, making lists — lists and lists and lists. First item: do not get overwhelmed!

I did fairly well with all that moving: I left behind four things. One, my wireless mouse. Too bad, but at least it's replaceable. Two, my Body Shop face cleanser, which I learned I can travel without. Three and four, books I was reading and very much enjoying. The first, Conceit by Mary Novik, has been generously resent to me compliments of the author. Thank you, Mary! It's a story told from the point-of-view of John Donne's daughter, every sentence a joy, and I'm eager to dive back into it. The other book lost was Ghostwalk by U.K. writer Rebecca Stott — another stunning historical novel — which I left on the airplane on the very last leg of this long journey. I'm upset by this loss! This book was signed to me by Rebecca, with whom I read in Kansas City — is not replaceable. So, I add to the top of the list: see if I can't track it down.

And, also on the list: prepare to have my MacBook Pro replaced. Apple has seen the light.

On the way home

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I'm writing this in the San Francisco airport. I'm on the way home. The tour is over; it has been wonderful. The last event in Oakland at A Great Good Place for Books couldn’t have been more heartwarming. My dad was there (and happy to show everyone how funny and grand he looks in my wig); members of Books et Al, a book club that had critiqued Mistress of the Sun in manuscript; a number of family (aunt Dildar, brother Perry and sister-in-law Jenny); friends (Nina, Mary); writer friend Victoria Zackheim (plus her beautiful daughter and two gorgeous grand-daughters!); enthusiastic bookstore clerks; and, always so wonderful to meet: fans. I was smiling from head to toe.

I've notes on my other events, plus pictures and even a video. As soon as I'm back home and settled, I'll post them. Some treasures!

Plane is boarding ... I'm off.

Holding up the lightening rod

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I met with Dan Smetanka last night in LA, a brilliant editor who worked with me (along with my other editors) on Mistress of the Sun. Dan is the type of editor who reaches into your bowels and yanks out your stuff. Sorry to be so graphic, but he's not a polish type of guy (although he does that, too). He's the big picture, the gritty picture, a guts-of-the-matter guy. Working with him was like working with a master.

We talked about The Next Novel. I confessed I was at a loss. For both Mistress and Josephine B., I felt I'd been hit by lightening: the message was clear. Now, I have interests, certainly, but I haven't exactly been zapped. He advised me to give myself time, to rest, dream, hold up that lightening rod. Yes.

So this morning, Caroline Leavitte's blog post on her own Next Book spoke to me clearly: What's that novel about again? She writes:

It's hard to know what your new novel is about until after you've finished it, at least it is for me.

I feel like I'm treading water and there are sharks all around. And they're hungry.

It's possible to just wade in, but Mistress took eight years, and this time I'd like more of an idea of what the novel is about before I begin writing it. In the meantime, I'm treading water, holding up that lightening rod with a wary eye on the circling sharks.

600 steps

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I'm in L.A., in the swank Beverley Meridian at Rodeo and Wilshire Drives ("the center of glamour and grandeur in Beverly Hills"): everything costs ... lots. I'm not paying, but it irks me to sign a $38.62 bill for a simple continental breakfast with stale croissants. It's 5:00 in the morning, and there's no coffee pot in the room. I'm a captive to expensive room service.

I've learned a few things on this trip:

The Denver airport is one of the largest in the U.S., the size of Manhattan. The line to get to the first stage of security was 600 steps.

The Hotel Monaco chains are great: ecologically sensitive, designed for comfort. In Seattle, there was wine plus a free Tarot card reading in the hotel lobby at 5:00: so west coast.

The Trump Tower hotel in Chicago was the best hotel I've ever stayed at in my life: it sets a new standard for comfort. (Not only Starbucks coffee makings, but a fully-equipped kitchen.)

In La Jolla, north of San Diego, the La Valencia hotel was a treat. My room -- #922 — must have been one of the best in the hotel, a corner room overlooking ocean on both sides. A complimentary fruit basket and bottle of Merlot on arrival, lovely restaurants and shoping close-by (not to mention the ocean) — I could have stayed there a week. The most welcome thing was to be able to open the doors onto the balcony, hear ocean and gulls, feel fresh air. I've come to miss that, living in hotel rooms.

This was the view from my hotel room in La Jolla:



One nice thing about my suite here in L.A. is that it opens onto a roof terrace. (Should security concern me?) I'm going to stop complaining about the expensive coffee and stale croissants and simply enjoy it. I've the day off, and I intend to spend it creatively.

A long day

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Saturday was a long and challenging day, but the excellent co-ordination of my escorts — Larry and Ken — made it effortless. It began in La Jolla, checking out of my hotel in gown.



