Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 72
September 16, 2020
non-starving artist signs book at Ben McNally Books
Big news - the audiobook is now uploaded to Audible; they will take up to 30 days to check it out and release it. More excitement - another launch to come!
Receiving feedback from readers, very gratifying:
Jane Anderson: Finished your book and loved it right to the last page. I will post a review and have already talked it up with my friends. Congratulations, your best yet!
Curtis Barlow: A beautiful, funny, poignant chronicle of experience. Highly recommended. Great writer, great story.
Nick Rice: I finished the book tonight. I adored it; I didn't want it to end. Tell me more.
Rita Davies: I’ve read Loose Woman with great pleasure. The writing is lovely. It’s entertaining, poignant, funny and moving.
Thank you, dear readers, how good to hear! Had a wonderful experience today - I stopped at Ben McNally's new bookstore on Adelaide St. East to pick up Hamnet and Judith. While I was there, he said, "Your book is here - why don't you sign it?" They'd brought it in to send to some lovely person. So I signed my book. Please, support this fantastic store as they struggle to stay alive. And THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO DO AND HAVE!
An article in the new New Yorker: "Starving Artists: how can we pay for creativity in the digital age?" The answer is: We can't. "We have arrived at a situation in which it's easier than ever to share your creativity with the world, and harder than ever to make a living doing so. (William Deresiewicz in his book The Death of the Artist) interviewed roughly a hundred and forty writers, musicians, visual artists, and filmmakers about their experiences working in the so-called 'creative economy.' Most spend a disproportionate amount of their time effectively running a small business, focussing on winning the attention war through 'the overlapping trio of self-marketing, self-promotion, and self-branding.'"
Absolutely true, sad to say. That's what I'm doing right now - rather than starting my next book, I'm trying to promote this one, though I am hopeless at all 3 of those things above. As are most of us. Disheartening.
But just a walk through this city reminds me how incredibly lucky I am. As I wrote a few weeks ago, there are tents everywhere and people lined up at shelters and food banks. My son says they're wondering if their bar, opened not long ago, will have to shut again as the second wave hits.
And yet - there were children going to school today, what a joyful sight, masked and all. It's a perfect mild day, though the nights are getting colder. I made pesto with my garden basil and will have it tonight with the fresh wild sole I just bought at the St. Lawrence Market, a cornucopia of goodness where I also bought peaches and blueberries, hot bagels right out of the wood-burning brick oven, French cheese.
Should I feel guilty about my extreme good fortune, when others are suffering so? Is it enough that I am grateful every minute and take nothing for granted?
Receiving feedback from readers, very gratifying:
Jane Anderson: Finished your book and loved it right to the last page. I will post a review and have already talked it up with my friends. Congratulations, your best yet!
Curtis Barlow: A beautiful, funny, poignant chronicle of experience. Highly recommended. Great writer, great story.
Nick Rice: I finished the book tonight. I adored it; I didn't want it to end. Tell me more.
Rita Davies: I’ve read Loose Woman with great pleasure. The writing is lovely. It’s entertaining, poignant, funny and moving.
Thank you, dear readers, how good to hear! Had a wonderful experience today - I stopped at Ben McNally's new bookstore on Adelaide St. East to pick up Hamnet and Judith. While I was there, he said, "Your book is here - why don't you sign it?" They'd brought it in to send to some lovely person. So I signed my book. Please, support this fantastic store as they struggle to stay alive. And THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO DO AND HAVE!
An article in the new New Yorker: "Starving Artists: how can we pay for creativity in the digital age?" The answer is: We can't. "We have arrived at a situation in which it's easier than ever to share your creativity with the world, and harder than ever to make a living doing so. (William Deresiewicz in his book The Death of the Artist) interviewed roughly a hundred and forty writers, musicians, visual artists, and filmmakers about their experiences working in the so-called 'creative economy.' Most spend a disproportionate amount of their time effectively running a small business, focussing on winning the attention war through 'the overlapping trio of self-marketing, self-promotion, and self-branding.'"
Absolutely true, sad to say. That's what I'm doing right now - rather than starting my next book, I'm trying to promote this one, though I am hopeless at all 3 of those things above. As are most of us. Disheartening.
But just a walk through this city reminds me how incredibly lucky I am. As I wrote a few weeks ago, there are tents everywhere and people lined up at shelters and food banks. My son says they're wondering if their bar, opened not long ago, will have to shut again as the second wave hits.
And yet - there were children going to school today, what a joyful sight, masked and all. It's a perfect mild day, though the nights are getting colder. I made pesto with my garden basil and will have it tonight with the fresh wild sole I just bought at the St. Lawrence Market, a cornucopia of goodness where I also bought peaches and blueberries, hot bagels right out of the wood-burning brick oven, French cheese.
