CategoriesArchivesAugust 2008 |
Chewing the FatFor those times that I want to blather on about whatever. the keyboards are flyingWell...the keyboards aren’t actually flying, but our fingers are. Wait. Now I just got an image of our fingers literally flying off our hands and sailing out of the window. Let me rephrase that one more time. We are writing tons. Okay, Phew. I’m glad that’s cleared up. It’s wonderful having writers in the house. The whole day focused around writing. It a different energy than when it’s just Don and me. Even though we write during the day in our regular life as well. It’s a different kind of focus because we’ve put away this chunk of time and other than making breakfast and dinner, we don’t have the regular chores and need-to-do list of things that must be done. There’s different, stronger kind of writing energy when I get up from my desk for a short break, stretch, to replenish my tea. Walking into the kitchen I have to go past my husband in his writing room, past J____ pounding away on his computer in the dining room, past the stairway, knowing that K__ is upstairs working hard. It’s like the house is buzzing with creativity. And if you were blindfolded and brought into the house, you’d still feel it. Then after we are fortified with dinner and a glass of wine we read our stuff and get feedback from each other. Help, tweaks or overhauls, whatever is called for. And after the slightly nervous read your stuff/feedback time, where one always feels a little vulnerable, then the relief and conversations that follow make one feel a little lighter, sillier. It’s such a gift to have this dedicated chunk of time. Not only that, but I was really struggling with my manuscript over Christmas. There was one day last week where I was terribly depressed (I didn’t blog that day) the manuscript was just not working and it was like I was banging my head over and over into a brick wall, but then right after one of the darkest writing days I’ve suffered through in a long long time, the next day, it’s like a veil was lifted and I knew what I needed to do to address this problem that had been plaguing me. I tried it out, and it didn’t work, but it led me to another idea THAT REALLY WORKS! Anyway, it’s been really exciting these last few days and I feel very hopeful. Bye for now. Lots of love to my kids scattered across the globe. xo Posted by Meg Tilly on Sunday, December 30, 2007 in Chewing the Fat out goes one batch in comes anotherWe took our friends to the airport yesterday and said a fond farewell (the “fond farewell” sounds sort of like those old fashioned books I used to read when I was young. Little Women, Rose in Bloom, Girl of the Limberlost. Funny.) It was a grey day, slush falling from the sky. Afterwards we stopped at Second Time Around and lucked out. We found a great coffee table! It used to be an old library table but someone had cut the legs down and I was real happy because it is hard to find a nice large sturdy coffee table that has room for everybody to put their feet up, place their coffee mugs on and still have plenty of room for the odd box of chocolate, bowls of salted nuts and a few books sprinkled about. I am so happy to have found such a perfect one. This will be a short blog because I have to get some proper writing done. We have two more people arriving this afternoon. Writerly folk, and friends to boot. So that will be fun. We are going to have a writing extravagazana! Don and I will make a huge hot breakfast, then we will disappear into our prospetive writing spots, write like the crazed writing fiends we are and then emerge blurry eyed in the late afternoon, to prepare dinner and eat. Then in the evening whoever needs help, or feedback will lie their writing naked on the living room table to be pummelled and helped and enouraged by the rest of us. I’m hoping I’m going to get tons done on my manuscript. I so badly want to plow straight forward all the way to the end, but I can’t seem to with this one. I keep gettting to these points where something happens and I realize that I need to go back to the begining and rework everything that I’ve done all over again. This always happens with writing but with this manuscript it seems to be happening WAY more. I hope it will all pay off in the end and that The Big Muckle will be a pleasurable enjoyable book for people to read. Actually, let me rephrase that. I hope that I will be able to get TBM into something that is publishable, AND then I hope that if it gets to that point, that people will want to buy it and read it and have a chuckle. It’s so different from my other adult books. Is more like the me you meet when you come to one of my book readings and how I am on this blog. Sort of irreverant. Eeks! I just looked at the clock. I’d better go write, rather than hang out here blathering to you about it. Bye. Posted by Meg Tilly on Friday, December 28, 2007 in Chewing the Fat A Porcupine surprise!I slept in this morning, when I woke everybody was already up and had helped themselves to dry cereal, toast and fresh fruit. My husband had this laptop on the kitchen table and listening to hockey updates, so I got my laptop and joined him, munching on a bowl of cereal. (Rice Krispies, not very healthy, but I remember when I got to go to a friend’s house and watching the Rice Krispies ad on TV and wishing that our family could have Rice Krispies so we could hear Snap, Crackle and Pop talking to us. So every now and then I’ll pour myself a bowl, listen for a bit and then eat it, wondering why I am wasting the calories on something so bland and uninspiring tasting.) Anyway, I finished my cereal, checked my email, checked out Rosie’s blog. Got a little offended about the couple of rude offensive comments that people felt the need to send her on Christmas day. I just don’t understand that kind of meanness. My next thing on the list was to disappear into my writing room to wrestle with my stubborn manuscript for a couple of hours, but I felt so cozy that I thought I would procrastinate a little bit further so I googled Amazon.ca and saw THIS for Porcupine!!!
