In case you missed it, I'm putting out a poetry collection on April 11, 2022.  I put this together in response to a poetry contest that I entered late last year.  As they required unpublished pieces, and would announce a winner by early spring, I decided mid-April would mark a good date for publication of most of the poems I entered.  Having just received notification of the contest winner and the name of the entry (*spoiler: not me :p), I will still wait for that release date, as it's only a couple of weeks away.

The contest had a requirement of a minimum of 48 pages.  Over the last three decades, I had scribbled down enough poems to fulfil that quota, so I put them together into a collection with four general themes: Nature & Time; Good & Evil/Live & Death; For the Young at Heart; and Family.  Looking at that collection, I then had the brainstorm that, if I added a few more, I might have something worth publishing to the wider world.

And thus the birth of Dancing Words.

Most people are unaware of my poetry, which doesn't surprise me in the least, seeing as I've never published such before.  Nor have I actively written much in the way of poems for quite a few years (although 3 did appear in 2003 after a bit of a traumatic year within the family).  Until Dancing Words.  I had wondered if I even had enough poetry in me to flesh out the contest pieces into something closer to 100 pages (the final book being just shy of that number, pictures included).  Turns out, I did, and nearly three dozen new poems popped into being between December and March (a dozen of them under the Nature Haikus, which came surprisingly quick and fairly easy--I leave to you whether that's impressive or not [if you've ever spat out a haiku, you'll probably understand]).

I don't remember writing any poetry (that I'd admit to) until high school.  In an interesting in-class assignment in OAC (that's grade 13, for those old enough to remember when that was a thing), the teacher put on some gentle music for five minutes and had us simply write down wherever popped into our minds: "Don't think about it; don't try to get it perfect; just put your pens to the page and write whatever comes out."  I liked that and the results of my subconscious yammerings so much, that I did various other such experiments with music at home (listening to things like Yanni, and Solitudes worked great for this, at least for me).  You'll find some of them (yes, from that long ago) in the Nature & Time section, as well as Juxtaposed, and Juxtaposed II from Good & Evil.

Other poems from high school days include the anthropomorphisation of inanimate objects (Rock Solid; Warm Embrace; Living Death), and the poems inspired by other literary works.  Some came from that time-frame, but not through any school-related projects (I was that geeky kid who might spend part of a vacation writing something like The End and The Beginning just for fun, or hear a news report and share her thoughts on paper, such as Choices of Life, and To Live).  In fact, with the exception of The Surfer, everything in the For the Young at Heart section originated from the mind of a kid in her teens and early twenties, and given that I'm gazing into the twilight years of my forties, that's not terribly recent.

A few of the poems started life as a micro-story which I adapted into a more poetic style.  For example, I wrote the original Cassie's Dance (four or five years ago) for a flash fiction contest where you wrote something under 500 words based on a provided picture.  The Gathering evolved from a first-year university project from a creative writing course that asked us to write the longest sentence we could starting with the classic phrase: "It was a dark and stormy night...".  And Lost and Found also started as a very short story that I had jotted down just for the heck of it many years ago.

Many of the older poems have a more youthful feel to them (at least to me, especially knowing their origin); some of it simply playful, a couple almost ridiculous (The Red Sleft of Crite definitely falls into this category), but I felt it important to include them nevertheless, both as a sort of evolution, and also hopefully something to bring a smile, even as you might ask yourself: "what the heck was that?".  I figure an honest collection of poetry needs to include both the deep--thought-provoking, mysterious, evocative--and the inane, just like life.
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You'll find elements of my usual fantasy genre writing in some of the this collection, but you'll also discover a different side of my brain in Dancing Waves.  Enjoy!

OK, so I gave the whole short story writing another go.  I have a compellation somewhat in-progress--a dark theme of demons and half-breeds and war between magic users.  I had the initial story (the one intended to unite the mini-series into a harmonized whole) written before, though I've edited and tweaked it somewhat.  I plotted two back-stories to flush it out, give alternate perspectives, and generally expand the tale into more of a collection.  I even started both to a degree.  But I rather lost interest, and they've sat untouched for a while.  Which tells me one of two things: it's not time for these stories; OR these tales are not meant to be.  Time will tell which.

So what else have I done to fill the time, if not for this attempt at short stories?  Well, for a large chunk of time after publishing god-touched back in May of 2021, I really didn't do much involving writing at all.  No motivation, no desire (and trying to force something does not result in anything useful for me), no progress on the creative front.  I didn't find myself bored, however.  I couldn't tell you for the most part what took up my time and attention, but I managed to fill my days anyway.

We had our front garden redone by the wonderful Bonnie of Greenstone Landscape Solutions.  Flagstone pathway and patio, raised bed with lovely mulch and the plants I had them save, new garden lining one side of the driveway instead of weeds.  Quite a nice job that I don't seem to have any pictures of, as I enjoyed the space rather than recorded it.

