Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 162
October 7, 2016
Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids
Dan Misener is a very interesting young man; he does a segment on local CBC radio about social media and technology, and he produces the unforgettable Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids, or GRTTWAK. The event started as a stage show, where grown ups would, indeed, read ... etc. I of course did one with my Paul McCartney love stories before they were in a book, and had a fabulous time. And then they became a CBC radio show, inexplicably cancelled, and then a podcast.
Dan is still producing the shows and has just sent out a new request for readers. Go on - you know you have some brilliantly hilarious poems tucked away somewhere. Go find them.
Hello friends,Dan here, from Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids. Here in Canada, we’re about to start the Thanksgiving long weekend.If you happen to visit your childhood or teenage home this weekend, take a few minutes to dig up those diaries, poems, letters from camp, and other juvenilia.Why?Because we just added a bunch of live events, and we’re looking for readers. In addition to our sold-out Toronto and Ottawa shows this October, we're planning:November 5: Halifax, NS (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 18: Toronto, ON for #HotDocsPodFest (Buy tickets from Hot Docs, reader signup TBA)November 20: Montréal, QC (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 25: Hamilton, ON (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 27: Kitchener, ON (Sign up to read or buy tickets)Hope to see you soon, and I hope this Thanksgiving finds you happy, well fed, and surrounded by people you love.We’re thankful for all y’all.Dan
Dan is still producing the shows and has just sent out a new request for readers. Go on - you know you have some brilliantly hilarious poems tucked away somewhere. Go find them.
Hello friends,Dan here, from Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids. Here in Canada, we’re about to start the Thanksgiving long weekend.If you happen to visit your childhood or teenage home this weekend, take a few minutes to dig up those diaries, poems, letters from camp, and other juvenilia.Why?Because we just added a bunch of live events, and we’re looking for readers. In addition to our sold-out Toronto and Ottawa shows this October, we're planning:November 5: Halifax, NS (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 18: Toronto, ON for #HotDocsPodFest (Buy tickets from Hot Docs, reader signup TBA)November 20: Montréal, QC (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 25: Hamilton, ON (Sign up to read or buy tickets)November 27: Kitchener, ON (Sign up to read or buy tickets)Hope to see you soon, and I hope this Thanksgiving finds you happy, well fed, and surrounded by people you love.We’re thankful for all y’all.Dan
October 5, 2016
Ann Patchett, comedienne
Saw a woman at the Y today. She's been there for years, a keener, very athletic, and I've assumed she's becoming anorexic because she's been getting thin. The array of bodies on display at the Y is astounding. Today I saw her in the shower with one breast, that terrible scar I know so well from my mother's body on the other side. Another woman last time in the shower had no hair anywhere on her body, so thin she was nearly transparent. The monster stalks us. And yet there they are, at the Y. My friend and mentor there, Carole, is taking a course on aging and the brain; she was told that exercise may be even better for the brain than for the body.
Onward.
A stunning day today - I didn't want to go inside anywhere, just sit out and bathe in that warmth. Because it won't be here much longer. But I had things to do, and one of them was get this @#$# manuscript off my back. So I did - today it went to my editor in Vancouver and on Monday to my editor friend here. I can't stand it right now. It's terrible. No one will ever want to read such self-indulgent drivel.
Stay tuned.
After tonight, I know who I want to be when I grow up: Ann Patchett. My friend Jacqueline invited me to hear her at the Reference Library - the event was sold out so I was grateful for the invite. When I got there at 6.35, the place was overflowing already; they said people started lining up at 2. By 7, when it started, it was standing room only along both sides of the room. Oh what a joy it must be to speak to a room jam-packed with people who love your words. An obscure writer girl can dream.
No wonder the room was full - she's not only a wonderful writer who achieved success early, she's a fabulous speaker, as funny as a stand-up comedienne.
