I Detect Another Mystery Show

Right now, as in Saturday morning which is when I usually write this, I’m a little distracted because I’m getting ready to go to the big banquet for that literary award I was longlisted for. I already know that I didn’t win, but there’s a roast beef dinner–need I say more? I’ve never been to a big literary banquet and I’m very nervous, like what if I drink too much and pull a Kanye by rushing the stage and insisting that Margaret Atwood should have won? (Narrator’s Voice: Update: She did not rush the stage. But she DID address a man in line at the bar with “You look familiar–is your name Jerry?” to which he gave her a strange look, muttered, “No, it’s Steve. I need to go get some water” and hurried away. And not long after, she was mortified when ‘Steve’ got up on stage because it turns out he was the HOST of the gala and also a VERY well-known Canadian comedian but in her defence, Steve is mostly ON THE RADIO). So in honour of my anxiety (which proved to be a valid concern), I present to you a throwback to a post I made a few years ago, which appropriately follows up on my Midsomer Murders expose. Hope you enjoy! (Also, at the end of this, there’s a link to a radio show I recently did, so also enjoy!)

Once, I was bored and there was nothing good on TV, so I decided to watch a rerun of a show whose title had intrigued me for a long time: “Houdini and Doyle.” From what I understood, it was about a detective duo at the turn of the century, and I love detective shows. One of my all time favourites is the updated version of Sherlock Holmes called Elementary, starring the irascible Johnny Lee Miller, and Lucy Liu as Watson. I also adore Benedict Cumberbatch in the BBC version of Sherlock, which I’ve rewatched several times on Netflix, so I thought I’d give Houdini and Doyle a whirl. All I knew is that Harry Houdini was a Hungarian-American magician, and that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was the Scottish author of the Sherlock Holmes series, among other things. I love magic and I love Victorian Scottish fiction writers (albeit a very small group) and I had high hopes for its ability to keep me happily occupied for the next hour. Unfortunately, the TV show was—and I’m being polite here—absolute sh*t. Here are my main complaints:

The plot was ridiculous. This episode took place in a town where everyone except the local doctor and a little girl suddenly died. People were just lying on the streets in their period costumes, or keeled over their dinners of mutton and ale. Even the dogs were dead. And so were the mice—I know this because Houdini pointed out a nest of dead mice under a porch in a very obvious way in order to prove—well, I’m not actually sure what he was trying to prove. Houdini and Doyle eventually decided that everyone died due to a large cloud of carbon dioxide which had escaped from a nearby mine and which had asphyxiated the entire town. And as convoluted as that all sounds, it wasn’t even the ridiculous part. The most illogical part of the whole thing was their explanation regarding the survival of the doctor and the little girl. I was hoping beyond hope that since the show revolved around a famous magician that there might actually be a supernatural or magic-y rationale, like they were both alien mutants with cosmic lung capacity, or immune to the biological weapon that the government was experimenting with or something cool, but no. The doctor was in bed having a nap, and the little girl was sick and was also in bed. Therefore, they were BELOW the gas cloud and escaped its nefarious and deadly clutches. At which point, I yelled at the TV, “WHAT ABOUT THE DEAD MICE UNDER THE PORCH?! ? WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TELLING ME THAT ALL THE DEAD DOGS WERE TALLER THAN THAT KID’S BED?!”
It made even less sense later, when having “solved” the first mystery, Houdini and Doyle then prevented the assassination of the President of the United States at a hotel because they had found a note with the words “King Edward” on it, and after thinking it was about killing the King, they realized it was the name of a hotel and got there just in time. All in one episode of 45 minutes (not counting all the commercials).
There were no magic tricks AT ALL. Considering the show stars one of the most famous American magicians of all time, there was a surprising LACK of magic-type stuff. Not even a f*cking card trick. They should have had Houdini in a locked closet, tied up with padlocked chains, racing against time to escape and thwart the assassination. Instead, he just knocked the gun out of the guy’s hand. Boring.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was Scottish, yet he spoke with an English accent. Yes, they sound different. The English always sound like they’re trying to knight you, and the Scottish always sound like they’re mad at you, thusly:
English: I hereby dub thee Lady Mydangblog. You may rise.
Scottish: Och, you’ve a new fancy name ‘n all! Gie up, lassy!!
But Doyle was always like “Good Heavens! What the devil happened here, my good man?” instead of “Whit? Awae wi’ ye, numptie!” Yes, I know that the actual Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was well-educated and spoke the “Queen’s English”, but it would have added something to the show if he’d used spicy phrases and unintelligible dialect. The plot didn’t make any sense, so why should the dialogue?
Houdini sounded Canadian and the whole show had a distinctly Canadian feel ie: it was kind of amateur-ish, like Murdoch Mysteries, where a Canadian detective in the 1890s “uses radical forensic techniques of the time, including fingerprints and trace evidence, to solve gruesome murders” (imdb) along with his partner, female coroner Dr. Julie Ogden (yes, a female coroner in the 1890s–very realistic). I wasn’t sure WHY I felt like Houdini and Doyle was so Canadian, then I googled it, and it turns out that the show “has Canadian producers and comes from the same production company as Murdoch Mysteries.” Mystery solved.
Last, throughout the show, Houdini kept insisting that you always know when you’re dreaming because “You can’t read in your dreams.” This is patently untrue. I read things all the time in my dreams, words that I’ve written, stories, poems, social media posts, and whatnot. I don’t always remember them when I wake up, but I READ them, so maybe I’m just more magical than Houdini.

