Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 46

News flash: Rally cancelled because of state of emergency

 

Good morning

These are amazing days. Suddenly I have so much focus and energy, I go to bed late and wake up early (though usually do have a nap after lunch). How to explain it?  

The essay book helps, the miracle of producing a 50,000 word book in a month. Ellie and I had a long Zoom meeting about the second draft, what works, what doesn't. I've work to do, combining some, cutting others, some rewrites. But it's getting into shape. I'm taking one essay from it to send to the CBC nonfiction competition. In the nineties, when I was writing essays, I was long listed several times but have not entered since. Now - why not? 

Yesterday I received a PDF of the essay appearing soon in Queen's Quarterly. It looks gorgeous; the layout is beautiful. It's a piece that means a great deal to me and that I've worked on for years, blooming on the page at last. 

I mentioned the piece to Ellie, the fact that I entered it in a writing competition a few years ago and it wasn't even on the long list of ten, yet the editor at QQ loved it. I told her how discouraged I get sometimes, how I was sure Loose Woman would find a publisher and didn't. She said, I think you gave up looking for a publisher too soon. You only had 13 rejections. 

She might be right. 

Yesterday also my interview with Traci Skuse, the organizer of the week of free master classes, went up, and already I've heard from several people interested in working with me. Now it's a question of time. 

Not sure if you can open this, but here it is. https://www.traciskuce.com/courses/wyfonb2-full/lessons/day-4-2/topic/beth-kaplan/

Sorry if I sound smug. I take none of this for granted. For years, many many years, I struggled to overcome a resistance to getting to the desk. Though I did manage, somehow, to produce, many things got in the way of sustained creative work. Maybe now it's being 71, knowing I don't have time to waste, I don't know. 

And believe me, there are things I don't tell you about, family problems, my own fears and concerns. Not to mention the disintegration of the world as we know it - right now, rightwing Canadian fools energizing rightwing fools around the world, how did that happen? 

And it's still - what a good expression this is - the dead of winter. A few days ago it was six degrees and felt like summer, despite the mountains of snow. Tomorrow, back to minus 18. A tough winter, the first in a long time. But that helps the writing too; the great outdoors is certainly not calling.

Time for breakfast. 

Sent this to Anna. She could have written it for her boys. Maybe she did. 

The Great Reset nonsense

The great news today: Eli and Ben insisted on going back to school this morning, and their friends and teachers were overjoyed to see them. Their mother is nervous about the lack of proper preparedness at the school but cannot deny the value of a quiet, briefly empty apartment. Life returns. Slowly. Thank you lord. 

Saturday night's magic: Annie and Ruth over for dinner and to listen to my Mike Nichols and Elaine May double album. What a pleasure to be with two dear friends, get out a record, wipe it off carefully, put it on the turntable, and laugh till the tears run. I have a ton of wonderful records, classical and otherwise, and don't listen to them often enough. Must rectify that. 

My son came over to cook me a delicious dinner last night. "Are you okay here all on your own all day?" he asked, as he left. So sweet. I could not be better, dear heart. I'm used to silence, and in any case, there's Zoom and music, teaching and dance parties, CBC radio, Robin the tenant going in and out, TV and Netflix, and writing. The days vanish. What more could I need? 

A week in Barbados, you reply? Right. Yes. It was milder today, but there are still mountains of black crusty snow everywhere. 

The pleasure of Sunday night PBS: Around the world in 80 days and All creatures great and small, so well done, both. At 10.30, Somebody Somewhere. I care about and feel connected to a lot of interesting people on Sunday nights. 

Rosemary just sent an article by someone breaking down what the truckers in Ottawa are hot and bothered about - apparently not really Covid mandates, it's "The Great Reset." They think a global cabal of billionaires and their corporations, and/or political leaders, planned and executed Covid in order to take over the world. They think Trudeau is the Canadian leader of this plot. The truckers are massed to prevent being turned into economic slaves by dictators. 

The charming Poilievre has circulated a petition to "Stop the Reset" and of course the American far right are up to their necks in this. 