We spent some time at the family cottage, usually just Mike & myself, though we did get a chance to hang out with Mike's brother's family for a week in August.  Followed by a great week canoe camping in Algonquin with another couple.  It might have rained a least once most of the days, but we had a fantastic time.  Mike is the master of the tarp.  And you can't get much more outdoorsy and physically distanced than in your own canoe and in your own tent in a gorgeous Provincial Park.

We very occasionally met with friends at outside venues (mostly someone's back yard, and mostly no more than us and another couple), and once or twice even went out to supper on a patio in the summer when restrictions due to COVID lifted.  From mid-October until mid-December, Kitchener Band resumed in-person practicing (interesting playing in a band with 28-40 people each week spread throughout a gymnasium--does funky things with cohesion, timing, concentration, and time-delays).  We pulled out some Christmas music and some other tunes for summer concerts, and after an 18-month hiatus, learned that amateur musicians can still make decent music after a couple of weeks of remembering how to play together (and honing those lax embrasures).  We had high hopes for some kind of Christmas concert, but as the season approached, most venues simply didn't want to risk a gathering of so many people.  Understandable.  So we worked out a plan to have a sort of open rehearsal, where limited friends and family could come hear us play a pseudo-concert in a large space where we could all physically distance.  Unfortunately, on the Friday before our Monday 'concert' (the last Monday before Christmas), the omicron variant of COVID had appeared in full-force, with its highly contagious nature.  Taking no chances, especially so close to Christmas, we had to cancel this pseudo-concert as well.  So much for playing toward a set goal.  There's still some hope for summer, outdoor concerts, if we can contain this variant's spread enough to make gathering in such numbers feasible again.

At some point in the fall, I came across a contest for poetry writing.  One such contest wanted a collection of no less than 48 pages, and no more than 96 pages.  I took a look at some of my previous poetry, and decided I could do that.  I put together a decent-sized collection and sent it off (results forthcoming in late-winter/early-spring).  Then I sat down and added to it.  A few times.  As recently as this sunny and snowy January morning.

All things being equal, I plan to publish an anthology of poetry (tentatively titled Dancing Words) this spring.  It has four general themed sections: Nature & Time; Good & Evil/Life & Death; For the Young at Heart; and Family.  It currently sits at about 77 pages (about 60 of them containing words, while I've added pictures [many taken and adapted from the family cottage at Big Cedar Lake] to separate the sections).  Most of those pages contain more than one poem (everything from open verse to rhyming stanzas, structured and unstructured pieces, even a couple of sonnets, some haikus, and at least one limerick).  That's about 80 poems (note: haikus being short, and my having 16-20 of them included, this may not seem as special to you as it does to me).  Thus, instead of my intended short-story adventure, I will concentrate on polishing poetry.  And writing a new novel.  Which I started last week.  I have less than 1000 words typed into the computer, and little idea of where the story's going, but I look forward to the characters unfolding their tale as I go.

And I'm happy to report that I have had no health issues/recurring episodes of gut problems since the beginning of September.  Fingers crossed that remains the case!

Sometimes, technology sucks.  I had written a pretty good blog, then went to add a picture.  Then somehow lost everything I had just written.  Grr.  So I'll try this again.

For the past year and a half, I've dealt with some interesting health issues (the feeling of dehydration and some kind of stomach issues being the primary symptoms, which led to an alarming lack of energy) which left my GP 'baffled'.  She eventually sent me to a 'specialist', who ordered blood work (just like my GP did).  All of this done via phone (well, not the blood work, but the consultations), seeing as we're in the midst of a pandemic and can't actually see people like medical doctors (even in the ER, I saw a Nurse Practitioner rather than a doctor--she said basically the same as my GP and the specialist, though).  Everyone came back with a similar statement: 'there's nothing wrong with you; you're fine, according to the blood work.'  Of course, the specialist took 6 months to tell me that, giving the unhelpful suggestion that I should drink less water, and that should fix me right up.

My body knew better, even if it didn't offer any solutions.  Obviously, I had something wrong going on.  Western medicine simply couldn't figure out what.

​Fed up with long waits, unhelpful bafflement, and the insistence that 'blood work shows there's nothing wrong', I went to a naturopath, with whom a friend had great success (though with far different problems).  After filling out forms outlining a comprehensive history of symptoms, habits, medical history, and any traumatic events in my past (none of which other docs asked for), I met with the naturopath in person (suitably distanced and masked), and she ordered a stool sample (which you'd think appropriate, given stomach troubles).  Results of that in hand (nasty bacteria in the gut will cause havoc, among other things), combined with an understanding of my medical history, she devised a treatment plan which I have now followed for just over a month.  Already, I've seen results, including, eventually, renewed energy.

​I mention all the above because it affected my ability--even my desire--to do most anything, including writing.  But I did manage to finish the first draft of my most recent novel, god-touched, in February.

