Sylvia McNicoll's Blog, page 17

Montreal Trip-Kahnawake Survival School

When I heard about my high school reunion in Montreal, like most broke authors with a new book, the question that occurred to me was how can I make this trip tax deductible.  I'd always wanted to do a signing in the Pointe Claire Chapters so I called Deb Aubin at that branch and she was amazing.  Within a couple of days the event was up on the Chapters Blog set for Mother's Day.  Then I began cold calling schools.    Oh so many librarians and teachers seemed so excited for a couple of emails.  And then they realized their funding was gone, there were track meets and exams and they were too busy. etc.etc.   The calls still achieved contact and I hope the teachers will buy copies of crush.candy.corpse for their libraries. And perhaps next year with fun fair money in hand, they will also think of hosting a visit.  One of my favourite schools committed immediately.  I love the name of it .  Here it is: I survived Survival School.


This is a Mohawk High School.  And as you can see below the building is beautiful, new, bright and airy.Some of the students have attended a Mohawk Immersion program which means their English writing skills might not be at a regular level, whatever regular means.

The large windows allow plenty of light in.I loved visiting with these kids.  But I will be honest.  They challenge me and keep me humble.  One young man questioned my intent when I asked them to create a "tent" with a recycled manuscript paper
and print their names on in large letters.  "Why don't you just ask us for our names?"

Gee I thought I was doing just that.  But I think the student wanted to just orally story tell even beginning with his name.

If they write out them out visibly for me, I have half a chance of pronouncing and/or remembering them.  Plus as I schemed, they were flipping the paper and reading drafts of my work.  I told him flat out I couldn't remember names.  He stared at me, emotionless, or did he think I was lame?  With names at author visits I tend to be.

I handed out feathers as a simile/metaphor creating exercise.  Students seemed to like letting them drift down not so much describing the colour and texture. Or thinking of any of the symbolism behind feathers.

I paired them off to create scripts.  They weren't keen to act them out.  Shy or did they need more
Hopefully the kids learned at least one thing.coaxing?

Sometimes you do your best and then just walk away, pondering.  Next visit for sure I'll come up with something that will magically turn them into writers.

Writers' Cafe Teen Fiction - Hillfield Strathallan

It was an evening of dimmed lights, fine literature and Nanimo Bars.  My favourite young writers Brandon, Kieran, Alexandra, Karishma, Holly, Ally, Darius, Kylie, Ben and Isabella read the stories they had created over my term as writer-in -residence at Hillfield Strathallan College.  Horror, thriller, spy, fantasy, adventure, speculative fiction, not one of them was alike.  I emceed with a few toes in my mouth mispronouncing and mixing up names.  I hate that because I feel like they shared their souls with me.  But unfortunately their souls registered as stories without  the names and faces attached. I've worked electronically with students many times over the years but that's always been a problem.  Next online project I'll see if technology can remedy that.

photos attached to the projects.  Or Skype a bit in between.  



Still it was a wonderful evening of celebration.  I couldn't take pictures as the writers presented, I think that would have made them nervous, so I post the before-cafe-mingle shot and the photo of the flowers and book darts presented to me afterwards.  I'm a big killer of plants and loser of bookmarks.  For the shot I taped one daisy neck to help it hold up its head.  The book darts are intriguing as I can use them to mark reading spots without having them fall out.  But it was the wonderful readings that I will remember and the one one ones I had with the talented students.Thank you Mrs. Niebart and Hillfield Teen Fiction writers.  Keep reading and writing.