She said, among many other interesting things, that Hillary Clinton is going to win in November, not because she's the better of two bad candidates, but because she's terrific at her job. Yay! She said she lived the first decades of her life like a Catholic schoolgirl, trying to be good and nice, and was freed from her fear of offending anyone in her books by writing "This is the story of a happy marriage," a non-fiction book which included lots of truths about her family. She says when she found out they didn't care if they were in a book or not, it freed her to tell the stories she needed to tell. Her latest book "Commonwealth" is thinly disguised autobiography. "A writer needs to write what is most frightening," she said, which for her was to tell the truth about her family. "When you turn 50, you cease to care."
She was hilarious about her childhood - her incredible memory - "I have crib memories," she said. She grew up "before the invention of child psychology" - "we were like free range chickens," no one knew or cared where the kids were.
I don't watch TV, she said - TV is only there to sell you something; they keep you in a knot so that's easier to do. I understand to a degree. But I rushed home from hearing this terrific writer to turn on one of the best TV shows ever - "Call the Midwife." Vision TV is showing old seasons that I missed. It's extraordinarily good. I'd love to invite Ann over to watch with me. She is a LOT of fun.
Onward.
A stunning day today - I didn't want to go inside anywhere, just sit out and bathe in that warmth. Because it won't be here much longer. But I had things to do, and one of them was get this @#$# manuscript off my back. So I did - today it went to my editor in Vancouver and on Monday to my editor friend here. I can't stand it right now. It's terrible. No one will ever want to read such self-indulgent drivel.
Stay tuned.
After tonight, I know who I want to be when I grow up: Ann Patchett. My friend Jacqueline invited me to hear her at the Reference Library - the event was sold out so I was grateful for the invite. When I got there at 6.35, the place was overflowing already; they said people started lining up at 2. By 7, when it started, it was standing room only along both sides of the room. Oh what a joy it must be to speak to a room jam-packed with people who love your words. An obscure writer girl can dream.
No wonder the room was full - she's not only a wonderful writer who achieved success early, she's a fabulous speaker, as funny as a stand-up comedienne.
She said, among many other interesting things, that Hillary Clinton is going to win in November, not because she's the better of two bad candidates, but because she's terrific at her job. Yay! She said she lived the first decades of her life like a Catholic schoolgirl, trying to be good and nice, and was freed from her fear of offending anyone in her books by writing "This is the story of a happy marriage," a non-fiction book which included lots of truths about her family. She says when she found out they didn't care if they were in a book or not, it freed her to tell the stories she needed to tell. Her latest book "Commonwealth" is thinly disguised autobiography. "A writer needs to write what is most frightening," she said, which for her was to tell the truth about her family. "When you turn 50, you cease to care."
She was hilarious about her childhood - her incredible memory - "I have crib memories," she said. She grew up "before the invention of child psychology" - "we were like free range chickens," no one knew or cared where the kids were.
I don't watch TV, she said - TV is only there to sell you something; they keep you in a knot so that's easier to do. I understand to a degree. But I rushed home from hearing this terrific writer to turn on one of the best TV shows ever - "Call the Midwife." Vision TV is showing old seasons that I missed. It's extraordinarily good. I'd love to invite Ann over to watch with me. She is a LOT of fun.
October 3, 2016
on Lionel Shriver, grievance and the bubble
Spent the weekend stuck to this chair, going over and over the manuscript until finally, my eyes blurring and my body aching and asleep, I said, enough. Today I got this draft printed, two copies, 220 pages, one to go by the end of the week to my editor friend here, and then I'll email the ms. to my editor in Vancouver. Need to review it once more before it goes out. I know this draft is better, but I don't know if it's better ENOUGH. Probably not.
Tremble.
The Francophone group's dinner last night - we started the evening sitting outside on Monique's porch by candlelight, eating delicious fondue, and must have looked so picturesque that several passersby commented on the tableau. And then we went inside for more eating and drinking and arguing. As I've said before, two of our members are right-wing, anti-Obama, pro-Stephen Harper and most of all, pro-Israel and anti-Arabs of all nations. I do appreciate the opportunity to argue with people I like and respect, whose opinions are so very opposed to mine. There's a lot of talk these days about the "bubble" we all live in, that the internet gives us the opportunity just to hear our own opinions echoed back to us without every encountering other points of view. I encounter other points of view every time the Francophone group meets, and though I think those two friends are very, very wrong, I am glad to hear what they have to say.