This time around, I thought I'd try something different in the writing process, and hired an actual editor.  I sent off my manuscript in March to Noah Chinn of Mossfoot Editing.  (A friend-of-a-friend, I actually met Noah at a wedding 25 years ago, though I'm sure neither of us remembers the other.)  After about a month of slogging through my book (and various emails back and forth with suggestions and general writing tips), Noah presented me with possible revisions and a more polished version of my manuscript.  For those few who saw the first draft, you'll no doubt notice some of these improvements.  I then spent the next month and a half reworking god-touched into something better. 

Then I started to put it together for publication, which included formatting and finding some interesting cover designs.  In the past, I've used Adobe Spark to design cover art for my books.  I distributed some of these designs to various folks (including Noah), looking for suggestions and thoughts.

In this process, a cousin of mine (distantly removed) reached out.  Having done graphic design in a previous incarnation, Janet Christie (fantastic artist; look her up) wondered whether she might tackle making something better for me.  Taking some of the elements from what I had fumbled together and mixing them with plot details I provided, Janet came up with something far superior to anything I could do.  The result: the gorgeous cover for god-touched.

​Edited (and formatted) manuscript with it's fantastic cover in hand, I was ready for the final stage: publication.  I published the paperback and hardcover editions (hardcover being a new format offered in beta form from amazon) on May 20, 2021, and the e-Print versions on May 24, 2021.  This makes my sixth fantasy novel to find completion and publication.

So what's next?  I thought I might try putting together a short story; possibly even a collection of short stories.  That might sound easier than a whole novel.  I assure you, for me, it's not.  I've had trouble with shorter stuff in the past, always wanting to add just a little bit more, or thinking a story needed just a little something extra (like full-length novelization), so this will present a good challenge for me.  A challenge I hope I now have the energy to tackle, thanks to resolving some of my health issues.  At any rate, working with short stories should provide an interesting change.  Here's hoping it results in something fun :)

For the past couple of years, I've kept track of what I've read on Goodreads.com through their Reading Challenge.  Last year, I challenged myself to read 150 books throughout the year, and managed around 120 or so.  So this year, I lowered my expectation to 100 books for the year.  That number, of course, I decided upon at the beginning of January, before COVID19 came to prominence, and we all found ourselves with potentially more time on our hands than usual with stay-at-home suggestions and quarantines.  I didn't change the estimated total of books I intend to read though, so I'll likely feel ahead of the game around October or November when I reach my goal.  Right now, I'm at 55 books read in my personal challenge, so I'm well on my way.

One series I read throughout April and May (or rather, I re-read, as I really enjoy them when I first read them a few years ago) has 16 titles at the moment, with more on the way when the author overcomes some personal challenges.  If you're looking for a light, amusing, and easy-read Sci-Fi series that takes you away from the horrors of the world, I highly recommend Gini Koch's Katherine "Kitty" Katt series (skipping over the sex scenes if that's not your thing does not detract from the stories).

I want to especially point out book 12 (Alien in Chief), which I finished at the beginning of May.  In the past, reading about a deadly global virus (in this case, a manufactured, air-borne pathogen released by a megalomaniac intending to wipe out all opposition) provides a bit of fun that you can sit back and enjoy.  However, reading this during the height of the COVID19 crisis, when you don't know who's infected, if anyone made it to quarantine without already having it, how long it might last, whether we'll find a vaccine or cure, and watching as governments and businesses struggle to cope with such wide-spread mayhem, gives the book a whole different feel.  I kept finding myself reading something, then sitting back and saying "huh, yup, that's what would happen."  Strange, to have a true concept of a situation as you live through something similar when, a year ago (six months ago even), you just didn't have a clue.  It changes your perspective.

And now, as we're dealing with protests and race-riots and police resorting to inhumane measures to subjugate POC and minorities (which, in 2020, seems like we're going backwards--THIS SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED, NOR CONTINUE TO HAPPEN, AND HAVING TO DEFEND YOURSELF OR OTHERS BASED SOLELY ON THE COLOUR OF YOUR/THEIR SKIN IS UNACCEPTABLE), I found myself yet again reading a series very much on point.  James S.A. Corey (who is actually a collaboration of two fantastic writers) wrote a Sci-Fi series called The Expanse which, while futuristic, very much deals with racism, prejudice, oppression, and the differences that humanity has falsely placed upon each other.  And what happens when one group stands up and says enough.