Anyway, in keeping with the current trend of unrealistic detective/magician duos like Houdini and Doyle, I came up with a couple of my own.

1) “What The Dickens!”: This show stars Charles Dickens and David Copperfield, played respectively by Gerard Butler and Keanu Reeves, because why the hell not? In the show, Dickens has time-travelled to the future and meets American magician David Copperfield. Together, they investigate the disappearance of many large buildings and monuments, and battle their arch-nemesis Uriah Heep, played by Dick Van Dyke, who is as immortal as any supervillain. After they’ve solved every mystery (turns out it was Copperfield all along), Dickens returns to his own time and writes a very long novel called “David Copperfield” where he makes a LOT of stuff up, (he got paid by the word, after all) but leaves out the detective/magic part because he doesn’t want his heirs to get sued by Copperfield in the future for revealing his magical techniques.

2) “Fitzgerald and Wife”: In keeping with the fine tradition of married couple detectives, this show features F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda. Every week, they are presented with a new mystery which they fail to solve because they are too drunk.

3) “Robbie and Doug”: This is a Canadian reality show starring famous author Robertson Davies, who almost won a Nobel prize, and Doug Henning, a Canadian magician who ran for Parliament as a candidate for the ‘Natural Law Party’, which believes that all the problems in the world can be solved by learning the art of “yogic flying”. In the show, Davies just grumbles a lot about everything in an unintelligible dialect because he’s 90 years old and Scottish, and Henning solves all the crimes by flying around and meditating. The show is cancelled when viewers discovered that Henning isn’t REALLY flying—it’s only special effects. Yogic flying is actually just bouncing in a lotus position, and everyone knows you can’t solve crimes by bouncing unless you’re Tigger.

As a side note, I know that neither F. Scott or Zelda were magicians, but I liked the concept too much to leave it out on THAT technicality.

Also, if you’re interested in hearing me read from my OWN gothic thriller/mystery Charybdis, as well as from my new work in progress Nomads of the Modern Wasteland, I was recently featured on the radio show Reader’s Delight, hosted by the lovely Jody Swannell. You can listen to it here: https://radiowaterloo.ca/episode-vi-of-readers-delight/

Feeling Bubbly But Not Expensive

This will be a quick one because the book launch for my new novel Charybdis is this afternoon and I’ve been planning like crazy, buying meats and cheeses, and assorted drinks and other things so that people will be busy eating and not notice how nervous I am. I also bought 2 bottles of bubbly but because we forgot to get some in the city, I was forced to buy it at the local gas station and all they had was Spumante Bambino and it was $10.95 a bottle in case anyone is thinking that champagne is a luxury. I’d normally do something a little fancier like a nice prosecco but gas station liquor store beggars can’t be choosers.

Otherwise, it’s been a quiet week. Here are the highlights:

On Tuesday, I presented a workshop on creative writing to a class at a school that seemed to be near Niagara Falls and I was so excited because I was planning on hitting some wineries on the way back. The kids were amazing and when I was done, I put “wineries near me” into my gps and THERE WAS NOTHING. I was on the wrong side of the escarpment apparently, and came home empty-handed, having also not made the finals for that literary prize I was longlisted for. Well, not really empty-handed—I got a nice mug and a lanyard from the school.

I ordered some gluten-free licorice for Kate because she was recently diagnosed with celiac disease. It came on Wednesday and I was so excited because licorice is her favourite. I tried it. It tasted like cardboard.