Should I feel guilty about my extreme good fortune, when others are suffering so? Is it enough that I am grateful every minute and take nothing for granted?
September 14, 2020
Things I Bitched About That Got Fixed Department
1. The renovation noise: seems to be over. It was a summer when everyone decided it was time to fix up home base, since we were going to spend most of our time there. And they did, relentlessly. But now it seems, for the moment at least, it's done. There's silence. Solid gold silence.
2. The Little Free Library: used to be raided on a regular basis and emptied by a crazy man who lived in city housing up the street. He once threatened to kill my neighbour Jean-Marc who tried to stop him taking out all the books. But he must have moved, because now the library is full all the time - sometimes jammed full. I can't imagine there's a free library more well used than this one; every time I come home, there's someone stopped on the street checking books out. Literally and figuratively.
3. The basement apartment: as those of you who follow this blog know, went through a tenant situation that was a nightmare for months this winter and spring - one of the most painful experiences I've ever undergone, involving an old family friend incapable of making wise choices. As a friend said, once the excruciating situation was finally more or less resolved, "No more wounded birds!"
4. The memoir: took a very long time to make its way into the world. After four years of writing and editing - including paying 3 different excellent editors - I tried for a year and a half to find an agent and what they call a "legacy publisher". No luck. So I did it myself. The joy of self-publishing is that in an extremely short time, it's done, and there's the book, whereas with a legacy publisher it would have taken another year or two. The hard part is marketing, getting the word out: no team, no marketing plan, no reviews. But the book exists, and it's beautiful, everything I'd hoped it would be.
5. The house with its ragged roof, exploding toilets, flooding basement etc. etc. etc. - over and over, I've threatened to move out and leave behind this old place with its destructive poltergeist(s). But this summer, with the Covid restrictions, never have I been more grateful for the space I have and for the garden. I didn't have to travel or go anywhere, everything I needed was all right here. Well, not everything, I did have to go to the LCBO on a regular basis. But nearly everything. Looking out right now at the last peachy roses, the cardinal couple pecking at the feeder - oh yes, the bird feeder is resolved too, for months, without explanation, the birds ignored it and now they're back - the rudbekia and asters and white mandevilla my son gave me for my birthday last year, the scarlet geraniums and silver sweet autumn clematis and the mauve rose of Sharon - all in full lovely bloom.
So, right now in my little corner, 70 feels pretty good. But as Wayson used to say, when all is going badly, look behind you. When all is going well - look behind you. I'll find interesting new things to bitch about, never fear. And this is of course without mentioning the state of the world - the American wildfires that are choking my friends in B.C., the political situation in the States and in many other countries, the pandemic, climate change, racial injustice.
Here, looking behind, is a dose of hideous reality:
2. The Little Free Library: used to be raided on a regular basis and emptied by a crazy man who lived in city housing up the street. He once threatened to kill my neighbour Jean-Marc who tried to stop him taking out all the books. But he must have moved, because now the library is full all the time - sometimes jammed full. I can't imagine there's a free library more well used than this one; every time I come home, there's someone stopped on the street checking books out. Literally and figuratively.
3. The basement apartment: as those of you who follow this blog know, went through a tenant situation that was a nightmare for months this winter and spring - one of the most painful experiences I've ever undergone, involving an old family friend incapable of making wise choices. As a friend said, once the excruciating situation was finally more or less resolved, "No more wounded birds!"
4. The memoir: took a very long time to make its way into the world. After four years of writing and editing - including paying 3 different excellent editors - I tried for a year and a half to find an agent and what they call a "legacy publisher". No luck. So I did it myself. The joy of self-publishing is that in an extremely short time, it's done, and there's the book, whereas with a legacy publisher it would have taken another year or two. The hard part is marketing, getting the word out: no team, no marketing plan, no reviews. But the book exists, and it's beautiful, everything I'd hoped it would be.
5. The house with its ragged roof, exploding toilets, flooding basement etc. etc. etc. - over and over, I've threatened to move out and leave behind this old place with its destructive poltergeist(s). But this summer, with the Covid restrictions, never have I been more grateful for the space I have and for the garden. I didn't have to travel or go anywhere, everything I needed was all right here. Well, not everything, I did have to go to the LCBO on a regular basis. But nearly everything. Looking out right now at the last peachy roses, the cardinal couple pecking at the feeder - oh yes, the bird feeder is resolved too, for months, without explanation, the birds ignored it and now they're back - the rudbekia and asters and white mandevilla my son gave me for my birthday last year, the scarlet geraniums and silver sweet autumn clematis and the mauve rose of Sharon - all in full lovely bloom.
