May 2008

A fresh start

I feel very happy today.  A quiet peaceful happy.  I talked with Laura Langlie today and I really liked her, so she will be my literary agent from here on out. 

It’s a good feeling not to have those unfinished dangling ends nagging at me when I’m trying to write, saying “You really need to deal with this, Meg.  It’s all well and good to be writing away in your room, but who is going to submit these manuscripts?  Tundra wants to do Try And Stop Me.  Who’s going to handle that?”

Laura is.  A new beginning.  I feel lucky. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, May 13, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Hello everybody

Just wanted to share the good news with you.  Porcupine was chosen by the TRISTATE YOUNG ADULT BOOK REVIEW COMMITTEE as one of their “Books of Note.” Whoohooo! 

My thanks to the public schools, public libraries and private schools in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware who decided to include my novel on your Books of Note list.  I am thrilled!  There is something very distinguished sounding about having written a Book of Note.  Makes me feel ten feet tall.  Well, for a while anyway.  I’m sure the feeling will dissipate tonight when Don takes himself off to play ball hockey and I return to my writing room for another wrestling bout with my new/old (formerly The Big Muckle) manuscript. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, May 12, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Unusual, but good

I was going through my purse and I found an unexpected gift in it.  A small candy encased in a brown and gold and red shinny wrapper.  It had all sorts of interesting writing on it that was in a foreign language that I couldn’t read.  And when I made the happy discovery of it, I instantly remembered where I had gotten it.  Boris from The Northern Voices Conference was at the BC Book Prizes Soiree and I’m not sure how we got on the topic of candy, but somehow we managed, and he pulled a handful of these candies from his jacket pocket and I was the lucky recipient of one. 

I offered him one of my own, but since they were not exciting and were not wrapped and were rolling around in the bottom of the cute little French quilted purse with dangling decorative fowls dancing around the opening that my sister Jenny had given me, he decided to decline.  The interior of the purse looked quite clean, but I guess Boris was squeamish.

Anyway, I have this candy in my mouth as I type this, and I have to say, it is quite unusual.  Very fruity.  A strong (I can’t quite place the fruit?  Cantaloupe?  A melon?  A tropical fruit?) taste.  I know the minute someone would place the flavor I would say, oh yes.  Of course. 

Oops.  The last fragment of the candy has just dissolved.  So now, there is no way I’ll be able to pinpoint it for you.

I’m glad Don wasn’t here when I found it in my purse, because he probably would have confiscated it.  He doesn’t trust anything anyone gives me, unless it is from him or my kids or my sisters of course.  He’s over protective by a long shot. 

Anyway, it was just Boris.  I sort of know Boris.  And I was curious.  And it tasted good.  And I’m not feeling any unusual pain or discomfort in my stomach, so all’s well that ends well.  We just won’t tell Don is all.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, May 11, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Dinner in the big city

We were going go to someone’s house tonight for a BBQ but they came down with the flu.  So we decided that going out for a delicious King Crab in the city was what was called for.  Don called our favorite Chinese restaurant and lo-and-behold, they had a King Crab that was still up for grabs.  Don reserved both a table and the crab.  5 pm, because the minute he knew a crab dinner was in our future, his mouth got very hungry and impatient.

We got to the restaurant five minutes early.  No one was in the lobby and there was the loud noise of someone pushing an industrial vacuum cleaner around and the clanking of dishes.  We waited.  So pleased that we had come up with this good idea.

Dinner was delicious.

We declined dessert.  Don and Will probably because they were full, but me?  I was thinking ahead.  I was planning on waiting until we were out on the street to hit them up with the old, “Hey, anybody want to walk over to Robson for a caramel apple?”

As we exited the doors of the restaurant, Don groaned and said, “I’m so full.”

“Me too,” said Will. 

I wasn’t.  I’d saved room.  No worries.  There was no law saying that just because they were full didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be happy for a little after dinner walk, with me.  Robson street always feels like an event waiting to happen.