Thursday: That bug is back.

Friday: I had been booked for AGES to do a reading at this one particular reading series on Saturday which meant I couldn’t do a book festival that came up on the same day that I really wanted to do. Then the reading series cancelled at the last minute, so I asked the book festival people if I could be put on a waiting list. It would have been cool to do either, kind of like a Charybdis weekend with the launch being on Sunday and all. Then the book festival got cancelled because of rain and the rain date was TODAY. And on Friday night, I got an email offering me a spot at the book festival for today but I couldn’t take it because I’M LAUNCHING MY BOOK. Could my timing be any worse?!

But then on Saturday, with big junk pickup on Monday, I made Ken take me driving around the back concessions and there wasn’t much but I got, AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD FOR FREE, a stained glass lampshade in perfect condition. So the week turned out okay after all. I’m pretty easy to please, as you can tell by both the lampshade and the Spumante Bambino.

Here’s a picture of the aurora borealis that I took from our upper deck because it’s beautiful and even if things don’t always go my way, life is still very beautiful too. Wish me luck this afternoon, and by wish me luck, I mean let’s hope that at least a few people show up and drink my cheap champagne.

Also, if you can’t attend my in-person launch and you’d still like to celebrate with me, my wonderful publisher JC Studio Press is doing an online Eventbrite launch for Charybdis on Saturday, June 1. You can register for that here!

It’s The Little Things Part 2; Online Launch Party for Charybdis!

The link to the online launch party for Charybdis is at the end of this post, so if you don’t want any humorous content first, you can skip right down to the end, but trust me, you’ll be missing some hilarious sh*t.

Anyway, it’s been another quiet week with a couple of notable exceptions. First…THAT BUG IS BACK. Yes, I woke up on Tuesday morning to another notification that there had been movement detected on my kitchen camera at 2 o’clock in the morning, and yes, it was that same bug. How long do house centipedes LIVE? Is this guy the Methuselah of insects?! And what the hell is he eating?! I looked it up and according to the google, house centipedes eat OTHER ANTHROPODS, which is so cannibalistic and creepy but then again, I’m not surprised that something that looks like the alien in ALIEN eats insect flesh. But then the article I read went on to say that if you have frequent sightings of house centipedes, “this indicates that some prey arthropod is in abundance, and may signify a greater problem than the presence of the centipedes” and OH MY GOD DOES THIS MEAN THERE ARE MORE FREAKY INSECTS IN MY HOUSE?!! Then again, the sighting hasn’t been “frequent”—it’s only the one leggy dude waving at us like “Hey, just haunting your kitchen AND your dreams” so hopefully he’ll run out of food soon.

But the other thing is that I’ve definitely gone down the rabbit hole of miniatures, because a couple of weeks ago, I was at the antique market and I found a bag of vintage dollhouse furniture and a tiny voice in my head whispered, “Buy it. You know you want it. You can do something cool with it.” So I DID buy it and then it sat on the breakfast room table for 2 weeks until Ken whispered, “I can build you a box to put this doll furniture in” which he did. And suddenly, I became a fanatical miniaturist, and I created an entire “Antique Store Office Sanctuary” which now I want to live in and if I could only shrink myself down to 1/12” size, I would totally do it, just to live in my tiny room. Here it is, and I adore it so much:

The Persian rug is actually a mouse pad and I got all the tiny books from Amazon. I already had the Antique storefront from some wall art that I cut apart, and the wallpaper came from a book that I had bought years ago full of William Morris style wrapping paper that I podged on, and I had the trim and created the ‘paintings’ and HOLY SH*T I’m becoming obsessed and I really want to make more miniature rooms, but we all know what happened with the clock fixation, am I right?

In other news, I’m over 8 chapters into my new book “Nomads of the Modern Wasteland”, which centres on a group of people trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic future, woven together by the poetry of TS Eliot. It’s actually going to be a novella, which is a mini book, so that tracks.

