Just when I think I've seen it all, another one pops into view. Yesterday I was looking at Pinterest hints on packing. Okay, I do think I know it all on that topic, and I don't have any pressing need to review the latest tips, still I like to see what people have to say about packing.
This one particular set of hints had nothing earth-shatteringly new, but I found one sentence or part of a sentence that I just can't get out of my head.
The lady is explaining how she packs differently for just herself or with her husband or with the whole family. Then she says, "I just pack Jason and I's stuff into...." I couldn't get past that. I stopped right there. I's?????? Did me get I's coffee this morning? I's? Really? Seriously? I's?
I can't get it out of my head! I's.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Writing this novel
I thought I'd finished it. But that was almost a year ago. Then, after several non-responses from prospective agents, I decided to get it professionally evaluated. Not edited. I think I can do that myself. With a degree in linguistics and another degree in education, plus nearly forty years experience teaching English, I think I can do my own editing. I'm not perfect. I can make mistakes as easily as the next person. And I know that I'm the worst person to do my own fault-finding when reading my own work. That is why I truly crave a critique group. Some people with similar goals and interests as myself. But an evaluation would be helpful.
Now, my master's degree in education was in curriculum and instruction, and included a lot of work on what curriculum and instruction evaluation looked like. But it seems that none of that applied to this manuscript evaluation. At the very least, I'd hoped the editor I paid to do the job would tell me if the story was worth rewriting or if I should just abandon it. But she said nothing about that.
She was, however, extremely helpful in other ways. She couldn't resist editing, though. Most of which I ignored because I didn't agree with her. Also, she didn't understand one of my main characters--the mother of the protagonist. That character happens to have serious personal flaws. Mainly, she is not a good mother. She doesn't listen to her daughter's concerns. She doesn't always remember to provide for her daughter's needs. She puts her job ahead of her parenting, and so on. That's who she is. That's one of the problems that my protagonist has to deal with. But my editor is a good mother. I can tell by the criticisms she has of "Fiona." So I have to seriously think about each comment she makes about the relationship between Fiona and her daughter in the story. It's most irritating, because I know my characters and how they have to interact.
Back to the helpful bits, though. My editor has a daughter in a wheelchair, and my main character is a teenaged girl in a wheelchair. So, although I've had a son in a wheelchair, and I've had a close friend in a wheelchair, and I've worked in a rehabilitation centre where most of the patients I dealt with were in wheelchairs, there's still a lot I don't know about life in a wheelchair. My editor gave me a lot of advice that was extremely helpful.
So now what? I'm still working on editing and rewriting this novel. I've been at it for about ten months now, and I'm only half way through the rewrites. I'm feeling totally lost, and very discouraged at this moment.
The other problem with this slow progress is that before I sent House of Secrets away for evaluation, I was already halfway through the first draft of the sequel! And I want to write a third novel with these characters to make it a trilogy. If these books are going to take as much time as H of S, then I'll have to live well into my hundreds!!
Now, my master's degree in education was in curriculum and instruction, and included a lot of work on what curriculum and instruction evaluation looked like. But it seems that none of that applied to this manuscript evaluation. At the very least, I'd hoped the editor I paid to do the job would tell me if the story was worth rewriting or if I should just abandon it. But she said nothing about that.
She was, however, extremely helpful in other ways. She couldn't resist editing, though. Most of which I ignored because I didn't agree with her. Also, she didn't understand one of my main characters--the mother of the protagonist. That character happens to have serious personal flaws. Mainly, she is not a good mother. She doesn't listen to her daughter's concerns. She doesn't always remember to provide for her daughter's needs. She puts her job ahead of her parenting, and so on. That's who she is. That's one of the problems that my protagonist has to deal with. But my editor is a good mother. I can tell by the criticisms she has of "Fiona." So I have to seriously think about each comment she makes about the relationship between Fiona and her daughter in the story. It's most irritating, because I know my characters and how they have to interact.
