December
27
Ski
Legs!
The last time my husband and I skied was the Christmas
before the Millennium. But, yesterday, December 26th Rik and I decided
to join our daughter and new son-in-law on the slopes where they have
seasons passes.
Knowing that skiing was going to be on the menu for our Christmas trip,
I brought along the only remaining bit of ski equipment that I possess – bib
ski pants that I wore when my grown children were little and we skied
every weekend as a family. (Hey – don’t laugh. They still
fit me.)
The day couldn't have been nicer if it tried. A fresh layer
of powder over a good base made for perfect conditions. We got our rental
gear, dropped our little munchkin granddaughter at the ski hill daycare,
and set off.
Since I hadn't skied for seven years I wanted to take it slow - you
know, start with green runs and work my way up to the steeper slopes.
Yet when we got out there my son-in-law said to me, “I
thought we’d begin with Devil’s Ridge and then progress to
Skull and Crossbones Chute and then end up on the Widow Maker.”
To which I replied, “I was hoping more for the Winnie the Pooh
run followed by the Snuggle Puppy Meadows.”
We actually began on the green runs, and I have to say it took me maybe
one run to get back my ski legs, and two runs before the green runs didn't
satisfy. And then it was onto the blues, and finally I was maneuvering
down the black diamonds with ease.
Okay, I lied. Not exactly with ease, but I did manage to get down a
couple of black diamonds near the end of the day.
It was a great day on the slopes, and my little granddaughter even
got out on her brand new skis for a few runs on the bunny hill (See photo
on this page.)
As for those old bib ski pants? I decided not to wear them in favor
of some newer more modern ones. In fact, I decided I wouldn't even bother
packing them to take them all the way home.
"Give them away," I told my daughter. "Maybe someone can use them."
Her response? "No, I'll keep them for retro-day on the hill."
December
23
Merry
Christmas!
I wish all of you faithful readers a wonderful and blessed Christmas.
We are visiting our daughter-in-law and brand new son-in-law this holiday
season. (Yes, that's brand new son-in-law!) When we arrived here on Tuesday
we were given a WONDERFUL surprise.
“We
have an early Christmas present,” they told us as we walked in
the door. “We’re getting married in two days!"
The wedding was a casual thing – (and that was a good thing,
since I didn't come prepared clothes-wise to attend any sort of a formal
wedding.)
The ceremony was held in the ski lodge, their favorite place.
Here is a link to a gallery of pictures: Pictures
My granddaughter is the beautiful little blonde who was the ‘ring
bearer.’
"I now pronounce you man and wife"
On another note, one of my favorite vocalists is Carrie Newcomer who’s
written a nostaligic Christmas song which seems to be my favorite song
for the seasons. It's called ‘A
Long Christmas Dinner. There’s a link to a free down load to that
song here.
(Click on Listen and Shop from the menu.)
December
12
The
Messiah Story (Chapter 1)
In a week we'll be celebrating Christmas. Actually, we're already
celebrating Christmas. The entire month of December ends up being a party,
doesn't it? It's the time of year when we dig out our Christmas CDs and
decorate our trees and our homes. We make family plans and bake cookies.
And
there's nothing wrong with these things. In fact, these are good things.
But, if we strip away all of the peripherals, we come to the Messiah
Story. First there was the trip to Bethlehem, then there was the search
for an Inn. Then the couple found lodgings in a stable. The baby was
born, followed by the angel announcing it to the shepherds. The conclusion
to our Christmas card story is the visit by the wise men.
But this story, the story depicted on our Christmas cards and in our
plays is only "Chapter One."
We, you and I in 2006, are living in the middle of the Messiah Story.
We're in the middle chapters. Authors will agree that it's the middles
of books that are the hardest to write. I can come up with brilliant
beginnings and wonderful endings. But slogging through the middle is
drudge work. It's the work that requires BICHOK (In the `biz' these
initials mean: "butt in chair hands on keyboard)".
Usually, there comes a time in my novels which I call the "light
at the end of the tunnel" moment. Long about three quarters of the
way through the book I come to a place where I can "see" the
ending. This gives me hope – I'll get there
if I just keep writing, if I just keep
working.
There's nothing quite as fulfilling as writing "The End" at
the end of a
manuscript.
Soon, we'll be arriving at the end of the story of the earth, the Messiah
Story, and it will be grander than any living Christmas tree or thousand
voice choir. It's not an ending that will `end' the story, but it's an
ending that will go on forever.
Today, if you have a chance to sit down for a minute, read the last
two chapters of the New Testament, chapters 21 and 22 of the book of
Revelation. Pretty cool conclusion, eh?
As I close, I wish you, my readers and friends, the best Christmas ever.
**And REMEMBER books - any books - make GREAT Christmas presents. They're
cheaper than iPods and mini DVD players, and even flowers. If you keep
them nicely shelved, they last a long time, can be read and enjoyed many
times and can transport you to worlds and places you've never been before,
and introduce you to people you've never met.
In my opinion, books are still the biggest bargains around. So this
Christmas, give books to people.
Fo lo, the days are hastening on, by prophet bards
foretold
When with the ever circling years, comes round the age of gold,
When peace shall over all the earth it's ancient splendors fling
And the whole world give back the song, which now the angels sing
December
2
Deadlines
and Christmas...
The Christmas season is not the time of year when one should have a book
deadline. Yet here I am scrambling away to meet one. The manuscript isn't
due in until Jan 8, but I’m determined to get it done and ready
and in before we head out to visit our two year old granddaughter (and
her parents) over Christmas.
The book I’m working on is first in a
three-book romantic suspense series for Love
Inspired, and I’m quite enjoying writing a romance in this short
form. (I never thought I would.)
The past few weeks while I have been what we
call in the industry – BICHOK – (butt in
chair hands on keyboard), there have been a few perks. Rik has turned
into quite the chef. He’s basically taken over the kitchen, preparing
scrumptious meals. I am called for lunch or dinner and there set in front
of me is a plate full of wonderful food, just like I’m in a restaurant.
Usually there is a salad and lovely glass of red wine. Let’s see
– he’s made maple rubbed pork roast, fried rice (from a recipe found the Web from a Chinese restaurant), grilled
sirloin steak, and these great potato pancakes.
