My Blog for Our Kids Blog

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Boarding Demolition

They’ve torn down my old boarding house – and it’s so strange to see it…gone. It’s been dredging up a lot of memories for me and many other former residents of MacNeill House.

I went to Branksome Hall with my twin for our last year of high school when our parents had moved to England. Contrary to our concerns, Branksome and the boarders welcomed us warmly, and we are still friends with many of those girls today. More than from our other high school – the regular one we attended for years and loved too.

Branksome is where we became city girls, and learned to think about the globe, act in plays that felt like professional productions, and debate. I believe my average jumped 16% just from the nightly required two and half hours of study. I got into every university I applied to. And I attended no less than 5 formals/proms in gorgeous dresses thrust upon me by my generous roommates.

Branksome belongs to that mystical time when we eased out of girlhood, but not too quickly. Since then, I've loved any drive down Mount Pleasant where I could point out the window of our old room, which we had kept open all year and learned to let the roar of traffic lull us to sleep. It’s vanished now, along with the luggage room and the trunk of books I left down there, always thinking I would go back one day and collect them. I know they are building something new and wonderful, but I will miss that window to the world.

Writerly Outreach

In an effort to stay focused on the writing drive generated this summer and push forward, despite it being September, and June such a long way away, I have been reaching out and connecting with other writers and friends from the Humber School for Writers 2012.

It's hard to believe that it took place more than two months ago - and the diverse reports back seem at odds with the experience of my own small group. Most of us found the period afterwards to be pretty prolific and the writing came flowing out. In my case, pages got edited/revised. Others found themselves blocked and unable to write.

I also managed to start writing some brief vignettes for a new project, so I met my vow of at least beginning to write something new, before summer's end, even while I am still mired in revisions for the big novel manuscript.

Positive Writing News for Me:

I met one writer friend to catch up over a great dinner, and she took a nice chunk of my novel to read and give feedback on. Her feedback was wonderfully encouraging and specifically helpful in suggestions.

I hosted two other writer friends who will form a more official writing group with me, and we will meet regularly to exchange and workshop sections of our novel manuscripts. I like them and admire their writing, so it seems like a perfect fit.

I participated in a reading for writers, hosted by another alum of the Humber School, where everyone in attendance was invited to read some of their own writing. I regretted not being able to stay for the whole event, but it was an excellent idea, and I hope these continue throughout the year.

In other news, I'm working on another scene/index card revision. We'll see if that yields any sizeable segments for slashing.

Septembers and Junes

"School teachers measure their lives in Septembers and Junes." I quote/paraphrase my friend and colleague JHay in this, but it will not surprise any educator to hear it. In an ecological setting, we school teachers were also reminded of how we measure our lives by the natural world, trees, and the changing appearance, and then disappearance, of leaves.

I just spent a wonderful week meeting and prepping for the new school year with my work family, and trying to summon up how much I love September (and always have), and how oddly that contrasts with the melancholy that surrounds the dwindling days of August. I understand that I should be enjoying August as it unfolds, but every day that passes is one closer to summer ending and the tyranny of the alarm clock's returning dominance.

Still, the life of a school teacher has many benefits, besides just the joys of teaching and, hopefully, inspiring kids to ongoing lives of curiosity and learning.

So, I had to add my own gauge by which school teachers measure their days, their years, their lives. And Gretchen Rubin is absolutely right - "The Days are Long, but the Years are Short." We measure them by the students, whether boys or girls, because the students (like the leaves on trees) change in appearance, they age, and move on. But we don't. Not us. Unless it's in the going. Honestly, 25-45 is pretty much the same age as far as our students are concerned. And when I look around at my colleagues, I don't see them any differently than I did 11 years ago. But those boys: boy oh boy, have they grown up! (from pre-kindergarten to high school and beyond).

I'm thinking about trees differently these days, as I try to stay rooted in my different realities. And about how trees are lovely at any stage or age.

Weeding Through the Weeds - Dirt in the Mouth

My initial alarm at homecoming to the sight of weeds approaching my waist (and sadly this is not a first for me) has abated as I contemplate the parallels between my current editing efforts - and in every respect - I still have plenty of weeding to do. This is what happens when you are:
A) Away all summer &
B) Not a gardener.

These are before pictures of the 'garden'. I haven't the heart to add 'during' pics, as it's a work of considerable magnitude! Despite hiring an able-bodied young one from Rent-a-Son, diving in myself (getting a few clod-fulls of dirt in the mouth for my efforts), and my husband's many hours at it, the weeding of the garden is far from finished. Perhaps I'll put the during and after photos up when all's done.

It might be harder to photographically document my weeding work on the editing front, but I will endeavor to do that too. The current approach - going from a written copy down to more cue cards, will, I hope, help me to cut more content on a larger scale.

The original manuscript was 507 pages. It went down to 474, and is now in the 440's range. Still more weeding required. Hopefully all that pulling won't leave too much more dirt in the mouth.

Timely Reckoning

I have big plans of writing in detail about the 3 Incredible Writing Conferences/Workshops/Retreats I attended this summer, but right now, it seems appropriate to show you what I was just served...very fitting, considering I was editing p. 430 of 474, and I've been at this manuscript since Time Immemorial.

Thanks, Becks Beer for acknowledging the many hours this labour of love has taken and will continue to take! (Becks has a limited edition of 'artistic' labels - this one finding me just now was fortuitous happenstance!)

Fifth Anniversary - Happy Memories

We waited until we had been together for 10 years to get married - but I think we knew pretty quickly. Two Canadians meet in an Irish pub in Tokyo (Paddy Foley's in Roppongi, in case you're wondering) - that's a 'meet cute' if ever there was one. First remembered conversation:

Him: "Will you marry me?"
Me: "What's your name again?"

Despite plenty of unconventional twists, it's all worked out remarkably well.
Newfoundland wedding was a week-long party. We still haven't been back to Tokyo...
Must get that trip in the works.