Amazon.ca Sales Rank: #921 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)
HOLY SMOKES! Very exciting. (And very surprising...in a happy way.) What a Happy Boxing Day Treat!
Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 26, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Christmas dayI’m sitting at the kitchen table participating by proxy. Don is playing Scrabble with our friends. He is playing very politely. They are new at it and he has pulled in his predator teeth. It must be hard for him. Carefully placing down five letter words, no double words lying alongside an old one where he gets to count all the little words as well as the big one adding up to a gazillion points. I’m luxuriating in the excuse of the turkey and whatnot. It needs basting. I would hold up the game. (Although, the truth be told, the only way I can play Scrabble is with Don. I always hold up the game. It takes me forever to find words, but he doesn’t mind at all. However if I had to play with other people I’d break out into a cold sweat. And when one is in a panicky-I’m-going-to-hold-everybody-up-because-I-suck-as-a-speller-and-I-didn’t-go-to-University words NEVER come. Be right back, I have to baste the turkey… Hello again. The turkey is looking good, is turning a golden brown. The pecan pie’s on the counter and I made candy cane ice cream as well. Sweet potato mash is ready to go and the red potatoes are simmering on the stove. Dinner, for the time being, is good to go. Dave and his friend Dan just got up, all sleepy eyes and tousled hair. They humored me and opened the stockings that Santa had magically left them. Dave has a bit of a cough so I made him a hot lemon and honey. Then they had a few of the pecan cinnamon buns that I made in honor of Dave (they are his favorites) Now they are downstairs playing ping pong. It’s really nice to have him home. I had a lovely time this morning listening to Will’s description of the morning excitement with Santa and his little brothers. He sounded happy. Then Emily got on the phone and while I talked with her Don ran downstairs and got the presents she sent us out from under the tree. It was so fun to open them with her on the phone. Emily is the BEST gift buyer in the whole world! First I opened and read the card, like it was the very first time, even though both of us knew other wise. Then Don opened his gift which was the classiest grey and black checked cashmere scarf. Perfection! I bought Don a scarf a few years ago, that was nice and soft and a lovely green, but the reverse side of it...not so nice. Lime green to be exact. So the scarf is nice and warm and lovely to look at, until he moves a fraction of an inch and then..horrors! So this scarf Emily got was a welcome present, not just for Don, but for my embarrassed eyes as well. Then I opened my present. Holy cow! How she managed to fit all those wonderful gifts in such a small unassuming box, I’ll never know. Three beautiful tops, one dressy, black, with a little strand of understated elegant sparkle running right around the bust line and then flared out gently so that it will skim my expanding waistline instead of clinging to it. And then two (she said practical tops, for day to day wear,) but her practical looks WAY better than my practical. They are beautiful and I feel very loved. And then to top it all off there was a very classy velvet scarf in colors that make me look like I have rose kissed cheeks. Everything so thoughtfully chosen. Like how she knows lots of fabrics itch me and all three tops were made of the softest cottons. And I’m sitting there on our bed, Don beside me, and tears are running down my face. Not sad tears, tears of happy fullness, talking to my two children, hearing their voices, feeling them close. Anyway it was very special. Thank you so much Emily, and tons of love to you and Will. xxooo Okay, the last letters have been drawn from the Scrabble bag, they are almost at the end. Don’s score is 200, a tiny bit ahead of the others, and they are impressed, marveling at his scrabble skills, but really...on a bad day, Don might get in the low 300’s Usually it’s high 300’s and around a month ago he got 440. It reminds me of a German Shepard playing with a couple of Malti-poos. (I spelled that wrong but you get the drift.) Time to baste the turkey again.