Last night, I cooked for the first time in two
weeks. We had spaghetti.
I’m happy to say my book is almost finished.
Maybe I'll pretend that it's not and so get a few more great meals.
In my last blog I asked if your Christmas lights
were up yet. Ours are. When we moved to this house 12 years ago we put
in two baby fir trees in the front lawn. I’m not crazy about blinking
lights all over the eaves of houses, but what I do love are lights on
trees. After 12 years the trees are HUGE, and we need a ladder or our
extendible boathook to get the lights right up to the top of the tree.
November
25
Minerva,
another 'cool thing'...
I have another ‘cool thing’
to tell you about. A few weeks ago we purchased a little GPS for our car.
It’s called the Garmin
Street Pilot. You just plug in the street address for the place you
wish to go and we get told by a very nice lady with a British accent when
to turn and when not to.
It comes with various languages
and English has two accent choices, British and American. We ended up
choosing the British accent, because the American accent was in a register
that was a bit difficult for my husband to hear. (A bit tinny sounding.)
It wasn't too long after we got her that I realized she needed a name. And since she’s
QUITE demanding and very British, we decided to name her Minerva after Professor
Minerva McGonagall in Harry Potter.
The second day we installed Minerva,
I was driving to visit a friend in Halifax. But, by the time I got there
I was ready to throw Minerva into the garbage and go back to my old trusty
map!. She demanded that I turn off at EVERY highway exit. I had no idea
how she planned on getting me there – on back roads and dirt paths?
I got to Halifax, complained to my husband via phone, only to discover
that’s exactly what she HAD planned.
I had all the ‘Avoidances’
turned on. She’d been programmed to avoid all highways and all toll
roads and all four lanes! I quickly disabled that feature and she took
me home the right way.
We've been calling our
car is Hagrid, because although the car doesn't talk to us, it beeps when
it's mad at us, as in when we don’t put our seat belts on, or forget
to lock up. Again, another VERY demanding member of our crew!
One month until Christmas now,
and I’ve been barely able to lift my head up from writing. I have
a book deadline of Jan 8, but am determined to get this next book completed
before we fly to visit our granddaughter (and her parents) for the holidays.
One month until Christmas. Are
your Christmas lights up yet? Is your Christmas shopping done?
November
12 (by Linda's other half, Rik)
Things I think we all should do ...
Linda asked me to "blog" for her today. I am a born and bred Canadian and have often said that every Canadian should drive coast to coast (Victoria, BC to Saint John's, NL) at least once in their life. I also think it is important for each to take part in at least one national ceremony in our nation's capital. (I think this applies to my wife's readers who live south of the 49th parallel as well and also to other readers in their respective countries.)
Yesterday was what we Canadians call Remembrance Day. Remembrance Day or Armistice Day is a day of commemoration observed in the Commonwealth of Nations and various European countries (including France and Belgium) to commemorate World War I and other wars. It is observed on November 11 to recall the end of World War I on that date in 1918. Remembrance Day is specifically dedicated to members of the armed forces who were killed during wars.
Yesterday, because we were visiting our son and his family, I was close enough to drive with my son to Ottawa and take part in the Remembrance Day service. We stood in the rain for an hour, we sang our national anthem with thousands of others. And at the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we bowed our heads quietly as teary-eyed, hundreds and hundreds of veterans from many wars, bowed their heads to remember sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, best friends and neighbours who gave their lives so that we could be free.
And when it was over, we took the poppies from our left lapels and placed them on the tomb of the unknown soldier. And yes, I cried too, in the rain, in rememberance.
And so to you who have served your country and to those who gave the ultimate sacrifice, I say thanks! And my thanks and my prayers too, for those serving right now, in Iraq, in Afghanistan and anywhere else duty takes you, so that we can remain free.
Our poppies are there in the picture below.
In Flanders Field the poppies blow
between the crosses row on row . . .
October
22
A
Few Cool Things...
Oprah has her “Oprah’s Favorite Things’ list, so I
thought I’d come up with my own little list here – which I’ve
entitled A Few Cool Things.
Maybe I’ll even make it regular feature, much like “What
Real People are Reading” in which I nosily try to get glimpses at
the books people are reading in coffee shops and on planes and other public
places.
Okay, now to what I think are some very cool things:
1. iChrono. I just discovered this little stop watch ‘widget’ for my MacBook
dashboard. On a writer’s Yahoo group I belong to, the discussion
was recently about online stop watches so you can record how much actual
time you spend on a project or book. I’ve never done that, thinking
it might depress me. But I went to the widget website and downloaded it
onto my dashboard. It’s a very cool little thing, and it might be
fun to keep track of how long each stage of writing a book takes.
2. My
MacBook. In June my husband surprised me with this nifty new MacBook
computer. This replaces my five year old iBook, that I loved. Now, if
I was Oprah I’d tell everyone who is now reading this blog to look
under your chairs for your free MacBook. But alas, I’m not Oprah,
so you’re just going to have to go out and buy one.
3. A Pizza
stone. I got this for Christmas last year, and have used it many,
many times throughout the year. We happen to love pizza in this house,
and I make all kinds. I assemble the dough in my bread maker and then
roll it out on the nifty little wooden spatula, and then cook it on a
pre-heated pizza stone.
One of our favorites is CHICKEN PESTO PIZZA.
Here’s my recipe: Put one chicken breast on the barbecue and
brush it on either side with pesto or Italian salad dressing. Spread rolled
out pizza dough with pesto. Then sprinkle on grated Romano or parmesan.
Stir-fry onion, green peppers, mushrooms and broccoli and spread this
on the cheese. By this time the chicken should be ready, so cut it up
in strips and lay it across the top. Cover the whole thing generously
with mozzarella cheese and then bake according to the Pizza Stone directions.
4. Sudoku puzzles. I like these little
mind boggling puzzles. Something that is not as cool, though,
is the Sudoku widget download for my Mac Book’s dashboard. I work
out these puzzles in my own way. With a sharpened pencil, I make notes
along the sides. And I can’t do any of these things on the dashboard.
Maybe some things are better worked out with paper and pencil. I may uninstall
that one.
An observation: Most
people in the world wear glasses. In any given room or gathering of people,
look around. Most will have glasses on. But, on television and in the
movies nobody wears glasses. I guess I get mad at wierdnesses like that,
so most of my characters wear glasses.