Then, to the La Jolla Arts Festival, where Warwick's bookstore had a booth set up. They'd never tried this, and I was their first test case. As always, it only takes one ardent fan to make an event worthwhile for me. (Too, meeting a man who lovingly restores and then sells antique cars, and uses the money to take a family off the street — to save them — three families so far. So moving.)

I changed out of my gown in a Whole Foods washroom, and then my escort Larry and I headed north. After about an hour, at a Barnes and Noble between La Jolla and Thousand Oaks, I was "handed over" to escort Ken. Then began the long drive to Thousand Oaks, for an event at an extraordinary Borders, a bookstore and coffee shop/restaurant in a former bowling alley.



There — hugables! — sister Robin, Betsy and Betsy's mom Alma.




And "Ladies of The Book Club" (Pam Clark, Shari Mark, and Brenda Alibrandi sitting, Barbara Schwartz and Dawn Drost standing):



It was a wonderful event, in large measure due to the vibrancy and energy of the wonderful staff and great food:



And then the drive to glamorous Beverley Wilshire hotel in the heart of LA, where they did not have a room, so I had to "make do" with a large and sunny suite. I'm in LA for three nights: time enough to have The Gown sent to the laundry and to recharge all the batteries, including my own.

There is always weather

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I'm in lovely Seattle now — such a beautiful city. They've had non-stop overcast skies and rain for weeks (months!), I'm told, and my event fell on the second day of sun, so I was surprised, and pleased, that some people came out to my reading.

One thing I've learned: when it comes to book events, there is always weather. It will invariably be too hot, too cold, too stormy, too wet or simply too nice for people to go out. (I don't blame them: I'm the same way.) And if it isn't the weather, there's a sports event, a concert, or it's grad night in town. So all the more reason to applaud the fans and friends and family who so loyally and enthusiastically show up ... they make it so worthwhile.

Last night, I had the chance to see San Miguel friend Susan Rushton and her dear mother Ruby. Such a treat! As well, some truly ardent long-time fans. It was wonderful: virtual hugs to all.

Today I fly to San Diego. I've fought off a threatening cold (yay), but suffered my first injury: a wrenched left-hand. Thankfully not my signing hand. Fat Sharpies are excellent ergonomically in that respect: I feel I could sign books forever. In Sharpie fervor, I've now taken to offering readers a selection of colors: hot pink is the run-away favorite.

Room service treats

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The Brown Palace in Denver featured high tea ...



... and a fresh rose with each room service. By the end of my three-day stay I'd aquired a bouquet.

The Bookworm in Edwards, CO

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It was a two-and-a-half hour drive from Denver to Edwards, but well worth it. The Bookworm is one of the best bookstores I've seen, and they really know how to put on an event: great advertising, good wine, exceptionally tasty appetisers.

Okay, this may sound silly, but I discovered the first sign of their savvy advertising in the washroom:



What a perfect place for an ad! It's a universal truth known to all bookstore owners that book browsing and the need to use a washroom are mysteriously yet biologically linked. (Seinfeld confirmed this in a skit.)

It was a great audience. Many of them had already read — and loved! — Mistress of the Sun.



There were 51 in attendance, a number of them from book clubs. Here is another mother/daughter portrait: Therese and her lovely daughter, Rachel.



Another mother told me that she was looking forward to going to Paris with her daughter. They had read the Trilogy and would be tracing Josephine's route. What did I suggest? I recommended that she read Walks through Napoleon & Josephine's Paris by Diana Reid Haig. This is a gorgeous book, recently given to me by a very special person, Janet Park Datema (more on Janet later), in St. Louis. Another good guide I recommend to Trilogy tourists (of whom there are a number!) is You Go Girl Paris. The authors list many Josephine B. sites to see.

All-in-all, a fabulous evening! Thank you, Bookworms all.

Notes to a young writer

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A young Canadian writer's debut has been recently heralded "brilliant." I agree totally! Pasha Malla is a writer of great talent: his short stories, recently published in The Withdrawal Method, are gems. Note his name: you will be hearing it often.

My immediate thought was to congratulate him — which I did — but my second was to send him financial advice.

And that advice (applicable to writers in Canada) is:

1) Incorporate

In Canada, a writer might work for ten years on a book, scrimping to get by. Say that book is published and is an international hit, maybe (dream on, why not?) there's even a movie deal. The author, happily, is hit by a year of big advances. Well ... perhaps not as big as it looks, for the Canadian government, on the faulty assumption that this is a regular annual income, nabs as much as half.

Unfair, right? Right! In other words, in Canada, there is no "income averaging" by which an author can say, "Yes, I made $250,000 this year, but I was earning peanuts while working on that book for 10 years, so really it's more like $25,000."