So, right now in my little corner, 70 feels pretty good. But as Wayson used to say, when all is going badly, look behind you. When all is going well - look behind you. I'll find interesting new things to bitch about, never fear. And this is of course without mentioning the state of the world - the American wildfires that are choking my friends in B.C., the political situation in the States and in many other countries, the pandemic, climate change, racial injustice.
Here, looking behind, is a dose of hideous reality:
September 13, 2020
a perfect day
Another photo from the launch, sent by my editing client Judy, who is writing a book about photographing birds. Here she shot another exotic bird - the happy writer.
People have asked about postpartum depression - a slump after the release of the book. Not here, at least not yet - too much to do. Lots to do to publicize the book, not that I've started - but there's a list. But also, it's heading into autumn, so there are the last veggies to use up - made a peach-rhubarb crumble with the last of my rhubarb, delicious - and of course, the final cucumbers and tomatoes.
Most importantly, time to reconnect with my grandsons, who were away for a month. Eli came yesterday for a sleepover; he rode his bike over with his dad, nearly 11 kms., and then the 3 of us went for another ride on a beautiful afternoon; the city has closed Bayview to cars on the weekends, so we rode on the highway all the way down to Cherry Beach on the lake, where we watched the wind surfers and ate hot dogs and fries and then rode back. Nearly 10 k. His dad took off, and we went, of course, to the two playgrounds near the house, where at one he made a friend and ran and climbed and jumped and shot hoops for an hour. In between, an enormous meal, watering the garden, and 3 games of Snakes and Ladders. Bath, story, and bed at 7.45, by which time Glamma was beyond exhaustion, mostly from just watching him, and was in bed by 9.30! A perfect day, truly.
A boy and his dad
Covid never far from our thoughts
Today, more games, including a version of Scrabble for kids, terrific, and, thank God, a bit of TVO, which I support monthly and am profoundly grateful for every time he comes to visit. There's a new segment with a cheerful mouse talking about Covid and face masks and hand washing.
He and I rode to Joe Fresh to buy him back-to-school pants - he has outgrown everything, according to his mother; we bought him size 10-12, though he's 8. He's attending classes next door with their neighbour Greg, a retired school teacher who has volunteered to spend 90 minutes a day educating this bright young man. Friday, teaching him proper versus common nouns, be still my beating heart.
While we were at Joe Fresh, a voice behind me said, "Beth, I love your book!" It was Sarah, niece of my friend Ken who bought 10 copies for family and friends. Sarah and I were both masked and unrecognizable, but she recognized my voice. Is there anything more welcome for a writer to hear than those words? I think not. Well, perhaps, "You're on the NYT bestseller list!" Or "Here's the latest huge royalty cheque." Those would be welcome too.
A beautiful evening. The garden is particularly lovely because the days are shorter, the nights are colder, we know it's all slowly shutting down. A last explosion of beauty.
I have a million things to do, including beginning again to move my poor moribund body - but for now, a glass of rosé, a moment of peace.
People have asked about postpartum depression - a slump after the release of the book. Not here, at least not yet - too much to do. Lots to do to publicize the book, not that I've started - but there's a list. But also, it's heading into autumn, so there are the last veggies to use up - made a peach-rhubarb crumble with the last of my rhubarb, delicious - and of course, the final cucumbers and tomatoes.Most importantly, time to reconnect with my grandsons, who were away for a month. Eli came yesterday for a sleepover; he rode his bike over with his dad, nearly 11 kms., and then the 3 of us went for another ride on a beautiful afternoon; the city has closed Bayview to cars on the weekends, so we rode on the highway all the way down to Cherry Beach on the lake, where we watched the wind surfers and ate hot dogs and fries and then rode back. Nearly 10 k. His dad took off, and we went, of course, to the two playgrounds near the house, where at one he made a friend and ran and climbed and jumped and shot hoops for an hour. In between, an enormous meal, watering the garden, and 3 games of Snakes and Ladders. Bath, story, and bed at 7.45, by which time Glamma was beyond exhaustion, mostly from just watching him, and was in bed by 9.30! A perfect day, truly.
A boy and his dad
Covid never far from our thoughtsToday, more games, including a version of Scrabble for kids, terrific, and, thank God, a bit of TVO, which I support monthly and am profoundly grateful for every time he comes to visit. There's a new segment with a cheerful mouse talking about Covid and face masks and hand washing.
He and I rode to Joe Fresh to buy him back-to-school pants - he has outgrown everything, according to his mother; we bought him size 10-12, though he's 8. He's attending classes next door with their neighbour Greg, a retired school teacher who has volunteered to spend 90 minutes a day educating this bright young man. Friday, teaching him proper versus common nouns, be still my beating heart.