Ye gods, where to start? As I've tried to tell my conspiracy-minded acquaintances, if they think billionaires can agree on anything, let alone a complex global plot, they're crazy. But then of course, they ARE crazy. One of the key difference between left and right, I think, is that many on the right want simple sound bite answers to very complex questions. Drain the swamp. The great reset. They feel they're in the know, and those of us out here, struggling to understand massive economic and social shifts and problems, are sheep. 

Okay, enough about them. 

If I look half as good at 95 - 95! - as this grand old dame, and am still working, I'll be happy. 

Free online writing seminars next week

Exciting and free writing program next week! 

A writing entrepreneur called Traci Skuce has organized an entire week, from Feb. 7 - 11, of online writing seminars, on various topics with many interesting writers, all for free. I was invited to participate and spoke with Traci last month about writing memoir and dealing with sensitive topics; our talk was taped and will air all day Thursday of next week, Feb. 10.

Click on the link for more info and sign up. You can't lose!

https://www.traciskuce.com/bkaplan 

lawless brutes bellowing

Imagine, Canada's now famous - for the hideousness of the trucker tantrum in Ottawa, which may spread worldwide. Of course, the real inspiration is January 6 in Washington - violent lawless brutes, bellowing. The policing has been abysmal. You can imagine what my far left daughter says about this, she who was at a demonstration with Indigenous people at Queen's Park when a woman draped a red flag on a statue and was arrested and handcuffed. Almost nothing has happened to the thugs in Ottawa. Surreal. Disgusting.

Is it because the police are sympathetic to the cause? Partly, perhaps. Of course, Anna thinks it's because the "protesters," aka terrorists, are white. And she may be right. It's also true this is an armed, angry bunch aching for trouble, to make themselves martyrs and provoke more trouble. And now this weekend, it has spread to this city and many others. People screaming about freedom, who live in one of the freest and safest countries on the planet. It is to weep. 

Next, the Conservative party will probably elect a sympathizer, a far right cretin, as leader. We are sinking into the abyss. 

To cheer us up, there's fresh snow, tons of snow, and it's very cold. We are deep inside the tunnel of winter here; I haven't left the house in days. But in fact, that's because I've been working like mad on the essay book. The latest draft went off tonight to my editor Ellie. It may be - as I wrote to her - like tapas, light snacks, not like the rich, heavy duty essays I love. Maybe not worth much. We'll see.

Tomorrow - dancing with Nicky and a date with Ruth, who's coming over to listen to my Mike Nichols and Elaine May record. Otherwise, blank. Luckily I have work, work, work, to fill my days and my soul. 

I read the most superb essay about the Beatles' "Get Back" by British writer Ian Leslie. I've written him a fan note before, after reading his "64 reasons to celebrate Paul McCartney." I just sent him another. What a kindred spirit. He wrote back, Beth - what a wonderful, heartening note for a writer to receive, thank you so much for writing it! Yours appreciatively, Ian

https://ianleslie.substack.com/p/the-banality-of-genius-notes-on-peter 

More good news: I got a royalty statement for my audiobook from Audible: $19.72. I sent this info to Jason who helped me produce the book. "That villa in Mykonos is just around the corner!" he wrote back. Yes, Jason. Any day now. 

Paul Kelman died last week. We met in 1966 when he played Mr. Frank in our high school production of The Diary of Anne Frank. We became professional actors in 1969 when we were brought to Toronto, with four actor friends, to do a Young People's Theatre school tour and all rented a house in Kensington Market together. Here we are in the house in 1970 - Lynn, Suzette, Karin, Paul, me, Peter. 

All still friends, Lynn a linguist in the south of France, Suzette a screenwriter in L.A., Karin a journalist with CBC, Peter a visual artist in Nova Scotia. But now, Paul, handsome moody Paul the actor, has gone.  

winter schminter

I won't mention the temper tantrum playing out in Ottawa right now, except to say, what a disgusting display. Of course, Trump and gang are in full support. The rise of a culture of angry grievance and blind selfishness is a frightening cancer in our society. 