Book 5 (Nemesis Games) and book 6 (Babylon's Ashes) have really hit home for me.  I'm currently in the middle of Babylon's Ashes, and the parallels to today (mostly notably the aftermath of the George Floyd murder) are frankly terrifying.  In The Expanse universe, we have the oppression of Earth and Mars (mostly the corporations and governments) against the people of the Belt (called Belters), but we could very easily substitute White people for Earth and Mars, and POC for Belters.  We see the effects of generations of unconscious/ingrained ignorance (derogatory names/terms given without thought, false assumptions, stereotyping), and the smoldering resentments as Belters especially accept the unintended (and intended) abuse and slights of those in power or in the majority because it's expected that they don't rock the boat.  We also see some Earthers and Martians trying to understand and rectify the deep-seated animosity between groups, hoping to put a human face on all involved, so that others see real people and not just an abstract based on birth.  We see hatred escalating every situation, and people trying to find peaceful solutions to deep-seated and long running problems.  It's frightening, and poignant, to read such extremes still occurring hundreds of years from now, while seeing the reality play out in the streets today.  I think, if I had read this series at any other time, I would still very much enjoy the writing and the message, but I wouldn't feel it so deeply; and find it so terrifying.  The extremes no longer seem so extreme, and the reasoning (much based on false assumptions and intentional misinformation) for fanaticism on both sides doesn't seem so far-fetched.  I see the horrors that the radical Belters have unleashed, and I cannot sit back and say unequivocally, "they had no cause."  I don't know how much sympathy would have surfaced prior to the actual unrest I see today, and that changes how I perceive this series.

I really appreciate how the author(s) explore the situation from every perspective--Earth, Mars, Belter, male, female--most notably so far in Book 6 where we see so many points of view.  If you want a great read that also challenges you to review your place in a world of privilege (whether you're part of the privileged white caste or the oppressed POC or other minority in the Western world [this also includes the role of women]--most especially, but sadly not exclusively, in the US), I definitely recommend The Expanse series.

So, a few things have happened over the last several months, many of which we can look back on and think: "Well, that was good timing." 

Having the house all nicely renovated (the last touches finally completed near the end of January when Mike resized the pantry so that it actually made sense to us) definitely fits in that category, as our space now has a wonderful open feel very much appreciated in the recent months where we don't get out much.  It's nice to not have to navigate a maze to find somewhere with natural light, and having lots of space to spread out (and eat in) just adds to the happy.
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Mike travelled to Ecuador for 10 days in the beginning of February with a friend he's known since kindergarten, and then he and I, along with another couple, took a trip to Costa Rica in mid-February for 15 days, returning home around the 26th.  You know, when we could still travel without worries that the airports might shut down and strand us somewhere.  Although, if you have to find yourself stranded somewhere, you could do worse than Costa Rica.  So we definitely lucked out in our February travels, because anything later ... well, we'd have missed it.

​We spent a few days at Playa Grande beach, where temperatures soared while Ontario saw a bit of snow.  Then we travelled inland to Monteverde for a few days where we had lots of wind and a fair amount of rain--Ontario saw some not too bad temps then, but still, winter in Ontario, so we got the better deal.  We spent our last week in Nuevo Arenal, near both volcano and lake, and had the most fantastic scenery and weather.  Right before flying home into a predicted blizzard.  Luckily, we didn't have to drive ourselves home from the airport on the slick roads, as we'd already arranged for alternate transportation.  At that point, the major question asked at the airport was: Have you visited China in the last 14 days.  So, managed to dodge the bullet there.

Had two weeks of band rehearsals where we worked on Kiwanis Festival pieces as well as our upcoming summer repertoire.  Our section leader had also just returned from a long vacation, and we were all revved up for putting on some wonderful performances in the spring/summer concert and festival season.  Which then promptly fell apart as gatherings of multiple people restrictions went into place.  So now we all just practice our music at home instead of together.  (Wait, we don't?  But of course we're all playing our faces off, right; what else do we have to do?)

Speaking of restrictions on large gatherings, the saddest one we've faced is the postponement of my cousin's wedding.  Originally set for the beginning of April, she has had to reschedule until December.  There's timing for you; so close and yet so far.  But she and her fiancee remain chipper and well, and you can't ask for better than that.  They're together and happy, and that's awesome.  Here's hoping things have found their new normal by December!

Of course, the thing that has changed so much about how we go about life has a name: the virus COVID19, a global pandemic that has brought out an interesting dichotomy of people.  We see folks taking social distancing and self-isolation seriously, doing their best to limit the spread and save lives (or at least hospital space); we see people calling it a hoax, insisting that precautions are overdone and preposterous, infringing on our rights.  And we have everyone in between.  We tend to fall into that first category.  Sure, our chances of catching and/or spreading the virus are small given our limited interaction with others, but they're there.  No way do we want to find ourselves responsible for bringing harm to others, or to ourselves.

This has brought about the biggest change in our day-to-day life; the methods of social distancing.  Both naturally introverts, neither Mike nor I have found huge hardships in terms of staying away from others (video calls are awesome, and can bring together a bunch of people who might not otherwise get the opportunity to sit down and chat at the same time).  We've gone to bi-weekly grocery shopping instead of once a week, done with face coverings and following the rules set out by the grocery store (like keeping our distance and following directional arrows on the floor--doesn't seem like a hard, or onerous, concept, yet I still see people going against the flow).