Speaking of which - there's a huge controversy because the novelist Lionel Shriver, at a writer's conference in Australia, spoke about the issue of cultural appropriation, saying she believes writers should be able to write in whatever voice they want, citing examples like Hallowe'en celebrations closed down because the costumes were from other cultures. She said if the fight for political correctness continues, she'll only be able to write in the voice of a 5'2" white American woman. Apparently she spoke with such force that people were offended, including a writer of colour who walked out and organized a forum against Shriver.
Should Tolstoy not have written his brilliant novels in the voice of a woman? Should Alice Munro or Margaret Atwood not be able to write a male character or a First Nations character or a handicapped character? I understand there's a question of sensitivity, but now I think sensitivity is going way too far. Here's what Carol Shields has to say:
On appropriation of voice: You should be able to write about anything you chose. We need to go outside our own skins. The problems come when experience is falsely conveyed without accuracy and respect.Accuracy and respect are key. I'm reminded of when the marvellous June Callwood, a woman who spent her entire life making other people's lives better, in a moment of impatience at a meeting told another board member, a woman of colour, to fuck off. She was accused of being racist and expelled from the board of the charitable organization SHE FOUNDED; many former friends turned against her. The politics of grievance is lethal.
I will have to talk about this with my daughter; she understands this issue better than I do. Like June, I tend to be impatient. And I know, I am only a middle-class cis-gender heterosexual (mostly) fully-abled white woman, so utterly suspect in every way.
Tremble.
The Francophone group's dinner last night - we started the evening sitting outside on Monique's porch by candlelight, eating delicious fondue, and must have looked so picturesque that several passersby commented on the tableau. And then we went inside for more eating and drinking and arguing. As I've said before, two of our members are right-wing, anti-Obama, pro-Stephen Harper and most of all, pro-Israel and anti-Arabs of all nations. I do appreciate the opportunity to argue with people I like and respect, whose opinions are so very opposed to mine. There's a lot of talk these days about the "bubble" we all live in, that the internet gives us the opportunity just to hear our own opinions echoed back to us without every encountering other points of view. I encounter other points of view every time the Francophone group meets, and though I think those two friends are very, very wrong, I am glad to hear what they have to say.
Speaking of which - there's a huge controversy because the novelist Lionel Shriver, at a writer's conference in Australia, spoke about the issue of cultural appropriation, saying she believes writers should be able to write in whatever voice they want, citing examples like Hallowe'en celebrations closed down because the costumes were from other cultures. She said if the fight for political correctness continues, she'll only be able to write in the voice of a 5'2" white American woman. Apparently she spoke with such force that people were offended, including a writer of colour who walked out and organized a forum against Shriver.
Should Tolstoy not have written his brilliant novels in the voice of a woman? Should Alice Munro or Margaret Atwood not be able to write a male character or a First Nations character or a handicapped character? I understand there's a question of sensitivity, but now I think sensitivity is going way too far. Here's what Carol Shields has to say:
On appropriation of voice: You should be able to write about anything you chose. We need to go outside our own skins. The problems come when experience is falsely conveyed without accuracy and respect.Accuracy and respect are key. I'm reminded of when the marvellous June Callwood, a woman who spent her entire life making other people's lives better, in a moment of impatience at a meeting told another board member, a woman of colour, to fuck off. She was accused of being racist and expelled from the board of the charitable organization SHE FOUNDED; many former friends turned against her. The politics of grievance is lethal.
I will have to talk about this with my daughter; she understands this issue better than I do. Like June, I tend to be impatient. And I know, I am only a middle-class cis-gender heterosexual (mostly) fully-abled white woman, so utterly suspect in every way.