Anyway, MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL! Love, Meg xxooo
Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 25, 2007 in Chewing the Fat an addendum to the last blogDon just read my last posting. “Why didn’t you send your Christmas love to Dave?” he said.
Silly Don… Oh and by the way, even though it said on the Internet that the Chinese garden was open today, it wasn’t. The public Chinese garden was however and a woman told us that it was nicer than the one you have to pay for that was closed. We could see the other garden through the grate on the other side of the wall. It was around the size of a large basement. It was fine enough I guess, but not worth the drive downtown and a morning spent not writing. For those of you who are visiting Vancouver in the winter, this is a definite miss. I don’t know how it is in the summer, maybe beautiful, but it is quite small, on the border of a very challenged area of town. There was a lot of speculation in the car ride on the way home as to how much cash exchanged hands to get this attraction rated as one of the top ten things to see in Vancouver. It is my opinion that your time would be better spent walking in one of the parks or along the sea wall, or taking one of the hiking trails. Or to be perfectly honest, better spent writing. Which is what I am finally off to do at 2:41pm. Thank God. (I find I get a little grumpy if I want to write and haven’t been able to get to it.) Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 24, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Grouse mountainWe took our friends up to Grouse mountain for dinner yesterday. I reserved it a couple of months ago, as soon as I heard they were coming because I thought they would enjoy the spectacular views. We went to Grouse mountain with Will this summer and although it was a bit touristy, when we came around the bend in the woods and saw an enormous bear, scratching his back on a tree, only eight or nine feet away, but barely discernible because it was late dusk/almost night it was quite magical. And I was hoping to be able to repeat that wonderful experience for them. Also, since Grouse mountain is a bit higher up than the rest of Vancouver, I had my fingers crossed that we might be blessed with a little bit of snow to get everybody in the Christmas mood.
“So what is this Grouse Mountain?” my friend’s husband asked. “What do people do there?”
Tripadvisor was the first Grouse Mountain item to come up. “Oh, it’s on Tripadvisor, I’ll read what they say,” I said to the room. I started reading the reviews. There were a few lovely ones, (probably written by staff,) and then we got to the disgruntled ones, of which there were quite a few. Uh...oh.
To top it all off, the morning started out with bright sunshine, but by the time we were ready to leave It was a grey, drizzly, overcast day. “Maybe,” I said to myself on the drive over. “With the higher altitude, this rain will turn into lovely drifting flakes of snow. (Because the whole “Thrill them with the impressive view,” was clearly not going to happen.) “I hope we get to see the bears,” I said.
The parking lot was jam-packed. Hmm...That’s surprising, given the grim day. We pay for the parking ticket, get our tram tickets and we are off. The tram is jam-packed as well. It is a young crowd, a few families with small children, the rest teens and early twenties, talking loud and wielding snowboards. There is only one person on the tram that is even near our age and although he is a bit older, (late sixties) he is obviously quite fit, tall and toned, geared up in spiffy red and white skiing apparel. I save a spot by the door for our friends and steer them towards it as the tram jerks to a start. “Look out the window,” I instruct. “You might see the wolves as we are travelling over the trees.” (Will spotted the wolves on our last journey. I didn’t even know they had them. It was quite exciting.) They stood, peering out of the steamed up windows, made foggy from all of the breathing bodies crammed into this small space. They didn’t see any wolves. I don’t think anybody did. If so, no one mentioned it. As we passed the towers, some of the people on the tram roared like we were on a fast moving roller coaster. I roared too. (the sedate summer crowd did not partake in these shenanigans.) I hoped the tram wires wouldn’t give out under this enormous load of revelers. I didn’t mention my worries though. If we’re going to die, we might as well go out having fun. And then suddenly, we are there, the tram starts to sink lower and I see beautiful snow ladened tree tops gliding past. The doors open, everybody squeezes out. I feel a snowboard prodding me in the back, but I don’t care. I am back in my childhood. Lost in the magic of deep, deep snow. We tromp around, snow falling, covering our shoulders, our hats, kissing our faces. Our fingers and toes are the first to feel prickly pinch of the cold. Skiers and snowboarders glide past. We play with the idea of renting snowshoes. I want to, but everybody else is trying to act supportive, but I can tell that they are quite lukewarm on the idea, so we don’t. My friend contemplates trying out ice skating for the first time in her life, but her husband reminds her of her age and height, and how hard she would fall. If it was just the two of us, I am sure we would have strapped ourselves into skates and gone toddling around the ice with the children