Monday was a very good day – an historic day, I should add. In the same way as the meeting between Livingstone and Stanley, Lennon and McCartney, Lewis and Clark – okay, maybe I’m stretching this a bit here, but bear with me… For me, this was definitely a significant turning point in my life, to finally meet, in person, the person I’ve long considered my best email writing friend, but had never had the opportunity to actually meet.

Darcie Hossack and I “met” online for the first time on the Humber student discussion board. Those early exchanges involved discussions about food, specifically white chocolate and berry scones and an exchange of recipes, if I remember correctly. We quickly realized that while we come from different backgrounds, are separated in age by a couple of decades and (at that time) several thousand miles physically – not to mention that Darcie’s writing is leaps-and-bounds more accomplished than mine, we definitely clicked, and became fast friends all those years ago. During the past four years, we’ve offered each other advice, editing, encouragement, connections, and confidence that what we’re writing, and the way we’re writing it, is not only good, but will eventually be published. I’m so proud that Darcie is first with a collection of short stories this fall to be published by Thistledown. But we’ve also been collaborating all this time on another idea. I don’t think it’s stretching things too much to say that we complement each other. And that’s what best friends should do, right?

So meeting Darcie, finally, yesterday, was just a matter of putting a physical presence to someone I felt I have really known all along. And now I have the added bonus of being able to hear her voice when I read emails she writes to me. She’s no longer my imaginary friend. But she is still my best writing friend!

Thanks, Darcie!

When I arrived in Edmonton on Friday, I immediately drove to the campus for a visit with my pals at Ring House, the home of the University of Alberta Press. Cathie and Jeff made me feel right at home immediately, with the offer of a cup of coffee and a good catch-up chat. They gave me copies of their three new poetry collections, written by Robert Kroetsch, Alice Major and rob mclennan, that are being released this season. Beautifully designed, every one of them! But don’t take my word for it… Have a look at their blog – http://holeinthebucket.wordpress.com/2010/02/03/poetry-publishing-hat-trick-at-uap/ – and the many pictures included.

As well, I listened to part one of Ken Davis’ interview with Robert Kroetsch this afternoon on Bookmark (archived at www.ckua.com). Very, very good!

But the best part of my trip to Edmonton was the conference I attended, where I met both Robert Kroetsch and Alice Major, as well as Jack Hodgins, had a chance to talk with Aritha (of course!) and many more authors, publishers and book people. More about that conference in a future post. I’m still trying to sift through the sensory overload of the last two days. I feel as though I’m on a perpetual book-high, and never want to come down!

Mother’s advice has always been, If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. After reading Martin Levin’s article in The Globe & Mail’s book section on Saturday, You suck, and so does your writing, I considered that, really, a bad or vindictive review of an author or their work speaks so much more about the reviewer than the reviewed – volumes, in fact. Why would someone jump to review a book, or its author, that they knowingly do not like? For the chance to destroy someone’s career, get even, envy of success? It’s certainly not for the free review copy, because if their review shows they hate the book that much, they wouldn’t want to keep it on their shelf for long. And, actually, since there is no such thing as bad publicity, what they’re ultimately doing, even with a scathing review, is drawing attention to exactly what they think doesn’t deserve it. If you want to sink a book and/or its author – don’t say anything about it at all. Much, much more effective. Besides, as I said in the beginning, a bad review says more about the reviewer, about their motives, their grinding axes, what side of the bed they got out of that morning. If they think they’re being funny or clever, they usually aren’t. Nasty is never funny, or clever.

And the worst, worst, worst thing anyone can ever say in a review is, “This can’t be all that good, or the author isn’t important, because I’ve never heard of the book or author before.” I know they think that’s supposed to cast aspersions on the reviewed, but what it tells me is that the reviewer was too lazy (or felt themselves to be too important) to bother doing any research.

Two members of my email writing group replied with the following observations:

Gah. Hilarious quotes. But what a way to live, whichever side of the firing line one happens to stand on. If you all don’t mind, I’m going to let your successes and brilliance make me reach higher and deeper, so I deserve to stay in your company. ~ Darcie

Exactly. All that kvetching… What a waste of brilliant artistic energy that would be so much better placed in the writing of a novel about writers kvetching about each other… That it’s all too prevalent in reality is unsettling. Then again, maybe just a kind of sport. Literary jousting. Something to keep the blood circulating after too many hours in the company of semi-colons. ~ Carin

So I will never review a book to slam it, or its author. If I don’t like a book, you will never hear it from me, not on this blog, nor on the other review blogs I’m setting up. But you can be guaranteed that if I do review something, and say that I like and recommend it, or shout-out an author whose work should be noticed and praised, you can believe me. What’s the point of saying something that isn’t nice?