​Any other shopping, should we require anything, we do online where we don't have to deal with people and we don't have to wait in lines.  This, of course, is a first-world luxury, as a friend of ours living in Mexico where deliveries are less easily accomplished has demonstrated.  (Makes me wonder why so many first-world countries keep seeing such a high proportion of new cases when a bit of patience and common sense could benefit our fellows, but let's not get into that controversial topic)  We have such good fortune living where we do, and with our current circumstances (neither of us having work outside the house), and we find ourselves grateful every day.  Especially knowing others do not share that same safety.  If our keeping distant from anyone will ease another's risk of succumbing to this virus, we'll gladly keep doing so.
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So you'd think, having all this time and distance and isolation (though we get out for walks and runs and general fresh air pretty much daily), I'd have a lot of time for writing.  I do, and yet, I haven't written much lately.  Back in November I started a new story.  Every November, many in the writing community participate in an endeavour called NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where you attempt to write a 50 000 word (or longer) manuscript.  You can participate in daily challenges, pep-talks, community support, etc. as you aim for a full story.  I have never actually participated, but this last November, I did challenge myself to see how far I could get, with the intention of eventually having my next novel written ... whenever.  So I sat down and got writing (a little late, as I didn't actually start until Nov. 4).  My first month, I did manage 21 000+ words on a brand new tale.  Still feel pretty good about this accomplishment.  In the ensuing months (as I've kept track of my daily word count, just for fun), I've managed a total of about 57 000 words, so about half of my typical novel length, and I'm about half-way through the story.  Of course, I didn't write much in February, spending most of that time on vacation.  March saw a bit of a resurgence in the story, but April fell really short.  Like less than 2000 words all month short.  No particular reason.  I certainly didn't have any social engagements getting in the way (every concert, gathering, or play we had planned to attend of course being cancelled by this time).  I simply didn't get around to, or feel like, writing.  So far in May, I've not done much better, but I have higher hopes for the days ahead.  We'll see what the future holds.  Hopefully something good.  I certainly have enough time on my hands!

The renovations continue here with an expected end date some time in August.  In the meantime, we get to see the fascinating transformation of our house, as well as meet some very interesting trades people.  Decisions/choices are very nearly finished, with only a bathroom mirror and some closet hardware still in the offing (I think, though I may have missed something yet).

We've watched as our 1950s home with its maze of hallways has transformed into a very open concept kitchen/dining/living space with a lot of cupboards (for us), and until recently, we watched through plastic.  Not anymore.  Now the rooms have basically joined and I can travel from the back of the house (the 2011 addition) to the front without going through the basement or around the outside of the building--really handy to get to the main bathroom!  And I can watch the ongoing face lift without the 'fish tank' filter of plastic.  Very cool.

So how have we managed to keep sane amid all the noise and dust?  Partly, it's just fun to see this all take place.  And partly, we've gone away.

We spent a week up at Mike's parents' place, now aka The Family Cottage.  And most recently, we spent a week in PEI on a bike trip with our friends Tracy and Kevin.  When we left, the workers had just started to prime the walls (literally, just started.  When asked what time we'd be up on Wednesday morning, we informed the painter we had an early flight and had the alarm set for around 4 in the morning.  To which he replied: "Is it OK if I show up around 4:30 to get started then?"  He likes to finish his work early so as to give the other workers time to get stuff done too without everyone tripping on each other.  The drywaller had taken more time than anticipated, and I guess the painter wanted to hurry things along.  Seeing as we'd be up anyway, and then gone, we had no objections to this early start and left the painter with roller in hand as we headed to the airport).  When we returned, we had a new floor (except for the tiles), paint on the walls, kitchen cupboards, and open access to the whole joint!  As well as a sneaky cat who kept finding his way through the rafters so that he could 'visit' all the people and their work (we've since found his escape route and now he's back in the sequestered basement with his brother).

While work continued here, the four of us had a wonderful time in PEI.  Mike and I flew out while Tracy and Kevin drove with our bicycles, and then we reversed the procedure on the way home, giving each of us a little road trip.  We spent two nights in Summerside and four in Charlottetown.  The first day, we road part of the Confederation Trail--once upon a time the railway that ran across the island, so fairly flat--and then some of the roads up to the coast and a lighthouse or two.  The roads didn't have the Trail's consideration for flatness, so we went up some inclines.  Kevin let me know that "this is the biggest hill" more than once :)  Around 75-80 km round trip.  That might not sound too bad to an experienced rider (or perhaps terrifying to a newbie), but keep in mind that I only got my bike in April, and hadn't ridden much in two or three decades.  My longest ride prior to this went 43 km.  Thankfully, my co-riders were very kind and considerate, keeping to a pace I could match.

