Maureen Bush's Blog, page 16

Editing My Garden

The ecosystem of my garden has changed, with the construction next door. The shady spots no longer have shade, after the huge spruce trees were cut down. Some areas that are bright now will become shady, as the big house goes up. And so I watch and ponder and wait for inspiration to strike.

It’s become an opportunity to redesign, to fix what wasn’t working, to add, to enhance, to move plants if necessary. It’s like editing a story, except a garden is never finished; each year the editing continues.

Maureen

 

Donald Maass Workshop

Several weeks ago I spent a day at a Donald Maass workshop. The focus was on character and emotion, a good balance to the John Truby workshop I attended last fall that was all about structure.

The workshop aspect of the day involved Donald Maass posing questions for us, mostly about our own emotional life, to draw on for our own manuscripts. He talked about this like method acting – using our own emotional experiences to bring emotional depth to our characters.

He also discussed micro-tension – tension in every line – developed through conflict between the characters, in the reader not knowing what’s coming next, in the unexpected. I particularly like this for writing for children – it helps new and reluctant readers to want to turn the page, to read the next chapter.

He demonstrated his techniques by rewriting paragraphs from other writers (including one brave soul in the workshop), and the difference was astounding. He’d read the edited version, and the silence in the room echoed, as we felt the emotional punch he’d added.

I took frantic notes, my mind leaping from one project to another: oh, I could do this for that story, and that for this character, and …. scribble scribble scribble. After, I chose one of my projects to use to study this material, going over it page by page, with four coloured markers in hand.

I’m now working through all my current projects (they are legion – I never quite understand how that happens), reading my workshop notes and coming up with edits. None of them are substantial changes; these are more in bits and moments, things I can highlight, play on, enhance. It’s an interesting process, watching a manuscript get stronger through small changes. And so I slowly learn to use these new tools in my writing toolbox.

Maureen

Touring South of Calgary

Friends are in town from Scotland, and I spent a day with Chris, while his wife was at a conference. We drove south of Calgary and then looped around to the west. It’s ranch land, in the foothills, and gorgeous. Our first stop was the glacial erratic west of Okotoks. I claimed that it’s Alberta’s answer to Great Britain’s Standing Stones. Lunch was burgers in Black Diamond at Marv’s Classic Soda Shop, a throwback to the 1950s, complete with jukebox, twenty five cents a song. Later, I found one of my books for sale in a little shop in Bragg Creek, always a lovely surprise.

We crossed a cattle gate, and when I explained how cattle can’t cross the bars, because their hooves get caught, Chris said they have them in Scotland, and the sheep simply lie down and roll across. He said at first he thought it was an urban legend; then he saw a video of it. All I could think was “Don’t bring those sheep here!”

Maureen

The Big Rock

Demolition

Today the house came down.

The excavator arrived last night, and spent a couple of hours crushing tree branches, and then began digging to the water line. This morning – more work on the water line (I assume), and then it got to work smashing down the house.

All the neighbours stopped by to watch the show – some of us knew each other – others introduced themselves. Most were angry, at the loss of the trees, at the damage, the mess.  But we were all excited to watch the really big machine get to work.

Maureen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life in the Inner City

After two years of renovations (bathroom, and front entry repair two years ago, kitchen, and back entry repair last year), we were looking forward to a quiet summer. Except the house next door has been sold to a developer and is going to be torn down and replaced by a big (I assume) very expensive duplex. This summer there will be at least six tear-downs and builds in our little neighbourhood, and new sidewalks. I expect to be working to the sounds of demolition and hammers and cement trucks. We’ve already had trees crashing down, as the five gorgeous spruce trees next door were cut down Friday night.

I’m trying to not focus on the trauma of it all – although there will be many. The first ­– losing a lovely neighbour. The second – losing the trees. While this will affect my garden (it’s in a new ecosystem now), the birds nesting in them have suffered a greater loss. But perhaps they’ll nest in my garden, instead. And we have more light in the house right now. We’ll try to enjoy the light and the view to the west until we lose it to the new building going in.

Maureen

Marble Canyon

For the last day of our mountain weekend, we hiked up to Marble Canyon, a brief climb up stairs and pathways, on ice and mud, surrounded by running water and birdsong. I could feel the energy of growth surging under my feet, and a softness in the wind, chill when it rose off the ice or out of the canyon. It was deeply peaceful and yet bursting with energy. We heard a boom like a cannon ­– we guessed it was a great chunk of ice breaking off a canyon wall. Later we spotted little icebergs floating down.

All through the trip we watched water levels. Spring in the mountains began a week ago, with a sudden jump in temperature. Water levels were low when we arrived; after three days of heat, they were rising. The Bow was growing, starting its journey from Bow Glacier to Hudson’s Bay. Tokum Creek at Marble Canyon doesn’t have as far to go – it’ll roar down to the Columbia River and then on to Portland, Oregon.