October
20
Punctuation
marks I'd like to see...
It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Reason being -
I’ve been incredibly busy writing to deadline. But I should mention
that Rik and I had a great time at the Bouchercon mystery convention in
Madison, Wisconsin. We came home with two bags full of books. We now,
we think, have enough to read for a while. (Then why, pray tell, are we
still going to the library??)
Did you notice something in that last sentence? I put two question marks
at the end of it. Which in my way of thinking means that it’s really
a rhetorical question and therefore doesn't require a precise answer.
As I’ve been sitting here at my computer working on my novel plus
a proposal for yet another one, I use punctuation a lot; periods, commas,
question marks, quotation marks for dialogue.
I’m also realizing how inadequate our system is on so many levels.
There are four new punctuation marks I’d like to see:
1. Two question marks at the end of a question signifying that it’s
really a rhetorical question. What on earth is this world coming to?? As opposed to, How many pancakes did you eat?
2. The combo question/exclamation mark. Writers have long wished for
some new punctuation mark which would combine the best features of both
of them. This would be used for sentences like, You’re kidding
me, right?! But we don’t have it, and for now we writers have
to decide whether it’s You’re kidding me, right? Or You're kidding me, right!
3. Musical notes. Seriously we should put some sort of musical notes
around dialogue which is sung rather than spoken. For example, in my wip
(That’s ‘work-in-progress, folks), my main character dances
around her kitchen singing, “We’re in the money We’re
in the money!” Now If I could put a few musical notes at the
beginning instead of the dialogue quotation marks, you’d really
get the idea that she was singing.
4. Sometimes I think we need to borrow from the Spanish who put an upside
down exclamation mark or question mark at the beginning of a sentence.
This very wisely alerts the reader to the fact that what you are about
to read is a question, or an exclamation, instead of having to read all
the way to the end to figure this out.
Are their punctuation marks you’d like to see? Please email me
and I’ll add them to this list. Linda@writerhall.com
September
22
Small
'r' romance and The Great Romance...
Now that I’m working on three romances (see my NEWS
AND EVENTS link), I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about romance
writing and what makes a good one. I’ve been told I need to read Nicholas Sparks. He’s on
my list. (I did see The Notebook movie, but movies aren’t
the same as books.)
And so I get to thinking – what makes a good romance, not a good
romance novel, but a good romance? In life. Is it the look across the
room, the love at first sight? Is it star crossed lovers being separated
and finding each other – finally? Why is it that people are drawn
to certain people and not to certain other people?
I was pondering these mysteries of the universe, thinking of my heroine,
who comes to the story damaged by past loves gone wrong, and my hero,
who also arrives at the story damaged. How can I make it so they are drawn
to each other and not to the handful of other people who people the pages
of my book? How can I do this and not have it seemed ‘forced’
by me, their creator?
As I was driving today pondering romance, I was listening to Richard Shindell’s Courier was in my CD player. I stopped
on the Ballad of Mary Magdalen, thought about the lyrics. They
speak about Mary Magdalene’s love for Jesus. And his love for everyone
else.
One of the most powerful songs about Mary Magdalene is when she sings,
“I don’t know how to love him” from Jesus Christ
Superstar.
And then I got thinking about romance, and something called the Great
Romance – God’s romance toward us. This is something that
I’m almost understanding. Sometimes. This great romance will be
played out for all eternity.
The earthily romance between a man and a woman is merely a symbol, or
what the Bible calls a ‘shadow’ of the real romance –
between God and us.
September
5
After
eight summers, and other thoughts...
After eight wonderful summers sailing aboard our 28’ sailboat
Gypsy Rover II, we have decided to put her up for sale. It wasn't an easy
decision. We’d intended to keep her forever. We were aboard her
for seven weeks, and during the last week while taking her home is when
we sat down, talked about it and came to the decision.
No, we’re not giving up sailing, it’s just that our old
bones would like a boat with a few more ‘comforts of home.’
It's a great boat for three or four week, but we're looking for something
for more extended cruising. If Gypsy Rover II sells, we’ll be looking
at something a bit bigger.
For pictures of our boat click here.
Turning this blog around 360 degrees – We lost four more soldiers
in Afghanistan yesterday. That saddens me and all Canadians. I am not
a fan of war, of course, but should we be there? As much as it wrenches
me to say this, I think so.
For the perspective of one of our Canadian soldiers, I’d like
to direct you to this interesting blog on the CBC site.
August
17
What's
with these SHOES???
I admit it, I don’t have a lot of fashion sense. Shopping for
me is usually right before an event where I have to speak or sign books.
I’ll go to the mall, pick up a few items, and when I’m home
and lay them out on my bed, it’s, What was I thinking?
So, what I’m about to say to you about shoes you can totally ignore,
coming from one such as myself who tends to look like the BEFORE in a
What Not to Wear commercial.
My husband is better at this than I am. buying clothes for me, I mean.
He seems to have more of an artistic flair for what looks good and what
does not. I like to take him along when I shop for clothes.
Having said all that, I’m blinking my eyes at the clown shoes
that EVERYBODY seems to be wearing these days. I’ve seen them on
the very young. I’ve seen them on the very old. They’re usually
bright pink or vivid orange, or some sort of neon green, and always in
shades that don’t seem have anything to do with the color scheme
of the rest of the outfit these individuals are sporting.
A few weeks ago I was visiting on a boat and the woman beside me had
on a pair.
“I see a lot of people wearing those. Are they comfortable?”
I asked her.
“Oh, they’re SO comfortable. They’re light as a feather,
and they’re perfect for boating.” She went on and on singing
their praises. She even took them off, let me have a look.
I’m sort of thinking that the whole thing is some sort of practical
joke thought up by bored shoe designers. Here’s how I imagine that
meeting went:
Designer guy #1: I feel like playing a practical joke on the
world.
Guy beside him: Why?
Designer guy #1: It’s hot. It’s boring, and with
people threatening to blow up airports, maybe it’s time to add a
little lightness to everyone’s day, I mean their feet.
Guy across the table: So, what should we do? Send out some
spam?
Designer guy #1: Nah, that’s been done to death. I was
thinking more in the lines of these. (And then he whips out his feet from
under the table and does a little dance on the board room table.)