Okay, already, too many words, too much thought for them. The media are giving them far, far too much air. Is anyone following the money? How much has come from far right hate groups?

No, stop, here I go again. 

Yesterday's joy — the boys came over and Thomas and I took them skating — well, Thomas skated and I cheered. Neighbourhood parents have created a small rink in a local park, meticulously maintained by volunteers; you can book it in half hour increments and have it to yourself and your party. Eli and Ben are already stronger skaters than last week when I watched. The sound of skates rasping on ice, of a puck slapping the boards - the most Canadian sounds I know.

And on Saturday, off to the Beach to walk and lunch with Annie. It was sunny and very cold by the lake - beautiful. 

And then home for dinner with Sam, take out from HOP, boeuf bourgignon for me, rare steak for him. These are the things that'll get us through the winter - rich take out deliciousness, the hyacinths blooming in the kitchen, Nicky's dance party. 

The week ahead is nearly empty: teaching, dancing 3 or 4 times, Gina's Essentrics classes twice, a conversation on the phone with our family doctor who's retiring in a few weeks, Bleak House on TV on Thursday. Working on the essay book and the uncle story, editing for others. Reading: Ann Patchett by the bed, a book about decision making by the fire, the New Yorker in the bathroom, newspapers on the kitchen table. Annie and I talked about going to Mexico together next winter. 

Please. 

And - GO RAFA! The phenomenal Nadal wins in Australia. I have no fave teams, don't care about the Leafs or the Raptors or whoever. But since my mother and aunt loved tennis, it's the one sport I allow into my consciousness. Federer is our guy, but Rafa is #2. What a guy - 35 years old, ancient for a sportsman at his level, and unstoppable. Inspiring. 

the truckers of the apocalypse

Oh no. I was just sitting by the fire after dinner - watched the last bit of a doc about Margaret Atwood, who writes her first drafts in pen in hard cover books, in case you wondered. Nothing else on, so I started to read my library book, a treasure, Ann Patchett's new book of essays. And then I had to shut the book, as the warmth of the fire and the two glasses of wine with dinner overcame me. Had to shut my eyes for a little kip.

Startled myself awake and thought, This is an old person thing, dozing by the fire. You're old!

Well yes, I guess 71 is old, kind of. To my kids, it's old. To my grandchildren I'm Methuselah, though I do chase them around playgrounds growling like a bear. Actually no, I do not feel old until I fall asleep by the fire, which I hardly ever do. So let's forget that kind of talk.

Bill Maher is on later. I will watch maybe, or maybe I'll have to give him up. He was so offensive and stupid last week, ranting on about Covid restrictions and masks, that I was embarrassed to have watched him for so long. I mean, he has always been something of an asshole, but he does interview fascinating people. But last week he and the self-righteous Bari Weiss, whom I also used, briefly, to admire - just unbearable.

Especially because this week, the convoy of idiots is charging through our country chanting about freedom, freedom to do whatever they want with their bodies. These are the offspring of the people who protested seat belts, cigarette laws, even socialized medicine. They're taking away our freedom! they rage. It's horrifying that they're inspired by and partially funded by the American far-right, white supremacists, racists, anti-Semites. I wonder how my anti-vax acquaintances feel, being in such vile company.

How about they realize they live in a society with other people? Maybe there should be a country, or a desert island, where the freedom-lovers who don't care if they infect others can go and be free, all together. Madagascar? No, they'd endanger the lemurs. Antarctica? No. Penguins. 

Speaking of which, it's so cold here, the most brutal winter in years, very tough. At least today the sun was shining, but it does feel like being held hostage, trapped inside by the weather. Months to go. It seems very cruel to have such a harsh winter this year, when so many are still isolated and trapped by the pandemic. For years we've had hardly any snow. This year - record breaking already. 

However. Had a great session with my new editor Ellie Barton, who'd read my proposed book of essays. She got me right away, my strengths as a writer and, more importantly, my weaknesses. We made a major decision about the book which means cutting a lot out and perhaps adding some different stuff in. We'll see. Maybe after reading Ann Patchett, I'll give up. 