and their parents, full of shrieks and laughter, and yes, perhaps a few bruises. We visit the depressed looking reindeer. It’s my first reindeer. It is way smaller than I imagined. I don’t think even with eight of them that they’d be able to handle Santa’s loaded sleigh. Even if they were imbued with magical powers. The reindeer is not the magnificent creature that I envisioned, but still, I have to admit, I was quite excited to see one and the child in me had to sneak a pet, amongst all the children. We took the sleigh ride. In the promo film it is pulled by three strong beautiful horses, with tossing heads and jingle bells attached to their harnesses. Our sleigh, however, was pulled by a tractor. But at least it was a pretty tractor/snowplow, painted a bright shiny red. And I was clever, I grabbed the very back seat that no one wanted, so we didn’t have to inhale all the tractor fumes. The ride was short. I liked the first part best, where we went through the little wooded area. I would have liked to have done more of that kind of thing. It was so beautiful. Then we saw the film. (To those of you that go, don’t worry about missing this part. The pre-show was actually interesting, but the actual “movie” was quite silly. Not in a good way. Not only that, but the loudspeaker on the left side buzzed very loudly throughout the whole thing.) Dinner in the observatory was very tasty and the service was good. And although we didn’t get to see the view of the whole lit up and sparkling city, and the world beyond, we saw beauty of a different sort. The snow, and clouds created the most cozy romantic atmosphere and the good friends, wonderful food, and bottle of wine made it truly a night to remember. Going down in the tram, we roared again, passing the towers, and then, all of a sudden we were past the cloud cover and I hear my friend say to her husband. “Oh my, look at that.” I stood on tiptoe and I could see a glimpse of the sparkling city laid out, through the sea of tuk clad head and snowboards. And it was like the cherry on the top. Perfection. Like I was able to deliver everything. Even though, it wasn’t me that made the clouds open for that second, it didn’t stop the giddy happy firework feeling from exploding in my heart. I did it. I accomplished the impossible. My friends got to see the view. Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 22, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Chocolate and chatsMy friend has been on the phone forever trying to speak to an actual person at Air Canada’s lost and found. This is her fourth attempt. She is once again, waiting on hold, listening to music and “please hold, someone will be with you shortly,” announcements. The guys have gone to the Canuck game dressed in their Canuck jerseys, ready to cheer the home team, stomp their feet and roar in mighty man voices. She’s been on hold for quite sometime. So far, no human voice, just a recording. I brought her a chair to sit on and brewed her a cup of tea. We figure, maybe she’ll have better luck getting through at 8:15 at night. Hmmm...Our strategy doesn’t seem to be working. It was a lovely day. We took a long hike in the woods. A bright sunshiny day, the light so sharp when we walked through a patch of it, that I would have to feel with my feet, as I navigated my way through to the shaded parts. It was lovely. Molly lay and rolled in every creek and mud puddle she could find. A huge smile on her face, her spotted tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. Ears cocked. (By the way, that’s not my friend, that’s the dog. My friend walked around the puddles, quite untempted.) Don made a lovely pasta and salad for dinner. We opened a lovely bottle of French wine that our friends had brought. And then after the men had gone, we sat on the sofas and talked about things. The kind of things one can talk about with someone one has known for 19 years. Families, mutual friends, losses, triumphs. Nothing spit polished and perfectly presented. Now my friend has looked up, she is wondering if the Air Canada lost items desk is located in India. She’s just put the phone on the counter and has walked over and handed me a magazine article. She’s so laissez faire. I would be nervous that would be the moment they would come to the phone and say “hello? hello?” and hang up. She’s back at the phone now. I hope someone eventually comes. To hear an actual voice would almost make it worth while.
Okay, this is probably a really boring blog. So I’ll sign off. Lots of love to family far and near. xo
Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 20, 2007 in Chewing the Fat a hiccup of a blogWriting went well today. Soaring along for once. Then we went out and ordered our new sofas, went by the mailbox and picked up my packages. See’s candy from my brother and his wife and the cutest picture of their little boy. Next stop the airport, waiting outside the International customs area. Out they came, smiles and hugs. Don did the driving, I did the side seat assisting. We just arrived back home. My hands are still throbbing from the tight grip I kept on Molly’s collar. (She is still learning not to jump up on people. I’ve had her for 4 months now. Her training is going pretty well, but when she gets excited, everything she’s learned flies out the window.) Anyway, our friends are unpacking now and when they are done we shall head out for dinner. No cooking or dishes tonight. Whoopee!
Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 19, 2007 in Chewing the Fat setting the record straight!Don just finished reading my blog and when he got to the part where I mentioned that he decided to forgo the peanut butter, chocolate, banana smoothie because his felt his stomach oozing over the waistline of his jeans, he bellowed indignantly, “I did not!” And then with his next breath he collapsed with laughter. His whole face and neck turned red because he was laughing so hard. He kept laughing right through the rest of the blog even though there was nothing funny written there. Anyway...I stand corrected. Don did not forgo the smoothie out of concern for his expanding (ever so slightly) waistline. He didn’t get the smoothie because he decided he didn’t feel like it. I suppose this is the way things are between husbands and wives. Sometimes a husband will make a decision and the wife will (in her wifely understanding way) project why she would have made that particular decision, and then figures that was his thought process as well. I apologize Don for leaping to an erroneous conclusion. (Although, I still think I’m right, and he’s just not copping to it.) Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 17, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Empty nestWe took Will to the airport Saturday night. We got there early, checked in, ate some food, wandered, talked, ate some more. We ambled into the airport bookstore (I’m not sure, but I think it was called The Great Canadian Bookstore) and THEY HAD PORCUPINE! They had three of them. Not only that, the woman who was working there said that it was a very good seller and they’ve had to reorder several times! I was flabbergasted, because it isn’t a large bookstore by any means. Not only did they have it, but a girl had pulled it out of the bookcase and was HOLDING it in her hand! Eeee! It was so exciting. And she looked to be just the type of reader I wrote this book for. I wanted to lurk about and see if she bought it, but I didn’t want to get disappointed if she didn’t. Not only that, but upon discovering her with my book in her hand, I got the biggest smile on my face that just wouldn’t go away, but I didn’t want her to think I was an even odder person than I actually am, grinning at her from over the top of bookshelves. So we left. Then my husband got the bright idea to check out the other bookstore in the domestic terminal. So, we did. AND THEY HAD PORCUPINE AS WELL! Seven of them. FACE OUT! (For you non bookie people, that means the bookstore didn’t just slide the book into the bookshelf but they placed it facing outwards so everyone can see the beautiful cover. And this usually means that someone in the bookstore not only has read, but LIKES the book and so they place it that way so people will buy it.) And they had 7 copies! Seven. Wow. They had the book in the adult section. Which I think is great because adults really love this book. So, I was happy that the bookstore did that. I never expected to find one of my books in an airport bookstore. Never! How exciting is that? I was dancing around the airport on cloud nine, my husband and son smiling indulgently at me. We walked by a fruit juice place and Will figured he could do with a peach and banana smoothie, so we got him one. Don tangoed with the idea of a peanut butter, chocolate, banana one, but then he felt his stomach oozing over the waistline of his jeans and decided against it. And then finally, alas, it was time for Will to go. I tend to walk rather fast, but I made my feet slow down to a sedate pace to stretch out the time. We still arrived at the international departure gate. ( Sigh.) There are hugs and “I love you“‘s all around. “Safe trip, don’t forget to phone when you get in.” I called out a few more, “I love you“‘s while he was in line and we were standing behind the blue and metal pole barricade. Will tolerated it with good humor and grace. Then, finally with a final wave, and me bleating “I love you, safe journey,” one last time, Will disappeared around the opaque glass that encases the security area. And immediately, I missed him. Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 17, 2007 in Chewing the Fat dreamsYesterday was Will’s last day of school. There was only a morning service and then they were released. The car line up was enormous, with both the middle and the upper school getting out at the same time. I kept turning my car engine off, in the long pauses. Which was really quite pointless, because I drive a prius and the amount they pollute is minimal, not to mention, generally, in idle, the battery takes over. But with the de-fogger going, I could hear the engine running and so I’d turn it off just in case. It took me 22 minutes to get to the front of the line. And there Will was, smiling, carrying the empty brownie pan from the day before. There is something about the way my heart soars when I am out in public and see one of my children coming towards me, out of a crowd of strangers. The familiarness of their stride, their faces. The way Will folded his tall body into our small car. Awkward and graceful all at once. His friend was over. When his mum and little brother came by I fixed us a cup of tea and we ate some of my chocolate chip cookies (No special, secret Meg recipe. Just look Toll house chocolate chip cookies up on line. Follow the recipe and use chopped pecans for the