CategoriesArchivesJanuary 2009 |
Coastal TrekWe are having a most magnificent time. I can’t believe this place isn’t booked to the gills. I guess because it is new and people don’t know about it, but oh my! The hikes here are amazingly beautiful. I can’t believe that I’ve lived in B.C. most of my life and didn’t even know some of the places we’ve visited existed. Every day a new hike, that blows my socks off with the grandeur of this planet we live on. I mean, why go all the way to the other side of the world when such heart-stoppingly gorgeous landscape is here on our doorstep? I want to bring my family here, to eat this healthy, delicious food that Kathy and Andrea make, and take them on these walks. It’s not just for fancy, hot-shot hiking extremists. Seriously. The first two days, Mike (the guide) broke it up in sections. A nice little hike. A shopping excursion. Another nice little hike and then a visit to a local stoneworker/sculptor, because I had admired the beautiful fireplace that he had made here in the Coastal Trek lodge. Another little hike. And we only had to do 8 kms total. Very doable. I mean, it was a cinch. The hikes are tailored to the guests that are in the lodge at any particular week. So, if there are people that want to go straight up for 8 hours straight…that can be arranged. And then there are people like me and Dawna, ages 48, and 52. We no longer are interested in being the fastest and the first. We just would like to get in better shape and not have a heart-attack doing it. And that is exactly what we are doing! So, today, because our confidence was up from the last two days, we ended up doing 13 kms through Strathacona (I spelt that wrong) park and we even managed to hike until we were up really high and then back down again. There were creeks with spotted brown trout and one with a red stripe down it’s side and polka-dots. The Alpine meadows were in full bloom, and to me, fancy gardens can’t even come close to to matching their beauty. Natural ponds with water lilies. Delicate little flowers, wild heather, purple and white, wild orchids, pale pink flowers with delicate petals and nodding heads, stunning vibrant ones in many colors, but everything with such a subtle touch. Nothing heavy handed. And that tender soft green of new growth that always seems so hopeful, and even though it’s well into July, that’s the way it was way up there, because the snow had just finished melting. We were hiking in first growth trees, but I never would have known it if Mike hadn’t said so, because they were one zillionth the size of trees we have seen in the last few days. Yet they were as old, or older, just stunted by being encased in snow for most of the year. The streams and lakes were unbelievable clear. How I remember they used to be, when I was a girl. And then we would be out of the meadow, who was so peaceful and serene and confident of her beauty and then there we were, trekking through shaded woods, up muddy and rocky paths with Mike regaling us with stories of days gone past and the lakes and streams got their names, and a million other things. And the water falls that we visited yesterday, and the rain forest the day before, with wild berries abundant on the bushes and more ferns that I have ever seen in one place at one time. And the food here is delicious and everybody is so nice. Truly nice. Not just pretending to be. I am so glad I came and I want to come here again and again, because I will only be able to see a tiny spoonful of all that there is to see. So, I’m really glad I came, that I didn’t get scared off. Because, and I know this is going to sound weird, but it’s real peaceful here. I feel nicely tired, not dog-ass tired. See the thing is, Mike makes everything sound so exciting that I don’t even notice I’m hiking my butt off, I just want to see more, and more and more. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, July 28, 2008 in Chewing the Fat A lapse in judgement…Well, my dear blogging buddies, today, as you read my posting, you will be very happy you aren’t me. Remember my good friend, Dawna? You know, the one who was a guest-blogger and compared us to Lucy and Ethel? Well…Around two months ago, we got to talking on the phone, and decided that it would be a great idea to go on a little holiday together. We’d been missing each other’s company, what with her living on the Island and me on the Mainland. The last time we had seen each other was way back in the Spring when I had those school visits and she blogged for me. Now, both of us have sort of fallen off the wagon a titch. She with her weight (she had lost a TON but was starting to creep back up) And me? Well, let’s just say, that for normal people I probably still look great, but I’d just hit the 4 lbs over my full-term pregnancy weight the day we were chatting, and that’s how we (I) came up with the “great” idea. An exercising holiday! Well…it sounded like a good idea, but now, I am questioning my sanity. See, I had figured that the idea of this hiking holiday with my friend would motivate me. That I would spend the next two months getting in such kick-ass shape that the 10-20km daily hikes would be a breeze. And yes, you read that right. 