I opened my mouth to make the caramel apple suggestion when we came across a rather small person with their upper body curled up around them-self, face down in the dirt.  The hips twisted slightly, legs dangling down the cement flowerbed wall, next to a full garbage can.  The yellow tulips were in bloom and there were some pretty pink delicate flowers as well.  One of this person’s arms was tucked under the body.  The other was hunched into itself, the hand gnarled around into almost an exaggerated claw.  The fingers of the arm this person was lying on looked feminine, delicate, swollen and a reddish purple color because, I don’t know, lack of circulation.  I could see a few thin red scratch marks in her dirt matted scalp.  Didn’t know if the dirt had been embedded in the hair for a while or if this person had been in a different position in the dirt before the torso curled itself into this modified fetal position.

There was a middle aged man, bottle thick lenses on his glasses.  Holding a plastic carry bag in his left hand.  “Are you alright?” He was saying.  “Are you alright?” He was shaking.  I walked over, Don and Will followed.  “I’m worried,” he said, looking lost.  I tried to rouse what I thought was a woman, with a mans haircut to keep her safe on the street.  No response.  “Listerine,” the middle aged man said.  “It’s poison.  People die from it.” At first I didn’t know what he was talking about, and then I noticed the Listerine smell.  So strong my eyes smarted.  “I’m scared,” the middle aged man said.  “I don’t want this person to just die on the street.  I...” he was staring at this person like maybe it was himself he was seeing.  “I feel terrible.  I am just coming from the liquor store.  I walked down to get a bottle of wine to bring back to my apartment.”

I put my hand on the shoulder of this curled up person.  Gingerly.  She was breathing.  “Are you okay?” I said.  Nervous that she was dead already, but scared too, that she would come too and roar at me.  Bite my hand.  Or that somehow, by touching her, I would become her.

No response. 

We decided to call 911.  Don had his cell.  The operator on the other end asked us to describe the person.  Hard to do when the person is lying face down in the dirt. 

“We are supposed to roll her on her back,” Don said, listening hard in the phone, his other finger stuck in his ear.  “I’m going to roll you over,” I said.  I tried first gently, but the person’s body was stiff, hard.  “I can’t,” I said.  “Are you sure that’s what we’re supposed to do?  What if she throws up, she’ll choke on it.”

“We have to roll her over.” I put more muscle into it.  And got her onto her back.  She had some straggly whiskers on her upper lip and coming out of her chin.  She was way younger than I had thought.  Late twenties maybe.  Her mouth moved.  “You have to tip her head back.”

“It is tipped back,” I said.  All of a sudden a grey haired woman in her late fifties, early sixties, was at the woman’s head.

“We have to tip it back more,” she said and she did.  Her hand hovering over this persons mouth.  “Her breath is regular.” She said, to Don who told the person on the phone.  I was glad she was there.  And that’s when I noticed the hospital bracelets on the right hand. 

“Excuse me,” I said to the unconscious person.  “I’m going to check your wrist.” The name on the band was a man’s name.  I felt embarrassed.  Hoped he hadn’t heard me somewhere in his unconscious mind saying he was a woman.  That he had a woman’s hands. 

There was the sound of sirens.  A fire truck screeched to a halt.  A second later an ambulance jumped up onto the sidewalk and we were surrounded by professionals.  One of the guys from the fire truck, got within four feet and said.  “Listerine.  Now that’s what I call fresh.” And then they got busy.  I don’t know if that is from a TV ad or something, but they didn’t need us anymore, so we left. 

Nobody was interested in ambling down to get a caramel apple.  And I wasn’t sure if I wanted one anymore myself. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, May 10, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

An opinion

I thought maybe some of my readers might be interested in this paragraph that I lifted from Richard Russell’s Dow Theory Remarks today.  Richard Russell writes the incredibly brilliant Dow Theory Letters.  It is a financial newsletter, but he writes about many things.  His cactus, his family, past and present, WWII, the great depression, what it was like living in New York when one could buy a great dinner for 35 cents.  What the garment district was like in New York way back when.  How the great depression affected his father.  He is an 83 year old WWII vet.  I’m pretty sure he was B52 bomber pilot, I know he was in the fighter planes because he has generously shared many of his memories, but I’m can’t remember for sure what his particular job was up there in the air.  He has lived through many presidents, I believe he is Republican (I don’t know if he still is) Anyway, here it is for those of you who are interested.

