President Obama sent a personal, hand-written note to Yann Martel about The Life of Pi.

Tanya’s New Fantasy To-Do List:

1. Write deep and unique novel

2. Win Man Booker Prize

3. Receive letter from President Obama

(I would have said “the Canadian Prime Minister” in that number three spot, but even Yann Martel can’t get an answer from that guy.)

Min and I went to our first parent teacher meeting yesterday. The teacher said our daughter was a great reader, but often preferred to play by herself.

I have no idea where she gets it.

For more information, you can head to the CWILL BC blog.

Ever find yourself thinking:

“Hey, this week I should workshop a couple novel chapters, meet a deadline for a second draft, and move my mother-in-law out of her 4000-square-foot house”?

Well, you shouldn’t.

I was with a group of acquaintances last week and one of them was telling the crowd about a novel-in-progress. It’s a fantasy epic, about elves, and… okay, I have no idea. I tuned out. But right before I tuned out, I was thinking, “Dude, you are never going to get your novel finished this way.”

You do not tell everyone the details of your novel until your first draft is complete. And sometimes not even then.

Here’s why:

1. Writing has a magical component. It disappears when talked about. (See how it disappeared as soon as I wrote that? Hmmm? You rolled your eyes at the word “magical,” and the magic disappeared.)
2. People might tell you they LOVE your idea, they’ll buy the book for sure, and you’re destined to be a star. Then you will go home, look at your first draft, see it for the crap that it is, and spiral into clinical depression.
3. People might tell you they like your first draft, but they’d turn the elves into dwarves, and add more battles. And even though you’re completely committed to elves, the dwarf voice will echo continuously in your head. You’ll start to realize that elves were over with Tolkien, you’ll see your first draft for the crap that it is, and spiral into clinical depression.
4. The time that you are spending talking about your novel could actually be spent finishing your novel.

Even when you’re finished your first draft, high on the wow-I-finally-finished euphoria, you probably shouldn’t spill the details your novel. (Mea culpa on this one.) You should put it in a drawer for several weeks, then begin revisions.

I was reading Deborah Ellis’s Children of War over the weekend and came to a story about orphaned siblings, just as my own two kids were having a rare moment of peaceful play on the kitchen floor. Then, my friend Steve K.’s song Where I Belong (about the general awesomeness of Canada) started playing.

I had to change books before I called up Angelina and asked for advice on foreign adoption.

I made Min kill a spider a few days ago. Usually, I avoid that sort of thing. (Karma and all.) But this spider was on the ceiling directly above my bed. Since I spent my entire childhood having nightmares about spiders lowering themselves from my ceiling to my mattress on strange, levered tire swings, the spider had to go.

Which brings me to the editing changes for 50 Poisonous Questions. The editor for this book is Catherine Marjoribanks, who seems both kind and wise. Plus, she has a wickedly funny website. Apparently, though, she doesn’t share my childhood spider issues. She suggests that I delete the following sidebar:

Peek Before You Pee
It’s not just a rumor. Black widow spiders really do like the damp, dark, and bug-rich recesses of outhouse toilets. Two-thirds of all black widow bites in the United States are received on victims’ buttocks, thighs, or private parts. Talk about a pain in the behind!

She says that if we don’t delete it, no 10-year-old reader will ever use an outhouse again.

So, of course, the sidebar is gone. Editors are generally right about these things, and I would hate to be the cause of ongoing bladder problems in North American youth. But… doesn’t EVERYONE check beneath the outhouse seat? Because I did when I was 10 and I do now and so should everyone else, in my humble arachnophobic opinion.

It may not appear in the book, but I offer you the Peek Before You Pee public service announcement here, free of charge, for your own protection. And I wouldn’t recommend sleeping below spiders either. You never know when they might get their hands (um… legs) on a tire swing.

Check out my new slideshow along the right-hand side. It’s called a widget. Who knew? I haven’t managed to get the dimensions quite right, but I am now ready to hypnotize people with a steadily rotating array of books.

It’s linked to Amazon ’cause… well… Kidsbooks doesn’t have widgets. And frickin’ Duthies is closed.

Still, it’s pretty cool. Watch:

You are now getting sleeeeepy…. when I clap twice, you will awake, with no idea what books you may have ordered…

(Or does that only happen to me on-line?)

It’s not all about clean clothes. Here are laundry’s lesser-known benefits:

1. To do laundry, you generally have to stand up. And all of the blood that has pooled in your behind as you’ve sat at your computer will disperse into general circulation. If you’re lucky, some of it will reach your brain.

2. Laundry is warm. And because your blood has pooled in your behind, you are likely cold. (You could try putting warm laundry on your brain, but I haven’t tested this method, so can’t personally recommend it. Maybe tomorrow.)

3. Laundry requires enough thought to distract your conscious mind, while leaving your subconscious to ruminate on how best to remove your main character from the squeezing garbage compactor in which you left him.

4. Usually, you fold laundry inside your house. So when inspiration strikes, you are not at the gym surrounded by behemoths who have long since lost their pencils and notebooks in the creases of their muscles.

5. Even if your book doesn’t progress, even if your problem is so big that a little distraction can’t solve it, even if your mom calls while you’re folding and you get nothing else written, you’ve still accomplished something with your day.

That’s as useful as I get this week. Fold and be merry.

You know how I like serendipity, right? Well, I just finished Robin Wheeler’s Food Security for the Faint of Heart, which I had to read on the sly, because Min kind of… freaked out… every time he saw the book. (He’s one of those “resistors” that Robin talks about. I, on the other hand, am going to be the Betty Freakin’ Crocker of the neighborhood next time there’s a natural disaster.)

Back to the point. I turned the last pages, went to the computer, clicked on Craigslist, and there, flashing like a neon sign, was an ad for a pair of Jersey Giant Chickens!

These are beautiful chickens that are the largest breed of chicken. They have glossy black feathers that shine green in the sunlight. They were hatched at the end of October so will be ready to start laying in March. You are buying them just as they are maturing and will be ready to lay during their most productive age and in the spring. The Jersey giant chicken lays large brown eggs. These are very gentle chickens and eat food out of my grandchildrens hands. They even get along with our dogs! they can range between 10-13 lbs as adults. They would make a lovely addition to a small family farm. $25 for the pair.

Now if that’s not serendipity, what is?

I’ll give the first dozen eggs to the person who can convince Min to buy them.