Back to the helpful bits, though. My editor has a daughter in a wheelchair, and my main character is a teenaged girl in a wheelchair. So, although I've had a son in a wheelchair, and I've had a close friend in a wheelchair, and I've worked in a rehabilitation centre where most of the patients I dealt with were in wheelchairs, there's still a lot I don't know about life in a wheelchair. My editor gave me a lot of advice that was extremely helpful.
So now what? I'm still working on editing and rewriting this novel. I've been at it for about ten months now, and I'm only half way through the rewrites. I'm feeling totally lost, and very discouraged at this moment.
The other problem with this slow progress is that before I sent House of Secrets away for evaluation, I was already halfway through the first draft of the sequel! And I want to write a third novel with these characters to make it a trilogy. If these books are going to take as much time as H of S, then I'll have to live well into my hundreds!!
still more about "I'm back"
It's been a few weeks now since I got back from that trip to the UK.
After Dalgellau, we spent a couple of nights in Porthmadog, still in North Wales. I don't remember much about that place. I wasn't keen on the "bed and breakfast" we were in. Nothing wrong with it, but I just wasn't very comfortable there. The name of the place was, if I remember correctly, translated as "The Old Bakehouse" but I can't remember the Welsh name. Breakfast was served in the "restaurant" attached next door--more like a pub that just closed down to give us breakfast before we left for the day.
We had a good trip down to Aberystwyth, which was really funny for me. I was there almost exactly sixteen months before. I stood on the same spot where I had photographed my son and husband in January 2017. And there I was with my daughter on June 3rd or 4th, whichever it was, in 2018. Aberystwyth is a very nice town. It has a beautiful beach--but not really good in January or even June. Kind of chilly in the Irish Sea.
We went to a historic mansion for tea. That's not a drink in the UK, it's more of an institution. Sometimes it's sandwiches and cakes, sometimes it's a full dinner. This time it was mostly cakes. And we had it outdoors, looking at the mansion. The mansion was chosen as a place to visit because some of our group wanted to visit a haunted house, and this one is said to be haunted. No ghosts for us, though.
The next day, we went to a slate museum. I found it very interesting, but the other three females just wandered around and didn't go. Too bad, because the slate museum had a few good ghost stories. Much better than the mansion.
Next day, Catherine and I took the train back to Gatwick airport, which pretends to be in London. We spent a night in a hotel, the Crown Plaza, which I don't recommend. Then, next morning, I flew home while my daughter flew to Scotland to spend a week there.
After Dalgellau, we spent a couple of nights in Porthmadog, still in North Wales. I don't remember much about that place. I wasn't keen on the "bed and breakfast" we were in. Nothing wrong with it, but I just wasn't very comfortable there. The name of the place was, if I remember correctly, translated as "The Old Bakehouse" but I can't remember the Welsh name. Breakfast was served in the "restaurant" attached next door--more like a pub that just closed down to give us breakfast before we left for the day.
We had a good trip down to Aberystwyth, which was really funny for me. I was there almost exactly sixteen months before. I stood on the same spot where I had photographed my son and husband in January 2017. And there I was with my daughter on June 3rd or 4th, whichever it was, in 2018. Aberystwyth is a very nice town. It has a beautiful beach--but not really good in January or even June. Kind of chilly in the Irish Sea.
We went to a historic mansion for tea. That's not a drink in the UK, it's more of an institution. Sometimes it's sandwiches and cakes, sometimes it's a full dinner. This time it was mostly cakes. And we had it outdoors, looking at the mansion. The mansion was chosen as a place to visit because some of our group wanted to visit a haunted house, and this one is said to be haunted. No ghosts for us, though.
The next day, we went to a slate museum. I found it very interesting, but the other three females just wandered around and didn't go. Too bad, because the slate museum had a few good ghost stories. Much better than the mansion.
