Something Tangible

I feel good today and it's because I accomplished something tangible. Which is such a rare thing for me.

See I find in the writing world, despite the fact that edits eventually come to an end (I am told), and your book eventually winds up on a shelf, I can still imagine that, reading through that finished product, an author can find things that they think could still be improved upon.

And in the acting world, well especially theatre, there is a sense that everything is mutable, nothing is permanent. Your performance is always changing, and while one night you may feel totally awesome about your own work, the very next day you can feel as low as can be.

But today! Today I completed something tangible.

There is a theatre festival in Toronto called SummerWorks for which I wanted to apply (the deadline is tomorrow). There is no guarantee you'll get in, all the proposals are tried by jury, but I'm still hopeful. Anyway I kept putting off getting the package together and today, at the last moment, I got my act in gear. I wrote my letter of intent, and I included some extra info on the show. I filled in the application form, wrote a couple cheques. And I printed up my 49 page one-act play, "A Weekend in the Country." I put the whole thing together and stuffed it into a manila envelope. And after I went to my singing lesson, dropped off the whole proposal in person at the headquarters.

Sure if I get in, then there will be way more work to do (I really hope I get in!).

But for now I am going to revel in this rarest of moments. That in one day I completed a task, start to finish.

And man it felt awesome.

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Everyone excited about Lisa Clark's visit tomorrow? I know you are!! Just one more day to check out her site before she makes her appearance: Pink World

The Pain, The Pain!

My apologies my dear lovely readers for not posting yesterday. The reason I did not, is actually quite good fodder for today's post I think.

I'm 26. The reason I am sharing with you this extraordinary information is that at 26 you wouldn't expect my body to be misbehaving quite as much as it currently is.

You see, my back is in incredible pain and I place the blame squarely on myself. I don't sit properly, I don't get up and stretch every 20 minutes or so. No, I sit in front of this computer, hours on end, and last Thursday my back just decided to tell me, "Enough is enough."

Now don't be frightened my readers! Nothing untoward happened. I could still walk and things, but when I sat at the computer, after around half an hour my back would just hurt so much that I had to get up.

And I am telling you all this, not for the sympathy (though a few "poor little Adrienne"s wouldn't hurt), but as a tale of warning. I had already invested in an ergonomic keyboard when my wrists started hurting. Now I have bought a new chair with lumbar support and raised the screen of my laptop so that my neck isn't being stretched.

But I would advise you do this BEFORE the pain sets in. Not to think you are somehow the exception to the rule (unless you are one of my invertebrate friends, shout out to my invertebrate friends!). So do get up every twenty minutes or so and stretch. And do make sure the chair you are sitting in has good support, or if you are sitting on a large ball (this sounds funny but I am serious, so many people are sitting on those big exercise balls now), to keep your back straight. It might feel uncomfortable at first, but it will help so much in the long run.

Otherwise you could be like me yesterday, being chauffeured around the city to purchase a good chair, as well as visit the chiropractor.

It isn't being a wuss or anything, it's just good common sense!
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Just wanted to let everyone know I am hosting Lisa Clark on my blog this Thursday, author of the non-fiction books "Think Pink" and her latest "Think Pink - Beauty' licious". She's answering some questions posted by some writers from various forums. Please check out her website in the meantime - Pink World


Last Friday's quote was from the Woody Allen film, "Bullets Over Broadway".

Today's: "I shall call him squishy, and he will be mine and he shall be my squishy!"

Ceci n'est pas une blog.

Should one blog if one has nothing of note to blog about?

I suppose some blogs do allow for this. You know, the "this is what I did today, or interesting observations about everyday life" kind of blogs. I do quite enjoy those blogs. And I do have a few entries in the past like that. I mean I could tell you how I scheduled a hair appointment for tomorrow and I am nervous because I am going to get side swiped bangs. Or that I booked tickets to New York with the lovely Lesley, and I am quite excited about it because I have lots of friends there I want to see and also I'll get to meet my American publisher people (and possibly my pen pal, artist Peter Brown . . .hmm I should really email him). Or how my back is killing me from working on the computer so much and that I really need to buy a good chair.