Our writing group received an email from Teri today, asking if anyone had pictures to share of cats sitting next to their workspace, on desks, or by computers. Then she shamelessly added a link to her own blogsite, where she had posted such a picture, just so she could notch up lots of hits from all her friends who like looking at pictures of cats. Well, that’s what I thought her intention was and, I know, I know… I’m doing the same thing now, and will write an email to our group members for this very reason. Problem is, I don’t have any live cats about this apartment. Even though four very good specimens, and excellent photo-posers, call me Mother, they all abide with Dennis in the Caribbean. So instead I am posting a photo of two cats on my desktop:

That’s the best I can do right now. But Teri’s email also had me searching, for most of the afternoon as a matter of fact, because I knew I had pictures of the cats standing/lying/sleeping next to the computer that sits on the desk in Bequia, and I found this one:

of Griz when he was just a wee mite, and taken probably the first or second day after we got him. He was a cute little ball of fuzz then, but now he looks like this:

Possibly the only cat in the world with an overbite, and kind of goofy, but we still love him! And, by the way, that was Dennis whose desk was so messy. Griz hadn’t helped to rearrange the paper in the pigeon holes – that job is best left up to the girls, Zoom and BG. They both make good paper shredders, as well.

The TV commercial and website all made it seem so simple – buy these shoes, wear them for walking on a regular basis, and the pounds would drop off my body, previously underworked muscles would firm up, bad posture would be corrected, and all would be right with the world. Or, at least, that’s how I interpreted their pitch. So I bought a pair of the new (actually old) rocker-style of walking shoes. These are the only shoes I’ve ever bought, by the way, that came with an instruction booklet and DVD… I should have known that it wouldn’t be that simple.

I’m old enough to remember the negative heels that Roots originally introduced – in the early 70s? They were supposed to imitate walking barefoot in the sand, and the pair of winter boots I bought at that time were the most comfortable I’ve ever worn. But the fad died out, for some reason, and negative heels disappeared; probably lost out to the new wedgies and ever-more-spindly stilletoes to which I have never, ever succumbed. So when I first tried on these new shoes in the store, my feet were happy with the sensation, my bunion smiled, I think, and I left believing that, with just a bit of walking, I’d quickly lose the excess poundage that had been sticking to my ribs, and every other bone in my body, of late.

And, yes, these are great shoes – but only if you walk in them on flat surfaces, I discovered (the steep roads on Bequia at Christmas had me thinking I’d fall forward and begin rolling down the hill at any moment), and preferably ice-free walkways. Not easy to find cleared streets around Calgary these days during winter, and I would have had to pay to walk around the track in a gym, or would have been too tempted to spend money had I walked in a mall. Besides, mall-walking is for senior citizens! And, even though Calgary Senior Magazine considers 55-or-older to be senior… Hurumpf!! I’m not ready to buy that!

So, what to do… I already knew the shoes were having an effect on my body, although not always the best effect. And I really noticed the difference when I changed into other shoes or my boots. The rockers are definitely much more comfortable on my feet. It was just a matter of finding somewhere I could walk for the required half-an-hour or so every day, get my heart-rate up, and my lungs working, as well. I didn’t think my downstairs neighbours would appreciate me taking about 300 turns around my apartment every evening.

Then it struck me – the building where I rent a storage unit! The space was perfect for me; private, quiet, climate-controlled, long clean aisles, and a washroom (important consideration). So I asked permission of the manager, and have been walking there most days since. Head office thought it was hilarious that I wanted to exercise in their space, but they said it was okay by them. I respect the other customers by avoiding walking any aisles where they might be working at the time, but I usually have the place all to myself. Like it’s my personal gym.

The best part, though, is that the time spent there not only exercises my body, but offers me quiet time to think, and to write in my head. So much so that I need to start taking a notebook with me and write down what comes to mind while it’s still fresh, and while I still remember it… Most of this blog post was composed in my head while I walked yesterday and today.

And I love that they pipe in music from a Calgary classic-rock station that plays all the songs I grew up enjoying. You old Malvernites will remember Steel River and their hit,Ten Pound Note. Well, I think this may be the only station in the country, nay – the world, that still plays that tune, as well as The Stampeders’ Sweet City Woman. Unfortunately, yesterday I had to listen to Sugar/ Oh, honey, honey (Tommy James and the Shondells? Suse will know, but no fair googling it!) and then another bubble-gum song today that has, thankfully, already disappeared from my memory. The station redeemed itself, though, with Joni Mitchell singing Carey and Elton John with Daniel. Today it was Eric Clapton in Derek and the Domino’s version of Layla and Respect by Aritha. (Franklin, not van Herk – although I’ll bet Ms. vH could belt out a very good rendition…) But the scary part, and my point in all of this rambling about music, is that I REMEMBER ALL THE WORDS!!!! Even the bubble-gum songs… sadly. And I can usually sing to my heart’s content while I walk, unless I know that someone else is on that floor. It’s like driving alone in my car, listening to CKUA. I only have myself to bother with the noise, and it makes exercising, and driving, that much more fun. I don’t need an IPod, and I avoid attracting any suspicious looks.

Plus I’m positive that I’ve already lost a pound this week. I’m sure of it. Well, pretty sure…

I have been the most fortunate person, having worked all these years in a business that allowed me to meet, associate and even become friends with, some very wonderful authors. Over the past thirty-plus years, I’ve had the opportunity to rub shoulders with some of my idols, and a few of them have even managed to remain on that pedestal where I’d perched them while reading their books. I have a lot of great stories. But, since I began writing myself, and became a member of this family of emerging writers I have come to know, through courses taken, associations joined, conferences attended, I must say that there isn’t a better group of people than those who are pushing a pen and tapping on keys. They are a very supportive and encouraging bunch, these authors, and are quick to cheer each other on, commisserate, offer suggestions, or just be there whenever one of us needs them. Outside of my email writing group, I’ve also met quite a few published authors who have remained friends, and who never hesitate to offer help to us emerging writers.

