Tag Archives | writing process

Time Out

If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. And because I’m up to my eyeballs in chapter rewrites (still pushing to finish before the holidays, despite not meeting my deadline of this past Monday), knitting, TWUC stuff, and trying to get packages organized so they arrive before Santa in Ontario, all you’ll […]

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Incendiary Ink

This morning, I finished rewriting the climax of my novel. I knew it was coming, so over the last few days I’ve felt myself s-l-o-w w-a-y down. The reason? Yeah, you know it: FEAR. A lot, of course, depends on a well-executed climax and mine tend to be, well, busy. (Not that this is a […]

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Learning the Language

Last night I had a dream that I was holding the advance reading copy of my next novel. It had a gorgeous cover in reds and browns, and it was a big fat book. The only problem: part of it was in Italian. I don’t quite know it yet, is what I think this means. […]

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Shaking Out the Knots

Rain smears my office window as I write this, as I wait for a pot of tea to steep. It’s cold outside, and the smell of heat is coming off the radiator, and my dog is asleep on his bed behind me (having had two breakfasts, since J. and I seemed to be over-organized this […]

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Being Boring

Last Tuesday, J. and I went to the Lido, the historic local theatre here in The Pas. Built in 1929, the place happens to be one of the few remaining atmospheric theatres, in which an “atmospheric design transported [the audience] to an exotic European courtyard or garden,” according to Wikipedia. In our case, we saw […]

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Building the Spell

I set a personal goal for myself this week and so far I’ve been hitting it. The goal: three hours of work per day on rewriting chapters. I use the timer on my phone, and I go hour by hour, and I stop the clock when I take breaks so that I know I’m not […]

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Spring Draft

The world has changed while I’ve been here. Last year, I saw the spring arrive in Saskatchewan, while writing poetry for two weeks at the Sage Hill retreat. This year, it’s Calgary, where the leaves have begun glowing as if lit by an internal light, as Ian McEwan describes it in Enduring Love which I […]

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