dreaminghope: (3-Day Novel)
I went to see Lee Maracle read this past Tuesday at the Central Library. I love her novels, especially Ravensong.

She has this fabulous laugh – deep, full, jolly. Her daughter and niece – both at the reading – have the same laugh. They filled the room with joy while Lee told slightly bawdy stories before the official reading started.

While the librarian was trying to introduce her, doing the traditional listing of awards, qualifications, and books, the family got the giggles, seemingly at the pomposity of the whole thing. The librarian finally gave up and gave over to Lee.

She read from "Will's Garden" and "Daughters are Forever", then she took questions. Someone asked her about her writing process:

Writing is a sacred thing to me. It's like a Sweat to me. ... I sit down at my computer on a Friday, and I say to my ass: "Hold on; we're going to be here awhile." I'll write, and my family asks: "Are you going to sleep?" And then on Tuesday or so, the first draft'll be done. It has to be 156 pages long; when it's 156 pages, I know it's done.

I do an average of 16 drafts before I finish a book. On a Friday night, my daughters would see me bringing out the popcorn and the pop, and they’d know: "Mom's got another draft to read to us." I'd read until Monday, with them dozing sometimes, and after, they'd be asking how it was different from the last draft they listened to...


Lee Maracle entered the 3-Day Novel Contest once. She thought she couldn't do any preparation, so she told her family to keep her distracted. Her daughters sang to her; kept her from planning. She came in second. She found out later from the people running the contest that the winner had a forty page outline.

Forty page outline! I thought that'd be cheating. That's practically a novel. I could've written a second draft in three days if I'd had a forty page outline.

It's comforting that even a published author only came in second. Comforting, too, that a published author writes a first draft in three to five days on a regular basis.

The 3-Day Novel Contest starts tomorrow at midnight. I've got an idea, but it feels fragile, like it'll dry up like a husk if I put it on paper too soon. I am trying very hard not to even look at the idea too closely; it's a seed, still in the dark, and if it comes to light too soon, it may not make it – I'll get bored with the story before I've even started to write it. Or, worse yet, I'll get bored halfway through, when it's nearly impossible to start over.

If you can't see the 3-Day entry just before this one, then you are not on my NaNoWriMo/3-Day Novel filter. Let me know if you would like to be, in case I use it to blow off steam and post silly and strange novel excerpts during this marathon.

Soon, the journey begins... I've got lots of chocolate, coffee, and garlic bread laid in.
dreaminghope: (Flying Demon Girl)
I wonder what the Commodore Ballroom uses to clean their carpets. I hope they've got something good, as it was positively spongy with expensive cheap beer. I do wonder why someone would spend more than $6 on a beer and then spill so much of it on the ground. I'm going to have to hose off my shoes to keep from tracking stale Kokanee all over.

The openers on Thursday night were the three winners for a local radio station's contest, Vancouver Seeds, whose 30 year history includes winners such as Nickleback, Matthew Good, State of Shock, and, of course, Bif Naked.

Best non-ironic use of a tambourine

I think it's time for the tambourine to make a comeback. Venice Queen managed to locate a rock tambourine: black with black chrome. The player wore sunglasses and leapt around the stage with a fool's grin.

I think Venice Queen should have won the Seeds top prize.

Best non-ironic use of a gong

Black Betty was interesting for having only two members: a male lead singer/drummer and a female guitar-player. They were tight, but they weren't as interesting to watch compared to the antics of the larger groups. And metal's not really my thing. Still, they ended the set by wailing on a full-sized gong, so they have that going for them.

Best use of sexual tension

I'm not much for twitchy white-boy quasi-reggae, but there was a lovely moment from Goodbye Beatdown's performance: the bassist and guitar player – both fairly nice-looking boys – doing the face-to-face battle of the strings move. One's shirtless, their instruments are almost touching, they get washed with a blue spotlight, and one goes down on his knees... fellow band mates might to watch them during long tours, is all I'm saying.

... I don't know what that means.

Goodbye Beatdown did win the top prize.

Best of all

I was there with my brother-in-law and some of his co-workers, as they all knew Venice Queen's drummer and were there to support him. I was there to see Bif Naked, the headliner. Once the Seeds platinum prize was announced, the co-workers mostly turned to serious drinking, while I headed for the sticky dance floor.

Bif Naked put on a fabulous show, as always. That woman has so much energy, and she puts everything into her performance. I was especially thrilled to get to hear "Ciao Bella" live, as it is one of my favourite songs from her new album. Other highlights: a rougher version of her classic ballad "Lucky", the entire crowd singing along to "Nothing Else Matters" and "Fuck You 2", and Bif's explanations of some of her songs ("Honeybee" is more literal than you might think upon first listening to it).