10 to 20 km A DAY!!! Gadzooks, what was I thinking? I haven’t hit the gym. I haven’t hit the treadmill. I haven’t been lifting even small weights, let alone gargantuan ones. What have I been doing? You might be asking yourself. Well, what I have been doing to prepare for this “holiday” is eat everything that I am positive they will deny me. I have, to be fair, cajoled a couple of friends to go for a few walks. And I mean a few, like maybe 8-10 total walks in a two month period, but we are talking about an hour’s meander through the flora and fauna of all the great parks that grace our beautiful landscape out here. An hour or two Well, let me tell you what the Internet says about what Dawna and I are going to experience. A 6am wake up for a yoga class! My longtime readers know how fond I am of yoga. But for you new comers let me interpret. I suck. We will have a nutritious breakfast of what I am sure will contain nothing but laxatives, so in addition to hiking, we can spend the day working on our butt-clenching muscles as well. Then at 8:30 a.m. they take us out in a van and drop us off in the wilderness, where we are expected to hike a mere 10-20 km of varied inclines, which we have to do, there is no whining or turning back, because the van drops us off and then doesn’t pick us up and return us to the lodge until 4:30pm at the other end of the trail! At which time, do we get to relax? Hell no! We have an exercise class with weights and what-not. Then there is a cooking class, dinner, I will try to bandage up what I am sure will be hamburger meat feet, try to eek out a few pages on the manuscript I’m working on and then collapse into bed wondering why in the hell I am paying good money for this. Anyway, we start our great adventure on Friday for a full seven days. Sit back, and enjoy the smug feeling that none of you were stupid enough to sign up for this folly. xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, July 22, 2008 in Chewing the Fat BELLAGIO CUP IVI just got this email from my sister, Suzanne, and I think she wrote it way better than I can, so here it is. “Hi Meg, And then right on the heels of that email…I got this one! “YIKES!!! GOOOOOOOO JENNIFER!!!! ( Heh…heh…heh. I just looked it up on-line and there is Jen’s picture, right at the top! And I’m related to her. I feel quite proud and a little bit smug. Like I am super clever by osmosis.)
Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, July 15, 2008 in Chewing the Fat ice cream mushWe made a healthy dinner of halibut, cooked with a little tomato, garlic, olive oil, basil and fresh onion and a little pot of wild rice. Delicious. Nutritious. And virtuous to boot. After an hour or so of feeling smug, reality hit, and I had to have something sinful. The problem was, with Will in England, Dave on the Island and Emily over there too, I didn’t have the fridge loaded with anything that called my name. So…I made something up. And it was really tasty, so here it is. Ice Cream Mush -Take around a clenched-fist sized piece of peanut brittle and chop it up into chunks that are around the size of chocolate chips. - Then take a hunk of milk chocolate (I’m sure semi sweet would work as well) And shave off around the same amount as you have of the peanut brittle. -Then scoop out some vanilla ice cream into a mixing bowl and sprinkle the chopped peanut brittle and chocolate on top. -Mash together with your spoon until blended. -Now pour some rum in the bowl and stir that in. Just a glug or two. -Blend. -Place back into the freezer for around 15 minutes or longer to set. Then DEVOUR! It’s really good. I feel quite pleased with my new creation. Hope you like it too! Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, July 12, 2008 in Recipes July 8thToday is Emily’s birthday, I have an angel food cake baking in the oven. Angel food cake always takes longer to cook than the recipe says. It’s ten minutes past the recommended time already, but the cake is still jiggly. I figure it will be another 10 to 15 minutes more, which will bring the grand total of cooking minutes up to 55-60 min. The recipe said 30-35. So, to all of you cookers out there, use your common sense when it comes to cooking. If the recipe says one thing, but the chicken is still pouring blood, or the cake is jiggly, or the cookies are uncooked and doughy…throw that baby back in the oven for a little bit longer. Every oven cooks differently. Anyway, I bought some fresh organic strawberries and will cut them up to serve on top with freshly whipped cream that I’ll sweeten with a little bit of powdered sugar and a dollop of vanilla. David dragged himself out of bed early and caught the 8 o’clock ferry, so he should