Bored woman beside guy across the table: You have GOT to be
kidding.
Designer guy #1: You laugh now, but you’ll be wearing
these, too. I guarantee it. Everywhere will be wearing these. Even dogs.
Bored woman beside guy across the table: If I ever put a pair
of those monstrosities on my feet, just shoot me.
Designer guy #1: No, here’s what we do. We make like
millions of these and we pay people to wear them and tell everyone they
love them. Then this starts a trend, and soon they’ll be a fashion
statement. Trust me. It’ll work. Movie stars will even wear them…
I’m tall, large boned and to get a pair of neon green shoes to
fit my rather large feet, they would have to be truly enormous. I would
truthfully look like a clown clomping through the countryside. If you
ever see me in a pair of those shoes, just shoot me.
Actually, if you want to read the real history behind these shoes, click here:
On another note, if you are interested in my newest bit of publishing
news, click on the News and Events link on my home page.
August
13
Back
at it...
I'm home now after jumping ship in Dipper Harbour and letting Rik, and
another couple who happily boarded when I left, take the boat through
the Bay of Fundy and up the river and home again. I’ve got some
pressing deadlines by the end of this week, so wanted to get a head start.
One of the first things I did - after getting a Tim Horton’s coffee
- was to purchase two newspapers to catch up on the world.
When I was buying my newspapers in the grocery store the woman behind
me said, “It’s all bad news, anyway.”
When I got home and read them cover to cover I had to agree with her.
New airline threats, even more war in the middle east, another Canadian
soldier dead in Afghanistan, more U.S. soldiers dead in Iraq, war between
Israel and Lebanon, more disease, more famine.
Meanwhile, in section four, our lust for power and things is evident
as whole pages are devoted to which celebrity is now divorced and which
one is remarried complete with multimillion dollar yacht reception.
And I have to sit back and blink away the tears. What have we become?
Why this killing? Why this greed?
There is a part of me that wants to ignore it, not read the newspapera
anymore or watch the news. Because if I pretend it doesn't exist, then
it won’t have anything to do with me and my world and I can keep
on living the way I always have.
Another response is to sit in our lazy boys all day and watch CNN and
wait for the bombs to fall so we can all go home to Heaven. (We’re
on the way to Armageddon anyway, so if all this stuff in the middle east
is God-ordained there’s not a whole lot we can do to stop it.)
Clearly, neither attitude is what I, as a person of faith, as a Christian
should have. ‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’ Jesus said. Each
of us has a responsibility to foster peace and wholeness in our own ways.
Sometimes our ways are small, sometimes we can do large things.
A friend of mine, obstetrician Jean Chamberlain Froese spends months
in Africa assisting mothers during childbirth. She’s written a heartbreaking
but hopeful book which has chronicled her times in Africa. I highly recommend Where
Have All the Mother’s Gone?
To read more about the organization she’s involved with, click on savethemothers.org
Another organization that seeks to reconcile Christians on both sides
of the Israel/Palestinian conflict is Musahala.
And then there is Sojourners magazine,
the premier Christian magazine fostering peace and justice.
August
4
Water diaries - Season Two...
Where
ideas come from...
There is a question that every writer gets asked at least once in her
writing career (at least once!), and that is – where do you
get your ideas?
The following true story is a good example of where ideas come from.
The story I am about to relate will most likely turn up in a book at some
point. So stay tuned:
It was mid-morning when we arrived at Warren Island State Park. The
state of Maine has set out about a half a dozen free moorings (first come,
first served) in a wonderful little anchorage next to an island with equally
well-appointed campsites, only gotten to by boat. Any sailing trip to
Maine for us is not complete without a few days stay at Warren Island.
We love dinghying to shore and hiking around the island.
On the day in question, we arrived early to the anchorage. We hadn't
had our morning coffee yet and Rik promised to make cappuccinos as soon
as we were safely moored. (We have an Italian stove-top espresso maker
aboard. That and some heated milk and a milk frother and a sprinkle of
cinnamon and it’s just like Starbucks, only with nicer scenery!)
We were planning on a long sunny day of reading. This has become a very
lazy summer for us. A couple of hours traveling on the water at most,
and then we stop and take a mooring or put down an anchor and stay put
for a few days. We read. We swim. I work a bit, and Rik sketches. We were
looking forward to that kind of day.
Until the weird thing happened…
Before I go any further, I need to acquaint you a bit with ‘boating
etiquette’. Within the boating community there is a certain camaraderie.
When you pull into a mooring field or an anchorage, boaters wave, boaters
dinghy over and invite you to their boats. Typically five or six o’clock
is the “visiting hour.”
For the remainder of the story I’m going to change the names to
protect anyone who needs protecting.
When we picked up our mooring, there was only one other boat there,
and it was a boat we thought we recognized. I ran down to my faithful
‘boat journal’ in which we keep detailed records of the people
we’ve met and their boat names. And YES, this boat, Wayfarer belongs to Bill and Suzie. We met them in North East Harbor, Maine during
the summer of ’04. Rik and I and Bill and Suzie and another couple
were visiting aboard the third couple's boat. Bill and Suzie expressed
interest in sailing up the St. John River system in New Brunswick, which
is our sailing grounds, so we gave them a lot of information.
The second time we met Bill and Suzie was last summer when we literally
bumped into them on the dinghy dock in St. Andrews, NB.
“Hey!” Bill said, “Rik and Linda! We took your advice
and we’re heading up the river this year!” All smiles. Lots
of smiles. Nice people.
“Hey! That’s great!” we said.
“Hey, let’s get together later,” Bill said.
So we did. Aboard their boat that evening we chatted and chatted. We
pointed out locations on their chart of places they needed to visit –
Grand Lake, Washdemoak Lake, Gagetown, Mount Creek, Swans Creek and others.
The following morning we were just washing up after breakfast when Bill
dinghied over, came aboard and told us places we needed to visit in Maine.
They poured over charts and Rik circled those places of interest in pencil.
We wished each other a good summer of fair winds and away we went.
So, when we saw their boat at Warren Island you can imagine our surprise!
We’ll invite them aboard! I said. As soon as they come up from down
below, we’ll ask them how last summer was!