nuts. You don’t have to cook all the dough at once. I’ve found with less kids in the house that it works best if I only cook a batch or two and put the rest of the dough in the fridge for later. In my opinion, cookies are always best served right out of the oven and warm.) Then Will was meeting friends at the movies, so we dropped him off downtown, did a little shopping, had an early dinner. Splurged on lobster! Yum. I asked for a little fresh garlic and salt. Then I seasoned the warm melted butter just so, added a little lemon and gobbled my very delicious dinner up. I even had cheesecake for dessert. The only thing was, I didn’t write. I used the excuse that the day was too broken up. That Will was leaving soon. There was other stuff too. Stuff that I don’t want to write about anymore here on the blog. I’ve given that whole situation way too much space. On my blog, in my life. I’m am working hard on letting go. Trying not to worry. It’s out of my hands. But my mind takes over sometimes if I’m not vigilant. (Like right now, for instance) Anyway, I had plenty of good excuses not to write and I used them all. We talked, watched the tivoed Biggest Loser from last week. Next Tuesday is the last show. My husband always cries when the people are revealed, happy and smiling, having made such enormous changes in their lives. It’s very sweet. Then we went to bed, to sleep. I had another bad dream. There was something in my hair. Stuck to a tiny strand of hair. I pulled it out. It was a lice egg. Then I pulled out another and another. Then I saw my boy, flop on the sofa in the family room, relaxed, his head falling back, because he’s comfortable and I realize that he is probably contaminated too. That the whole house, all the soft furniture, the blankets, the bedding, the clothes, they all must be cleansed. That I need to be thorough. Even though it’s hard work. Because the alternative is a disaster. If I leave, miss even one little egg, it will hatch and multiply and spread until it effects not only us, our family, but everybody that comes in contact with us, and they will be infected too. I woke up, shaken, sad. Knowing what I must do, but too tired to want to face it. Don snoring softly beside me asleep. Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, December 15, 2007 in Chewing the Fat getting on with itOkay, after all that whinging, I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a nice glass of Bakery Hill Cabernet Sauvignon, came back to my desk and filled out that dumb form. And once I finished, it wasn’t so dumb. Actually, I’m glad the publicity department is on the ball and wants to help promote the book. Much better than the alternative. It’s funny how the dread of something can run your life, but if you just say, “Okay, this is hanging over my head, now I could put it off for a few days or a couple of weeks or even months if I’m talented.” But then, you see, for those days or weeks or months, that thing you had to do would own you. It would taint everything. And the longer you put the chore off, the bigger it becomes. It’s sort of like the dinner clean up. The worst messes are always the ones that make me want to run from the room and go do something, anything but wash and put away those dishes. BUT if you wait, the leftovers on the plates and silverware and pots and pans, hardens and congeals and becomes a powerful cement that is virtually impossible to wash. It will take you 2 hours to scrub what would have taken 30 minutes. Much better, even though it’s difficult, to do yucky things right away. Get them over with. Off your back. Much better. Okay, I have to go get the chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Bye. Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat the business side of things…sigh.I just received an email from the publishing house that I wrote the reluctant reader for. A long form to fill out. Many pages of questions requiring details, facts. New photos are wanted with strict requirements and instructions. A request for media contacts and so on. And when I opened this email up and read it, I wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head. The idea of starting all of this “being out there” all over again, when I feel like it was only this week that I started settling, letting go of the chaos that has been the last few months. Trying to tell myself that it’s okay to relax, let go, settle in myself, my body, my home. I was really surprised to tell you the truth. It’s a short little reluctant reader, for goodness sakes. People don’t go on the road for them. Do they? I thought I was off the hook for next year. A few Porcupine things I’d promised to do. A visit to my daughter. A vacation perhaps. There’s something about forms that overwhelm me. And this one, looking at it, is going to take at least two or three days to compile. And it’s Christmas and I don’t want to take the time off of Big Muckle. I’ve just finally started to get a real good writing rhythm going. I wonder if they’d mind if I waited until I finished this draft? Probably. Phooey… Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, December 13, 2007 in Chewing the Fat Christmas treeWe bought our Christmas tree today. It was the fastest tree buying excursion I have ever been on. When we were little we would divide the family up into small groups, put on as many layers of clothes that we possibly could wear (and still be able