be arriving at any minute. After the cake, we will go birthday shopping, because Emily has grown, and since I am no longer a part of her day to day, I have no idea what she wants or needs. And then, to top it all off, dinner! Where seafood will be enthusiastically consumed, and we will order whatever we want, and eat it, and order some more. And we’ll toast Will, so that he will be at our birthday celebration in spirit. And I will think about my friend in the hospital, because it’s his birthday too. And I send him good wishes and healing thoughts and hope that there are many more birthdays to come. And hope that he is surrounded right now, by the people closest to him and that they bring him joy and comfort and give him the best possible care. Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, July 08, 2008 in Chewing the Fat In our prayersHeartbroken to find out that you are in the hospital again. Holding you in our hearts and praying for your good health and happiness. xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, July 07, 2008 in Chewing the Fat Bathroom tearsWe dropped Will off at school and then Don drove me to the ferry terminal. I found on the ride over that I was missing him already. Don had never done a drop off at this ferry before, which I find amazing since he is supposedly the adventurous one and yet I’m the one who has been here many times. “Turn here,“ I said. “And then a right into here to the drop off section.“ He carefully pulled up so that the car was directly opposite the entrance doors. He stayed parked by the side of the curb, blowing me kisses until I disappeared inside the building. I went into the women’s bathroom, rather than the ticket terminal. I was on the tail end of my period and needed frequent bathroom pit stops through out the day. I hoisted my computer bag off of my shoulder and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, coated the seat with toilet paper, and sat down. I wondered if he noticed that I went into the bathroom door rather than the ticket counter? Whether he’d still be there waiting by the curb, clenching his fist over his heart, smiling out of the window, blowing me kisses, to accompany me to the booth where I would pay for my fare? The outer door of the women’s bathroom banged open. I could hear footsteps, a thump of something being put down, a clatter as something plastic fell to the cement floor. And I heard something else. Broken hearted sobbing. I froze. I was in the process of wiping, but what should I do now? She probably thought that she was alone. If I went out would it make it worse? Would she have to deal with embarrassment as well as bone weary hopeless sorrow? I finished what I was doing and then waited. After a few minutes the explosion of sobs seemed to calm slightly. There was movement noise as if she was pulling it together, busying herself. I waited a few more seconds and when it seemed relatively calm, I stood, swept the toilet paper on the seat into the bowl with my foot, buttoned my jeans, zipped. It was one of those automated flushing toilets so it flushed itself. I took my computer bag off the hook and slung it over my shoulder and exited. My plan was to not look over, wash my hands and exit, acting like I hadn’t heard, inadvertently witnessed, her grief. I washed, all but my middle finger on my right hand, as I had five minutes earlier applied a Band-Aid there to protect a hangnail. I was moving quickly, keeping my head facing forward, but she was trying to fill a Gatorade bottle with water and the machinations of the sink proved to be too much for her to handle. When she would get the bottle under the tap, the automated sink would turn off, and when she took it away the swipe of her fingers holding the bottle would activate the faucet again. She hit the faucet with her palm, fingers curled slightly under like the effort of straightening them was more than her body could do, a cry escaping from her throat. “Here. See.“ I reached over, still not looking up, and put my fingers in front of the sensor. “It needs.“ I wasn’t sure what I was saying really. She managed to get her shaking hands to hold the Gatorade bottle under the streams of water. Her hands were street hands. Tanned, hardened and calloused, the nails thicker than normal nails, and yellowed, and broken with dirt underneath. The water mingling with the leftover blue of the Gatorade, then she pulled the bottle away. “Is that enough?