Wayfarer, their boat, was closed up but their dinghy was behind
it, plus, their front hatch was up a bit. People don’t leave their
front hatches open when afternoon thunderstorms threaten. So, they had
to be onboard, right?
But then they didn't come up and didn't come up. We made our cappuccinos,
sat out in the warmth of our deck, went for a swim, and still they didn't
come up. It was hot, and ‘down below’ in a sail boat would
be unbearable.
Maybe someone picked them up in another dingy, we figured, and they
went to shore. Or maybe they have kayaks aboard and went out in them.
There were all sorts of possibilities.
We didn’t see them all evening. We ended up meeting two other
boats, and the evening ‘visit’ ended up being aboard a lovely
41’ Tartan sailboat.
The following morning as we were puling out, there was Bill on the deck
of Wayfarer! We motored over smiling and waving. He looked up
and it was obvious he didn’t recognize us. He said not a word, to
our hellos and waves, but gave us a rather blank stare, turned away and
bent down and fiddled with lines on the deck.
Feeling stupid, I yelled, “Bill, we were aboard your boat last
summer!”
He looked up again. another blank look. In fact the look was so blank
that Rik yelled, “You are Bill Smith, right?”
He straightened, still without a smile and said, “Yes, I am Bill
Smith.” Deadpan. Where was the smiling, hail fellow from a year
ago? The guy that poured over charts with us? The guy that recognized
us before we recognized him?
He bent back down and worked on his lines. We never saw his wife.
I said rather awkwardly, “Well have a nice rest of the summer,
then…”
He looked up and his last words were, “Have a nice season.”
Odd words. Not your typical boater’s greeting. No one in the boater’s
camaraderie club says, ‘have a nice season.’
As we motored away, Rik looked at me and I looked at him. “That
was weird!" we said.
Even if the guy couldn't remember us and didn't know us, conventional
boaters camaraderie wisdom suggests that you smile and wave and pretend
that you do until it dawns on you who it is.
And as exited the anchored and put up our sails to get to our next destination
– which was Belfast – to check email and get supplies, my
mystery writer’s mind began turning over the events.
Were they really down below all the previous afternoon in the blazing
heat? Why? If not where did they go? Who picked them up? How come we heard
nothing? Saw nothing? Saw no one come in late at night? Why that blank
look on his face? Why didn't he recognize us? Was it really even Bill?
(Are we talking evil twin here?) What was he hiding? And where was Suzie
this whole time?
And that, friends, is where story ideas come from.
Until next time – Fair winds.
August
2
Water diaries - Season Two...
Hot
Everywhere...
Gypsy Rover II is in a wonderful anchorage called Pulpit Harbor, and
we're on shore drinking Green Mountain coffee in a cute little coffee
shop that has wifi. It’s a slightly gray day today, but we can’t
complain. It’s been gloriously sunny and HOT for the last little
while, and as I sit in this air-conditioned café, I’m feeling
almost too cold.
It’s been hot everywhere these days. My sister-in-law in western
Canada emailed me a picture of the thermometer on her back porch. It registered
42 Degrees C! (In ‘America-land Fahrenheit’ that’s like
108 degrees.) And we’re talking Canada, folks.
It’s appreciably cooler than that on the water, however, and there
are days when we are sitting on our boat and saying to ourselves, “It’s
so hot on land. Let’s stay here. Let’s leave the laundry and
groceries for another day. We can always eat canned tuna.”
Plus, when it does get too hot, there’s always jumping off the
back of the boat.
This a.m. we sat in the cockpit of our boat and watched the reflections
of boats in the harbor, the way the lines of reflection crinkle downward
underneath them in the ripples. We ate scrambled eggs with cheese and
that bacon that comes dried in strips and pre-packaged and doesn't need
refrigeration. I don’t know how good that stuff is for you, but
when you’re using an ice box as your refrigerator, you look for
things that don’t need to be kept cool.
It’s grayish out, but not raining. And later, I plan to go for
a long walk, while Rik finds himself a comfortable place on a rock to
sit with his sketch pad.
This afternoon it will be back to the boat to write. My agent called
yesterday with news of a new three-book contract! (More about that when
all the ‘t’s’ are crossed and the ‘i’s’
dotted and the signatures placed neatly across the bottom.)
Keep cool,
Linda
July
24
Water diaries - Season Two...
Beauty...
While I was at a Bed and Breakfast in Belfast, Maine last week, (catching
up on writing while Rik went sailing for two days with a buddy) one of
the other guests, a sweet woman my age named Teresa told me that when
she came down to breakfast the first day, she walked into the dining room,
saw the ornate dark furniture, the china place settings, the starchly
ironed napkins, the gleaming silver service of coffee and tea, the candles
lit on the table, she stood in the doorway and wept.
“It was so beautiful,” she said, “It just affected
me, I guess.”
I understand that reaction.
I have seen beauty on this sailing trip; a lighthouse in the distance
as it looms towards us through the fog. White waves pounding at the base
of cliffs. Mansions facing the sea with lovely appointed gardens. A graceful
sailboat, heeled into the wind. A schooner, all sails furled in the far
distance. The sound of the waters, the rhythm of the waves. Dolphins.
Seals as they raise their dog heads toward us.
We sit in the cockpit of our boat with binoculars at the ready and say
“Wow! Awesome!” But there are times, like Teresa, my only
reaction is to weep. We listen to a concert, and we wonder, what are we
supposed to do? How can we capture this moment and keep it? How do we
fully appreciate the beauty we see? The beauty we hear? We grab cameras,
but the pictures never equal the experience. We buy recordings, but then
we tire quickly of the music. Sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell seem
not to be enough. We need more senses than the five we have, but we have
no idea what these senses should be like, or what exactly it is that we’re
lacking. And so we weep.
I think about Heaven sometimes, more so, now in light of the tragic
death of our good friend’s daughter last month. I think about the
beauty of heaven. I wonder about it.
I heard a minister recently say that if you asked a group of seven year
olds to define ‘married love,’ you will get answers that might
be ‘cute’ and ‘funny’, but so off the mark as
to be ridiculous.
When it comes to the eternal mysteries of God – the beauty of
God – Heaven – our knowledge is so limited it’s like
all of us are seven year olds. I think about that sometimes. I wonder
if in Heaven we’ll be granted senses to truly appreciate beauty.