But really, I just don't much feel like writing about any of those things right now.

So, as long as you guys don't mind, I think I'm going to skip my blog post today.
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Have a lovely weekend everyone!

And yes Lesley, the quote was from Star Wars. Well done.

Today's (and you have all weekend people):

"Your taste is exquisite!"
"No, my taste is superb, my eyes are exquisite."

Do I look average in this?

So today I am going to take a brief departure from the usual stuff about writing to address something that I just felt needed to be addressed. Typically I don't want to rant on this blog, but this is something that got to me last night and I kind of felt I needed to get it off my chest.

I was watching an entertainment news show as I sometimes do, when I don't think they'll induce an epileptic fit or anything (those flashing images and hosts yelling at me . . . why do they yell at me, why?). And they were commenting on a new magazine interview with the model Tyra Banks. These entertainment shows seem to do this a lot. Have a segment which is basically them telling you what they read in a magazine somewhere else. I find it distinctly odd.

Anyway.

Tyra was rebutting comments that evidently have been made about her that she is now fat. She says this is absurd. Here is a picture of her. It is absurd.



The entertainment programme was in agreement. At least on the surface. But this is what gets my goat. Tyra was commenting on how she liked her new larger size. As if she was somehow this hefty zaftig lady all of a sudden. As opposed to being, I dunno, average.

I know that Hollywood promotes the super skinny image and I hate it. But what I hate even more are the people out there who comment on how bad that image is and then point out and praise "average" sized women and how wonderful they are. Average sized women like Scarlett Johansson, or Anne Hathaway. Who are no bigger than a size 4. These "average" sized women, they say, are proud of their curves, they like being larger. And THIS I think does almost a greater disservice than the worship of the skinnies. Because the programmes are redefining average. Suddenly average is no longer the providence of sizes 8 or 10 (and let's not forget that the actual average in the states is around 12/14). Average is now 4.

Not only are they redefining what an average size is, but they always put the words "average" and "larger" or "curvaceous" (which ought to be a good thing, but any woman can tell you if someone calls her curvaceous she just thinks they think she's fat, even if they don't) in the same sentence. "Tonight we'll show you some curvaceous actresses who are pleased with their larger size." Thus "average" is becoming synonymous with "large".

And I just wish the media outlets who purport to care so much and be disgusted by the current trends in Hollywood could take a moment and see what they are actually doing. I mean to me it seems so obvious. (I won't even go into the whole problem of how everyone wants to see larger women on screen, but how there is still no place for the size 8, it's either 2 or 12 - oh I guess I did go into it).

So yes, just something for ya'll to think about and to notice.

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Next I want to announce a wonderful exciting new presence on the web: my lovely friend Lesley Livingston whom I have mentioned a few times on this blog, has begun one of her own so please do check it out over at: http://lesleylivingston.blogspot.com/

And lastly I wanted to apologise for the super hard quote yesterday. "Everyone has heart. Except some people," is one of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite movies "All About Eve" starring Bette Davis. Let's try a nicer one today:

"Who's scruffy looking?"

Hint: it's Sci-Fi

All children except one . . .

So like I mentioned in my last post, I went to see Guy Gavriel Kay read last night. This was my second time seeing him in person speaking and reading (the first half of the evening consisted of an interview). And I have to say, I really don't know how he does it. He just seems so articulate and more to the point, calm. I just know if I was ever interviewed I would find myself deep into a digression from whence no human could possibly escape. Or telling a thoroughly inappropriate story, or somehow revealing a deep dark secret about myself because at the time I thought it was a funny thing to share.

But anyway.