October 1, 2016
gold
May I just say, and I know I'm repeating myself, how proud I am of the loving, hard-working, loyal, funny and kind adults who are my children. I do not understand some of their choices - Sam's tattoos, Anna's soap operas etc. Of course there are concerns. I wish my son would settle down with a nice interesting woman not unlike - let's be honest - me. I wish my daughter were more interested in fitness, just like - let's be honest - HER FIT FAB MOTHER.
But where it matters, in the treatment of their family and friends and the planet, they are gold. They are gold. I've been given many gifts - 66 years of health, a home, a brain, creativity and curiosity and wonder and work I love. But the greatest of these - after my health - is pride in my children.
I was a frightened, exhausted single mother, sure I was making terrible mistakes. And no question, I WAS making terrible mistakes. But they came through; they survived me, their dad, their schooling that was systematically destroyed, as they went through, by Mike Harris. They grew up in the inner city and went to inner city schools; Anna was viciously attacked by a girl in her schoolyard, Sam robbed near our home and beaten up several times.
They survived and they thrived. And now there's a new generation to celebrate.
It's a cold rainy day - it'll be a wet Nuit Blanche tonight, as the city prepares to unfurl hundreds of artistic displays. I may or may not partake - am at my desk, at work. As usual, my bum hurts from sitting here for so long. But my spirit and my heart, right now, are soaring.
But where it matters, in the treatment of their family and friends and the planet, they are gold. They are gold. I've been given many gifts - 66 years of health, a home, a brain, creativity and curiosity and wonder and work I love. But the greatest of these - after my health - is pride in my children.
I was a frightened, exhausted single mother, sure I was making terrible mistakes. And no question, I WAS making terrible mistakes. But they came through; they survived me, their dad, their schooling that was systematically destroyed, as they went through, by Mike Harris. They grew up in the inner city and went to inner city schools; Anna was viciously attacked by a girl in her schoolyard, Sam robbed near our home and beaten up several times.
They survived and they thrived. And now there's a new generation to celebrate.
It's a cold rainy day - it'll be a wet Nuit Blanche tonight, as the city prepares to unfurl hundreds of artistic displays. I may or may not partake - am at my desk, at work. As usual, my bum hurts from sitting here for so long. But my spirit and my heart, right now, are soaring.
September 30, 2016
smells from downstairs, in 5777
I'm in my office. My son is downstairs cooking something divine for me and Wayson, who will arrive shortly for dinner; the smell in this house is making my mouth water. Sam just shouted with joy - a small plane was circling overhead, bearing a banner advertising Harry's, his new restaurant, which opens next week. And once it does, he will not be working in my kitchen any more, he will be working at Harry's.
I realized this morning that my body ached, my shoulders and neck stiff with tension - because of yesterday's events. It was terrifying, wondering if that young woman, carrying a huge burden of grief and pain, was all right. A tremendous relief to hear that she took herself somewhere where she'd be looked after. Thank you, thank you to our medical system, which provides a large hospital where people not in physical but in psychological distress will be cared for. May she emerge soon and better.
Our world is not in a good place. The images from Syria alone are beyond bearing, let alone so many other troubled places. Why now are these appalling human beings emerging triumphant - especially Trump and Putin, but many others? A recent article in the New Yorker I haven't been able to tackle yet on the new face of fascism in Germany - a beautiful young woman. Why is racism, sexism and xenophobia flourishing? How is it possible that a man like Donald Trump, mind-bogglingly ignorant and vile, commands an enormous amount of our time and energy?
Stop. Concentrate on the gifts - those smells from the young man at work, creating something wonderful in the kitchen; the roses, the grey sky, the trees still green, the season shifting and the planet turning, as it does. As it has. And then, go back to work.
It's the Jewish New Year. Happy 5777 to you all.
I realized this morning that my body ached, my shoulders and neck stiff with tension - because of yesterday's events. It was terrifying, wondering if that young woman, carrying a huge burden of grief and pain, was all right. A tremendous relief to hear that she took herself somewhere where she'd be looked after. Thank you, thank you to our medical system, which provides a large hospital where people not in physical but in psychological distress will be cared for. May she emerge soon and better.