While we were at Joe Fresh, a voice behind me said, "Beth, I love your book!" It was Sarah, niece of my friend Ken who bought 10 copies for family and friends. Sarah and I were both masked and unrecognizable, but she recognized my voice. Is there anything more welcome for a writer to hear than those words? I think not. Well, perhaps, "You're on the NYT bestseller list!" Or "Here's the latest huge royalty cheque." Those would be welcome too.
A beautiful evening. The garden is particularly lovely because the days are shorter, the nights are colder, we know it's all slowly shutting down. A last explosion of beauty.
I have a million things to do, including beginning again to move my poor moribund body - but for now, a glass of rosé, a moment of peace.
September 10, 2020
Cabbagetown Short Film Festival triumphs!
What a pleasure! In a fog today, not capable of much, so my great treat was to sit in my kitchen chair and watch the Cabbagetown Short Film Festival. Produced by my friend and neighbour Gina, of line-dancing fame, this feast of films under 20 minutes long been going on for decades and I've rarely missed it. She started it on a shoe-string; now she gets submissions from around the world.
This year, of course, no film festival - no festival at all, as this is usually the weekend of the Cabbagetown Festival, when Parliament Street is closed down and lined with stalls and outdoor dining, and every street is clogged with garage sales and events and thousands of people. Not this year. But Gina found a way for her festival to continue - online.
Fifteen short films, and almost every one of them brilliant. I had tears several times, laughed out loud as well, and that's sitting alone in my kitchen. Especially one about a man in a Muslim country who loses his burqa-clad wife, indistinguishable among all the other women covered in black cloth; Distances, about an encounter we all recognize with an angry mentally ill man on the subway, and how one woman opens to him and affects everyone around - just a stunning little film, my favourite among many favourites; Era Yo, about a teenaged bully who learns a lesson; Polter - amazing special effects, hilarious; Los Bengalos, about Alzheimer's and music. Today You, Tomorrow Me - haunting and beautiful. Two French boys running away and summoning the rain. People filming tragedies on their phones - a comedy.
It's like a banquet of Alice Munro short stories, rich and expertly crafted and full of feeling.
I cannot recommend this online event highly enough. You only have tomorrow to buy your online pass and see these films - and you don't even have to leave your chair. Don't miss them.
https://cabbagetown2020.eventive.org/welcome
This year, of course, no film festival - no festival at all, as this is usually the weekend of the Cabbagetown Festival, when Parliament Street is closed down and lined with stalls and outdoor dining, and every street is clogged with garage sales and events and thousands of people. Not this year. But Gina found a way for her festival to continue - online.
Fifteen short films, and almost every one of them brilliant. I had tears several times, laughed out loud as well, and that's sitting alone in my kitchen. Especially one about a man in a Muslim country who loses his burqa-clad wife, indistinguishable among all the other women covered in black cloth; Distances, about an encounter we all recognize with an angry mentally ill man on the subway, and how one woman opens to him and affects everyone around - just a stunning little film, my favourite among many favourites; Era Yo, about a teenaged bully who learns a lesson; Polter - amazing special effects, hilarious; Los Bengalos, about Alzheimer's and music. Today You, Tomorrow Me - haunting and beautiful. Two French boys running away and summoning the rain. People filming tragedies on their phones - a comedy.
It's like a banquet of Alice Munro short stories, rich and expertly crafted and full of feeling.
I cannot recommend this online event highly enough. You only have tomorrow to buy your online pass and see these films - and you don't even have to leave your chair. Don't miss them.
https://cabbagetown2020.eventive.org/welcome
Yes!
Woke up this morning, slightly hungover, to 129 emails in my inbox. Not all from yesterday, of course, though many were. One was from a former student, asking to come buy 8 signed copies later today. Now that's nice.
My friends, it was a wonderful day, spectacular. Everything went smoothly. The Zoom launch - we'd been worried about the screen freezing or other technical problems - none at all. About 35 people joined us; Jason and I bantered, he asked questions and I answered, I read, people sent interesting questions - and at the end, after I read a moving Mary Oliver poem, all were unmuted for a toast. There were the beautiful faces of dear friends from around the world - Nicky from Vancouver Island, Judy in Vancouver, Kathleen in Montreal, Norrey in Halifax, Lynn in Provence, Sheila in New York - what an incredible aid Zoom is.
Sent by Catherine - one of two screens of familiar faces.
And then the in person event. It was a drizzly morning, but though the day remained overcast, it stopped raining. We were all set up - Debra and Ruth ready to greet people outside, Robin at the door taking names for contact tracing, if needed, Monique at the table to sell books, Sam behind the counter serving wine and cheese and making people laugh, and me outside, signing books.