Our trip: Right now we are in a wonderful little place called Pulpit
Harbor. We grabbed our computers to take ashore and lo and behold found
a grand little coffee shop with wireless. Way out here! Weather has been
wonderful, hot. But hot is okay when you can just jump off the boat and
cool off.
July
22
Water diaries - Season Two...
Where
have I been?
I meant to write sooner than this. Honest I did. I mean to write about
the bell buoys sounding like church bells through the night, about the
massive and powerful thunderstorms that have passed through the region,
one on top of the other, about swimming and hot days, but alas, a week
ago I received edits for BLACK ICE, my April
2007 release, (and sequel to DARK WATER) and
everything else had to be put aside while I devoted all of my energy to
completing them.
We were in Belfast, Maine when I began them, and I even booked myself
into B&B to work on them, (while Rik went sailing with a buddy for
a few days.). I spent all of my time at the Belfast Public Library, a
wonderful place with free wifi and lots of comfy chairs and desks and
tables. I would arrive when the library opened, and work until the library
closed, usually not even stopping for something to eat.
I would sleep with my lap top on the bed with me, and when a bout of
insomnia hit, I would be up and working away.
From Belfast we sailed to a wonderful little harbor called Buck’s
Harbor. I spent a day sitting on a rocking chair at the Bucks Harbor Yacht
Club and worked some more. (thanks, Andrew)
And alas, and alack – this manuscript is now completed, emailed
in just moments ago. And now I can go back to blogging and reading all
of the novels I’ve brought with me and enjoying this vacation.
July
10
Water diaries - Season Two...
Swimming
in Cold water
I have a very odd little predilection, a strange penchant that manifests
itself on these trips down the coast in our sailboat – that is,
I love to swim in cold water. Really cold water. Coast of Maine cold water.
I’ve even been known to swim in the Bay of Fundy. I’ve never
been a part of one of those polar bear clubs who go dashing into ice strewn
water every January first, but I understand the will behind such an act.
And if I lived in a community that did this, and raised money for some
charity or other, I’d probably do it.
It’s refreshing. It’s bracing.
But the cold water has to be salt water. I prefer salt water to fresh
because salt doesn't require you to tread water so much to stay afloat.
Today we are a week into our six week cruise down the coast of Maine
aboard Gypsy Rover II our 28’ Tanzer sailboat. Currently, we are
anchored off Castine, Maine and it's hot and sunny. When it’s this
hot, how can you not jump off the boat into the water? I swam probably
three times around our boat while Rik, my husband climbed down the ladder
on the back of the boat, dropped himself into the water, splashed a bit,
and then quickly got out, and jokingly pronounced me ‘brain dead’
for staying in.
It has been a glorious first week to our vacation, lots of sun and warm
weather. Perfect for swimming, I would say. Perfect for sailing, he would
say.
But also perfect for reading. We always manage to do a lot of reading,
and books become as important to us as food on these long trips (and food
is very important). We brought a stack of mysteries. Currently, Rik is
reading a Robert Crais one. I’ve got a Ruth Rendell I haven't read,
a couple of books by Jonathan and Faye Kellerman, a bunch more books that
I picked up at the Bloody Words mystery conference last month, a memoir
of a woman who was a plastic surgery addict (I’m reading that one
now – research for a possible future novel), plus Blue Like
Jazz which Rik read with interest a month ago and now wants me to
read. I have packed The Pressure’s Off by Larry Crabb for
him to read. I read and thoroughly enjoyed that one. (More about that
further down in my June 21 blog below.)
Plus, I’m still technically working. I’ve still got deadlines
and work that must be done and novels that need to be written.
More later...
June
29
Happy Endings...
At a recent author event someone asked me if my novels have happy endings.
I think they might have been hoping not to purchase something that left
them in a sad frame of mind.
I had to stop and think about the question and couldn't say yes. Not
entirely. I told her - you might say that my books have resolved endings,
but not necessarily happy ones. The main bad guy might get caught, for
example, but lesser bad guys get away. Because that’s what happens
in real life. We resolve one major problem, only to be blindsided by another.
This is because we live in the shadow of death, (Psalm 23) a place where
bad things happen to good people and some questions remain unanswered
for life.
This past week I attended the funeral of the sixteen year old daughter
of friends of ours. Her death was sudden and senseless, and a minute or
two on either end of it and the car wouldn't have been where it was. Her
family - and her high school friends – are right now walking through
that dark valley of shadows.
A whole lot of years ago now I listened to Peter Gzowski interview some
cancer patients on his CBC Morningside radio program. One of the final
questions he asked them was, “how does it feel to know you’re
terminal?”
There was a pause and then one of them responded: “I don’t
know, Peter, how does it feel?”
Meaning, of course, that all of us are terminal. Every single one of
us. No one gets out of this thing alive. Or as Jann Arden sings, “You’ll
be gone before you know it.”
Psalm 23 doesn't say, “If I walk through the shadow of
death," or "if it should happen at some future time that
I end up walking through the shadow of death for a moment or two." It says, “though I walk…” which leads me to
believe that walking through the valley of the shadow of death is an everyday
occurrence. The valley of shadows is where we live. The valley of shadows is this planet called earth.
Death surrounds us. It is the one thing we fear, it is the only thing
we fear. When a child is late getting home and it’s dark, that is
the fear. When a spouse is driving home during a snow storm, that is the
fear. When we hear on the news of strange and terrifying new viruses,
that is the fear. When we hear of a plane crash, we hope no one we know
is aboard. Without death there would be no fear. Plain and simple.
So no, my books don’t always end happily, and life won’t
end happily - not until death is finally defeated - and it will be. In
one crazy, joyous, wonderful and wild Second Coming, death will be conquered
and all of this pain and fear will be erased in a moment.
It will happen. That is the Christian hope. And that is a happy ending.
When we've been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Then when we've first begun
June
21
Two
life-changing books...
I have read many books on my faith journey - hundreds, thousands, maybe.
Some of them have caused me to pause and reflect and say, I never
thought of it that way, or isn’t that interesting, and then I go on my way, perhaps a little smarter, a little wiser.
Only two have actually lifted me up and over and onto a new path.