Most of the rest of our rides stuck to various parts of the Confederation Trail (plus a multi-use trail on the north coast), and it only rained one day, but not enough to dissuade us from our journey.  We ate a lot of seafood, deep-fried stuff, and rich sauces, including a full lobster supper in New Glasgow, many cups of seafood chowder (to compare which tasted best), and local brews and ciders.  We went to Summerside's Lobster Carnival and an authentic East Coast Ceilidh in York--The Shenanigans, which turned out as more like a talent show for the elderly than the fiddle-fest we had expected--had some tea leaves read in Long River and saw the sights around the centre of the island; got in some good workouts and laughed a lot, and generally had a great time.

And one last thing that kept me busy right before our trip: publishing my latest novel!  Exclusive to Amazon for 90 days, The Forgotten Magic is now available in Kindle and as a paperback.  I will release it to all other vendors in October, around the time I plan for its official book launch--some time after the renovations are complete.  A sort of Wine & Cheese Book Launch/Come See What We've Done To The Place party :)  Can't wait for the Shenanigans!

Things that get in the way of keeping people up to date: lack of time; lack of news; lack of interest.  In this instance, the second does not hold true.

So what has taken up most of my time, and why might that interest anyone?  I can't speak to what holds your interest, but a lot lately has held mine.  Where do I start?
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I finished the first draft of The Forgotten Magic on May 1 (so close to my internal deadline of the end of April that I'll count it as a definite win).  The book, sequel to The Forgotten King, currently resides in the editorial and beta reader phase.  With any luck, I'll have enough reader input by the end of the month (a huge thanks already to Paul and to Mary Catherine for their fantastic insights) that, in combination with my own editing, I'll have a happily finished product very soon.  And good thing too, as book 2 of The Forgotten is available for pre-order now, with a publishing date in mid-July for amazon, and the beginning of October for other digital outlets (a tale involving international contests and exclusive rights for 90 days that I won't bore you with).  So that little project has kept me busy.

With Mike's parents currently residing at The Resort (as we all call their lovely retirement residence in Bobcaygeon), the 3 siblings have decided to keep the house at the lake as a cottage for any of us interested in its use in the upcoming summer months.  Dad and Mom are thrilled at this decision and fully encouraging in whatever projects we wish to take on to make the place more up-to-date.  This has led to some renovations; from tearing out some of the mismatched carpeting and laying new flooring, to painting, to updating electrical (including identifying mystery switches), to full out bathroom renovations.  Our current project has the upstairs bathroom fully gutted and in the process of receiving new drywall, a new vanity and light, a new fan, a lightly used tub to replace the old icky steel beast, and reusing the toilet (only a few years old).  The lightly used tub has come from our bathroom here.

Why, you might ask, would we pull out our perfectly usable tub, toss it in a van (our first experience with Car Sharing), drive it up north of Peterborough, and drag it across the dubious decking and up some stairs at the cottage in the rain after pulling out the old steel tub?  Why wouldn't we just arrange for a new tub, maybe have someone else install it?
Mostly because of our own renovations here at home.
What started as a kitchen renovation here has, as these things often do, grown into a monster project.  Happily, the scale of the renovation has morphed by our choice and not because of some unfortunate 'thing' uncovered in the process (although the gaping hole in my basement concrete is a wee bit bigger than planned due to some questionable connections to the actual drain that theoretically leads to the street).  Removing walls to make flow-through more accessible and open concept from kitchen to great room in the back led to relocating the guest room and widening that section for eating too.  Which eventually led to staring at the existing bathroom and thinking, "Well, that's pretty much the only room up here we haven't touched.  We should do something about that too!"  So out comes the tub and in goes a shower (we have a tub in the ensuite; two seemed one too many), affording us an extra tub to use elsewhere (like the cottage).

Renovations continue as I type, with less banging and smashing at the moment than in previous days.  Our place is very open at the moment, with a large flush-ceiling beam taking the place of a retaining wall, and the beginnings of other walls (the new bathroom dimensions and new closets) in place.  You'd think, with contractors and professionals, we wouldn't have much to do in the process, but that neglects all the choices we have to make (from cabinets to plumbing, colours to lighting, and anything in between you might think of, plus lots we might not have yet).  So we've kept quite busy in the last few months, and likely will until work ends sometime (hopefully) in August.
I'm just glad I got my book finished before the biggest of this chaos, and will, with any luck, have a decent product ready for publication in the next couple of weeks.
The official book launch party will take place around September, when we have a usable house again!

Ontario winters keep changing, one year having lots of snow but tolerable temperatures, another year reaches double digits in the minus zone (Celsius) and stays there, another has lots of ice storms.  This year, we had one of those yo-yo years, where it might dump a pile of snow one week, then creep up into low but positive temperatures the next, then rain, then freeze, then plummet to where your eyeballs burn from the cold ... and repeat.