The giraffe with Ruth, Jason, and Debra
La belle Monique
Incidentally, everyone wore masks in the house, and Curtis wore his lovely Louis Vuitton one outside too.
And then people went into the garden with their books and their wine and sat and chatted. Beautiful to see. There will be more photos soon - my friend Marion shot the whole thing.
Friend and neighbour Barbara Hall, once Mayor of Toronto, whose younger sister Sheila was my best friend in Grade 4, brought a class picture of us - 1958! Chris came clear across town. Helen and Walter came in from the cottage. Anne-Marie, who doesn't have money to spare, bought 6 books - "For Christmas presents," she said. What a cheering section.
At five, Jason and I did our thing to the crowd in the garden with the mike he'd rented - chatting, me reading, questions. And then it wound down; I ordered gourmet pizzas, Sam went to get them, and the volunteers and core team ate and drank and decompressed. Sam told me Jason is a keeper, he's family now - yes he is - and then left to go to work - Raptors game, a nail-biter. (They won.) And then I was alone.
I wouldn't have changed a thing. Except that I'd imagined - as I always do - far more people. About 25 people came to the house and bought 40 books. I'd planned for people to be lined up outside along the sidewalk. Ridiculous. There was a marvellous crowd - just right, just enough. And this morning, many emails of congrats, others asking where to buy or for me to send. Thank you thank you thank you!
It's dank and gloomy today, but I have work to do, signing and sending books - a big trip to the post office. Leftover pizza for breakfast. And breathing time, to think of what it means to have friends and family who care and who show up, and that this book is at last out, flying on its own in the world. I could not be more grateful.
PS Just realized that the first printing of 100 books is nearly sold out. Will be ordering more today. Woo hoo!
My friends, it was a wonderful day, spectacular. Everything went smoothly. The Zoom launch - we'd been worried about the screen freezing or other technical problems - none at all. About 35 people joined us; Jason and I bantered, he asked questions and I answered, I read, people sent interesting questions - and at the end, after I read a moving Mary Oliver poem, all were unmuted for a toast. There were the beautiful faces of dear friends from around the world - Nicky from Vancouver Island, Judy in Vancouver, Kathleen in Montreal, Norrey in Halifax, Lynn in Provence, Sheila in New York - what an incredible aid Zoom is.
Sent by Catherine - one of two screens of familiar faces.
And then the in person event. It was a drizzly morning, but though the day remained overcast, it stopped raining. We were all set up - Debra and Ruth ready to greet people outside, Robin at the door taking names for contact tracing, if needed, Monique at the table to sell books, Sam behind the counter serving wine and cheese and making people laugh, and me outside, signing books.
The giraffe with Ruth, Jason, and Debra
La belle MoniqueIncidentally, everyone wore masks in the house, and Curtis wore his lovely Louis Vuitton one outside too.
And then people went into the garden with their books and their wine and sat and chatted. Beautiful to see. There will be more photos soon - my friend Marion shot the whole thing.
Friend and neighbour Barbara Hall, once Mayor of Toronto, whose younger sister Sheila was my best friend in Grade 4, brought a class picture of us - 1958! Chris came clear across town. Helen and Walter came in from the cottage. Anne-Marie, who doesn't have money to spare, bought 6 books - "For Christmas presents," she said. What a cheering section.At five, Jason and I did our thing to the crowd in the garden with the mike he'd rented - chatting, me reading, questions. And then it wound down; I ordered gourmet pizzas, Sam went to get them, and the volunteers and core team ate and drank and decompressed. Sam told me Jason is a keeper, he's family now - yes he is - and then left to go to work - Raptors game, a nail-biter. (They won.) And then I was alone.
I wouldn't have changed a thing. Except that I'd imagined - as I always do - far more people. About 25 people came to the house and bought 40 books. I'd planned for people to be lined up outside along the sidewalk. Ridiculous. There was a marvellous crowd - just right, just enough. And this morning, many emails of congrats, others asking where to buy or for me to send. Thank you thank you thank you!
It's dank and gloomy today, but I have work to do, signing and sending books - a big trip to the post office. Leftover pizza for breakfast. And breathing time, to think of what it means to have friends and family who care and who show up, and that this book is at last out, flying on its own in the world. I could not be more grateful.
PS Just realized that the first printing of 100 books is nearly sold out. Will be ordering more today. Woo hoo!
September 9, 2020
LAUNCH DAY!
A quick word - 9 a.m. on launch day, and it's grey and drizzly. Toronto has entered a sudden cool spell. But they do say it'll be cloudy but warmer later, so fingers crossed, because this whole event is predicated on being mostly outside.