“ I asked. Her head jerked up to look at me. Lost. Dark shadows under hollowed out, frightened eyes. What now? They seemed to shout at me. Drowning eyes. She gestured, tipped her head to her hair covered her face again. I started to go, but then she started to cry again. I was almost around the bend of the bathroom to the exit, but there was such desperate aloneness and I found myself with my arms around her, holding her, my head resting on her freshly washed hair soft against my cheek, sweet smelling. I can’t find the words, just soothing noises coming out of my heart like the calming sounds I used with my children were small and heartbroken about one thing or another. It was that kind of feeling. And she cried and she cried and then after awhile she straightened and I did too, neither of us looking at each other. She turned back to her bag of things and I went outside. Glanced over at the curb incase Don was still there waiting to catch one last wave and blown kiss. But where the car had been was empty. Just the street sign and the charcoal colored garbage can. I could feel her around ten yards behind me. I bought my ticket and went inside. The waiting room at this ferry terminal is quite beautiful as far as ferry terminals go. It is a bank of windows opening out to the marina filled with vacation boats, the ferry dock, the expanse stretches out to include Bowen Island, and huge craggy tree covered cliffs. Breathtakingly beautiful. I wait around fifteen minutes before I glance around at the other people here, but she isn’t one of them. Maybe she was going on another ferry. Maybe she decided not to travel. Her clothes were clean. Jeans fitted, the black vinyl jacket with the stainless steel square zipper up the front. Were they donated clothes? Had she just been released from a halfway house and was terrified. Or did she come from regular and got involved in drugs and lost her way. Had gone to family, was allowed to get clean clothes, a fistful of money, but nothing else. Not allowed to stay. I am on the ferry now. Becky will be jumping up and down on the other side with her arm and head squeezed out from behind the barricade that blocks people from going into the restricted area, to wave and smile at me. She always does this and people exchange looks, but I don’t care. I like it. It makes me feel loved. We will talk and eat yummy food and talk some more. She will drive fast and jerky and I’ll pretend to be calm. But I will be double-checking whenever she makes a lane change, just in case. Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, July 02, 2008 in Bits and Pieces Okay, I can’t take it anymore!This whole, not writing until September thing, is not going to work. I miss blogging way too much. What I am going to do is try to cut back on my addiction. Blog once a week over the summer. That way, I will still have tons of time for my manuscript, but I won’t loose touch with you guys completely. Not only that, I felt really bad. I was hoping that after I wrote my “taking a break for the summer” blog that you guys would say to yourselves, “Okay. Meg’s taking a break. I’ll write September 3rd down in my calendar and come back then.“ But you guys are still coming. What you are looking at, I don’t know, but I am touched by your loyalty. So, this is the deal. I will blog once a week. Unless something really exciting happens and then you’ll get a double dose. Now here is an abbreviated version of the last couple weeks away: At the airport the Great Canadian Books store had my book, Porcupine featured right over the cashier! When I saw that they did that, I danced around a bit in the hall and then Don and I went for some Japanese food next door. My new agent, Laura Langlie is so wonderful I can’t even believe the things she does. I feel very, very lucky. And if I had been blogging regularly I would have given you the blow by blow of the last few weeks, but now there are too many to even list. I’d be here all day. Don and I went to a writing workshop. We were meeting up with a bunch of friends. There was/still is a huge fire. We were around 15 minutes from the place when we ran into a road block and the police informed us that we would have to go around. A round-about route that added another 5 hours of driving to our trip. Not a welcome addition, since we had left our house in Vancouver at 3:30 AM. And had been traveling for ten hours already. We finally got there. The sky dark with smoke, the sun blood red through the haze. It was not so bad at the beginning but in the next few days it got harder to breath, grey ash falling covering everything. Me wishing I had brought a different colour of sweater, because by the time we walked down the hill to where the workshop was, the shoulders of my black sweater were covered with the greyish white flakes and it reminded me of my Step-father and me having to scratch his head. There was a skunk residing under the floor boards of the room they assigned us too, and it was extremely smelly and I got pro-active and somehow cajoled them to give us another room. We decided to leave the place where the writing workshop was being held, because a couple of the people in the workshop had breathing issues, and lo-and-behold a miracle happened and we found a new place a couple hours down the coast that had just the right amount of spare rooms and we moved the whole thing there. And the one lonely writer who was unable to make the move…showed up on the last day