Our world is not in a good place. The images from Syria alone are beyond bearing, let alone so many other troubled places. Why now are these appalling human beings emerging triumphant - especially Trump and Putin, but many others? A recent article in the New Yorker I haven't been able to tackle yet on the new face of fascism in Germany - a beautiful young woman. Why is racism, sexism and xenophobia flourishing? How is it possible that a man like Donald Trump, mind-bogglingly ignorant and vile, commands an enormous amount of our time and energy?
Stop. Concentrate on the gifts - those smells from the young man at work, creating something wonderful in the kitchen; the roses, the grey sky, the trees still green, the season shifting and the planet turning, as it does. As it has. And then, go back to work.
It's the Jewish New Year. Happy 5777 to you all.
September 29, 2016
Missing Kat
Suddenly, putting everything into perspective, we are dealing with a crisis. One of Anna's dear friends, single mother of Eli's friend Finn, is missing. She was depressed and in difficulty. We are extremely concerned. Finn spent last night at Anna's and is now with his father. For his sake, we pray with all our might that she turns up soon.
An hour later - Kat is safe. She turned herself in to CAMH, the local centre for mental health, and is being looked after. Thank God.
An hour later - Kat is safe. She turned herself in to CAMH, the local centre for mental health, and is being looked after. Thank God.
September 28, 2016
Annals of Aging Part 1
Hillary continues to inspire, but the giant orange blowhole has not yet disappeared up his own @#$#. Please God make him go away, far far away forever. The editorials in every sensible newspaper are telling him to go @#$ himself, and still, there he is.
I've decided to start a new section of this blog called Annals of Aging, to chronicle my descent into my golden years. No, my ASCENT. Climbing up to a ripe old age, that's a better image.
I have wrinkles that bug me - those nasty vertical cuts above my lips and eyebrows and the ones lining my cheeks. Okay, I'm not shrivelled yet, but there are lines. I'd heard about retinol, the miracle cure for aging skin, so got a prescription from my doctor. It said to start slowly in case of reaction so I did - it seemed fine. Smeared it on night after night and waited for the starry glow of youth to return.
Instead, what started to glow was my wrinkles, in patches of raw red. Though I stopped using the stuff months ago, the lines between my brows and bracketing my mouth are still - not smoothed out, but bright red. Horrible; worse than before. I think there is a lesson about vanity here.
Sigh.
I'm in the obsessive stage with my book - as if it's a helpless infant that cannot be left alone, everything revolves around it. The finish line - at least of this draft, this go-round - is in sight. I think. I love it, my little creation. Will the rest of the world? Who cares?
I do. And here's another brilliant creation - a new canvas by Paul Klee they've just discovered at the Louvre.
I promise I won't do this too often, but ... it's actually a self-portrait by my grandson the genius.
It's the heaven of autumn out there, warm by day, chilly at night, the garden fading yet still magnificent in its last burst of beauty.
I just picked 30 ripe cherry tomatoes. How I'll miss going out and returning with treasure. Soon time to put the garden furniture away and pull out the boots.
Climbing up to winter. Time for a glass of red.
I've decided to start a new section of this blog called Annals of Aging, to chronicle my descent into my golden years. No, my ASCENT. Climbing up to a ripe old age, that's a better image.
I have wrinkles that bug me - those nasty vertical cuts above my lips and eyebrows and the ones lining my cheeks. Okay, I'm not shrivelled yet, but there are lines. I'd heard about retinol, the miracle cure for aging skin, so got a prescription from my doctor. It said to start slowly in case of reaction so I did - it seemed fine. Smeared it on night after night and waited for the starry glow of youth to return.
Instead, what started to glow was my wrinkles, in patches of raw red. Though I stopped using the stuff months ago, the lines between my brows and bracketing my mouth are still - not smoothed out, but bright red. Horrible; worse than before. I think there is a lesson about vanity here.
Sigh.
I'm in the obsessive stage with my book - as if it's a helpless infant that cannot be left alone, everything revolves around it. The finish line - at least of this draft, this go-round - is in sight. I think. I love it, my little creation. Will the rest of the world? Who cares?