to move our limbs) and then we would trudge out into the snow. The cold winter air biting our faces, turning our cheeks and noses a rosy red. We would hike for hours sometimes, all of us searching for the honor of choosing out the most beautiful Christmas tree ever seen. Once we found and agreed upon a tree, we would tie a bright ribbon around it so we wouldn’t get lost and the ribbon could be seen from far away. Then we would race back home, full of giggles and excitement, our hearts exploding with joy. So certain were we that our tree would certainly be the most beautiful tree of all. Then the whole family would go out with the saw and we would look at the trees and choose the best. That part wasn’t as much fun. There was some arguing. It was hard to agree. Some family members liked big bushy trees with an abundance of branches. Others like the wispy ones. The Charlie Brown Christmas looking ones, because they felt you could see the pretty Christmas ornaments better that way. Now me...of course I didn’t like the bushy ones or the sparse ones. I liked the pretty ones, because I was no fool. And the pretty ones were the trees with elegant draping arms, just right for showing off the fine ornaments and tinsel. The ones that weren’t too bushy, or too sparse. I like the trees that were beautiful and magical and everything a Christmas tree should be. The one that whispered to me in excitement, “Look at me! Choose me! And all your Christmas dreams will come true!” But they never chose my tree. They never heard the whisper. And I guess that’s why, some of our Christmases weren’t quite as happy as they could have been. But today, I didn’t have to tromp around the woods for hours, clambering up hillsides only to discover that what looked like the perfect tree had a big gaping hole at the back. We drove to a Christmas tree lot, walked in, and there it was! The most perfect tree! This never happens. Even in a fancy Christmas tree lot you have to pull a lot of possible choices into a standing position, look at it from every angle, check out pretty much every tree in the place, until finally, you find the one. Today, I walked right up to it. It was towards the back of the lot. It was the first one I touched and as I lay my hand on it, I got that magical feeling, and I knew. I knew, but I was holding my breath too. “Could you hold it honey?” I asked Don. “I want to see what it looks like.” And I stepped back, and it was the happiest feeling. The tree was perfect. Just right. And I knew in that moment, even though Emily and Will aren’t going to be here this year. I knew that it would be a very nice Christmas and even though I’d be missing them, my heart would have gladness too. And I knew that we would have a nice time with our friends flying in from far off places. And we would drink wine and eat yummy food and laugh and maybe even turn the music up loud and dance like we imagine we used to , when we were young. And maybe I will be able to convince them to come out with me and wander our neighbourhood for an hour or so, singing old time Christmas carols and la..la..la in the parts where no one remembers the words. And David will come, on Christmas Day with his friend, so there will be stockings, because Santa still likes to come, even though they are grown. Yes, I will miss Emily and Will, but there is always the phone, and our hearts will be connected, even if our hands aren’t.
Much love, Meg
Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, December 12, 2007 in Chewing the Fat sometimes you have to step away…and eat chocolate.Okay, this is writing time. I am in my writing room. I was working on my manuscript, but then I finished up the bit that I was working on yesterday and I’ve hit another large tangle. This chapter is a bit more difficult to handle because I LOVED this chapter in the old draft. It was one of, if not my very favorite chapter in the book. But it doesn’t work anymore. Doesn’t work at all. The whole purpose this chapter served was to shine more light and understanding on a relationship and situation that no longer exist in this new draft. Sigh… I have to take a breather. I’m trying to hang on to a little of it, a smidgen. I’ve cut a total of 6 pages out of a 8 1/2 page chapter. I’ve got the other two and a half quivering on the chopping block. I’m hoping I’ll be able to rework maybe a sentence or two, but I’ve got that sinking feeling in my stomach that I won’t. Sometimes, writing sucks. Anyway, I dealt with it by flinging myself from my desk, tearing into the kitchen and cutting in half and eating 6 halves of the fancy Thomas Haas Chocolates that we just picked up. (I wanted to just eat them all. Waistline be dammed. Cram them into my despairing mouth, but I didn’t want my husband to miss out on any of the fancy flavors. And since these are relatively new chocolates for us, I don’t know which ones he’s going to like the best.) I am in such a desperate state with the loss of this beautifully written chapter that I would have eaten all of them if I wasn’t so fond of old Donalah. And now here I am. Taking a short breather. Calming myself down to do what needs to be done. Breath in. Breath out. Relax. Okay. I’m off. Back to the writing. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it. Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, December 11, 2007 in Chewing the Fat |
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