Mail Someone a Book

The other day I received a book in the mail.  I'm writing a profile on the author for Canadian Children's Book News and this was the quickest best way to get hold of her novel. Mailing involves wrapping and costs so I tried to spare  Gillian O'Reilly the ordeal by mentioning our next get together.  It didn't work out.  Sneak preview of the author being profiled in the fall Canadian Children's Book News
When I received the package in the mail, a) I was delighted with receiving something that wasn't a bill directed to me, b) I loved opening a parcel with a book.  It reminded me of the time I sent my nephew a couple of books special delivery.  It's not that books thrill him but I heard from his mom how much the special delivery parcel surprised and thrilled him.
This morning I packaged up 12 Tiger Catcher's Kids for a school near Ottawa.  I recycled a German Book Club box used to send me my copies of Jades Zweites Leben.  I nearly duct taped myself to the box and now I'll have to make the trip to the postoffice which doesn't allow dogs so what's the point in walking there.


12 Tiger Catcher's Kids almost fit neatly insideStill.  I'm suggesting you all take the time to mail a book to a special person in your life, could be for Mother's Day or just because.  For children especially getting snail mail is becoming rarer, and a parcel with a special book could be the very thing that launches them on a love affair.

End of the little red engine, welcome MacBookAir

My MacBook had a jaunty red cover that inspired many "cool" comments from studentsA friend asked me how you could tell if your computer was "going" on you.  In the past it's been, after you've spilled the coffee, coke or cleaner into the keyboard and/or when the computer just won't start any more.  This time it was a way more difficult task.  I loved my Macbook, I wrote at least ten books on it and edited and created hundreds of magazine articles, not to mention power points and speeches. I felt it had grown to be a part of my body.
You buy a computer and everyone tells you for writing you won't need much.  But then you start loading on photographs, creating slide shows and movies and suddenly you need a lot more.   My MacBook began spinning coloured wheels a lot, chugging slower and slower. There were a few dread moments in front of grade 7s and 8s when I needed to reboot and the wheel just kept spinning. That would have been last year.

 I decided to replace it
. Then my youngest announced plans for a destination wedding and spending the money on airline tickets became the best investment I've ever made. Armed with an external hard drive as extra storage, I would shoot for one more year with spinning coloured wheels. More frequently there were files I couldn't open and my operating system couldn't handle the new ACE storage opportunity which I was dying to try.  Of course a new updated system required more space on my computer.  Space it couldn't give me.

 A few weeks ago the little red engine that could proclaimed itself totally full, no room to save or operate anymore and I desperately unloaded every image I could to get it running.  Of course this means my book trailer is missing from my power point and lots of other inconveniences yet to be discovered.
I  decided to replace the computer again.  
A writer does nothing if not research.  The delicious agony of visiting the Apple Store, lifting computers and asking questions.  Because I had enjoyed a trouble free five years with my red machine, I was going Mac again rather than PC.  I searched Twitter and dragged my feet waiting for more updates.  Finally I thought I decided on a Powerbook, looking forward to a backlit keyboard as my only real change. (I love to write in the car at night when my husband drives.  Or in airplanes.  But when it's dark, you have to tilt your screen forward to light up the keyboard.) Then my son in law sent me articles on MacBook Air.   Another visit to the Apple Store.Finally I bought the 13" MacBook Air (as in lighter than air)complete with one to one service. Thanks Mom.This means I go to computer classes whenever I want.  Yesterday  I learned about Mission Control and how to add another desktop.  Today I learn about iMovies.
I say goodbye to my red machine as my husband empties, cleans and creates a Montreal Canadien's screensaver for it. We've exchanged a red cover for a black.  Today  I turn it over to my hockey loving grandson Hunter for his 11th birthday.  May it chug on to create a million more projects.