“In less than a year, George W. Bush will leave us. He’ll leave with some of the lowest approval ratings of any president in US history. He’ll leave us with 81 percent (April poll) of the American people believing that the country is on the “wrong track.” He’ll leave with the US heavily in debt. He’ll leave with the US sunk in a tragic and expensive war that has lasted longer than WW II. He’ll leave with the US disliked and mistrusted by perhaps half the population of the world. He’ll leave with the dollar, the world’s reserve currency, in tatters. He’ll leave with a US tax system that is complicated beyond description—he’ll leave with never having attempted to change it. He’ll leave with a crazy ethanol program that is taking up one-third of our corn production, and which in turn has upset the food situation in much of the world.”

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, May 09, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

missing Jenny

I woke up this morning around half an hour before the alarm went off.  Stretched luxuriously, wiggled my toes and thought happily, “If I hadn’t pulled out of that movie, I would be getting ready to go in a couple of days.” And it was such a feeling of abundance that I stayed on that happy thought for the next little while.  It was a wonderful way to start the day. 

My only regret with the whole thing is that I won’t be spending that time with my sister, Jenny.  Being creative with her.  Diving in to our alternate reality, the characters and their joint lives.  I wish that ________ wasn’t such a piece of work, because then it would have been so much fun. 

Actually, you know, I just thought of something funny.  It probably would have felt pretty familiar in an odd sort of messed up way.  The reason us girls dived so deeply into the make-believe worlds, pretending to be princesses, merchant’s daughters and elaborate games of Barbies that spread out all over the floor of our room with continuous stories that went on for days, was that it provided an escape from the hard work and challenges of our home life.  So, maybe working amidst yucko’s dictatorship would have felt like old times? 

Not getting to work with my sister, that’s the loss.  She was the best at make-believe.  Came up with the most exciting, inventive storylines.  Sometimes, when we were playing Barbies, Suzanne, Becky and I would find that we would drift over to where Jenny’s Barbies were hanging out, our own uninspired Barbies hanging limp in our hands, while Jenny’s Barbies went on dates and boys kissed them, and they got into all kinds of mischief.  Jenny was the ring leader growing up.  Anything she did was so much more thrilling than anything we could come up with. 

So, I’m sorry about that.  Would have loved to work with Jenny, but not on this particular project.  That would most emphatically not have been fun.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, May 09, 2008 in

A writer does what one must

Okay, so I didn’t make cookies.  I was thinking about Oatmeal but I was short on raisins and Oatmeal cookies are nothing with out enough raisins so that there is a least one in every bite. 

I had the makings for Chocolate chips but I didn’t feel like them.  Ditto for my peanut butter cookies.  I played with the idea of making Pecan Puffs, but discarded it.  And then, at long last, I settled on Brownies. 

It was a good choice.  I got them in the oven at five minutes to three, dashed over to Will’s school, felt nice and relaxed in the passenger seat on the way home.  First, because (thank goodness) Will’s driving skills have much improved.  And secondly, I was thinking about the nice pipping hot brownies that I would be sliding out of the oven when we got home. 

Coming in the front door was like a miniature celebration, the chocolaty warm promising smells of delicious brownies seducing our senses.  We did not pause but made our way straight into the kitchen.  Don came loping up the stairs from the basement the minute he heard our voices.  “Is it brownie time?” he said hopefully. 

AND IT WAS!

We poured ourselves nice full cups of refrigerator cold organic milk, cut out huge portions of hot brownies and sat down at our kitchen table and devoured them.  Don plunging his up to his finger tips into his glass of milk.  Will and I stuck to taking a mouthful of brownie and then washing it down with a slug of milk.  All of us, happy.  Don and Will had to go back for seconds.  I managed to stick to one.  That is until later, when I snuck-carved a slice off another. 

Then I went back into my writing room and managed to squeeze out my writing quota.  Phew.  I don’t know if it’s any good or not, but at least I can relax for the rest of the evening. 

After dinner (Don cooked) I made an icing out of a small slab of butter, some icing sugar, cocoa, a sprinkle of salt, a little heavy whipping cream and a dollop of Kahlua.  And then I spread it on the half of the pan of brownies that remained.  Yum!  I can hardly wait until I’m hungry again so I can eat some more.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, May 08, 2008 in

sigh…

Yesterdays writing went so well that it took me a little while to get my head out of the story when we were driving into town to the panel I was on for the Authors Association.  But luckily, by the time we finished dinner, I had called myself back. 

The problem is...today.  My writing is just not flowing today.  It’s stiff, no give.  I can’t seem to drop in.  Frustrating. 