Also, the book launch for Charybdis is on May 26th in person, but if you’re a friend of mine who’d like to celebrate with me but you have NO WAY of coming to Ontario, Canada, my publisher has very graciously set up an online celebration for June 1 and you can register here–it’s FREE!: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/charybdis-by-suzanne-craig-whytock-launch-party-tickets-884105522417?aff=oddtdtcreator&keep_tld=1

Don’t Blink Or You’ll Miss It

Last weekend, the local Lions Club had a charity auction. It was pretty good as auctions go, especially since a lot of area businesses donated brand new items. I bid on a few things, like some Lego for Kate and a bunch of old spindles that I told Ken he could use for outdoor woodcrafts. Then the auctioneer put up a new Blink home security system. We already have a Blink camera in the kitchen that I use when Ken’s away overnight. It’s hidden inside something (I refuse to be more specific, but I promise we never use it when we’re home with other people and I can assure you that I have never forgotten to turn it off and then been mortified at a notification featuring a clip of me dancing around the kitchen island while I cook), and unless the lights are on at night, it won’t pick up any movement that triggers the camera.

Anyway, I bid on the security system and got it for a really good price. So on Thursday night, after researching and reading the instructions and getting the exterior cameras set up, Ken mounted them outside the house on either side of our porch. That’s when I realized that when I armed them, it would also turn on the kitchen camera. But that’s okay, I thought, since there’s nothing in our kitchen at night. And then I woke up on Friday morning to TWO notifications that the kitchen camera had been triggered around 3 am and there were video clips and OH MY GOD, YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I SAW WHEN I REPLAYED THEM.

And if you know me at all, you’re most likely thinking that it was a ghost. And you would be wrong. IF ONLY it was a ghost, because it was not.

Take a second and try to guess what it could have possibly been. I’ll wait...

Here is what I saw on the screen of my phone, and I really hope you can watch it:

sheer-terror Download

H. R. Giger has nothing on this thing and all I know is that it’s still in my kitchen somewhere and I will never be able to dance there again…

In other news, my new novel Charybdis is getting excellent reviews–here’s one by the Founding Editor of a prominent Canadian review site, The Miramichi Reader. Being compared to Edgar Allen Poe made me scream almost as much as when I saw what was on my kitchen camera:

Charybdis Getting Featured!

Smorgasbord New Book Spotlight – #Mystery #Historical Charybdis by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

Thank you so much to the lovely Sally Cronin of Smorgasbord Blog Magazine for featuring my new novel Charybdis in her Smorgasbord New Book Spotlight–you can read it by clicking on the link above. I really appreciate her kindness and that she took the time to craft such a wonderful promotion.

And if that wasn’t awesome enough, the amazing Susan Richardson of Stories From The Edge of Blindness featured Charybdis today on her phenomenal literary podcast A Thousand Shades of Green. Listening to her beautiful voice reading my work is always an incredible treat and you can hear her by clicking on the podcast link.

And of course, you can buy Charybdis in paperback and Kindle version worldwide by clicking here!

Things ‘To-Do’

Earlier this week, I looked at my list of things to do, and realized I hadn’t yet booked the hall for my book launch for Charybdis. We’ll be doing a Zoom launch with my wonderful publisher, JC Studio Press in the UK, but I’ll also be doing an in-person launch for family and friends towards the end of May. So, as I said, I looked at my to-do list and then promptly forgot about it because a to-do list is only valuable when you’re actually looking right at it, and I probably should have a to-do list in my car that says ‘Look at your to-do list’ because that’s where I was when I suddenly remembered that I had NOT, in fact, called the hall in Princeton. Princeton, Ontario. And I specify that for reasons which will shortly become clear.

I was in my car, driving (and I don’t know why I needed to specify THAT because what else would I be doing in my car—reading?) and I was super-excited because I had just gotten an email from Value Village offering me 40% off on accessories and that, of course, includes purses, and I’ve been doing very well lately in the fancy purse resale market, and if I sell enough purses, I can justify keeping a couple of the really nice ones, right? But suddenly I had an epiphany about calling the hall, and even though you’re not allowed, I was on a deserted back road so I got out my phone and googled Princeton and District Museum and Archives. It should be noted at this point that I wasn’t wearing my reading glasses, but I wasn’t SUPPOSED to be reading (note: this set of circumstances apparently negates my previous sarcastic comment about reading in the car quite devastatingly, doesn’t it?) and I saw the number to call and I hit the button, activating my car phone. The phone rang and rang, then someone picked up:

Man (groggily): Hello…?
Me: Hi…is this the Princeton Museum?
Man: Yes, but we don’t open until 10. You’re calling a little outside opening hours.

At this point, I was confused. It was 11 am. Was he drunk? Because he sounded drunk.

Me: Okay. Anyway, I was in the library branch yesterday and the librarian told me if I wanted to book the museum for my book launch, I’d have to call because your hours are hit and miss.
Man: We’re open every day, 10 to 4.