The Grand Battle of the Books- Burlington Public Library

Back on the job as official timer, I practised starting, stopping and clearing in preparation for the uber exciting final battles between Elizabeth Seaton, St Patrick, Charles R. Beaudoin and Burlington Central.
Look at the spirit!  Wish my photo of the all-in green shamrock clad St. Patrick team had turned out.
 Still listening to the teams reciting the names of the authors and pondering over the answers had me forget myself. The questions were hard! The battlers tough and prepared.
"In what book do Lee and Cassie go skinny dipping late at night?"  Ahh!  I don't know, I should know.
Canadian Award winner.
  I think Burlington Central had this question and snapped off the answer easily:  Homefree by Sharon Jennings.
Tori is the spokesperson for BCHS.  Don't forget to read The Happy Tori Journal by Estelle Salata. But I read this book and loved it. Still I didn't remember.  How many times did I suddenly look down in dismay at my black time travel device and shout out "Time!" Seemed like my job should have been the simplest.
"I owe it all to the wonderful teachers and librarians of Burlington"--the speech each student really wanted to give.Here are the winners: Charles R Beaudoin.  But really, they're all winners.  They're smart and enjoy reading and they all seemed to have fun.  Congratulations all around!

Afterwards battlers acted as my first school audience ever to enjoy my crush.candy.corpse presentation.
We had some great actors and future editors.  I sneak previewed my spring 2013 book, Death Goes Viral . In Q & A afterwards a Charles R. Beaudoin student asked me how long it took for a book to go from idea to print.  I stammered about the economy and how it used to be fairly quick but now it could take two years and more.  Trick question!  The CRB students then  reminded me that I test read the first three chapters of Death Goes Viral to them a couple of years ago in an Artist in Education week.  I had consulted with them on possible titles.  They have been waiting and watching ever since. Okay, sometimes three years.

Lucky Dog-Canada Council Funds Project Afterall

My dog Mortie leaping at birds was my metaphor for  how writers feel when they apply for  grants.  You have to keep jumping with your eye on the ultimate prize:  earning a living writing.  The Canada Council had sent me a letter letting me know my project "Death on Track" was highly recommended by the jury but that they had run out of funds.  Since that correspondence I've been sardonically muttering"well, we could have afforded that if the Canada Council hadn't run out of money" to every major imminently necessary expenditure:  tuneup for the car, tooth implant, upgrade for the MacBook, new roof, even trip to the hairdresser.
Then on Monday another package from them arrived.  Oh, great yet another survey to fill in to make us feel stupid for choosing the arts as a career.  Somewhere there would be a bunch of boxes to check about income earned from royalties and the figure might be embarrassingly low, depending on what time of year it was and whether the publishers had finally mailed the cheque. Maybe I should just wait for that cheque to open the stupid survey. I circled the coffee table and tried to ignore the big envelope.   Junk mail, a happy bulletin perhaps about how all the other writers and artists were lolling on the beach with their CC funds. Joyful photos of artists receiving their prizes and medals, sipping champagne in front of a their paintings.Oh what the heck, let's declutter and get rid of all the mail.  The CC envelope was last to be opened.Here's the first two lines:
You recently received a letter from the Canada Council for the Arts advising you that your grant application for the Grants to Professional Writers - Creative Writing program was highly recommended.We are now pleased to advise you that your request will be funded.  
"Oh my gawd!"  I jumped up and down and called "Bob, Bob, Bob" (husband's name) "guess what!" Because that doesn't make a great photo I thought I'd use my "granddog" this time.  Warf is also the star of my latest book project.  In it he plays the part of a talking dog Brownie, who grins and has dimples.
One of the grant conditions is that I must supply financial details on how I used the monies. Mortgage payments, subsistence, staying alive.  But of course it may free up other income to accomplish the previously mentioned objectives.  To all my fellow writers who did not have a good year or response to their application, I feel deeply sorry.  The guilt of the granted.
But honestly, mostly, right now, I feel like a lucky dog. 