The first of this duo is What’s
So Amazing About Grace? by Philip Yancey. Up until the point
I read this book (and this was some years ago now), God was like the God
in the Santa Claus song – He sees you when you’re sleeping
he knows when you’re awake he knows when you’ve been bad or
good…
I was brought up in the very legalistic church culture of the 1950s
and 60s where God was a God you had to please. I went to a high school
Bible club where each week we were given forms where kept track of how
many times we had a ‘Quiet Time’ and for how long, (Where
you read a portion of the Bible and prayed), and how many people we ‘witnessed’
to. We were also urged to carry our Bible to school on top of our books,
although there wasn't a check mark for that on the form. (I think I may
have done that once in my entire high school career.)
We handed these forms in to the club leaders each week, and I do admit
now, that I may have fudged a bit on some of my forms.
God to me was a God who kept score. He knew when I’d been bad
or good, and I was often badder than good. I was constantly having to
confess things. Every night we were supposed confess all our sins before
we went to bed; all the sins we knew about, plus all the sins we didn't
know about, the ‘secret’ sins – whatever they were.
(Because how can you have a sin you don’t know about? I never asked
that question. I had too many questions as it was.)
Yancey’s book changed that thinking entirely. I saw that there
was nothing I could do to ever earn God’s favor. Ever. And that’s
okay. Because he loves me exactly the way I am. Grace. A new path. God
has ripped up the tally sheets.
A second book, one that I’m just now finishing is The
Pressure’s Off by Larry Crabb. Before Christmas a friend
recommended this book to me, but when I heard the premise I decided that
I didn’t want to read it. The book asks the question – Do
I want God or do I want his blessings?
Because in the deepest part of my soul I want the blessings. I want
a life of ease and happiness; cancer and problem free. I want my children
and grandchildren to be safe and happy and successful. I want to be successful.
I want a good marriage and a nice house with enough money to travel. I
want friends who love me and nice clothes and comfortable furniture –
preferably leather. And even though I can laugh about the score sheets
I filled out so studiously back in high school, there is a part of me
that still thinks that God will somehow reward all of my ‘good’
church work with blessings. He doesn't. He won’t. It’s not
about that.
I think of a hymn we used to sing:
Living for Jesus a life that is true
Trying to please him in all that I do
Yielding allegiance glad hearted and free
This is the pathway of blessing for me
But, there are worms gnawing under the entire foundation of that song.
Because a life journey is not about living for Jesus. It’s not
about trying to please him – if we’re doing all of these things
so that we can receive any kind of blessings for me. I’m
learning this – I’m not quite there – but what I’m
learning is that this journey is about worship and repentance and grace
and faith and communion with God. There is so much more to this mystery
than I ever imagined.
June
7
Late flights and contentment...
I am sitting in the airport here in Fredericton this evening. And I
shall be sitting here for a couple of hours more. Maybe even more than
that. We all boarded our flight at the nice and reasonable hour of 8:45
in the evening, planning to reach our destination of Toronto a mere two
hours later.
Five minutes after we boarded and got settled in, the message came.
They were very sorry to tell us, they said, that there was some mechanical
failure, something to do with something on the wing that was missing something.
I think I heard the word ‘static’, but all we really heard
was that we needed to get off the plane, gather our things and check in
with the counter if we wanted to re-book. Otherwise we were invited to
wait approximately three hours while they fly parts from Montreal and
mechanics from Halifax to fix it.
There is an interesting dynamic happening among us, something that happens
to strangers brought together by a common bond of miserableness. We're
talking to each other. We’ve all got places to be and things to
do, and they don’t involve sitting in airports. I’ve listened
as people have called their businesses to change meeting plans. I’ve
heard mothers call children. Someone makes the comment that they could
have at least given us something to drink off the airport trolley since
the one food area in the place is closed for the night. When I hear that
it reminds me that I’m thirsty. I didn’t bring along the water
bottle that usually accompanies me on flights.
I’d do another edition of ‘What Real People are Reading’,
but only one in our little group is reading. She’s reading The
Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger.
A whole bunch of us are on laptops, (This must be a business crowd),
a few are reading newspapers, and a lot more are talking on cell phones.
We’re becoming familiar with each other, and as we wait, we chat.
We wonder aloud, Will the plane leave at eleven, or will there even be
a longer wait? Does anyone know?
I’m hooked up to the Wifi and announce that the website says
that it will leave at 11:45. More groans. This is going to be a long night.
There is a camaraderie that has developed among these stranded travelers.
We chat about plans that will have to be changed, about children who will
be missed, about making our people wait in Toronto so long and into the
middle of the night to pick us up. It’s so unfortunate, and we all
agree. But, no one’s really angry, because what will that get us?
(Except thrown out of the airport!)
And all of this makes me think about contentment and how this is something
God is teaching me through a whole lot of things that have happened in
my life over the past few years. When I become discontented I know that
my focus has shifted from God to all the things around me that I want.
May 23
A Surprising read (and God's blessings)...
I just finished reading a novel not more than fifteen minutes ago -
that I’ve already put up on my list of favorite books of all time
– my first favorite book of all time being, A
Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.
But this surprising book that I must tell you about is Life Expectancy by Dean Koontz. Like all
good novels it has me thinking about life, about purpose and why we are
here, and what it’s all about, and most of all, about God.
Here’s a quote from this surprising book:
My parents didn’t raise me to ask God for blessings or benefits.
For guidance, yes. For the strength to do the right thing, yes. Not for
a winning lottery number, nor for love or health, or happiness. Prayer
is not a gimme list; God isn’t Santa Claus.
This quote reminds me of another book I’m currently reading.
It’s a nonfiction book entitled The
Pressure’s Off by Larry Crabb. The ideas he presents about God are like the ideas
that Koontz suggests. When we ask God for blessings, or when we ask God
to 'bless us,' we're missing the entire point of the gospel. What we need
to ask for is God and God alone. Not God's blessings.
May 16
It's
fiction, folks! That's spelled F-I-C-T-I-O-N
Again – it’s the literary stuff that’s making news.
In this case, the novel turned movie - The DaVinci Code.
You can’t turn on the television without seeing another interview
on the subject. Canada
AM even flew to Paris and London and their broadcasts for two days
will be nothing but DaVinci Code. You can’t
open a newspaper without more of DaVinci.