Lots to do when the drizzle stops - got to cut the grass, rake and clean up the yard and put chairs around; sweep and tidy the front yard; finish cleaning the living room and kitchen. That's what happens when you hold an event in your own home - a bit of extra pressure and work! But the timing is good - the garden is still glorious, there are even new roses, the rose of Sharon tree still full, the rudbekia, Mexican sunflowers, and golden glow lush and full. By next week, they'll all be fading. I hope after the guests get their books signed, they'll linger in the garden.
Was planning to wear a bright pink cotton dress bought for Jessica's wedding in France in 2009, but it might not be warm enough, in which case I have no idea what to wear. So we'll see. There's wine and cheese in the fridge, a rented mike and amp, Jason and I have reviewed what we're doing and how.
I'm excited and nervous - took a sleeping pill last night because sleep would have been impossible. But the most marvellous thing happened - I started in my head to write a new essay. MOVING RIGHT ALONG!
People have been sending warm, encouraging messages - Lani just wrote, I'm half-way through Loose Woman and enjoying it even more than the draft I read! I laughed out loud in a few places and the dog had to come in to see what was going on (it was 2:00am).
And my friend Antoinette, fellow writer, I am so taken with your L’Arche episode, the transformation that occurred in you, the perspective it gave you, the sudden (bodily) revelations you had. Your writing style flows and is completely natural. I love the descriptions of the country, the food, the atmosphere. I’m right there.
Thank you, friends. It's my pleasure to give you pleasure.
Why do we do this crazy thing, sitting alone at a desk for countless hours, poking about in our guts, rearranging words on a page, for no money? Because, as I say in the book, we writers need to process life twice - once as we live it, and again as we re-explore it on the page. I cannot imagine living any other way. We do this because we have no choice.
Hooray for writers, for artists generally, really looking at our world, thinking about it, interpreting it in their own way for us, giving us a new way to think and see and even be.
Please wish me luck today.
Lots to do when the drizzle stops - got to cut the grass, rake and clean up the yard and put chairs around; sweep and tidy the front yard; finish cleaning the living room and kitchen. That's what happens when you hold an event in your own home - a bit of extra pressure and work! But the timing is good - the garden is still glorious, there are even new roses, the rose of Sharon tree still full, the rudbekia, Mexican sunflowers, and golden glow lush and full. By next week, they'll all be fading. I hope after the guests get their books signed, they'll linger in the garden.
Was planning to wear a bright pink cotton dress bought for Jessica's wedding in France in 2009, but it might not be warm enough, in which case I have no idea what to wear. So we'll see. There's wine and cheese in the fridge, a rented mike and amp, Jason and I have reviewed what we're doing and how.
I'm excited and nervous - took a sleeping pill last night because sleep would have been impossible. But the most marvellous thing happened - I started in my head to write a new essay. MOVING RIGHT ALONG!
People have been sending warm, encouraging messages - Lani just wrote, I'm half-way through Loose Woman and enjoying it even more than the draft I read! I laughed out loud in a few places and the dog had to come in to see what was going on (it was 2:00am).
And my friend Antoinette, fellow writer, I am so taken with your L’Arche episode, the transformation that occurred in you, the perspective it gave you, the sudden (bodily) revelations you had. Your writing style flows and is completely natural. I love the descriptions of the country, the food, the atmosphere. I’m right there.
Thank you, friends. It's my pleasure to give you pleasure.
Why do we do this crazy thing, sitting alone at a desk for countless hours, poking about in our guts, rearranging words on a page, for no money? Because, as I say in the book, we writers need to process life twice - once as we live it, and again as we re-explore it on the page. I cannot imagine living any other way. We do this because we have no choice.
Hooray for writers, for artists generally, really looking at our world, thinking about it, interpreting it in their own way for us, giving us a new way to think and see and even be.
Please wish me luck today.
September 7, 2020
September - back to ... to what?
The family are back safely after a two day, one night sprint from Nova Scotia - heroic driving by Anna, but also amazing sitting for many hours by two little boys. Went over to visit today, to be with them while she got groceries and then returned the rental car. She'd brought back fresh oysters and mussels, a collection of rocks, and a deep hankering to return; her friend Ashley has 3 kids, all her neighbours have kids, and they share a huge backyard. The boys were able to go wild, without supervision, playing outside till it was dark. As Anna said, that's what it was like for me, but they've never had that.
Not to mention coves, swimming and beaches, fish and chips, new friends, many adventures. I took them up Roncesvalles to their favourite sushi place and then to a playground, and then, time for Jenga with Dad.
Naan is back with her family. I will miss her lying on my papers as I work, but I won't miss the puking, that's for sure.