Had a piano lesson today. It amazes me, but there I am, banging away. And now, I will do today's Wordle. So far, I've done 3: one in four lines and two in three. What a genius invention. 

For your pleasure: two cartoons I really like. Happy last Friday in January to you.  

Covid slump, Hitchens heights, and a big fat yes

Anna managed to squeeze in a call to me as her boys skated in High Park today. She was near tears, my poor beloved daughter. It's overwhelming; because our premier and his team are lying incompetents, she's sure Ontario schools are unsafe, so she's off work, at home with two hyperactive boys during a bitter winter. My heart goes out to her. 

What's the solution? She's trying to find a student to come over after school and take them outside for a few hours, a day or two a week. My in-laws used to talk about "getting the stink blown off you." And that's what Anna needs someone to do for her boys. May she find someone to de-stink her boys and save her sanity. I hope to take them for at least part of Sunday to give her a break. But I cannot take them for a full day on my own; they're too much for me. 

She almost wept again, talking of the latest discovery of the graves of dead children outside a residential school. If you want to watch an evisceration of the Catholic church and its vile apologists, its many centuries of abuse and violence, watch the brilliantly eloquent Christopher Hitchens have at it. Inspiring. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRsaxXrjk3w

I know, four of my very best friends are practicing Catholics. They are the good Catholics, and there are many. But overall, as Hitchens details, the church has been such a force for evil. In fact, at the moment in the world, most religions are. Islam? Christianity? Insanely murderous. How did religion get co-opted by violent intolerant murderous self-righteous lunatics?

Sorry. Feeling angry today. A convoy of anti-vax truckers is wreaking havoc in our country, as if there isn't enough going on. A nightmarish pissing contest between the disgusting Putin and the rest of the world. The ongoing stalemate in the US - what kind of political system is that? Paralysis. And it's @# cold out there. 

Sam is better. He should be non-contagious by the weekend, so I hope we can see each other. 

Last night's pleasure - the wonderful Henry Louis Gates and Finding Your Roots. Show runner Pamela Adlon, whose heritage is like mine, an English mother and a Jewish-American father, discovered on one hand that the man she thought was her grandfather was not biologically related to her, and when Gates's team found her actual biological grandfather, they also found a half-sister to her mother who's anxious to meet her new relatives. And then the team discovered that a great-grandfather had abandoned his wife and five children in Germany to run off to the States with his neighbour's daughter, 22 years younger, and then a whole branch of the Jewish family tree she knew nothing about, murdered by the Nazis in Ukraine. 

Fascinating, powerful stuff.

Meanwhile, I'm working on my own family tree. Tomorrow I talk to the editor who's read the essay collection, to find out what she thinks. Today I was working on the story of my uncle the world bridge champion. Sitting sitting sitting at the desk - heaven. Grateful, as I've said before, that at this time on the planet I do not have old people to worry about. I worry about my children, though. 

Just as I was signing off, I got an email about a 3100 word essay sent at the end of December to an American online mag called Full Grown People. Somebody's actually reading! Somebody said yes only 3 weeks later. 

Dear Beth, Thanks so much for sending this to Full Grown People. I'd love to accept it.

Thank you, nice new editor. 

Through the years I've submitted 17 times to various sites on Submittable, to be declined 15 times, including this very essay four times before. It was sent to the Canadian lit mag Brick in September; no reply. It's another story that matters deeply and that I've worked on for years. They pay $50 US. Grateful, as I've said before, that I do this merely for the fame and glory, and not for the money. 

https://fullgrownpeople.com/

the bliss of a Sunday routine

I've often said we are so blessed to live in Canada that if the weather were better, this country would be overrun. For many years, my family and I were lucky; my uncle by marriage owned a small hotel in Barbados that was paradise on earth, and then my mother bought a little condo in Florida. Most years we used to go after Xmas or in the March break; that moment of walking off the plane, embracing the sudden hit of soft warm moist air - bliss. 