Next day, Catherine and I took the train back to Gatwick airport, which pretends to be in London. We spent a night in a hotel, the Crown Plaza, which I don't recommend. Then, next morning, I flew home while my daughter flew to Scotland to spend a week there.
Friday, June 15, 2018
I'm Back Part Three
Still in North Wales, Dalgallau was of particular interest for a couple of reasons. First, it's the town where our host was born. Not only that, but the house that is now the B&B where we stayed, was once the maternity hospital. Taff was born in the very room my daughter and I stayed in. It sounds phony, but the host and hostess of the B&B assured us it was the truth. And in a town as small as Dalgallau everyone knows everything about everyone.
The B&B was very quaint. Each room had a particular character connected with a story. Our room was called "Secret Garden" and was decorated with flowers and animals. The room across from us was "Narnia" and another room was "Alice in Wonderland". Taff's room in the attic was called "Number Six"--which apparently has something to do with "The Prisoner", or maybe it's the other way around. I'm not familiar with that book.
This village was more accessible for me. I was able to walk around, have lunch in a tea house, and so on, while my daughter climbed mountains and followed streams to the sea.
Then we moved on to Porthmadog.
The B&B was very quaint. Each room had a particular character connected with a story. Our room was called "Secret Garden" and was decorated with flowers and animals. The room across from us was "Narnia" and another room was "Alice in Wonderland". Taff's room in the attic was called "Number Six"--which apparently has something to do with "The Prisoner", or maybe it's the other way around. I'm not familiar with that book.
This village was more accessible for me. I was able to walk around, have lunch in a tea house, and so on, while my daughter climbed mountains and followed streams to the sea.
Then we moved on to Porthmadog.
I'm back--Part Two
The second part of this year's trip to the UK was the Wild Wales Walking Tour. My daughter booked it, and I think she thought I'd be able to do some of the hikes. I hoped I might do one or two, but as it turned out, they were either too long or too difficult for this old lady. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the trip. Taff Roberts, the leader, was knowledgeable and always ready to share stories related to the places we visited.
I've been to Wales a couple of times before. When I was about twelve or thirteen, I visited my aunt and uncle and cousins in Swansea, staying with them for about a month, I think. Then, many years later, my husband and I drove through parts of the countryside, and another time travelled there by train. Just last year, February 2017, my husband and son and I took the train from London to Aberystwyth and had a couple of days there en route to Liverpool and beyond.
But this trip, was different. Catherine, my daughter, and I were in the company of Taff Roberts and two couples who actually knew him from their home town of Winona, Minnesota, where Taff now resides.
Our first stop was in Aberdaron. A little town on the tip of a peninsula way up north--but not quite in Anglesey. There we stayed in a modern styled bed and breakfast, and Taff's brother and sister-in-law joined us for a meal. We stayed there three nights. Unfortunately, I couldn't get into the town by myself because the road was long, steep and windy. So I mostly stayed in the B&B and read the book I'd brought along for just such an eventuality. (The book, THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN, set in London, England--movie notwithstanding--an excellent read). One day, however, Taff arranged for a taxi to take me into town so I could attend a church service. Anglican. I felt right at home. Then, while there, before the taxi came to take me home to the B&B, I visited the local museum.
Our next village was Dalgellau, (pronounced dal-gell-ai, the double L doesn't occur in English, but it's not difficult. Just put your tongue for the letter L, but don't use your voice, just blow around your tongue. Try it!)
I've been to Wales a couple of times before. When I was about twelve or thirteen, I visited my aunt and uncle and cousins in Swansea, staying with them for about a month, I think. Then, many years later, my husband and I drove through parts of the countryside, and another time travelled there by train. Just last year, February 2017, my husband and son and I took the train from London to Aberystwyth and had a couple of days there en route to Liverpool and beyond.
But this trip, was different. Catherine, my daughter, and I were in the company of Taff Roberts and two couples who actually knew him from their home town of Winona, Minnesota, where Taff now resides.