All are generous people and, unlike one bookseller, who proclaimed that authors are cheap, and always just looking for a bargain, or anything for free, my observation has been that authors support each other by coming out to launches and readings, and buying lots of books. At least that’s the case in Calgary, where last Thurs. there were three literary events organized for the same time. The next day, authors were bemoaning on Facebook that they hadn’t been able to attend all three. I’m sure that if we could have split our time, we would have. And we’d have bought all the books, too. I would have liked to say to that bookseller, “Where would we all be in this business if it weren’t for the authors? They’ve, unfortunately, become the bottom-feeders of the industry, essentially making far less for their work than anyone else, including the booksellers – unless they happen to hit the jackpot by winning a big prize or their book is picked by Oprah. Most are writing because they love to do it, can’t imagine doing anything else, actually, and not because they have any delusions they could possibly make a decent living from it. No wonder they’re looking for bargains.” But I held my tongue.

So, if you want to see what some of my friends are up to, read through the listings on my blogroll, to the right —> Click on their blogs, follow their posts as they add them, read what they have to say. And watch as their writing blooms and blossoms, and their careers take off. I have no doubt that these friends are all heading towards great futures. I’m very proud, and honoured, to know all of them. And also read the blogs of the established writers listed here, and buy their books. Discover someone new, or reacquaint yourself by catching up with what they’ve published recently.

Excellent writers all. Excellent people – the very best!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I have become a fan – an extreme fan!!! Thanks to constant badgering from my sister, nephew and Darcie, I have finally watched, and savoured, the complete Firefly TV series followed by the pilot of Serenity, in the order I was ordered to follow. And all I can say is… BRILLIANT!!!!!

This has everything! Great acting, excellent and exciting battle scenes, an enemy far worse than the Borg, very good special effects, believable characters who are well-drawn and develop through the series, very, very good writing with interesting and intricate plots and story lines that recur in later episodes, and funny, funny, funny memorable lines – too many for me to possibly begin listing here, but my sister seems to have them all memorized. Plus, Nathan Fillion is the star. Need I say more? But Firefly and Serenity ultimately passed my true test for book-reading and movie-watching – when I came to the end, I wanted to start watchng right from the beginning, all over again, this series was that good. Darcie’s sggestion for a Firefly/Serenity marathon is sounding like a very good idea for next weekend, if my nephew doesn’t mind me hanging on to his copies for a while longer. Think this is definitely a case, though, where I need to buy my own copies. And never lend them to anyone.

I don’t mourn that there are no further episodes. Like some of the great British series, Firefly was limited to the pilot and 14 episodes, so it didn’t have a chance to grow old and stale, lasting well past its shelf life, as is the case with many favourite TV shows. I’d love to know what happens next, but in some ways it’s better to imagine and dream about the possibilites. Besides, we now have Nathan Fillion, a good Alberta boy, starring in Castle – another terrific TV series, this time aout a writer (who dresses in his “Mal” space-cowboy outfit in the second season Castle Hallowe’en episide). I’m counting on that series lasting at least three seasons, and maybe more.

But you can’t rave about Firefly and Serenity without calling out the director/writer and ultimate brains behind it all. Joss Whedon is, to say the very least, remarkable. I know now to pay attention to anything that has his name on it.

Dare I say this? Firefly and Serenity… better than Star Trek!

I visited Kim today at her chosen coffee shop in Calgary, Weeds – a very funky neighbourhood place just north of the Northhill Mall. Hey, and we really did get some work done! Plus the coffee and muffin I had were quite excellent.

I had the great pleasure, this evening, of witnessing part of the Olympic torch run through Calgary. What a thrill it was! And it certainly brought back all those warm and fuzzy feelings we enjoyed as a city during the 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics. I walked over to Spiller Road and Macleod Trail with my neighbour, because that was where I’d been informed that a group of Queen’s alumni would be gathering to cheer on Don Cameron, a fellow grad, who was to receive the flame and run the next segment. And there were a number of enthusiastic Queen’s people gathered when we arrived…

My St. FX neighbour felt a little outnumbered (heh, heh). She had told me on the way over that the only thing she knew of Queen’s was that we would always beat St. FX at football and hockey. Go Queen’s!

Then the police cars and accompanying vehicles arrived and the flame was passed to Don…

On the way home, we were thrilled to see that the Calgary Tower had been lit – just like it was throughout the Calgary Olympics. So cool!

I watched the run all over again on the evening news. It’s so exciting to relive those great feelings, and to see the excitement in Calgary surrounding these Olympics, as though they were still our own. And they are, because they’re Canada’s Olympics! Vancouver, you are in for one great party! And, lucky me, I’ll be in Fernie on Saturday when the flame is run through that town. Woohoo!