Which made our 2 weeks in Costa Rica at the end of February and the beginning of March very pleasant indeed.  From -5 (-20 overnight) to 30+ degrees C and sunshine makes for happy people.

We started our trek by getting a rental car from the San Jose airport and driving about an hour and a half out to Jaco Beach, on the Pacific side of the country.  Six days at a surf camp near (but not right in) a beach town where shorts and a tank top (or a bathing suit) kept the worst of the humidity at bay worked great.  Mike had 3 surfing lessons--one on his birthday--and I had 4 sessions of yoga.  We met a fantastic couple of women (one from Germany and one from Ireland) that we hung out with for pretty much the whole week, having an absolute blast.  Even took a day trip out to Carrera National Park, about 30 minutes away, where we went on a hike with a great guide who showed us Scarlet Macaws, Capuchin Monkies, Howler Monkies, Lizards, 2- and 3-Toed Sloths, Cicadas, Bats, and a wide variety of ants.

Our rental had a few issues (coolant light coming on for one, near bald tires for another), so when the rental company emailed to ask how we liked the car, Mike let them know.  They then arranged for a replacement when one became available, driving it right to the surf camp for us.  As we needed a 4x4 with decent tires for the second half of our trip, this replacement came as something of a relief.

The next leg of our adventure took us further south along the highway, where we broke up our 3+ hours of driving with a monkey challenge (me going through a tame version of a 6-part ninja course) and some zip lining.

Then we arrived at our next destination: the Finca Bellavista treehouse community, where we stayed in the rainforest for 4 nights.  Up a steep and rocky 3-mile road near Piedras Blancas National Park, you come upon this neat community with both renters, volunteers, and full-time home owners.  Our treehouse took a 10-minute walk to reach, and we had solar power and mosquito netting.  Luckily, it wasn't wet season, so we didn't see many bugs (other than the huge one hanging out on the bathroom mirror--likely friends with the gecko in the kitchen).  Finca Bellavista produces most of its own food, which you can purchase to cook up yourself, or have them cook it for you in the communal kitchen/eatery.  We did both.  With a few kilometers of trails, and multiple ones at that--some in loops, some to the river or waterfall, one to a scenic point--we never lacked for things to do.  We had a routine of hiking in the morning, sitting on the covered balcony in the afternoons when it rained, then going to base camp for 'happy hour' where we could meet with others before having some supper before walking back in the dark with myriad stars overhead, the rain clouds having cleared until the next day.

​Our last night of happy hour saw 8 people in the space (one being the bartender), where two of us (including the bartender) didn't have our cellphones out.  I sat there enjoying the view and writing stuff in my head, trying to figure out how to end my next book The Forgotten Magic.  At least when we all got to supper, we sat together and actually spoke to each other.  Better late than never!

On our third and final leg of the journey, we headed inland toward the mountains and cloud forest of the Quetzal Valley.  To break up that 3 hour drive, we stopped at the Nauyaca Waterfall, which is a 4 kilometer hike along a dirt and rock road that we managed to get to around 11 a.m.--so yes, we hiked 4 km each way in the highest heat of the day in a humid rainforest with the sun blazing down.  The waterfall was worth it, though, as well as the birds we saw along the way, including a toucan hanging out in a tree where we could actually see it.

Then we finally reached the Quetzal Valley, driving through the usual 3 p.m. shower.  Nelson met us at Quetzal Valley Cabins and showed us our cabin for the last 4 nights, doing a decent enough job explaining things even though he spoke Spanish, and we pretended we understood more than we did.  He conveyed the most important information; that we could drink the water from the tap, as it was spring fed.  As we had now gone into the higher altitudes (the valley spans somewhere between 8000-11,000 feet, depending on what part you're in), the temperatures had fallen.  The days ranged from 13-18 degrees C, and the nights went as low as 8.  The cabin had a heater and four layers of sheets/blankets on the bed.  We huddled under the blankets and toughed it out without the heater, though that first night saw a couple of chilly noses.
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​Quetzal Valley is famous for its population of the Resplendent Quetzal, a long-tailed and colourful bird, which we never did see despite learning a few places to look.  We did see many other birds though (like yellow thigh finches, black guam, collared redcap, swifts, hawks, sooty thrush, maybe some warblers and flycatchers) and hiked some very hilly terrain.  The path to the waterfall near the end of the road had some quite exciting patches, including bridges and stairs lacking some under-foot mesh (so you're walking on less-than-stable metal cross-pieces rather than full bridges) and a tree across the final stairs.  Also, the rope assist down to the actual waterfalls was great fun!

Most times, we ate at a place called Miriam's Quetzals, a nice little family-run business with good food.  They also had a spot out back with hummingbird feeders and a platform for feeding other birds, such as acorn woodpeckers and tanagers.