After, several of us went for drinks in this really lovely, shi-shi (sp?) bar. And it was fun, and very relaxed. I didn't know everyone, but I had met most of them before, and I had Lesley, and then later her significant other John, to take care of me. Or at least talk to me. But it wasn't really necessary as everyone was really nice, and the conversation flowed freely.

And then I disassociated myself, briefly, as I always do, from the situation. Kind of took a step back and took stock. Here I was sitting and chatting with several authors, including Guy himself, several editors, other industry folk, in this very posh bar sitting on a grey bank sofa, drinking a lovely glass of wine. I was perfectly at ease with all this. And at the same time . . . at the same time I kind of felt like I was playing make believe. That I was pretending to be a grown up.

I think a lot of people, no matter what the age can feel like that. And it is so odd because as a kid you never realise that the adults around you are coming to terms with being the age they are, just as you are coming to terms with being the age you are. That they have never been a grown up before. That they don't automatically know what to do.

And yet, and yet, it still felt perfectly right to be where I was, talking as I was, drinking what I was.

It's amazing how you can feel you fit in just fine and at the same time think, "This is my life? Really?" I wonder how uber-celebrities feel when they go to exclusive parties, the Oscars, premieres. Do they ever just shake their heads, look down at their designer duds and wonder how they got into this situation? Or are they not phased at all? I think if it's that latter, then it is quite sad really.

Well I hope I never am entirely comfortable with it. Not in a bad way. There is nothing I hate more than feeling out of place and pointless. I just mean I hope that I always think, "Gee this is sort of special." Even just a little bit. A tiny taste. Like a little bit of salt sprinkled on an already beautifully grilled steak.

(It's lunch time, I can't help it that my thoughts that way tend.)


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Inspired by Leah's question two posts ago, I thought I would start a little game. I am going to post quotes from films and let's see if you guys can figure them out. There will be no tangible prize for the first person to figure them out, but you will earn my unending respect (yes I am well aware you could simply google it, but I have a greater faith in my readers than that).

(Answer to the rhyming question: "No more rhymes now and I mean it!" "Anybody want a peanut?")

Today's quote (this is going to be a tough one, be warned):
"Everyone has a heart. Except some people."

They're here!

My edits have arrived. I am nervous, but oddly excited to get to work.

It's interesting because my editor printed this manuscript out single spaced. I've never actually seen the book look like this before. It's kind of neat.

Gee, if I find that so cool, I wonder how I will react when I see the book as a book. Dude. Woah. That thought totally blows my mind. Kinda in the same way that old saying does: "If a tree falls in the woods, and hits a mime, does anyone care?" (okay okay I stole that from Farside, I admit it)

Anyway, I'm making this short and sweet so I can just get to work.

Oh! I am seeing Guy Gavriel Kay interviewed tonight. I will report back on the event tomorrow!

"How come you keep saying that word?"

Words.

They mean things.

You can try to bend them to your will, but they really do have concrete meanings, and if you are trying to make an argument using them (it would be difficult not to, unless you designed a flow chart or something and just sort of pointed), you should probably use them as nature intended. Otherwise you will be constantly called out on the semantics of your position, and not addressing the issue of the debate.

Often people try to appropriate words to make them positive. This works to a certain advantage, when words used to deride a minority is taken by the minority and turned around to be positive. However, most of the time, people just don't realise they are misusing the word in the first place. Here are two such words that, as Inigo from "The Princess Bride" would tell us, don't mean what we think they mean.

Arrogance - Okay this word is most often used pretty correctly. But what gets my goat is when people try to use it in a positive way as, "I believe in myself, and if that makes me arrogant, fine." Now I have nothing wrong with people believing in themselves. I think pride and self-esteem are critical to being a functioning human on this planet. However arrogance?

Well this is what arrogance really means: "having or revealing an exaggerated sense of one's own importance or abilities".

The key word is "exaggerated" as in, you think of yourself in a way that is false in an extreme. Being arrogant means you think highly of yourself in a skewed and untrue light. It is not a positive thing. It actually makes you look, dare I say it, a wee bit foolish.