Battle of the Books--Official timer

Because so many children in Burlington are under the witness protection plan, I can't include a photo of them.
Teams from nineteen schools met at Burlington Public Library to battle over book knowledge.    They needed a timer.  I'm their "local author" and frankly, I just love this competition so I was happy to do it.  What happens is two teams face off in four different rooms of the library.  Each takes turns answering a question.  They must answer with the title of the book for three points and the author for two.  Lots of times they just recite a rosary bead sequence of Canadian authors although they often begin with Eric Walters.  The rest of us seem to only be known by our surnames.  Often the kids would include "McNicoll"in their prayers with  one bright lad starting straight at me to detect any clue by my expression.  "Bah, Eric Walters never wrote anything about dragons," I thought during the fantasy questions. Or did he?  Maybe I should suggest that to him. 
The team had 30 seconds to answer and then the other team got a crack.   It was a tough job frought with technology anxiety.  "Can't I just use my watch?" was the first thing I asked about the job.  But no. Here's the timer.
Note the almost exact timing of 30 seconds here.  For thirty-eight extra seconds I pondered the answer myself..I practised clicking on, off and clear.  All set to go, pumped even.  Here's one of my favourite questions.
 "In which book does Luke's friend Gracie disappear during an unexpected tornado?"
The kids, of course, blurted out the same answer that popped into my brain.  "Eric Walters.  Safe House."
"Try again," said Marnie, our volunteer inquisitor.
"Little, McNicoll."
"Time!" I called expertly, I must say.

The answer.  I wish I could put it in tiny letters upside down so you would have to turn your screen upside down to read it:
Valerie Sherrard,  The Glory Wind

I'm looking forward to reading the book, and many more mentioned during this fearsome battle.  I return in a couple weeks for the final showdown and to introduce them to my new title crush.candy.corpse.

Signing success crush.candy.corpse at Queensway Chapters

Pressure and anxiety--that's what an author feels when approaching a signing.  Years ago a Coles bookseller told me that selling 19 or 20 books on a day makes a successful event.  Remembering that an a writer clears about a dollar a book, that's $20 for four or five hours.  You never look to these as a cash cow.

You can't just sit back and read or write either and rarely will anyone approach you. You have to coax people to come to speak to you.  So I made my new favourite treat, Mars Bars Squares, and stood offering people these if they were anywhere within shouting distance.  That served as a warm up exercise.

It was the Saturday after a legal holiday, Good Friday, so there was an initial spurt of shoppers who felt deprived of a whole day of the retail experience.  Within an hour and a half I'd sold seven books and all the squares (there were tons) were gone.  Now the fall back line was, "would you like an autographed bookmark?"

Because of social media, you can count on some friends showing up.  Three in my case--that was nice. Deb Loughead, a great writer herself, sat and kept me company for an hour or so.

A high moment for me was when someone approached me to find mugs and Deb said she should buy a book at Chapters and go to Home Sense next door for the cups.  They were way cheaper.  High fives.

 My supportive editor, Carrie Gleason showed.

After that spurt though, the shoppers seemed to part around me.  My target audience often seemed so distant, without throwing myself on teen and preteens like some stalker, it was difficult to get their attention.  Deb watched as I asked the same young person about five times as she scurried around me in different directions whether she wanted a bookmark.

She was deliberately ignoring me, right?

No.  Because the sixth time, she opened up like the sky at sunrise.  She was delighted to chat about my books and receive the bookmark that in turn led to an autographed book.

Another time a young Indian girl with her dad, seemed oblivious to me several passes and then excitedly took the autograph.  No book.  Later as she left the store she made a point of coming back to me to thank me for the signed bookmark.  A warm fuzzy, that means a lot to me, no kuching for the publishing industry, however.


At five with a score of about 18 books if you count the promised ebook purchase, I was all set to pack up when a beautiful young woman sat down with a laptop sat down opposite me.  She looked up from typing and asked me if the books on display were mine.  I told her I was, indeed, the author.  One thing led to the other and I ended up reading her poetry and chatting about books and writing.

As I was leaving, she told me she wanted to write novels and become a writer, but she didn't think she could survive a no--rejection in other words.

Oh boy,  give up, I thought.   But that's not great mentoring advice.  So I thought for another while.

Then I told her that I had sat there since one o'clock and approached strangers with squares and bookmarks, lots declined.  The only reason I could face that ordeal was because I was convinced that the story I had written if it landed in the right reader(s) hands would make an impact that could even be life changing.