​On the last full day, we drove up to the highest spot of Cerro de la Muerte ('Summit of Death' at 3335 metres, or nearly 11 000 feet, where they have all their antennas and cell towers set up) and did some wandering.  We watched the clouds roll through, stealing the sun and masking everything outside a few metre radius, cloaking the world in a haze of mist.  We found one path that our GPS said went about a kilometre (a rather steep km down) and followed that, watching the flora change from scrubby and dull to lush and colourful, and when we reached the end, discovered that we had followed a maintenance road to a hydro tower.  Not as inspiring as we might have hoped.  We found a craggy rock to climb when we got back to the top and found the 'real' path that people likely usually take.  Hey, we always like finding things off the beaten track ...

We love Costa Rica, with its kind and generous people, fantastic scenery, awesome flora and fauna, and all around good feeling.  Mike's already planning next year's trip, possibly making this an annual outing.  Definitely worth it!

We all have best intentions; we all have intended goals.  We don't always reach them.

I had intended to reach 50 000 words in The Forgotten Magic by the end of December.  It seemed a reasonable goal at the beginning of the month when I had a little over 40 000 already written.  Less than 10 000 words--that's only 1000 words for 10 days, and 31 days to work with.  Surely achievable, despite preparations for the upcoming holidays.

Okay, so a few things got in the way.  My mother having open heart surgery for one.  We knew it was coming (after all, we had most of a month lead-time to prepare), and I figured I could work in some writing in between helping her prepare for the holidays (decorating her house, little bit of baking, some last minute shopping for both her and dad), but my mind didn't always stay on task.  Then the day of the surgery, and most of the following week with daily visits to the hospital--luckily only about 10 minutes away, so fortunately I could visit every day--around which time I managed to add about 6000 words, not bad, but not 10 000.  [She's doing well now, on the road to recovery, though often tired.  Some good days, some bad, taking it easy.]

Then came Christmas, with Mike and I travelling to visit family.  That's where we found the flu (not influenza, so it's not like the flu shot would have helped, but the stomach flu, the 24-hour kind that jumps out of nowhere and slams you to the ground, holding you hostage until you surrender everything in your gut several times before finally letting you go ... reluctantly).  A couple of days in 'quarantine' in Mike's brother's basement until we felt well enough to climb back in the car and make our way home.  Where we took it easy.

Happily, by New Year's Eve, we had fully recovered.  Just as well, as we had a few people over for food and drink, ping pong, and other games that night.   Lots of fun, not so much writing.

So January came, and I hadn't met my goal for December.  Thankfully, as a self-imposed goal, I had no problems stretching it.  New goal: make the December goal by mid-January, and reach for another 10 000 words by the end of January.  Well, today I reached the 50 000 mark.  Hoping I can keep it up!

Of course, it would help a lot if I could figure out just how I'm going to end the story.  I mean, I know the epilogue, what happens after; the climax, I'm still working out.  But it's getting there ....  We'll see what the rest of the month brings.

I have written and published four novels.  Until now, I have never had a book launch, so I decided the time had come.  On October 27, 2018, I hosted a Wine & Cheese Book Launch for my newest fantasy book The Forgotten King here at home.  My favourite comment from many when they received their invitation went something like: "I've never been to a book launch (or literary event) before!"  My response: "Me neither!"  I have had two previous opportunities to attend the launch of a friend (one by the dear Susan Deefholts--who wrote under the pen name Kathryn Anthony before she passed--and one by Carolyn Wilker, whom I at least got to see with her set-up in the Waterloo Chapters a few months back), but both times just didn't work with my schedule.  It only occurred to me much later that I had, in fact, attended a book launch /Q-A event at the Kitchener Chapters in the summer with Kelley Armstrong.  So my response should have gone more along the lines of: "I've never hosted a book launch."
Well, now I have, and I had a wonderful turnout of friends, family, neighbours, and fantastic people all around.  I didn't know quite what to expect, or how to prepare, so I started with invitations through evite and Facebook, a few emails, and word of mouth.  And lots of cheese and wine. 
The overwhelming support from all warmed my heart, especially those I had lost contact with (such as some folks from church), or had only met in the last few months (awesome band people and neighbours).  People wanted to buy my books--all my books--even if they couldn't attend the party, and that (perhaps obviously, though I believe I cannot overstate this) truly makes a writer's day.  It's not about the money, not for me.  It's about the enjoyment I can share, the escapism I can provide through my writing.  Knowing that someone can take time in a world I created in which to relax, to envision people and places that sprang from my mind to blossom in theirs, and that my work might make someone else smile--that's the epitome of this author's goal.  The fellowship of achieving some of this through a party, of sharing time and a love of reading,  of making people happy, is truly a blessing.
​Thank you all who made my first book launch (even if it was for my fourth book) a huge success!  I'm looking forward to many more :)

p.s., any reviews, on any of my books, on any site listing them, even if you didn't like the book, is greatly appreciated :D
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