The only way around this is for a writer to incorporate. There's nothing to be done about a title once out (I'm told), but all as-yet-unpublished works would come under the Writer Inc. umbrella and benefit from income averaging. The Writers' Union of Canada has information available on this (see #3 below).

2) Register titles with Access Copyright Canada.
This costs nothing and brings in a nice cheque in the hundreds every year. What's not to like?

A third bit of advice is more of a pitch:

3) Join the Writers' Union of Canada. TWUC is making great lobbying efforts to get income averaging in Canada for writers as well as a number of other important legislative changes that affect the lives of writers. The more members, the louder the voice. It's worthwhile, but most of all, it's important.

Afternote: author Merilyn Simonds added in a comment: "Great advice Sandra. And don't forget about Public Lending Right. Sign up for PLR and you'll get another tidy cheque once a year to compensate for library use of your books. These programs were both initiated by the Writers' Union — another good reason to join!"

This is sweet

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Ami McKay's blog on the care and feeding of creative Brat Brain.

Not a happy camper

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My personal well-being seems irrevocably tied to my computer, and right now both seem to be crashing. The computer is functioning, but has an intermittently threatening problem that casts a black cloud. Is this my guardian angel suggesting I break this addictive link?

No, that's not a possibility. I'm in this marriage for good, but right now I'm not feeling well-treated.

I'm a Mac Person: I've owned Macs since the first 128 K in 1984. A writer cannot change computers while writing a book: an upgrade has to wait for the book to be finished. For some time I held off upgrading to the new operating system, a new super-deluxe MacBook Pro. Last fall, with Mistress of the Sun finally into production, I made the plunge.

The beautiful computer I purchased did not always function, however. I spent hours on the phone to Apple Care. I took it into the Apple Store Genius Bar in Toronto once, twice, three times. Three times I was told: "fixed."

The third time is the charm: surely. I stuck a "History, I hope" post-it to the Computer Problem file and dared to take the new Pro on the road.

Where was I when that same old problem re-appeared? Boston? Kansas City? Milwaukee? I can't remember now — what I do remember is the depression that descended. Today, in Denver for a few nights, after the problem persisted, I decided to see what I could do. I called Apple Care and was given to believe that a trip to the Denver Apple Store would not be in vain, that I was justified in thinking a replacement computer was in order.

But no — at least not in Denver, and likely not anywhere in the U.S. (Which calls into question this concept of Apple "Care".) It was bought in Canada, I'm reminded by the Genius (who was likely not even born when that 128K Mac was created, I thought meanly). Further, it is a custom computer — and would therefore take many weeks to replace. (Such is the reward for adding RAM.)

And so, I'm left fuming — I love this damn machine, but Apple is letting me down.

Posted from Denver

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"How did you survive the other night?" my Media Escort asks the bookstore owner, and immediately I know. "Let me guess," I say. "David Sedaris?" They groan in happy misery, having been up until 2:00 in the morning for one of his legendarily long book signings. "He's trying to set a world record," someone tells me.

Everywhere I go, it seems, David Sedaris has been there before me. And now I discover that he'll be signing books at Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena the night before I'm due there. I can see it now, the fatigued bookstore clerks, the empty store that had been crammed with Sedaris fans only hours before. I am the clean-up crew, following in his wake. It's a good thing I'm one of his fans.

I love book clubs

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This book club in St. Louis has read both Josephine B. and Mistress of the Sun. They make a point to have food for a meeting that's related to the book being discussed. They had brunched on crepes discussing Mistress of the Sun, and then came to see me at Barnes & Noble in Ladue, MO. One of the members had been to my reading years before — I'd been wearing my Napoleonic gown for that one. What will be next?

Fireball Carole Wantz

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St. Louis is my epi-center, I swear. There is so much Josephine B. energy there, and it's all because of Carole Wantz, bookseller extraordinaire at Barnes and Noble in Ladue. She has personally hand-sold over 3000 titles!

The views in St. Louis

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On arriving in St. Louis, I was told, "You must go to see the (flooded) river. Imagine: there's a road under there."



I lay on the grass, on benches, twisted every whichway to try to capture the beauty of the arch. Here is my favourite:

The LongPen

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Let's face it: Margaret Atwood was mocked for creating the LongPen. It didn't help that the first Big Event failed. But now it works and I hear it talked about in the U.S. — someone had seen it in an Ann Arbor bookstore, seen A Wolf at the Table being signed by Augustan Burroughs, who was in New York. "A miracle!" They didn't even know that our Margaret Atwood had created it. "And we scoffed," I confessed, but proudly.