I do. And here's another brilliant creation - a new canvas by Paul Klee they've just discovered at the Louvre.
I promise I won't do this too often, but ... it's actually a self-portrait by my grandson the genius.It's the heaven of autumn out there, warm by day, chilly at night, the garden fading yet still magnificent in its last burst of beauty.
I just picked 30 ripe cherry tomatoes. How I'll miss going out and returning with treasure. Soon time to put the garden furniture away and pull out the boots.Climbing up to winter. Time for a glass of red.
September 26, 2016
the debate! McKelsey defined.
The debate was fun, and I didn't expect it to be - I ran home (FACT CHECK: she lies - she actually took a taxi!) from my class at Ryerson, got in at 9.25 and turned on the TV. What drama! Impossible to believe, as I tweeted, that we had to waste our time, and even worse, that Hillary had to waste her precious time, listening to that moronic narcissistic imbecile.
Many decades ago, when I was in my early teens, my parents learned about a concept called McKelsey - perhaps the name of the social scientist who developed it, such a powerful concept I never forgot it. You could listen to a person's conversation and check their McKelsey rating - which means, the number of times they said the word "I" or talked about themselves only. A person who responds to any question, any conversation, with talking only about themselves has a very high McKelsey rating.
And Mr. Trump is the quintessential, unparallelled superstar of McKelsey. Everything, every single thing, only about himself. Even at the end - he walked off surrounded by his skinny women and his sons Beavis and Butthead. She dove into the crowd and so did her people - Bill, Chelsea et al.
I know from Twitter that EVERYONE was watching - fun to sit with computer and TV and follow them all. I got to follow a lot of smart people, and now I'm watching the Daily Show while eating peanut butter toast. She may have saved the world. Life is good.
"As soon as he travels to 112 countries and negotiates a peace deal, a cease fire, a release of dissidents, an opening of new opportunities and nations around the world or even spends 11 hours testifying in front of a congressional committee, he can talk to me about stamina." Hillary Clinton.
I understand that many people are hurting and want simple answers to complex questions. But truly, if anyone, anyone, can emerge from this debate and still want to vote for an egotistical moron, I will lose my faith in the planet. Hillary, with 100 million plus people watching, was magnificent. End of story.
Many decades ago, when I was in my early teens, my parents learned about a concept called McKelsey - perhaps the name of the social scientist who developed it, such a powerful concept I never forgot it. You could listen to a person's conversation and check their McKelsey rating - which means, the number of times they said the word "I" or talked about themselves only. A person who responds to any question, any conversation, with talking only about themselves has a very high McKelsey rating.
And Mr. Trump is the quintessential, unparallelled superstar of McKelsey. Everything, every single thing, only about himself. Even at the end - he walked off surrounded by his skinny women and his sons Beavis and Butthead. She dove into the crowd and so did her people - Bill, Chelsea et al.
I know from Twitter that EVERYONE was watching - fun to sit with computer and TV and follow them all. I got to follow a lot of smart people, and now I'm watching the Daily Show while eating peanut butter toast. She may have saved the world. Life is good.
"As soon as he travels to 112 countries and negotiates a peace deal, a cease fire, a release of dissidents, an opening of new opportunities and nations around the world or even spends 11 hours testifying in front of a congressional committee, he can talk to me about stamina." Hillary Clinton.
I understand that many people are hurting and want simple answers to complex questions. But truly, if anyone, anyone, can emerge from this debate and still want to vote for an egotistical moron, I will lose my faith in the planet. Hillary, with 100 million plus people watching, was magnificent. End of story.
my boychik
My Vancouver Chris just sent this, saying it popped up on a site he was reading:
I know that face. I know that face extremely well. He finished his job at The Gaslight on Bloor last night, after two good years there; the local Neighbourhood Watch, most of whom were his regulars at the bar, bought him an $175 bottle of Scotch as a farewell present. Now he's one of the managers at a new-old venture on King St. West - Harry's. Grant Van Gameren, the superstar restauranteur, a school chum of Anna's, has taken over a greasy spoon that's been there for 48 years and has vowed to upgrade slightly but otherwise leave it as the comfortable Parkdale local it has always been. Sounds like the ideal place for a very funny, very tall young man who dislikes pretension and loves to help people be happy and full.