Anna brought me a bright watercolour of Pictou, which she told me is the Mi'qmak word for 'fart,' and a chocolate bar from the Syrian family who've made a huge success with their chocolate business. Delicious. I feel so much better now they're back in town. Eli starts tomorrow going to the neighbour, who used to be a teacher, for 90 minutes of learning. Anna's not sending her kids to school. Phooey on Doug Ford, leaving class sizes enormous, endangering kids and teachers.
Tomorrow here, full steam ahead to prepare for the launch Wednesday. There's a big Raptors game that night, but luckily it's on after the launch is over, and anyway, perhaps Beth Kaplan readers and rabid Raptors fans are not necessarily the same demographic.
It's fall. September first came and so did the morning and evening chill; though the days are still warm, I wore jeans today for the first time in months. What will happen to distancing, to the patios that are keeping restaurants and bars - and my son - alive, when it gets cold?
But still, time for aperitif on the deck with Monique, who took this. Cheers!
Not to mention coves, swimming and beaches, fish and chips, new friends, many adventures. I took them up Roncesvalles to their favourite sushi place and then to a playground, and then, time for Jenga with Dad.
Naan is back with her family. I will miss her lying on my papers as I work, but I won't miss the puking, that's for sure.
Anna brought me a bright watercolour of Pictou, which she told me is the Mi'qmak word for 'fart,' and a chocolate bar from the Syrian family who've made a huge success with their chocolate business. Delicious. I feel so much better now they're back in town. Eli starts tomorrow going to the neighbour, who used to be a teacher, for 90 minutes of learning. Anna's not sending her kids to school. Phooey on Doug Ford, leaving class sizes enormous, endangering kids and teachers.Tomorrow here, full steam ahead to prepare for the launch Wednesday. There's a big Raptors game that night, but luckily it's on after the launch is over, and anyway, perhaps Beth Kaplan readers and rabid Raptors fans are not necessarily the same demographic.
It's fall. September first came and so did the morning and evening chill; though the days are still warm, I wore jeans today for the first time in months. What will happen to distancing, to the patios that are keeping restaurants and bars - and my son - alive, when it gets cold?
But still, time for aperitif on the deck with Monique, who took this. Cheers!
September 5, 2020
Labour Day silence
"Don't take my moaning too seriously," I wrote to Jason yesterday. "I'll be like this for the next week or more." I'm watching friends get their books in "Must read this fall" lists, excerpted in major magazines, the writers themselves being interviewed in fine places. That's how it's done and I celebrate every moment of their success. But part of me is as jealous as I was 20 years ago, watching other children win prizes at the end of the school year, a parade of kids going up to accept their awards, and never, not once, did either of my children win anything. "But they're so terrific!" I was thinking. "Not even a tiny bit of public recognition?"
It's like that and will be until this era of book launch settles down. I think the solution would be to start something else right away. But watching my children not win prizes, my first thought wasn't, I'll have another child immediately!
A different scenario, I know. And - I was in fact interviewed by the estimable Esther Arbeid from the Miles Nadal Jewish Community Centre, for a segment they call "Kibbitz with Esther." Fame!
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BEWiq_swtj7ZSqOMGLgNvSgmWEelrmD9/view?usp=sharing
My friend and student Brad has offered to listen to the audiobook, so, before it's uploaded, we can do one final check for glitches. And then it's off to the races.
It's a cool grey Labour Day weekend, and the city is deserted, dead still, wonderful, hardly a car, and certainly no construction. Anna and gang are on their way back from Nova Scotia after what sounds like a restorative vacation. My tall son is coming over for a visit tonight after many weeks. He shared this with me and I'm going to share it with you: a woman in a wheelchair had a meltdown a few weeks ago at his bar; Sam calmed her, got her into a cab, and paid her tab. She came back and left him this note with some money:
Atsa my boy.
This solitary time is a blessing. I went to the market this morning so the fridge is full of corn and peaches and beans - apples next week. After a battle with Rogers yesterday, the TV is fixed, I think. Many books to read. And three new, just picked cucumbers.
In the night - much awake time these days at 4 a.m - I realized what the biggest flaw of this new memoir is. Won't tell you, yet at least, but I know it. Which means I should be able to fix it in the next book. Stay tuned.
It's like that and will be until this era of book launch settles down. I think the solution would be to start something else right away. But watching my children not win prizes, my first thought wasn't, I'll have another child immediately!
A different scenario, I know. And - I was in fact interviewed by the estimable Esther Arbeid from the Miles Nadal Jewish Community Centre, for a segment they call "Kibbitz with Esther." Fame!
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BEWiq_swtj7ZSqOMGLgNvSgmWEelrmD9/view?usp=sharing
My friend and student Brad has offered to listen to the audiobook, so, before it's uploaded, we can do one final check for glitches. And then it's off to the races.
