First, she wrote books set in Moscow and Prague, and therefore had to travel Europe for research purposes. Then, she wrote a book about a circus school, and took trapeze and parkour lessons.
Why on earth am I setting my books deep in the forest in the middle of the Kootenays?
This is entirely bad planning on my part.
But back to Rachelle. Min, Silence, Violence, and I went to her Wednesday night book launch for The Bonaventure Adventures. The Book Warehouse on Main did a wonderful job of hosting. Rachelle was funny and smart as she told us all about her parkour-lesson bruises (at least I only get mosquito bites on my research trips), and the book is fabulous.
I hope L’École Nationale de Cirque has extra lesson spaces for those of us about to launch our own aerial acts…
My writer friend Kallie George will soon be releasing the first book in her Magical Animal Adoption Series, and she’s just launched a new website. It’s the most adorable thing ever. I took the quiz and it turns out that I’m a suitable host for either winged horses or griffyns. (Maybe they like clean bathrooms and freshly ironed linens?)
Once again, this website makes me think I should re-examine my writing choices. My friend Rachelle sets her books in Moscow and Prague, then she gets to go on “research” trips.
Where do I set my books? The Kootenays.
Now Kallie gets a magical animal website. What kind of website quiz could I create? Hmmm… a “would you eat maggots to survive” version? It’s not quite the same!
We are still all about the ADLs around here. Min needs to test ten volunteers, doing two household tasks each. I’m pretty sure this was a trick to get me to clean the bathroom and iron his shirts. I’ll have you know that I am officially, objectively capable of both those tasks, though I lost points for (a) leaving the rag drawer open and (b) propping the ironing board with my chin while I adjusted my grip.
I would like to write the ADLs people to argue that ironing is in fact NOT a necessary activity of daily life. Unfortunately, I was only asked to take the test, not to write the test.
2. Hazard Pay
If no one hears from me for the rest of the week, it’s because I’m hanging out with my one-year-old nephew. He is a funny, happy little guy. But holy busy, batman! How in the world did I write when I had toddlers in the house? Apparently, multi-tasking is no longer one of my ADLs. Wish me luck!
Through intense buttering-up of Rachelle Delaney, my daughter recently got her paws on advance proofs of The Circus Dogs of Prague. You may remember that she wallpapered her room last year with posters of the dogs from the Metro Dogs of Moscow. Well, she loved Circus Dogs even more. But I’ll let her tell it in her own words:
Join Pie, Robert, Beatrix, and of course JR, on a trip to Prague with George and his new girlfriend Nadya. At first, JR loves Prague. Cake, Parks, Treats. But then he sees them. Cats. Worse, Nadya has adopted a stray cat! ‘Kisa’ is nothing but trouble. At least, that’s what the dogs thought. But when Nadya’s brother’s circus is going out of business, is it possible that Kisa could save the day? Read The Circus Dogs of Prague to find out.
This book was awesome! I loved how Kisa was kind of unpredictable and sometimes, she was just so nice. Sometimes, she was just trouble!
There you have it. An advance review from JR’s biggest fan.
Isn’t that horrible? Not only am I a writer and an avid reader, I also live FIVE MINUTES AWAY from Granville Island, where the Writers Fest takes place.
I am very ashamed of myself.
Fortunately, I am rectifying the situation this year with not one, but two events. Yesterday afternoon I sprung my daughter from school and we went to see Rachelle Delaney, Meg Tilly, and Cary Fagan at Mystery, Adventure, and Lies. All three were spectacular.
We are already a household of Rachelle Delaney fans, of course, but we enjoyed watching the hundred or so other groupies in the audience ask question after question after question about The Metro Dogs of Moscow.
Cary Fagan read a hilariously twisted first chapter (think children’s version of The Family Fang), and Meg Tilly read/acted a story about the tooth fairy, a baseball glove, and poo. She’s a writer who knows her MG audience!
Tonight I’m hoping to have just as good a time as I leave my daughter behind and head out with some fellow writers to see Fantasy@Six with Maureen Johnson and Maggie Stiefvater. My expectations are high, after yesterday afternoon, though I have a feeling there will be less talk about poo.
Today, for some light comic relief, I present the story of how I ignored most of yesterday’s advice, and nonetheless found my writing group.
I went to a writing workshop. This particular workshop was about electronic publishing and on-line presence. But here’s the thing about writing classes of any form: 99 percent of attendees are introverts, and at least half of the remaining one percent are… um, how to say this nicely… wacko. So, you turn up at this exciting class, and you find a whole room of nervous-looking people writing notes (before anyone’s said anything) and trying to look busy, because after years spent in front of their computers, they have no idea how to interact with strangers.
Being one of those people, I got out my notebook and began taking copious notes. I continued to scribble right up until the moment when we were supposed to write down our goals for the coming year. Then I wrote “FIND A WRITING GROUP” in big letters, and left my notebook conveniently open, hoping the writer sitting next to me (Rachelle Delaney, whom I sort of knew from CWILL meetings) might glance my way.
I went home and waited. And waited. And waited a bit more. And lo and behold, she called me and said she and her friend Kallie were starting a writer’s group. Did I want to join?
Well, glory hallelliuah! I did.
I never asked whether she actually saw my secret message.
I was chatting to Rachelle last night about e-book reading, and now I’m here to confess my most ridiculous reading decision, ever.
I downloaded Anna Kerenina… on my iPhone.
When displayed on a 17-line screen, Anna Karenina has 4087 pages.
This is possibly not the most realistic way to read a Russian novel. BUT, I’m loving it! I’ve never read a Russian novel before because (a) they’re Russian, which sounds hard; and (b) they’re thick, which looks hard. But Anna Karenina (translated, obviously) turns out to have balls, and beaux, and ice skating parties, and mansions and estates, and late-night soirées, and basically anything else I might want in a historical novel.
Rachelle hasn’t read Anna Karenina either, because her Russian-novel-loving dad said nothing ever happens. And I have to admit, nothing much has happened in the first seventeen chapters. But the gowns, and the balls, and the beaux… those are enough to keep me reading.
I’m on page 848. I’ll let you know how it goes with the next 3239.