and wrote a really wonderful kick-ass piece! It was a crazy, chaotic, perfect workshop and everyone wrote beautifully. Inspiring on many levels. Then we went to San Francisco to Book Passage to cheer our friend, Ken, with his panel presentation at the Mystery Writers Conference. He was great! A real rock star and we treated him as such. (You r________s you.) And since we were there Don and I went to a bunch of the talks and even though I don’t write mysteries, we learned a lot. AND…James Fant, (our friend and part of Don and Ken’s writing group) GOT AN AGENT!!!!! Whooheee! A really good one. Amy Rennert. She was on several of the panels and seemed really nice and down to earth and super smart. So congratulations to both of you! And Emily is coming home on July 5th and I am over the moon! And I am going to see the fantabulous Rosie O’Donnell in the Cyndi Lauper True Colours Tour, this afternoon and my friend Samantha (of Bolen Books fame) is coming over on the little sea-hopper plane, and we are going to dance and sing and get burnt in the sun and let me tell you this. These two girls are GOING to have fun! And the first day after I did my “I’m going to take a break” blog, this thing happened at the ferry terminal and I wanted to blog it, but I was trying to ween myself, so I wrote it on my desktop instead, but now I am blogging, so I will post it right after this. Now, remember everyone. I am only going to blog once a week during the summer…At least that is what I am telling myself. Let’s see if I can do it.
Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, July 02, 2008 in Chewing the Fat Summer breakMy dear blogging buddies, I went for a walk with Karen and as always we talked about our kids and summer vacation and dogs and writing and blogging and what-not. And somewhere around three quarters of the way through our walk, Karen asked me if I was going to take the summer off from blogging. A summer vacation. I was gob-smacked. What an idea. I hadn’t even considered that. Was it possible? Could I? I did take that week off when I was away with Jenny. But a whole summer? And in the second breath…why not? Friday, Will writes his last exam, and then school is out, he is off. My daughter is on summer break from her Masters Program. And think of all the writing I’d get done on my manuscript without the excuse of blogging to gobble up my writing time. I’ve thought about it and thought about it and I’ve decided, yes! I am going to take the summer off and will be back in September when school starts. September 3rd. I hope all of you have a wonderful Summer, full of fresh squeezed lemonade and BBQ’s and fishing in the lake and wading in the ocean. And for me I am hoping I get a huge hunk of my new manuscript completed and that I get to spend good time with my kids and Don and eat lots of yummy foods and not gain any weight! Lots of love, Meg xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, June 18, 2008 in Chewing the Fat oatmeal cookie updateToday has been a lovely day. My writing went relatively smoothly. Which is always cause to celebrate. Then I met up with Gayle Friesen. We went for a gargantuan walk, even though it was raining, sometimes a little bit harder than others, but we didn’t care. We just walked and talked and walked and walked. And it was really fun. And remember the blog I wrote about how I’d met her at the BC Book Prizes Soiree and said I liked her. Well, I never would have guessed that a short two months later we would have found each other’s contact info sort of accidentally through a mutual friend and that we would have actually gotten together. And yes, I know it might seem like I am name dropping, by saying her whole name because she is an award winning author and all, but really that’s not the reason I do it. The reason I write both the first and last name whenever one of my stories or references has to do with an author friend, is because quite a lot of people come to visit my site, and I figure, who knows. Maybe the next time one of my blog readers are in a bookstore, they might pick up one of my friend’s titles, and that is not a bad thing. Because most of the children and young adult writers out there are earning a pittance compared to any other job. If you count the hours we spend at our computers, the months and years it takes to write a book. And then if you look at what kind of advances most Canadian childrens authors get paid, you’d laugh. Because seriously, broken down to an hourly salary, an average author would earn far less than the average Joe flipping hamburgers at a fast food joint. So, that is why, whenever an author friend is a happy part of my day, I mention their full name. Not because I am bragging and saying “Oh, look at my fancy literary friends,“ but because that is what I feel is important for us as authors to try to do. Speaking of which… for those of you who are old-time-officialmegtilly.com readers, remember when I did that guest blogging