And, of course, churches are getting into the act with special Bible
studies refuting the so-called facts presented in the book. And Christians
who've never read the book will flock to these Bible studies, not realizing
that the book in question is a NOVEL.
That's fiction, folk. Fiction. I’ll say it again if I wasn’t
loud enough the first two times: FICTION.
I read The DaVinci Code a few years ago when
it first came out and enjoyed it as a thriller. It's fantasy. And I do
admit, it did have me running to the internet to look at pictures of The
Last Supper. And this brings me to my second reason why we should ignore
the hype and all the stuff in the book:
The premise is that Leonardo DaVinci hid all sorts of secret symbols
in his paintings. And to that I say, so what? So what if DaVinci thought
Jesus was married and had children? just because DaVinci thought
so.That doesn't mean it’s true.
To me it's just as crazy as getting all hyped and worried that there
really is a supercomputer bug that will turn our brains to mush
and make us act like birds if we answer our cell phones. Well, why not?
That was in Stephen King’s CELL. (Although,
I do admit that the first time my cell phone rang after I read CELL, I looked at it a ring or two before answering it.)
Here’s my opinion: When the hype dies down and
it will, (and it looks like that will be sooner rather than later–
the early movie reviews from Cannes are not all that wonderful) the Bible will still stand as God’s Word.
There. Now you have read my first and last blog on The DaVinci
Code. I will say no more on the subject.
May 5
Radio interview with Cindy Swanson
Yesterday I had the great fun of being interviewed by Cindy Swanson
of WQFL Radio in Rockford, Illinois. It will be broadcast there Sunday.
For a two minute clip of the interview, click here.
Cindy has a great blog Notes in the Key of Life, where she interviews
lots of writer, and expounds upon a lot of interesting subjects. She's
an avid reader and a really nice person.
May 4
Plagiarism, copying and kids that just don’t
get it…
The most interesting news these days seems to be coming from the literary
world, which is not – yawn - the usual place one finds compelling
and interesting news stories.
Kaavya Viswanathan’s novel How Opal Mehta Got Kissed,
Got Wild and Got a Life has been pulled from shelves. Bookstores
are to return them, and they are no longer available on Amazon except
in used copies.
Listen to the NPR broadcast about this here:
So, it doesn't look like she'll even be making millions while the dust
settles, unlike James Frey whose book continue's to sell
well. The thing is - what will she do now? I look at her and she's so
young and someone's daughter. She is just a teenager caught up in the
intricate and weird and competitive and cut throat and mysterious industry
known as publishing. Others don’t share my sympathy. Click on this
link for what author Salman
Rushdie thinks.
But, she’s a kid and somewhere along the line in the culture of
kids it became okay to plagiarize.
Last week I gave two mystery writing workshops at a nearby high school.
The teacher and I got chatting about this very thing and she told me that
the internet, and the easy availability of downloadable ready-made essays
has virtually eliminated their ability to give essay assignments. In order
to have students write essays, teachers need to do one of two things:
1) Give them the exact references they are to look up (in other words
- do their work for them) and then make sure their essays reflect the
references chosen for them or
2) have them write their essays in class.
Okay, Kaavya was smart. Obviously she was smart if she got into Harvard
and got a half million dollar writing contract when she was still in high
school (I’m sorry – I can’t get my brain around that!),
yet, she was still a kid caught up in the ‘it’s okay to cheat’
culture. By all reports, she still doesn't get it. I guess the thing that
bugs me is that the publishers had already decided that she would be a
bestseller. They wanted a best seller and they were willing to manufacture
it in the form of Kaavya Viswanathan.
What I don't get is - how did she not realize that someone would eventually
figure this out? Back before I wrote novels full time I taught English
to students wanting to upgrade their high school marks. I once I assigned
an essay and received two that were IDENTICAL. And thy really didn't think
that I would NOTICE?
That’s all for now – but I think there’s a blog in
me about teenagers writing novels. There has to be.
For something lighter click on this Garrison
Keillor recent comment on the writing life:
May 1
The perils of being literary...
There’s a lot happening literary-wise, and a lot to comment on.
We’ve moved from the James Frey fray to Dan Brown being sued over
parts of The DaVinci Code to the most recent
fiasco of untruth telling: The nice little Harvard undergrad wrote a novel
that was surely being groomed to be a a) bestseller and b) a movie. After all, Kaavya Viswanathan, the precocious
young woman signed her first book contract when she was still in high
school.
For
a full text on this story click here
I want to write about all of this in detail, but I am in the middle of
a deadline, so must devote much of my writing time to coming up with ‘original’
turns of phrases and words and ideas. So, my comments will be short.
But
this is a caution for all writers never to steal something that’s
written down. Even when your tired and you're facing a deadline and you
really, really want to. A lot of years ago I read a Robert B. Parker mystery
where a tall, fluffy headed suspect arrives at the door and Parker describes
him with just one word. 'He looked like a sunflower."
It's
beautiful. It's succint. I can't tell you the number of times I've wanted
to describe someone as a sunflower. But I can't because it's already down
on paper.
But
the air is fair game. I’ve taken lots of stuff from the air.
For example, there’s a passage in Dark Water where sisters, to get through a brutal time in their lives play a game
of “At least it’s not…”
Huddled
on their bed they name all of the ways that the situation could be worse.
This came from an episode three years ago when my husband and I were on
our way to Australia and standing in a very long and miserable customs
line in Hawaii in the middle of the night. As we snaked our way to the
front of the line, I heard a young woman say to her friends,
“You
know, this could be worse.”
“How?”
her two friends wanted to know.
“When I was little we always played ‘At Least it’s Not.”
And
from then until we got through customs we heard various renditions of
the game.
“At
least it’s not raining.”
“At
least we’re not wet.”
At least we’re not hot.”
And
on and on they went.
This
was too good for this writer to pass up, so I grabbed my pen from my carryon
and began writing. This is mine, I thought. I’ve got dibs. I’m
stealing it.
And
I did.
Now,
if this previous passage had been in a coming of age novel, I would not
have been able to use it the way I did. But in the air the way it was,
it was fair game.
Yes,
it it rather a challenge to constantly have to come up with new images
and new ways to say things. But the well is deep. The good images, the
good story lines and phrases will never be all used up.
|