It’s one of those writing days were I feel I’m just banging my head against a wall.  Pointless.  Futile.  Why bother.  All this effort to eek out a paragraph or two.  And no...I’m not exaggerating.  That’s all I’ve been able to manage, and I’ve been at it for hours.  And the worst part is that what I have eeked out, sucks. 

I think the problem is, yesterday was one of those magical writing days, where everything flowed, surprises revealed themselves to me, things seemed to make sense, fall into place.  And so I was very excited to enter my writing room today.  Knew it was going to be great.  HA!

I should probably go for a walk.  Get out of this airless claustrophobic space, where it feels like no matter what I type, how hard I work, I will end up tossing everything I wrote today, into the garbage, so I can start fresh. 

I hate this type of writing day.

You know what?  I’m going to go make some cookies.  Maybe a couple warm cookies and a cold glass of milk will help.  That’s what I’ll do.  And then I’ll go back in and try to work some more on the manuscript tonight. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, May 08, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Sorry

I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to blog yesterday.  And now, just a quick note, while I wait for K.C. to ring my doorbell, so we can carpool together to the Canadian’s Author’s Panel tonight (which we, along with James McCann are speaking at.) I will try to blog when I get back if it’s not too late, otherwise, I’ll do a nice cozy chat tomorrow. 

I’ve been writing is the thing.  Well, yesterday was spent in play, but the rest of my free time has been gobbled up with the book.  It is quite amazing how deeply I feel I’ve plunged in, in such a short period of time.

Today, it went from that absolute gut-grinding fear and feeling of incompetence, to a cautious feeling of “oh my, I think...I hope...it seems this might...could...maybe will work.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, May 07, 2008 in

more mother hening

I read this little tidbit from a Financial Times article.  There was a lot more besides, but unless you are interested in that kind of stuff, it can be long and lugubrious.  But when I read this particular sentence it caused my stomach to drop. 

“MasterCard on Tuesday said first-quarter profits more than doubled to $447 million, or $3.38 per share, as US consumers put more expenses such as food and petrol on their cards.”

The reason I found it so scary was because that means that people are now going into even deeper debt just to put food on the table.  And with the financial world tightening credit, this seems to me to have the makings of a disaster waiting to explode. 

And then when I listened to the BNN interview with Don Coxe from BMO Financial Group, who specializes in commodities, I got even more worried.  He was talking about the precarious situation that we are in.  And said that unless we have great crops, and everything falls together and the weather cooperated, we could very well have a sustained food crisis in the coming year. 

He said that people might have to double the amount of money they use of their income on food. And that “If we have a crop failure, God help us.” He pointed out that this will effect everyone but the very rich, because food is not something that you can do without.

Anyway, I don’t know what the answer to this is, but again.  Just in case.  Don’t wait until it is on your doorstep.  Figure out now, what your family will need to do, if in fact our food bills double in the next year.  What can you do now, that would help you get safely through this?  Do you need to take on a part time job?  Is there anywhere you can cut back on expenses?  If so tuck that money away.  Or perhaps use it to buy a few staples that have a long shelf life. 

And if we have a bumper crop year?  Yay!  Then you will hopefully have extra funds to put away for a later date when you might need them. 

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, May 05, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

I’m tired…

The Dallas Stars and the San Jose Sharks are having the battle of the Titans.  It is very late, and we are still up, because they are now going to be going into the 4th overtime!  The fourth. Each overtime goes for twenty minutes unless someone scores.  The score is one-one and the goalies Marty Turco and Evgeni Nabokav have been playing amazing.

I’m still up, because this is a crazy game, and it’s one of those games where I can’t just pad upstairs and go to sleep, because apparently this marathon game is one of the most exciting games ever played.  And something as thrilling as this, needs company.  Don’s watching the game, and I’m watching Don and now I just got smart and brought my computer in the family room and am blogging to you. 

They have played the equivalent of two full games and the Dallas Stars have oxygen at their bench.  It is after 11 pm here and after 1 am there.  It’s going to be a little challenging to do the spring out of bed at 6:45 tomorrow morning to make breakfast and get Will off to school.  I wonder how many more overtimes there are going to be tonight? 

It’s gotten so that I am worrying for both teams. They are playing so hard and passionate, and the goalies are like super heroes.  It’s like I want someone to score so I can go to bed, and yet I don’t want anyone to score because I’ll feel bad for the team that lost because really, they both deserve to win. 