Next word, and this one IS used all the time to mean something quite different than what it really means.

Opinionated - this is used most frequently to mean that a person has a lot of strong opinions. This is not a bad thing. I way prefer people to have strong opinions than to sit on the fence all the time. You may have noticed from the content of my blog that I have just such those opinions. However this is not what it means.

Opinionated really means this: "conceitedly assertive and dogmatic in one's opinions".

Again not such a great thing to be. Very close in fact to the definition of arrogant as a matter of fact. Check out the synonyms to opinionated: dictatorial, pontifical, domineering, pompous, self-important, arrogant; inflexible, uncompromising, prejudiced, bigoted.

Not so hot to be.

I don't think the people who use either of these terms (especially the latter) really are the way the words they choose to describe themselves imply. I don't mean to judge anyone simply because they got a word wrong. It seriously happens to all of us all the time. I just think it would be nice if we could be thoughtful about the things we say, enjoy words and play with them, and do so with some care and respect. And it can be fun, every once in a while, to look up words you use with some frequency. Just to, you know, double check.

And I would like to point out that up until recently I too misused "opinionated". It is just that now that I know what it means, I am determined to use it correctly, and to also educate the world!

I think that should be my superhero - "Dictionary Girl!"

If you can't quite think of the word
no matter how hard that you try,
don't look for it up in a book,
but rather look into the sky!

For Dictionary Girl will save you
when you just can't think of the word,
or if you've used one that's not quite right
that would make you sound slightly absurd.

And then she'll fly off once again
to where, well no one really knows,
but no fear! she'll always be there
should you need a slight hand with your prose.

Make 'Em Laugh

Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite.
And you can charm the critics and have nothin' to eat.
Just slip on a banana peel
The world's at your feet!
Make 'em laugh,
Make 'em laugh,
Make 'em laugh!

Cosmo - Singing in the Rain

Here's a story. Back in my first year of university I returned to my highschool to watch the student film festival they held annually. I went 'cause I still knew a lot of the students at the time. One of the guys did this great, really funny short film, and afterwards took questions. I raised my hand and said something to the effect of, "I have a question actually."

And someone behind me turned to his friend and whispered, "Ooh, this is going to be good."

You see, I had earned this reputation in my last year of highschool of being rather humorous, and the kid I guess remembered me. I felt the huge pressure suddenly as I asked my question. Fortunately, heck, is was pretty 'good'.

But here's the thing. Being funny? That's still a relatively new concept to me. One I am not sure I am altogether comfortable with yet.

I was never a really funny kid. At least that wasn't what I was known for. No class clown me. I was smart and I was talented and that was how I defined myself. I went to an arts school (mentioned below), and there there were truly funny kids. Kids who could get up on stage and do an improv and be brilliant. Knock your socks off, pee in your pants funny. I would get on stage, and this is no lie, the teacher would tell me I was boring (this was in grade 7).

I wasn't an improv actor. I was a Shakespearean actor. In my mind. At 12. And that served me well. I put myself in a nice little category and never attempted to stray.

In highschool I remained true to this belief system. And my teachers followed suit, casting me in typically serious roles. I did take an improv class, and while I wasn't funny I did learn I could be an okay straight man, which I quite enjoyed. So that was all good. And then . . . something odd happened.

The first odd thing that happened was I was cast in a scene in drama class as a dumb blond. Like I'm talking a really stereotypical dumb blond role. Something no one had ever cast me as ever. Namely because I wasn't blond. And also I had this reputation as a 'serious actress'. And you know what? I nailed it. I got laughs. And even more than that I learned how to get laughs from an audience, when to milk things, the give and take. It's was an amazing feeling really.

But the second thing was odder. The second thing was I wrote a play. It was a parody of the murder mystery genre called, "Elementary my good man" and it was put on as one of three shows at the school's one act play festival. And . . .