thing on The Debutantes Ball, with author deb. Danielle Younge-Ullman. Well this week end she attended her first Book Expo Canada. And her publisher, Penguin, printed out 100 advanced reading copies of her first novel, Falling Under, and they ran out! People grabbed those babies up like hotcakes. Whoohooo, go Danielle! Wow. I just read back over what I’ve written and I went way off topic. I wanted to tell you about the new futzing I did with the Oatmeal cookie recipe. -I cut the white sugar down from 3/4 a cup to 1/2. The cookies were starting to taste a little too sweet for me. Everything else I did the same. It tastes really good. Like a not-so-sweet chocolate chip cookie with a really satisfying texture and taste. You’re kids won’t like them as much as Toll House chocolate chip cookies though, because they aren’t as sweet. This is more of a modification for my adult cookie eaters. I’m off to eat another cookie. Bye! Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, June 17, 2008 in Recipes Summer fruitThis is my favorite time of the year for food, with all the local summer fruits appearing in the stores. It gives me such a feeling of abundance. Even as a kid, because we lived in the country and there were huckleberries and blackberries and we knew where the wild strawberries patches were, and boy were they good. Tiny little morsels of happiness. It was like all the flavor of a huge enormous strawberry was packed into a little tiny one around the size of the littlest fingernail on my ten year old hands. All the flavor and more. There was a delicacy and perfume and subtlety that is missing from the big ones. Even the organic large ones don’t hold a candle to those tiny fragile miracles of goodness dancing in our mouths. And then the cherries would get ripe. The dark red ones that would stain our faces and fingers and then the Queen Ann’s that didn’t look nearly as sweet but oh my! Oops. Don just walked into my writing room looking tired and said he was going to go to bed. And as much fun as I am having wandering around in my summer fruit memories, I know I’ll have an even better time snuggling and chatting with Don. Sweet dreams everyone. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, June 16, 2008 in Chewing the Fat Another early morningHello, I woke up at 3:28 a.m. Couldn’t sleep. Finally around 4:30, I got up. The birds trilling. They are so enthusiastic in the morning. Reminds me of when my children were young. Five, five-thirty in the morning, the singing would start. Ready for cuddles, food, interaction. Me, bleary eyed from short sleep. Tired, but how could my heart help but be filled with love, gazing into their little sunflower faces. Funny though. Thinking back on those times. When I was longing for the luxury of a full night’s sleep. And now, I could have that sleep, if only my body would cooperate. Why does the whole children growing up and leaving home have to coincide with menopause? I always thought it was odd planning on who-ever-was-in-charge’s part. To have us go through the emotional, hormonal and physical “change of life” at the same time our teenagers are dealing with crazed hormonal changes of there own. If who-ever-it-is-who-is-in-charge was forward thinking, shouldn’t they have staggered these two events? So that when our children are casting their you-are-dog-poop-under-my-shoe looks at us, we weren’t suffering with hot flashes, sleepless nights and wild hormonal and emotional swings ourselves. Wouldn’t it have been kinder to everyone involved if the phase of live we were experiencing at the time when our teenagers hit full bloom, was a Yoda type one? Plenty of sleep, a peaceful zen-like approach to all challenges, a body that looks better than it ever did. Wouldn’t that make more sense? (Not that Will is casting me those kinds of looks at the moment. But I am no fool. I’ve raised two other children who have grown and left home. I know what is coming. It’s not a matter of if but when.) Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, June 15, 2008 in Chewing the Fat A busy dayDon and I decided it was high time we picked up the mail. OH MY GOD! There was a ton! Not only that, one was an express package from Orca Books with the copy edits that I was supposed to read over and make (minor) changes if desired. All to be done by June 13th. Gack! Today is June 13th and I just opened the thing. We went straight home, admiring the Advance Reading Copies of First Time on the way. I really like the section Andrew used on the back cover. Very nice. Smart. We got home, I worked like a madman. Luckily it’s a hi/low book so there were only 108 pages to plow through and the manuscript was pretty clean. Then I called Andrew and we went over my requested changes, and he (delightful man) agreed to all of them. So, I did manage to get it done by deadline time, but it was a close thing. On another good front, my editor/publisher, Kathy Lowinger, (who did