She ran to ask her mother if she could buy the book.  So she gave me my quota sale but she gave me something way better.  I enjoyed meeting a younger me, excited and nervous about her work, loved chatting with her about writing and books, loved reading her poetry. I won't know if my particular book changed her life but the signing experience definitely clicked at that moment.  And the advice I gave her, resonated in my own psyche.  I believe in my stories.  Even if every shopper clutched the Hunger Games trilogy in their hands, I believed that they could still read my book and love it.  If no one else on this planet would handsell my book on this particular day, then I would because of this belief.

Still, please don't ask me to do this every Saturday.

PS  The photo is not of the last experience.  I believe this is Erica, my first young reader/buyer of the day. I only hope the book landed in the right hands.

crush.candy.corpse-The Launch at A Different Drummer

It's been four years since my last book came out in Canada.  I have had six released in Norway, Sweden, Finland and Germany but it felt like there was no reflection in my mirror anymore.  With the publication of my thirtieth book, crush.candy. corpse (Lorimer) and this one in Canada, no less, it definitely seemed time to celebrate.  Especially since, Ian the owner of A Different Drummer Books, kept offering to host.  My main reason to stage the launch was simply to celebrate.But every writer knows, a lot of nerves get played, during the days leading up to the event.  You add up your wine tab and the price of the cookie ingredients, and you realize the royalties from sales may never cover your expenditures.   Besides won't friends and family buy the book anyway?  The biggest fear, by far though, is that no one will show up.  We live in a distracted world.  And so many of my fellow writing friends live too many traffic hours away.  If indeed no one shows up does that curse the book to failure?
Well, it was a dark and drizzly day and I awoke fighting a cold.  We headed for the store later than I had intended but still were able to enjoy the lovely ambience and great display of all of my books in advance of "the crowds".  Then my immediate family arrived, Robin and Kevin, bartenders with the backup books (oh, we only wish we needed those), Craig, my book trailer producer son next, and then Adam, my invite designer, and Jennifer, my social media director.   (The Burlington Post had also devoted a small corner to letting the general public about the event.)  Three quarters of the grandkids came (one was celebrating her 2nd birthday and couldn't make it).  Already this intimate store came alive. Then the supportive writers arrived, some teachers, long lost relatives, people I had met on dog walks, students I had talked to on career day. What was especially heartwarming were the friends of my kids, now all adults with babes of their own, lining up to buy books for themselves.  Every birthday they used to get autographed books from us along with the trinket of the day.  My own kids cringed.  Little did I know I was building a fan base.
 So I will declare this booklaunch a huge success. Thanks to all who came out, thanks to Ian and his daughter Laura for setting everything up.  For those of you who couldn't make it, you can watch my presentation here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUzhM_...  or check out Jennifer Filipowicz's blog on it, to the right of my blog entry. Or you can raise a glass and celebrate Canadian books in whatever fashion you care to. ( But you can order a copy from A Different Drummer or order online from the box book stores, soft, hard or e-version, just sayin'.)

Eye on the Prize--Canada Council Grant

Before last Friday a lot of writers were watching the inbox on their computers or even their regular snailmail box for a  notice about the status of their Canada Council Grants.  I couldn't get a picture of anyone of them looking this hopeful.  But Mortie trains his eye every day on some birds nesting in a cross tube on the baseball fence in Brant Hills Park. He became their metaphor.  Mortie must know he's likely not to nab one of those birds but he goes through this exercise every day.  I know writers don't apply for grants as often. But they slog away at stories that may or may not be published, lauded or appreciated.  I don't know what Mortie will do if he every catches his elusive prize.  I had a list for my grant funds.  The money is supposed to be used for "subsistence" but what ever cash you normally use for mortgage and food can be channeled into VISA payments, dental work, computer upgrades, tickets to, say, War Horse.  
But I didn't win the lotto this time.  It was lovely to receive the verdict "Highly recommended but we ran out of funds."  It reminded me of how sniffing close I sometimes come to the bird.