I was pondering the blogging process this morning, and I came up with three mini-lessons I’ve learned from writing in this space:

• There are always ideas. Every single week, I think, “What am I going to post about? I haven’t done anything writing-related. I’ve got nothing.” And then, half an hour later, I’ve written a blog post. (One might argue that many of my posts are about nothing, and so shouldn’t count as successful idea-generating exercises, but I would say that even rambling is a creative endeavour.)
• First sentences sucketh. Almost every single time I write a post, I have to go back and delete my opening. Apparently, concise introductions aren’t my thing.
• In a related lesson, what I think I want to write about is often not what I really want to write about. Often, I discover my true intensions somewhere in the middle.

All of these apply to writing on a larger scale. I just took out the first page of my work-in-progress, for example, and moved it to chapter three. And who the heck knows where I’ll end up?

Hmmm… maybe I meant to be writing about aliens.

I’ve been reading a ton of YA fiction recently, and I have to say, there are a lot of great guys in these books. Great boyfriends, great brothers, great friends. They’re solid, honest, and supportive (besides being smokin’ hot, of course). And there are WAY more of them than I remember existing in high school.

Okay, there were a lot of guys in high school with the potential to become great. But they weren’t there yet.

Here’s a story a (great guy) friend told me recently. In grade twelve, he broke up with his girlfriend because his friend told him that her friend had said that she thought he would be good marriage material one day. Did you follow that? This is a GOOD GUY I’m talking about. But he broke up with his girlfriend because of a sentence twice removed.

Why? Because no one in high school — girl or guy — knows what the heck they’re doing.

So, YA authors, I’m hereby calling it. You’re making stuff up.

How’s this for afternoon programming? On August 9th, you can come to my presentation at the West Vancouver Memorial Library, and then play Wii at the library afterwards.

I know. Seems too strange to be true, doesn’t it?

Well, I’ll have to ask librarian Shannon Ozirny if she scheduled it this way intentionally, in keeping with the Strange but True theme of this year’s summer reading club.

If you’d like to experience the juxtaposition for yourself, registration opens today. I’ll be speaking about inspiration and people who change the world, at 2 p.m. in the Welsh Hall.

Hope to see you there!

I’ve been hard at work on an edit. So hard at work that I forgot to post. I even forgot to feel guilty about not posting.

But I’m back, with a list of three things to make anyone more open to editing changes:

1. Have all your friends ask how your book is going, for months, and have nothing to tell them. It’s like having all your great aunts ask why you’re still single. Such a relief to say “I’m dating someone, actually.” Phew — I’m editing!

2. Have your friend receive a 20-page editorial letter. That’s right – 20 pages of issues to address. My editorial letter was only five pages long. Now, doesn’t that seem eminently reasonable by comparison?

3. Don’t read your manuscript for two months. The problems light up like neon strip club signs.

Onwards to draft two! And because I’m going to spend the rest of my morning on further revisions, I’ll set aside the question of whether or not it’s okay to have great aunts and strip club signs appear in same list. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.

I am exactly halfway through the first draft of my work in progress. Halfway!

I am slogging through the big, boggy middle at the moment, so I’m not sure I really deserve to be celebrating, but still…

Halfway is something. It’s at least worthy of a glass of wine, or a big slice of apple pie for dessert.

Hmmm… maybe when I finish the manuscript, I can have apple pie for breakfast. Now that would be good motivation.

In case you need inspiration for your summer writing project, here’s a little real-world wackiness to get you started:

1. A birdhouse made entirely of bullets.

2. A roommate arrangement gone wrong… as in, swinging axes wrong.

3. Dangling witch houses.

Happy writing.