My only complaint: I do wish whoever was doing the lighting would have stopped turning on the house lights between songs, as I did not really want to be able to see the disgusting floor, and the bright lights disrupting getting really into the concert as a whole.

Well worth staying up until 1 AM for, but I'm sure glad I didn't have to work on Friday, between the lost voice from the screaming and ringing in the ears.
dreaminghope: (Faerie Wings)
I'm standing in line clutching a small pile of books under one arm and struggling to free a hardcover from its shrink wrap by using a pen to stab a hole in the resistant plastic. The nice man behind me turns out to be experienced in these matters – having just bought the same book down the hall moments before – and he helps me get the book unwrapped without pen marks. His girlfriend looks at my stack of books: "A really big fan, huh?"

We're at Foolscap IX. The author guest of honour is my absolutely favourite author of all time: Charles de Lint. The artist guest of honour is Charles Vess, who has done the illustrations for several special edition de Lint books as well as doing graphic novels with the likes of Neil Gaiman.

The two Charleses are side by side at a table at one end of the room, and the line curves around the entire circumference of the room and out into the hall. Though Foolscap is a small bookish science fiction/fantasy convention with a casual and unpretentious atmosphere (on the first day, my partner, Russ, ended up talking to Vess for twenty minutes in the hall without even knowing who he was; that says a lot about Russ as well as about the convention), most people don't want to just randomly bother the guests of honour with requests for signings and so are taking advantage of this clearly designated opportunity.

The couple behind me in line are newer fans of de Lint's. We discuss what their favourites novels are so far and I push my preferences on them. We mostly discuss the books done by big publishers: Memory and Dream, Someplace to be Flying, and one of the new books, a YA called Little (Grrl) Lost. We all agree on loving the Crow Girls and of thinking that Little (Grrl) Lost was an excellent book for twelve year olds but only a light fun book for adults.

My companions know I'm a hardcore fan because I'm carrying de Lint books published by Subterranean Press (Medicine Road and the book newly freed from its shrink wrap, Promises to Keep) and other rarities such as Vess and de Lint's picture book, A Circle of Cats. They don't know me well enough to recognize how excited I am: that I am speaking too fast and bouncing too much as we wait.

I get to Charles Vess first. He signs a graphic novel for Mike (my ex-coworker) and signs and doodles in the novels I've brought where he did cover or interior art. He is very nice.

Then: Charles de Lint! He is a very unassuming man. Quiet. He would be easy to overlook if he wasn't the center of attention. He chuckles at my excited re-telling of how I'd pre-ordered Promises to Keep back while it was still supposed to be The Newford Collection and had been eagerly waiting for its publication and arrival since March and it had arrived on Friday afternoon, only hours before we were to leave home to come to this very convention and then I'd just managed to get the plastic off of it while in line, just in time for him to sign it...

He signed my books – each one a little different – making sure to spell my name right. And then I moved aside so the next person could have their turn. And I must confess that I hugged those books tight to my chest and once I was in the hall and out of earshot of everyone but Russ, I squeeed. Twice.

I'm such a de Lint fan-girl.

Charles de Lint was interviewed twice during the weekend and did a casual concert (with his wife, MaryAnn) during a question and answer period. He did a formal concert one night, but Russ and I missed it to eat the best pizza we've ever had.

I enjoyed listening to him talk about his creative process, about how he wanted to be a musician and somehow ended up an author, about the struggle to get published in different categories than the one the publishers have put you in. A couple of random things that stuck with me:

Because he first wrote fantasy books for the adult market, he had a hard time breaking into young adult books, and then had to convince publishers that he could write a children's picture book. No matter how successful you are in one genre or category, you have to start over almost from scratch every time you want to change your area of specialty.

He doesn't talk about his works in progress for the same reason he doesn't write outlines: he discovers the story as he writes it the first time, and once he has told the whole story, he starts to lose interest. If he talks about it, he feels like he has told the story and he doesn’t want to write it anymore.

Finally: His next book is going to be called Dingo and includes some Australian mythology! It's almost done, and that's all he would tell us.

Excuse me for a moment: Squeee!

Shortened version cross-posted to [livejournal.com profile] charlesdelint.
dreaminghope: (Flying Demon Girl)
When I get a new book by a favourite author, one I know will be wonderful, I have trouble starting the book, for starting it will only bring me that much closer to finishing it. The anticipation of starting a new book is like the moment right before the orgasm: you both want it to last forever and want to get on with reading the book already.

I want reading the great book to be perfect: I want to be all comfy – in a soft place, warm enough – and to have a long period of uninterrupted time to enjoy it. I would be completely undistracted by illness, exhaustion, or work concerns. My house would be perfectly clean and tidy, my emails would all be answered, all the bills would be paid and filed. Of course, I have to accept less-then-ideal circumstances, or I would never have sex read at all.

I received a package from Amazon.ca today; one I wasn't expecting for a couple of weeks, so it caught me completely unprepared. Four Charles de Lint books I have never read, all here at once!