And you know what?  Best of all, no fighting!  The game is too crucial.  Nobody wants to take a penalty. 

Okay, the break is over.  We are going into the fourth overtime.  I don’t know what to wish for.  I’m pooped, I can’t even begin to imagine how tired the players must be. 

The camera crew is panning the crowd, a little boy, fast asleep, a couple staring in a zombie like fashion, her head resting on his shoulder.  Already both goalies have made another save.  This is crazy.  Marty Turco has made 60 saves!  Nabokav just made another body flinging save.  That is ridiculous goal tending.

Even the dogs have collapsed in exhaustion.  Molly went upstairs and put herself into her kennel and Scooter is snoozing in the armchair.  I’d like to be snoozing too.

Well, I don’t think I’ll keep blogging until someone wins, because like the game, this could turn into the longest blog in the world. 

Nite everybody.  I hope you don’t have hockey nuts for husbands and are sleeping comfy in your beds.  xo

Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, May 04, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

The house to myself

Will is better today, thank God.  So after his drum class, he and Don decided to race to the theater to see Iron Man.  I don’t know who was more excited. 

It’s nice having the house to myself.  I don’t feel lonely at all.  I guess it’s because I know this alone time isn’t a forever situation.  When the sun came out, the dogs started dancing at the door.  Wanting to go out and play, take advantage of the dawning Spring day.  We’ve had such bouts of weird weather, for such a long time.  It’s funny though, I had never really thought about it before, that the weather mattered to them as well.  But it does.  These two mutts we have are sunshine junkies.  So even they have abandoned the house to me.  I’ve opened the door a few times, in case they are tired of frolicking about, but they’ve showed no interest in returning.

Once Don and Will had headed out, I did the breakfast clean up, nice and leisurely, no rush.  The only thing waiting for me after that was my computer.  I put the waffle iron back away in the cupboard, cleared the table, wiped it, did the dishes.  Then I ate a piece of smoked cheddar cheese, made myself a cup of tea, cut myself off a hunk of chocolate and then disappeared into my writing room.

This re-write is not feeling like re-writes usually do.  It is much slower going.  More like the start of a new book.  I’m only a few pages in, but I’m still having to read back, re-work everything again and again.  A character who I hadn’t planned on including her POV, has insisted that I do.  This format that I am using is so different that anything I’ve ever done, and it’s difficult to know if it works or not.  If it still gets across what I want to?  Or if it is too removed?  And then, when I get on a roll, I find myself slipping back into a style that doesn’t work for this manuscript, but is what feels comfortable.  And so I have to rework it.  And then rework it again.  And then I wonder since the other is so easy, if maybe I’m not listening properly to what needs doing, and instead, trying to force it into a shape or idea I have instead of what it should be?

I don’t have any answers at this point.  I’m just showing up at the page, ready to work.  I don’t know whether this ultimately will work or not.  We’ll see.

I hope you all have a nice weekend.  I think I’m going to go outside for a while.  Take in a walk, the sunshine, breathe in the fresh air after being cloistered in my writing room for so long.  Stretch out the kinks.  Bye for now.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, May 03, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

Ooh…somebody has a temper

Okay, the offensive blog has been deleted.  Happy?

Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, May 02, 2008 in

Hello

My boy Dave was here for a couple of days with his bud Derek.  They’d gone up to Oregon on a road trip saw some friends, mountain biked all over the place.  Swung by here to see the family.  And it was nice, having them in the house, so appreciative of home cooked food.  I baked up a storm, Don too.  My pants are feeling a bit snug at the moment, but I don’t care.  It was lovely having David home.  I wish Will had been feeling better.  Felt bad that he was sick.  He loves it when David and/or Emily come home. 

I wrote again today.  I was scared to go in.  Scared that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish what I think this manuscript needs.  Still don’t know if I can, but I’m glad that I made myself sit down at the page.  Slow going in the beginning.  Working for a long time, only able to eek out two and a half pages.  But two and a half pages is better than no pages.  And I feel real good that I faced my fears.  That I went in, even though I was tired and wanted to go to bed. 

Good, bad or indifferent, I went in, sat down, turned my computer on, and tried to write.  And you know what, that’s an accomplishment in itself.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, May 01, 2008 in Chewing the Fat

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