I think his mother, sister and nephews will also enjoy a burger or twelve there. It opens soon.
Bravo, my son. Onward.
I know that face. I know that face extremely well. He finished his job at The Gaslight on Bloor last night, after two good years there; the local Neighbourhood Watch, most of whom were his regulars at the bar, bought him an $175 bottle of Scotch as a farewell present. Now he's one of the managers at a new-old venture on King St. West - Harry's. Grant Van Gameren, the superstar restauranteur, a school chum of Anna's, has taken over a greasy spoon that's been there for 48 years and has vowed to upgrade slightly but otherwise leave it as the comfortable Parkdale local it has always been. Sounds like the ideal place for a very funny, very tall young man who dislikes pretension and loves to help people be happy and full.I think his mother, sister and nephews will also enjoy a burger or twelve there. It opens soon.
Bravo, my son. Onward.
September 25, 2016
notes on writing
A few work related bits:
This is from a student who's a reader of this blog:
Beth I want to thank you so much for your sharing the other day about the frustration of your friend backing out of being your agent. I can’t convey how helpful and inspiring it has been to read of all your ups and downs in the process of bringing your memoir to birth. I have read—and heard, even from you—descriptions of that slow, forward two steps, back one (or two or five) process, but there has been nothing like reading about your particular experience as it has unfolded to make that all real. So many times I have been surprised, even dismayed, by your experience, but then am always heartened and inspired by your continuing to just push forward. In addition, your insistence on taking the time to make it a great book and not just rush to an OK book has by osmosis helped me to subdue my own impatience and occasional desire to take a short-cut at the cost of mediocrity. Words deserve the best we can give them, and I thank you for being a model of that.
I don't know about being a model of anything - except perhaps efficiency, dear friend, but thank you for this lovely note.
Here's the winner of this year's CBC Non-fiction competition. It's a beautiful story, visceral and strong, written, she says in an interview, in an evening:
http://www.cbc.ca/books/2016/08/adaptation.html?cid=Canada+Writes+-Sept21+Newsletter
And - for those of you dreaming of the wonderful writing life - here's a harsh dose of reality. Okay, so it ain't easy. Well, it's a good thing we don't do it for the money and the fame. Ha ha.
Publishing is always moving on: Merritt Tierce on the reality ofmaking money as a writer. | Marie Claire
This is from a student who's a reader of this blog:
Beth I want to thank you so much for your sharing the other day about the frustration of your friend backing out of being your agent. I can’t convey how helpful and inspiring it has been to read of all your ups and downs in the process of bringing your memoir to birth. I have read—and heard, even from you—descriptions of that slow, forward two steps, back one (or two or five) process, but there has been nothing like reading about your particular experience as it has unfolded to make that all real. So many times I have been surprised, even dismayed, by your experience, but then am always heartened and inspired by your continuing to just push forward. In addition, your insistence on taking the time to make it a great book and not just rush to an OK book has by osmosis helped me to subdue my own impatience and occasional desire to take a short-cut at the cost of mediocrity. Words deserve the best we can give them, and I thank you for being a model of that.
I don't know about being a model of anything - except perhaps efficiency, dear friend, but thank you for this lovely note.
Here's the winner of this year's CBC Non-fiction competition. It's a beautiful story, visceral and strong, written, she says in an interview, in an evening:
http://www.cbc.ca/books/2016/08/adaptation.html?cid=Canada+Writes+-Sept21+Newsletter
And - for those of you dreaming of the wonderful writing life - here's a harsh dose of reality. Okay, so it ain't easy. Well, it's a good thing we don't do it for the money and the fame. Ha ha.
Publishing is always moving on: Merritt Tierce on the reality ofmaking money as a writer. | Marie Claire