I've been lusting after some of these books for years – they are all small press items, unavailable in stores, and I finally saved up the money to buy them – and now I have them piled on the edge of the de Lint shelf of the living room bookcase, glossy and seductive, and I can't seem to get myself started.

I'll finish the Nightside book I'm in the middle of, bask in its glow for a moment or two, then grab one of the new books and not get nearly enough sleep for the next couple of nights. Right now, I am trying to tell myself that I will stretch the four books out, savouring each one. In reality, I will probably gorge myself. If I'm not on LJ a lot for the coming week, you know where I am.

I anticipate being very satiated.
dreaminghope: (Faerie Wings)
On Friday night, Russ was so sweet to take me to a folk showcase, even though he doesn't really like folk music. I wanted to go because Kim Barlow was playing. Hers was one of 5 performances, with only 1/2 hour sets each, and she had her set right in the middle.

The first performer (John Dobb, I think) was good, but very country, so not really my style.

The second performance was a French-Canadian group of 5. All their songs were in very rapid French, and I have no idea what they were saying. But they were energetic and enthusiastic and were obviously having a fabulous time; it made them a lot of fun to watch. They had an accordian and a soprano sax, which was neat. I've never seen anyone rock out on an accordian before.

Then Kim! I was a little disappointed that she didn't play her cello, and she had a cold and kept cracking on the high notes, but she played the banjo as well as the guitar, and she played my favourite two songs from her newest album, "Slim Pickins" and "Get in the Car", so I was happy.

"Slim Pickins" always makes me laugh a little. It is told from a miner's perspective, talking about trying to find love in a small, Northern mining town.

My parents don't talk much about how they met, but the one time Mom talked about it, I found out that she and her sister had gone up North (the Yukon, I think, but it might have been the Northwest Territories) to work in the secretarial pool at a mine. My Dad was working up there. He used to find excuses to stop by my Mom's desk to chat and stuff. Now, my Mom was a beautiful young woman, so she wasn't a case of "slim pickings". I imagine that as one of the few women in an isolated area full of men, she could have had her pick of men there anyway.

I think my aunt also met her husband up there at the same camp.

After Kim was a local woman that we've seen before. I'm not really a fan (in fact, I've forgotten her name again), but she was fun, especially her "Ramones-inspired children's song". And the last performance was a father (on guitar), a son (probably only about 15, on fiddle) and a guy on stand-up bass. The son was technically perfect, but he didn't really seem to be passionate about playing. It seemed pretty mechanical, especially given that he was playing gypsy swing. Russ and I started drawing geeky comparisons to Data in Star Trek: TNG.

Anyway, we had so much fun!
dreaminghope: (Playing Zoey)
Better late then never - some notes on my fandom weekend:

Friday night: As previously mentioned, we went all the way out to Langley to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in IMAX. We got to the theatre at about 5 PM to buy tickets for the 7 PM show, and basically went straight into the line. As a result, we got good seats, and all five of us could sit together.

Saturday: Russ was so sweet to drive me to the store to buy the new Harry Potter book. I read it in between box packing.

Sunday morning: Got up early to finish the Harry Potter book. I'm not going to say much about it because I know a lot of people haven't been able to read it yet, but I would recommend that you count on reading the last 60 or so pages all at once without interruptions.

Sunday afternoon: The Buffy sing-a-long at the movie theatre. It was so cool to see Hush and the musical with that many Buffy fans, on the big screen.

I did manage to cram a bunch of packing and sorting in too, but the weekend was definitely dominated by my favourite media and pop (geek?) culture preoccupations!
dreaminghope: (Sleeping Zoey)
I will always have a special place in my heart for the original movie, which I must have seen at least a dozen times. It's one of the only movies from my childhood that I love for itself, and not for the book on which it was based. I actually only vaguely remember the book, though I will be seeking out a copy to read now. But I do remember other Ronald Dahl books and the spirit of them.

That said, I loved this new version of the movie! Much more true to the feel of Dahl's books, for one thing, but also, just a colourful telling of a good story.

Though I love the original "oompah-loompah" songs, I enjoyed the new versions, especially the dances and costumes. I loved the colours. Oh, and I think this new version actually makes more sense. I always thought the crime of "constant gum chewing" didn't seem like reason enough to condemn Violet; this new movie makes her actual shortcoming much more obvious.

Favourite bits, hopefully without giving anything away: the opening of the factory doors; the boat ride; the elevator rides; the scenes right after the elevator leaves the factory.

I saw it in IMAX in Langley, but I don't think that's necessary to enjoying the film. It was really neat, though.

Oh, and after the movie we went to the Olive Garden, so now I'm really full (yummy breadsticks). Hopefully I'll still sleep; I'm exhausted.

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February 2014

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