It was funny.

I didn't set out to write a funny play. I just had to write a play for my grade 12 playwriting class. But write a funny play I did. And not only sort of tee-hee humour, but actual punchline to a joke kind of comedy. It caused riotous laughter. It was freaking quotable. It was . . . dare I say it. . . witty.

How did this happen? I . . . have . . . no . . . idea . . .

And then the pressure was on. Suddenly I was known as 'clever' and 'funny', and the things coming out of my mouth made people laugh (namely the words coming out of my mouth, but let's be honest folk, stuff like chewed up food falling out of people's mouths is always good for a chuckle too).

Then I wrote my other play. And darn it! It was funny too. And then . . . oh dear . . .

And then I wrote my book.

And . . . well . . .

I hate to say it.

But.

It's pretty amusing.

And this sucks the most because now, NOW, I have this sequel I'm writing and I have all this pressure to be funny and it's so darn hard to do that! You can't force the funny. Okay there are some tried, tested and true gags you can put in there now and then, but the real comedy comes to me in those elusive moments of inspiration. One of those moments that come so rarely and you have to work through the rough patches to get to.

And you know, it just isn't fair. I never asked to be funny! I was more than happy being an intellectual, quoting my Shakespeare, and letting others get their laughs by playing off me.

I can see why comedians are some of the most neurotic people on the planet. Because the more famous they become, the more people out there expect them to be hi-larious. Like poor Marlin in "Finding Nemo", who is always asked to tell a joke, just 'cause he's a clown fish.

Because it isn't being funny that sucks. Making people laugh is one of the greatest joys out there, and being able to do it with some regularity is really special.

No what sucks is the reputation that goes along with it. The expectations people have of you. Along with the desire to meet those expectations.

And to, when the time comes, live up to the whisper, "Ooh, this is going to be good."

The Way of the Website

I already have an acting website that I created last year with my dad (and which is currently being fixed up by my friend Joanna). But now I need an author's website.

And this is tricky because I always get so ambitious. I was always that kid who when playing make believe was like, "Hey we could totally film this and edit to be a movie, and even cut in special effects! And then we could take it to film festivals and stuff! It would be awesome!" And of course the end result would be a disjointed montage of scenes, with some shaky camera work and poor lighting, screened for a few obliging family members.

I am the same with my website ambition. I look at the websites out there, and I want to do what they have done. I want objects to move, and to be able to chase sheep (check out somebrownstuff.com and you'll understand what that means). I am debating learning flash myself and figuring the whole mess out. But part of my ambition is the aesthetic of the whole thing. And with that, well with that, I am extremely blessed.

I don't know if you guys know my history at all, but I have been a drama major from the age of 11. I went to an arts school called Claude Watson, affectionately dubbed Mini-Claude when you went to the high school version of the same thing. So I happen to know a heck of a lot of talented people. Certainly I had to study all the different art forms, but I can tell you visual art was never my strong suit (nor was dance for that matter, but oddly both have somehow improved exponentially without much effort since).

But.

I did have friends, and continue to have these friends, for whom creating visual art just came so naturally to them. And so I have roped them into helping me with my site.

Okay, they are actually rather enthusiastic about the whole thing. And we are going to go to the reference library this weekend to look at images. The hope is to create something like a backdrop to the site that's a bit like a painting. Neither of these two are particularly gifted at website design, nor am I, but I have other friends who can help with that when the time comes.

Yay! It is all rather fun really, and especially to work with your friends who are just so darn gifted.

I do think I am rather spoiled when it comes to the arts. If I need help in a particular area, I have a wealth of options at my fingertips. In fact not only in the arts, but it many many different areas of life.

I really like my friends.

Anyway, the site won't be up for ages yet, but I just wanted to write a bit about that process as well, and I'll keep you posted, as I do, with everything.