It's a cool grey Labour Day weekend, and the city is deserted, dead still, wonderful, hardly a car, and certainly no construction. Anna and gang are on their way back from Nova Scotia after what sounds like a restorative vacation. My tall son is coming over for a visit tonight after many weeks. He shared this with me and I'm going to share it with you: a woman in a wheelchair had a meltdown a few weeks ago at his bar; Sam calmed her, got her into a cab, and paid her tab. She came back and left him this note with some money:
Atsa my boy.This solitary time is a blessing. I went to the market this morning so the fridge is full of corn and peaches and beans - apples next week. After a battle with Rogers yesterday, the TV is fixed, I think. Many books to read. And three new, just picked cucumbers.
In the night - much awake time these days at 4 a.m - I realized what the biggest flaw of this new memoir is. Won't tell you, yet at least, but I know it. Which means I should be able to fix it in the next book. Stay tuned.
September 3, 2020
musing about the Democrats
I just took a look at last September's posts - seems another planet now, but interesting to see what my impressions of the Dem debates were. I really disliked Kamala Harris and didn't think much of Joe. Fingers crossed all the way now, for them both! On Sept. 13 2019, I posted this:
the Democrats - hope for humanityA glimmer of light on the horizon - I watched most of the Democratic debate last night, and my hopes for the future of our planet and our benighted species began to flicker again. What an intelligent, compassionate, articulate bunch they are. I don't understand why Biden is the frontrunner, except for name recognition and association with Obama; he's often almost incoherent, and he said something that put me off instantly: when Bernie actually brought Canada and Scandinavia into the health care debate, Joe snapped back,"This is America." As if the experiences of another country are irrelevant to his exceptional country. How stupid is that.
Bernie had a passionately articulate explanation of Democratic Socialism, but tho's wise, he's shouty, irascible, and hoarse. Two definite no's: Castro was vicious, and Kamala Harris seemed to feel she was at a casual lunch with friends and kept laughing at her own jokes, perhaps trying to set herself up as relaxed and open as opposed to Warren, the quivering bundle of intensity next to her. Klobuchar is just not enough. Mayor Pete and Beto are good men, I loved them both, but I can't see either of them with enough momentum or a broad enough appeal to win the Presidency. Corey Booker is amazing and possible.
But at the very top - it's Elizabeth Warren all the way. She's a taut, concentrated fighting machine, fierce and focussed but likeable, on message, with warm, relevant personal anecdotes that didn't seem forced or folksy. Go Elizabeth. Save the world.
The difference, the chasm, the Grand Canyon between even the weakest of these candidates and the man currently running the country, and his party, is so extreme as to be laughable if it weren't so tragic. There is another America full of brilliant principled people desperate for change. It is beyond heartening to be reminded of that.
P.S. My cousin Ted the New York lawyer wrote, about all these Dems I admire, "None of them is electable." My heart sank, but then my spirits rose. I have two words for him, and those words are: BARACK OBAMA.
the Democrats - hope for humanityA glimmer of light on the horizon - I watched most of the Democratic debate last night, and my hopes for the future of our planet and our benighted species began to flicker again. What an intelligent, compassionate, articulate bunch they are. I don't understand why Biden is the frontrunner, except for name recognition and association with Obama; he's often almost incoherent, and he said something that put me off instantly: when Bernie actually brought Canada and Scandinavia into the health care debate, Joe snapped back,"This is America." As if the experiences of another country are irrelevant to his exceptional country. How stupid is that.
Bernie had a passionately articulate explanation of Democratic Socialism, but tho's wise, he's shouty, irascible, and hoarse. Two definite no's: Castro was vicious, and Kamala Harris seemed to feel she was at a casual lunch with friends and kept laughing at her own jokes, perhaps trying to set herself up as relaxed and open as opposed to Warren, the quivering bundle of intensity next to her. Klobuchar is just not enough. Mayor Pete and Beto are good men, I loved them both, but I can't see either of them with enough momentum or a broad enough appeal to win the Presidency. Corey Booker is amazing and possible.
But at the very top - it's Elizabeth Warren all the way. She's a taut, concentrated fighting machine, fierce and focussed but likeable, on message, with warm, relevant personal anecdotes that didn't seem forced or folksy. Go Elizabeth. Save the world.
The difference, the chasm, the Grand Canyon between even the weakest of these candidates and the man currently running the country, and his party, is so extreme as to be laughable if it weren't so tragic. There is another America full of brilliant principled people desperate for change. It is beyond heartening to be reminded of that.
P.S. My cousin Ted the New York lawyer wrote, about all these Dems I admire, "None of them is electable." My heart sank, but then my spirits rose. I have two words for him, and those words are: BARACK OBAMA.