Our first stop was in Aberdaron. A little town on the tip of a peninsula way up north--but not quite in Anglesey. There we stayed in a modern styled bed and breakfast, and Taff's brother and sister-in-law joined us for a meal. We stayed there three nights. Unfortunately, I couldn't get into the town by myself because the road was long, steep and windy. So I mostly stayed in the B&B and read the book I'd brought along for just such an eventuality. (The book, THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN, set in London, England--movie notwithstanding--an excellent read). One day, however, Taff arranged for a taxi to take me into town so I could attend a church service. Anglican. I felt right at home. Then, while there, before the taxi came to take me home to the B&B, I visited the local museum.
Our next village was Dalgellau, (pronounced dal-gell-ai, the double L doesn't occur in English, but it's not difficult. Just put your tongue for the letter L, but don't use your voice, just blow around your tongue. Try it!)
I'm back (from the UK) Part One
Left on May 23rd and returned June 7th, 2018. Only two weeks away from home. Almost not worth going! I've never had such a short overseas trip. I would have liked to stay longer, and go other places, but that was not practical at this time. As a result, I'm warning everyone that I'm half dreaming/planning to go back to the UK next year. By myself. No hiking trips, but maybe a bus tour.
The first part of this trip was five days in London. Strange, because I was just there 16 months ago. (January 2017) My English cousins are going to be tired of seeing me. I almost never see my Canadian cousins--it's been decades! Nevertheless, I'd still like to visit each of them--London, Oxford, Devon, and some place called S...something Coal Mines, or something (Sutton, maybe).
While in London, I had a chance to introduce my friend Genevieve to my daughter. I'd seen Genevieve last time, January 2017, the first opportunity to meet since I'd taken her for pram rides in Battersea Park, when I was about 13 years old.
Last visit with Genevieve, we went to the Tower of London, but I didn't really see as much as I'd hoped. I need more information on the Bloody Tower for a middle-grade book I'm researching. So, my daughter and I went back again this trip (just last month, but it seems like ages ago.) Unfortunately, this time the Bloody Tower was closed for preparations for a display. Drat! But, to make up for it, and even better, there was a dramatic performance of the last days of Anne Boleyn--very relevant to the research I'm doing on the Tower.
The first part of this trip was five days in London. Strange, because I was just there 16 months ago. (January 2017) My English cousins are going to be tired of seeing me. I almost never see my Canadian cousins--it's been decades! Nevertheless, I'd still like to visit each of them--London, Oxford, Devon, and some place called S...something Coal Mines, or something (Sutton, maybe).
While in London, I had a chance to introduce my friend Genevieve to my daughter. I'd seen Genevieve last time, January 2017, the first opportunity to meet since I'd taken her for pram rides in Battersea Park, when I was about 13 years old.
Last visit with Genevieve, we went to the Tower of London, but I didn't really see as much as I'd hoped. I need more information on the Bloody Tower for a middle-grade book I'm researching. So, my daughter and I went back again this trip (just last month, but it seems like ages ago.) Unfortunately, this time the Bloody Tower was closed for preparations for a display. Drat! But, to make up for it, and even better, there was a dramatic performance of the last days of Anne Boleyn--very relevant to the research I'm doing on the Tower.
cookies
Turning on this blog, in order to get it up to date, I was confronted with a big yellow notice telling me that I'm supposed to warn followers or readers of this blog that Google collects cookies here. The yellow notice lists also Blogger, Google Analytics, "and other data collected by Google." I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this. I don't want to know anything more about my readers than they care to post in the comment sections. I don't know what the cookies are for, exactly. But if they worry you, I suggest you give my blog a miss. Otherwise, if you are like me and have nothing special to hide, let's just "keep calm and carry on." That's what I intend to do.
So, I'm supposed to notify you of cookie gathering.
Consider yourself notified.
So, I'm supposed to notify you of cookie gathering.
Consider yourself notified.
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