But not now. We had a record snowfall last week, still mountains of snow everywhere, it's very cold, the sidewalks are icy. Staying home is the best idea. That's why I am beyond grateful, once again, for my bright house and new gas fire. And routine: today, Nicky's dance party at 10, exercise class from B.C. at 1, at 3 listening to Eleanor while roasting a chicken and making leek and potato soup. I fed the birds, watered the plants, took my bi-weekly (yes, once every 2 weeks) shower, will try to clear my jammed inbox and desk. Big TV night, as always on Sunday: at 7, 60 Minutes then 3 hours of PBS, except at 10.30 I'll watch the next episode of Somebody Somewhere discovered yesterday, very good. 

Do I have anything to complain about? Most definitely nyet. Am I incredibly lucky? Da. Si. Oui. 

The other day, watched the boys stagger with their hockey sticks around a big skating rink, created and maintained by volunteers in a local schoolyard. O Canada. 

Dropped a lot of food off for Sam, who's still very sick, and spent the rest of the day with the boys. I'd bought The Christmas Pig by J.K. Rowling, a lovely book with vivid short chapters, a boy protagonist with difficulties my boys can relate to - that woman can write, hope she gets discovered soon. Sitting with a grandson on each side, Eli with his head on my shoulder, reading them a good book: a first, they've been too restless until now. Nowhere I'd rather be.

Except, perhaps, Barbados. Reading them the book on a beach in Barbados. Yes. 

Thomas helped me put up the hooked rug from Nova Scotia that Anna gave me for Xmas. Some old bag took a photo of it. No idea who she is.

Recently two huge sparrow hawks swept through my yard and perched on a nearby tree. Suddenly my feeder was vacant. Everyone is cold and hungry. A friend wrote from Mexico yesterday about eating huevos rancheros under the hot Mexican sun, and I wrote back, STFU! We don't want to hear about it. We've got months to go.
Finally, a perfect description of the writing life. Happy Sunday routine to you too, my friends. 

The essay book goes out

The New Quarterly asked for a short blog post about writing the Neel essay; it went up today.

https://tnq.ca/finding-the-form-with-beth-kaplan/

And on Feb. 10, an interview about writing memoir will go live. Letting you know so the excitement builds. I know you CAN'T WAIT! 

Still Snowland out there, and now because the temperature has gone down, the sidewalks are sheets of ice. O Canada.

The big thing to tell is that I emailed a draft of the essay book to my editor today. On Tuesday we had a great Zoom meeting for the first time, editor Ellie Barton in Kingston and I, discussing what the project might entail. I thought it would take longer to get it together, but after days of sitting and sitting and sitting, I just sent it to her. 53 essays, 58,000 words. Maybe not worth the effort. We'll see. 

I need to move my body but have just had dinner and much wine, and soon it's Bleak House. So another day of, as the Jews says, sitzfleisch - sitting meat. Last night my eyes ached from so much screen time. But tomorrow I'm going across town to see the boys; it'll be sunny but minus 12, so my fleisch will not be sitting. Sam has just contracted Covid and has a terrible headache, so I'll be bringing freshly made stew and soup to my poor son who's in desperate need of food. As Anna said, how many women do we know who contracted Covid and had nothing in the fridge? None! Men! 

Last night, the Toronto Public Library sponsored an interview with the writer and intellectual Lydia Davis. Normally I wouldn't have watched; she's obtuse and not of much interest to me. A writer friend wrote a poem called "I hate Lydia Davis." But Lynn in France is studying her, so I watched and took detailed notes for Lynn, who in any case was able to watch the interview today. I was impressed at this beautifully run event with a terrific interviewer. Davis spoke at the end about how much she cares about libraries. Me too, Lydia. I was at my local today.

It's odd, I've spent the past weeks with my younger self, the writer of the essays, a single mother of teenagers gearing up for them to leave home. As I sit here in the silent tranquillity of my kitchen, it seems eons ago, the constant activity, the noise, the pressure and tension of two difficult teens. It's hard enough to parent teenagers, but doing it alone is brutal. I wish I'd been stronger. 

All right, no more regrets and recrimination, soon it'll be time for Bleak House by the fire. WeTransfer just let me know that Ellie has downloaded the document. What a grand life of adventure! Stay tuned.