Porcupine) is going to publish my next novel. Yay! And the even better news is…she likes it pretty much the way it is. Only a few little tweaks and it is off to the printers. She didn’t like the title, however. (Try and Stop Me) And wants me to try to come up with another. Titles are hard. Tonight, I go to the CWILL party, to celebrate another year, and to thank K.C. Dyer and James McCann for serving as our President and Vice President. What an awful lot of work they did. I really don’t know how they managed. Not to mention that both of them have books coming out by the bucket load. That’s about it for now. I’m not even going to glance sideways at the enormous pile of the other stuff (i.e. mail) that we picked up as well. That will have to wait until tomorrow. After I have settled down and pounded out at least a paragraph or two of my new manuscript that may-or-may-not-become-a-book. Bye for now. Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, June 13, 2008 in Chewing the Fat This is a quickieYesterday, we decided to do an impromptu road trip and off we went. Just got back. Had so much fun. We are going to bed now, because we are all tuckered out, but before I do, I have to tell you the exciting news. We swung by Bolen Books (one of my very favorite bookstores) and guess what?! When I cruised by the Young Adult section, there was Porcupine…but get this…it had a STAFF PICKS sticker on it! Eeeeee! My book was a staff picks. Please excuse me for gloating dear reader, but I simply cannot help myself. And besides, this might be the only time in my entire writing career that I will have a staff picks book, so I am going to enjoy every last drop of it! Staff pick…staff pick…staff pick…(This is me singing) Staff pick…staff pick…staff pick…(I’d be dancing too, but then I wouldn’t be able to type.) Actually… sorry guys, but dancing wins out! Will write more tomorrow. Sweet dreams. And super specially good dreams to the wonderful, and very insightful, staff member of Bolen Books that picked my Porcupine! xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, June 12, 2008 in Chewing the Fat Ah…the writing lifeHere I am, living the romantic life of a writer. Surrounded by stacks of books and paper and too much dust. My writing room is always the least tidy of the house. I think it’s because when I come in here, the last thing I want to think about is straightening it up. The only time my writing room is clean and everything is neat and organized is when I have finished one project and have nothing on the go and not a single scrap of an idea or the tiniest morsel of a story in my head. That is the only time my writing room looks like anything approaching decent. Anyway, we have a workman in the house, so I cloistered Molly in my room. I gave her a large “beef chew” to chew on. It will be gone within an hour or two. You know, I never really stopped to consider what the “beef chew” was made of until a couple of Christmases ago. I can’t remember whether it was Becky or Emily that dropped the beef-chew-bomb, but which ever one it was, the other one confirmed. At first I didn’t believe them with their laughing faces, but as I thought about it, I realized they were right. Especially if you actually look at the hacked off thing closely. It definitely is. Our dogs go through quite a few of them, so I’ve been privy to a lot of different sections of the “beef chew” and there are certain ones that it is very clear what part of the bull p___s it is. Very. I wonder if the pet store owners have a good old laugh about it, lying in bed with their spouses. Some of the “beef chews are wrapped in plastic, but some are not. I prefer to buy whatever I can without plastic, because of the effects on the environment, but I have to say, when I grab several of these babies in my hands, if I allow my mind to go there, I do feel a little bit odd. I slap those dead bull p____s on the counter and try to think about how happy my dogs will be. Well, enough of that, what I started to say, before I got sidetracked, was, I gave Molly a beef chew to keep her content and distracted until the workman leaves, but my God do these things stink! I’ve got the window open wide. It’s a rather cold day, but having the window shut is just not an option because my room is full of the stench. It’s sort of like a meaty fart smell. I don’t particularly like it. I guess, now that I think on that last sentence that most people aren’t jumping up and down right now, saying, “Let me at it. Whooeee! Meaty fart smell, bring it on!‘ Okay, I really better go. This is not what I would call one of my more admirably tasteful blogs. Better leave now, go pound away at my manuscript before I get off on any other undesirable topics. Heh…heh…As I wrote that sentence a bunch of undesirable topics went prancing through my mind. Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, June 10, 2008 in Chewing the Fat |
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