We watched orange and black butterflies, what my older daughter claimed were mutant mosquitoes, and a couple of deer across the river from the Fenlands trail. As we left Banff National Park we saw a great tower of smoke, from a planned burn. Helicopters buzzed by, carrying water to control the fire.

And I found a new story. There’s something about wild places that trigger ideas for me. That’s what I brought home.

Maureen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Perfect Spring Weekend

After a Donald Maass workshop on Saturday (more on that later), I headed up to Lake Louise for a family holiday. The weather is amazing – hot, perfectly clear sky, and a really high avalanche risk as the spring melt begins.

This morning: snowshoeing at Bow Summit, on the glacier parkway, just past Bow Lake and Bow Glacier, the headwaters of the Bow River, I think.

I’d forgotten the great joy of spring skiing – being on snow in warm, warm air. We snowshoeed across a meadow and then into the trees. Later I rested, stretched out in the sun, on my jacket laid out across the snow, the mountains stark against the deep blue sky.

We’d been warned to get up there early, while the snow was still crusty. By 10:00 it was soft and getting harder to snowshoe across, so we drove past Field to Wapta Falls, ate and hiked in summer heat, and then stopped at Emerald Lake on the way back. We’ve now done a snapshot tour of Banff and Yoho National Parks.

Tomorrow: a quick trip into Kootenay National Park. Many Rocky Mountain trails (most?) are unsafe at the moment, because of the avalanche risk. It’s especially bad as spring started last Thursday, and the temperature is summer-warm, and the show is melting and sliding. Our next hike will be at Marble Canyon, with cleats for the ice, because it’s not at risk of avalanches, and the view is astounding.

Maureen

 

Spring Fling

After a Donald Maass workshop on Saturday (more on that later), I headed up to Lake Louise for a family holiday. The weather is amazing – hot, perfectly clear sky, and a really high avalanche risk as the spring melt begins.

This morning: snowshoeing at Bow Summit, on the glacier parkway, just past Bow Lake and Bow Glacier, the headwaters of the Bow River, I think.

I’d forgotten the great joy of spring skiing – being on snow in warm, warm air. We snowshoeed across a meadow and then into the trees. Later I rested, stretched out in the sun, on my jacket laid out across the snow, the mountains stark against the deep blue sky.

We’d been warned to get up there early, while the snow was still crusty. By 10:00 it was soft and getting harder to snowshoe across, so we drove past Field to Wapta Falls, ate and hiked in summer heat, and then stopped at Emerald Lake on the way back. We’ve now done a snapshot tour of Banff and Yoho National Parks.

Tomorrow: a quick trip into Kootenay National Park. Many Rocky Mountain trails (most?) are unsafe at the moment, because of the avalanche risk. It’s especially bad as spring started last Thursday, and the temperature is summer-warm, and the show is melting and sliding. Our next hike will be at Marble Canyon, with cleats for the ice, because it’s not at risk of avalanches, and the view is astounding.

Maureen

 

Have Notebook, Will Write

I adore my computers, both the desktop and my laptop. I am addicted to the internet, love the ease I can find things with Google, use email for most of my writing communication, tell other writers about the joy of working with Scrivener, and am deeply contented writing at the keyboard.

But a notebook holds a certain wonder, too. I have learned to write in notebooks in waiting rooms, in hotel lobbies, at airports, leaning against a tree on a mountainside, in libraries and coffee shops, in my garden, and at the park. It’s freed me up to handle errands more easily, and to travel without losing all my writing time.

I’ve discovered I can write surrounded by noise, a great surprise for someone who loves solitude. There’s something about the muttering in a coffee shop that’s really good for writing. And I’ve discovered sometimes I write really well, or dive into topics I wouldn’t write about otherwise, sitting with a notebook in an odd location.

And, perhaps because of this, I’m always running out of notebooks. Not the lovely journals people give me that I never use, because they intimidate me, but the coil-bound school notebooks I can scribble in. I can simply write, in my notebooks. I need some new ones, and I’m struggling to find what I like. Too many are fancy – a fancy notebook demands fancy writing. I want a notebook that can take anything I fling at it.

Maureen

Late, late spring

A month after the first flower opened in my garden, we’re still at the first flowers stage. I now have crocuses, snowdrops, scilla, and one lonely vinca bloom – but they’re all small, early flowers, close to the house on the warm, east side. Hepatica have opened, finally, in a blaze of blue in the front garden. This is the longest, coldest early spring I can remember.

It’s been a struggle to get the gardening work done. Can’t rake while there’s snow on the ground. Can’t dig the beds while the ground’s still frozen. Can’t put out the birdbath when the water could freeze and crack the birdbath. And yet, when spring does fully arrive, I’ll need to be ready, to plant as soon as the soil is warm enough, because our season is so short.

Then I comfort myself. We’re not still waiting for the white piles to melt, like in some places, in this late, late spring. And spring will come. Truly. It’s only in fiction that winter can last for years. Right?

Maureen