And just for fun I wanted to re-post my poem I wrote in honour of my friends several months back, because it's worth doing again:

I would love to share with you all
How much my friends totally rock.
But it just isn't possible as
I'm afraid you'd die from the shock.

My Second Round

So I had a phone meeting today with my editor at Scholastic. I hate to call it a 'meeting' because we always wind up chatting about random other stuff, but it was also business, so I guess that's what to call it.

She is sending my MS back across the pond with more edits, and I really appreciate this because from what I understand having an editor being so thorough is a really special thing. It's so interesting really. You would think it would be the opposite, like you would feel that there was nothing good about your work because they keep having something to say about it. But the fact that she wants to put this much work into my little book, well that is a huge compliment.

It's not always easy to come face to face with edits, but knowing how much she cares about the project does make the medicine go down a bit easier.

Now I just have to wait for the manuscript to appear on this side of the Atlantic. And then to edit.

That is so long as I can read her notes, written, she mentioned to me, in pencil.

15%

Occasionally, like perhaps once a month or so, the same question always seems to surface on the writer forums I frequent. It comes in different forms and with different intentions, but the essence is the same.

What's the point of an agent?

Sometimes the question is a genuine one. And then sometimes it comes in the form of: "Why do agents take 15% of OUR money."

And I sigh. And then I always write the same thing.

I write about Julia. Julia Churchill, my wonderful agent. I write about how enthusiastic she has always been about my work. How she helped me to edit it several times over before she had even signed me on. And how she has somehow managed to sell my manuscript to the world.

Because an agent does so much more than simply get your book published. There is handling the contract itself. No other person out there understands the technicalities of a publishing contract like an agent. Not even an entertainment lawyer. An agent knows what to ask for, and how to get it. An agent will send your manuscript around the world and sell your foreign rights. An agent will conduct a book auction. And an agent will do a hundred other things that I have no idea needs to be done.

An agent earns her 15% not from selling your book to a publisher. Okay she totally does, because even when you have an agent that isn't a guarantee you're book will sell. An agent earns her 15% by doing all those things you didn't know needed to be done. It isn't even a question of you, the author, not knowing HOW to do something, not having the contacts. It's about you, the author, not knowing that something needs to be done at all, in the first place.

People answer the agent question often with numbers. That 85% of $10,000, is way better than 100% or nothing. But I'm not interested in that argument as to me it is pretty self-explanatory.

To me it's about the work. The support. A good agent can make all the difference in the world. Someone who believes in you, someone who isn't your family or close friend, but someone in the industry who not only loves your work but can get stuff done? Someone who, when after she's read your blog, she emails you to tell you that writing a book is hard otherwise everyone would do it, and that you'll be able to get through it? - well that someone is more than worth the money in my estimation.

I asked a few blog entries down the other day, "Where's the love?" Well, there it is.

In that 15%.

The New Look!

So, so? What do you think? Isn't my blog pretty now? I am very proud of myself I may say.

Thanks to some lovely folks on Absolute Write I upgraded to a better kind of blogger and with their help managed to create this lovely Temp, Actress, Writer header at the top. Those with keen eyes may have noticed subtle colour changes in the text, and if you scroll all the way down to the bottom you will find one of my ultimate favourite quotes which is from the Jacobean tragedy "Love's Sacrifice".

(In the play there is a man who gets three women pregnant. In order to get their revenge on him they all stab him during a dance. As he lies writhing on the floor in agony, just about to die he curses: "A pox on your outlandish feminine antics!" I saw this play for the first time in drama school when the other half of my year performed it, with a lovely fellow by the name Patrick Allcorn playing the unfortunate man. Well not THAT unfortunate. His role was kind of unpleasant, and while I'd never say he deserved it . . . well anyway I nearly died laughing.)

Anyway. I hate to admit it, but I wasted far too much time on this new look of the blog, and today must make up for being a slacker in the writing department. So this post is going to be rather short.

