what to do?

Angels in the Flames has been with Coteau Books for a year now, and still no word except responses to my enquiries concerning status.  Not yet read, I think.  Oh dear!  The slush pile?  Well, I have a list of half a dozen more Canadian publishers, and I could send it off to them.  Coteau said it's okay to sim.sub as long as I let them know.  I'll do that, of course.  However, I'm thinking of trying an agent again.  No luck last time (a few years ago, but I think that was for a different project, and I know it wasn't with the agent I have in mind). 
So, I have to prepare the manuscript once again for another journey.  Meanwhile, I keep hoping and writing, and so on.  Writing the book is only a fraction of the work that getting getting it published is.  Still, it's worth pursuing, I suppose.  If only for the experience.  Can't quit now.  I'm in too deep.

1st half of August 2011

I can't believe that it's been almost two months since I posted in this blog!  I was reading some old emails, clearing out my inbox, and came across one from someone who said he was an "avid reader" of my blog.  Poor soul!  How bored he must be to see the same thing every time he looks in.  He probably isn't so "avid" a reader now.
If, however, you are one who just pops in once in a while to see if I've added anything, then you won't be too disappointed--I hope.
The fact is that I've been busy working on a novel that I started a long time ago.  I first started it when I entered the "24 hour novel" challenge several years ago.  I booked into a motel and wrote for hours and hours and came up with something that vaguely resembled a novel.  I entered it, but of course never heard anything because people who enter that challenge regularly know how to write a novel in 24 hours.  I guess. 
So, in 2009 when I embarked on the NANOWRIMO challenge, I used the same characters and setting for that.  And in 30 days I had written 50,000 words that also resembled a novel--considerably better than the first, but still needing a lot of work before it could really be anything worth reading. 
Now, I've changed the main character and fiddled around with the other characters, and am slowly but surely developing what I hope will be a decent young adult murder mystery. 
So that's why you haven't seen anything new in this blog.  I'll try to keep you updated on how the mystery comes along. 

Trinity Sunday

Yesterday was Trinity Sunday.  It was interesting to listen to the clergy, in the children's talk and in the sermon, try to clarify the theology of the Trinity.  There was reference to St. Patrick's famous example of the shamrock, which has three parts but is one leaf.  There was a dance where three people stand in a "circle" facing outwards with hands joined, and turn around--three dancers but unity in the dance.  There was a quote (from where, I don't know) that said in the heart of the Trinity, God laughed and gave birth to Jesus; in the heart of the Trinity, Jesus laughed and gave birth to the Holy Spirit; in the heart of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit laughed and gave birth to us all.  I'm not sure how that defines the Trinity.  I have two other attempts that I like:  The first is the egg.  The shell (Jesus) is broken to reveal the white (Holy Spirit) and the yolk (Creator God).  The shell is visible.  The white nourishes.  The yolk is the source of life.  Three parts of the egg, but only one egg.  My second attempt at defining the Trinitarian understanding of God is the human being.  God created "man" in his own likeness (male and female); if you watch a dying person in an emergency ward (on TV, if you like) you'll see the doctors first try to revive the person with CPR--heart massage and blowing air into the lungs.  But when a flat line appears on the monitor and shows the person is brain dead, it is all over.  When I cross myself, I am reminded of these three necessities of life: touch my head, ("God the father"), touch my heart ("God's body, Jesus, his son"), touch my shoulders--or better my breast above my lungs ("God the Holy Spirit")--yet I am one person, just as God is one God.

retreat

Each year in May, my husband and I go on retreat to Rivendell Christian Retreat Centre on Bowen Island, a one hour journey from our home, by car and ferry.  It is a Franciscan duty to go on retreat at least once a year.  We choose this time of year because it honours the memory of our grandson who drowned on May 22, 2005.  Part of the time,we spend in silence, but it is usually not a "silent retreat".  Rivendell is a lovely place, on an island with mountains and tall evergreen trees.  The building has several places to sit and be quiet.  No TV.  No phones (although I confess to bringing my iPhone and checking email once a day).  However, I also use my iPhone to take pictures, and I have them here now.  They are of Hawthorne Room, which houses the tiny library.  Guests are invited to light a fire and read in the room or take a book to another room to read.  I found Hawthorne a comfortable place to write my journal, or read or knit in the peaceful hours of the early morning. 

Pictures from Jerusalem

Bringing to mind Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

The stones Jesus walked on, as he made his way to Golgotha carrying his cross.

The Holy Sepulchre where Jesus was lain after his crucifixion, and from where he rose on the third day.

Holy Saturday

Last Thursday was Maundy Thursday, and the service at the Cathedral was remarkable on so many levels.  In addition to the usual readings and the concluding ceremony of stripping the altar, there were three extraordinary features:  First, in addition to the customary washing of the feet, the Cathedral took it beyond the usual symbolic gesture of washing the feet of only a few representatives from the congregation.  Usually, the excuse for doing that is that it is less time-consuming than including everyone.  Well, at the Cathedral, where there were probably well over a hundred people, everyone who wished to be included was welcomed to come forward.  The chancel area behind the altar had two rows of chairs with a kneeler in front of each chair and one of the servers standing by. People lined up at either side of the altar to be conducted to a chair.  One person knelt on the kneeler (a low cushioned stool) and washed one foot of the one on the chair.  Then, the one on the chair knelt and washed one foot of the next person who came to occupy the chair.  So it went on, so that after having your foot washed, you washed the next person's foot.  At each chair, there was a lovely ceramic bowl for the foot to rest over, and the server poured the water (tepid, not cold) over the foot and the foot-washer washed the foot.  Then the server provided a big white fluffy towel for the foot-washer to dry the other person's foot. The basin was emptied after each person's washing and the towels were fresh and clean. It was done slowly and reverently.  I would say that most of the congregation participated. 
The second extraordinary feature was the preacher.  He was the Bishop of Galilee, from Nazareth.  My friend had the privilege of washing the foot of the man from Galilee! 
The third extraordinary feature--at least new to my experience but not unique to the Cathedral, I'm told, was that after the altar had been stripped (to the singing of Psalm 22), the Dean and the Archdeacon proceeded to wash the altar carefully and reverently and thoroughly. 
As is the custom of the Anglican church (and other denominations, no doubt) people left the building in silence.  This is Day One of the Triduum: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday & Easter Sunday.

Fridays in Lent

Today is the Friday before Palm Sunday, a Day of Penitence for Franciscans around the world.  Counting Good Friday, there are seven Fridays in Lent, today is the sixth--six being an imperfect number because it is one short of seven, the perfect number. 
Today, in preparation for next Friday, I sought out (via Google) the booklet I bought in Jerusalem last year.  I have the booklet "someplace safe", which means I'll come across it in a very logical place but when I'm not looking for it.  That happens to me all the time.  But I knew it was online, and here it is: the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.  This is the way I prayed the Stations of the Cross with Franciscans in Jerusalem one Friday afternoon.