Now, I was even more confused. I know for a fact that the museum is NOT open every day—in fact, I was there yesterday and it was NOT open. But the man was obviously drunk so…

Me: I had a book launch there last year, and I’d love to book the museum again—everybody loved the space so much.
Man: You had a book launch here last year? What’s your name?

I told him my name.

Man: I don’t recall that. You say it was last year?
Me: Yes. We used the theatre space and the hall. When would be the best time for me to come by and pay for the rental? I’m just heading to Brantford right now so if you’re there until 4, I could be there around 2.
Man: Brantford?
Me (thinking, Wow, this dude is HAMMERED): Yeah, just up the road. Like literally 20 minutes from Princeton?
Man: Where are you calling from? Like, what province? Because I’m in British Columbia…
Me: WHAT?! I’m in Ontario.
Man: So on the other side of the continent then? I don’t think you’ll be able to make it by 2.

Can you believe that there’s actually ANOTHER place also called the Princeton and District Museum and Archives in this country? Yeah, I’d called a town in a time zone 3 hours behind my own, so no wonder he sounded so groggy—I’d probably woken him up, although why the museum man was even answering the museum phone from his own bed is anyone’s guess. And then I compounded my lack of geographical knowledge when I told Ken about it:

Me: And then he said he was on the other side of the ‘continent’. What a dummy—I think he meant COUNTRY, lol.
Ken: You know we’re part of the continent of North America, right?
Me: Look at these cool purses I got today.

At any rate, ‘call Princeton Museum in Ontario’ is still on my to-do list.

In other news, Charybdis is out in the world and so far it’s been getting excellent reviews so thank you to everyone who’d taken the time to give it some stars or say something nice about it—it means the world to me!

Charybdis Is Here!

For this week’s post, I’m forgoing the humour because I’m just too excited. No, I didn’t buy a new clock or Paris painting (okay, that’s a lie, but it’s a REALLY nice painting and the clock was just a very small one, more of a watch, really)–the excitement is over the fact that my new novel Charybdis has been released! Huge thanks to the amazing JC Studio Press and publisher Jane Cornwell, who believed in this book from the beginning. I knew that when I handed the manuscript over to her, the end result would be beautiful and wonderful and it is! And a huge thank you also to the advance readers who gave me such fantastic blurbs–they couldn’t all fit on the cover so there are also pages inside the book devoted to those people who took the time to read and review. Finally, I’m immensely grateful to my family for their unwavering support and especially to my aunt, Margaret Randall, whose poetry was so integral to the story–I love you very much! Charybdis is available for Kindle, in paperback, and even hardcover and you can purchase it here!

If you do buy a copy and you enjoy it, please leave a review–you know I’ll appreciate it. Also, if any of my blogger friends would like to review it, let me know!

Battle of the Build; Cover Reveal for Charybdis

As you may remember, last week I completed a miniature book nook, and I enjoyed it so much that I ordered another. It was a gothic-style library, and I was super-excited when it arrived. That excitement quickly faded to perplexity when I realized it was from a different company with VERY different expectations. Instead of stickers, it was just paper that I was supposed to glue to the little pieces of wood. Okay, I thought. I can buy some glue. Because the kit didn’t COME with glue. I went out the next day and bought white glue and a glue stick, just to be on the safe side. After I got home, I took everything else out of the box, and looked at the instructions more closely, and they were very weird. It was like if you asked a Roman General to create directions for assembly based on his life experience. Here’s the first example, on the cover page:

“The actual object will PREVAIL”? Am I in a battle to the death with this thing?!

The next set of instructions on the inside page was equally ominous:

Bad enough that this thing might STAB me, if I fight back, I lose my rights and interests? Do I need a lawyer watching me put it together, just in case? My brother, who has a PhD., is a lawyer—perhaps I should invite him over for wine and a quick skirmish

I finally started to assemble everything, beginning with several stacks of tiny books. It was starting to get minorly enjoyable, because they DID look like tiny books even if the covers were photocopies of bizarre books that made no sense in the context; for example, a cover with an electric guitar on it. But just as my stacks were almost complete, I was forced to get violent as per this instruction:

“Make it open”? You’re god*amn right Imma make it OPEN! I was really getting into the spirit of things now. The build progressed and things got infinitely more difficult as I had to glue tiny pieces of wood onto other tiny pieces of wood and then let them dry. And I’m not the most patient person in the world so I learned about letting things DRY COMPLETELY the hard way. But letting things dry completely was a double-edged sword, as I discovered:

Ken: *snickers*
Me: What are you laughing at?
Ken: Nothing. *snickers again*
Me: Seriously, what’s so funny?!
Ken: No, really…haha!
Me: WHAT?!!
Ken: See the world map that you glued to the wall?
Me: So?
Ken: You glued it on upside down.
Me: WHAT? Oh no! And it’s completely dry! Why did you have to tell me, dammit?
Ken: YOU MADE ME.