Just wanted to also add I went skating at city hall last night with my friend Emily. It was a lot of fun. And just oh so Canadian. And now my legs are aching like crazy. Which can only be a good thing!




(This picture is actually the city hall and it looked exactly like this last night, though more people. Pretty huh?)

Have a good weekend everyone! I promise much more exciting posts next week!

Where's the love?

So I am writing a sequel. I'm not sure if I mentioned that before, but I am. Not only do I have this great story idea that I just knew I was going to write about when I was submitting my first manuscript to agents, but well, now . . . I kind of have to write it.

The only publishing company who has only bought one book are the Germans.

I wonder what that means.

Anyway.

This is very new to me. Writing to a deadline. Well it is new and it isn't. When I was in university I had many a deadline to meet - and not just essay deadlines, I took a playwrighting course and had weekly assignments there too. But I am really used to writing my books (and yes I have attempted many- oh all those single spaced non-spell checked attempts hidden deep somewhere in my computer) just because I want to. Because I had a good idea that day. Because I'm bored. Never ever have I had to write a book because people have paid me money to do so.

So now I am writing away and all I can think of, "I can't wait until this is finished." Why? Why am I not enjoying the process as I always had in the past? Where, I ask you, is the love?

I am trying to forget I have a deadline and pretend like I am writing just for fun, not for anyone else. But it is hard. Very hard. And I can't really go back to that sweet innocence of before, no matter how good an actress I am. The pressure of living up to the expectations of my agent, my editors . . . no that's not fair, they have always been so confident in me. . . the pressure of living up to my expectations is huge. I just have to work through it I know, just bite the bullet, find some joy somewhere. My hope is that the further I get into the story the further away I'll get from these negative feelings. They say that you need to finish your first book so that most importantly you know you can write a book at all. That you are capable of writing that many words with a beginning, middle and end. Well I say I need to finish this second book, almost even more. Knowing I am capable of more than just one, knowing that I can write through the pressure - knowing that, well that will be a great accomplishment indeed.

And Mary mother of pearl! If I feel this much pressure, can you IMAGINE what poor JK Rowling must be going through right now?! Talk about having a brave year.





(PS: So far so good boys and girls, am sticking to my schedule, at least for today. Let's see if I can do it again tomorrow!)

A Schedule

I have decided that I am going to try to stick to a rather rigid schedule so that my days don't seem quite as aimless as they have been. And I have decided to share this schedule with all of you so that maybe I would actually stick to it. They say that, for example, when you are trying to lose weight and exercise properly that you should tell everyone you know so they keep bugging you about it. I guess it is somewhat the same idea here.

So.

Beginning tomorrow I will get up at 9am and exercise. Then I will have breakfast. Then I will write in this blog and check email and do whatever correspondence is necessary. Then lunch. Then a walk. Then write novel. Then dinner. And hopefully then I will be able to keep my evenings free.

Of course this won't always be perfect. I tend to have singing lessons on Monday afternoons. And I have other chores that will need to be done too. But if I can keep my mornings pretty standard my hope is that I will feel more like a human being and less like a wandering amoeba of wanderingness.

So there you go. I'll let you know in tomorrow's blog if I managed to at least get up at at least a reasonable hour!

Wish me luck!

Treasure Chest

You know I just realised that I never told you about the treasure chest.

Well here it is:



When Scholastic made their offer back in May, it was sent over to my agent in this chest. It is so awesome and it is sitting on my shelf right next to me. The weathered scrolls is where they wrote their offer, and all the costume jewelry and chocolate money was stashed in the drawers. At the right of the picture you can see the edge of the treasure map they made. And behind the whole picture is the brown paper they wrapped it in with travel stickers on it (this is because there is a very long train sequence in the book that is reminiscent of the 1920's/30's).

I have kept it relatively as it was when I got it - though the chocolate money seems to have vanished somehow. It's a mystery.

So yes, baby's first treasure chest! Isn't it totally cool?