Okay, so we all know that geography isn’t my strong suit and you have to look REALLY hard to see the map. Finally though, I was nearing the end, covered in glue, clamps and elastic bands everywhere, and all I had to do was attach the lights to the ceiling and close it all up. Except that the instructions were wrong and it took me two tries, getting the light attached twice and realizing twice that they were the wrong way. And then:

I DID, you aggressive Praetorian. See, this is why the Roman Empire fell. Terrible instructions.

In other news, my new novel Charybdis will be coming out soon, thanks to my wonderful publisher Jane Cornwell and JC Studio Press. Here’s the cover reveal, and it’s amazing!

Synopsis: When Greta Randall stumbles across a rare volume of Victorian poetry in a local antique market, she could never have imagined that it would take her on a journey through time. The secrets she discovers along the way may shed light on the book’s mysterious young author, Louisa Duberger, but at what peril?

A Colourful Little Number

You may remember me telling you that in December, I submitted my humour book What Any Normal Person Would Do to a fairly prestigious competition, The Leacock Medal for Humour. I was worried that my books wouldn’t be received by the deadline, since I’d decided so late in the year to submit, but I got notified that they’d made it safely into the hands of the judges. As part of the competition, every entrant gets put on the website along with the title of their submission, a headshot, and a biography. My headshot was really cute, featuring me wearing a black leather vest just to give me a little bit of a bad-ass vibe. I know I probably don’t stand a chance because Rick Mercer published ANOTHER book last year, and there are quite a few other famous Canadian humourists from huge publishing houses on the list. But still, I was excited to see myself on the website. I went there last week and called up the list. I scanned. I scanned. I continued scanning, but I wasn’t worried because I assumed that since it wasn’t in any kind of alphabetical order that I could discern, then it must be in the order that submissions were received. And then finally, I found myself:

Me: OMG. You won’t guess where I am on the list!
Ken: At the very top.
Me: I love how supportive you are, but no!
Ken: Where are you then?
Me: Number 69!!

And it just seemed so damned appropriate that a weirdo like me with the most absurd sense of humour would be NUMBER 69. I laughed my ass off and then I did what any normal person would do—I posted it on Facebook. And it’s a credit to my friends that only ONE person even remarked upon it. I had 88 likes and 39 comments and NONE of them aside from the first person mentioned it at all! I mean, the congratulations were wonderful, but I hadn’t posted it to brag or anything—I just thought it was outrageously funny, and then I felt dumb because no one else did, and then I was worried that I might have offended people and they were too nice to say anything about it. But then I went to get a tattoo and I was telling my tattoo artist about the whole thing:

Me: And I’m on the list…at number 69.
Tattoo Guy: WHAT? Bwah haha! That’s hilarious! Of all the numbers to get, you had to get the dirtiest one!
Me (relieved): I know, right?!
Tattoo Guy: Well, now you’ve got to win.

So yeah. That’s me. Number 69. I feel like I’ve already won.

In other news, Ken and I are still hard at work on transforming one of our bedrooms into a secret library room with the idea of turning the whole back part of the house (bedroom, secret library, and private bathroom) into a Writer’s Retreat that we can rent out. We’ve been doing it on a dime, getting furniture and accessories second-hand and so far haven’t been scammed like we were initially. We got a gorgeous leather loveseat from a lady for fifty bucks on the condition that we also took the sofa, which was badly damaged. But the dump was on our way home, and if you know anything about me, you know I LOVE the dump. But sadly, this was the kind of dump where they watch you ALL THE TIME to make sure you don’t take anything that other people have dumped. How fair is that? Then we finally got the loveseat home only to discover, after Ken and our neighbour made several attempts, that it was too big to go up the stairs. So now, I have a gorgeous leather loveseat in my office on the main floor and my green leather couch is in the new secret library. I hope people appreciate my sacrifice.

A Novel Idea

As you may or may not have known, I haven’t been working at the antique market since before Christmas. I didn’t really specify why—it was mostly because I haven’t had much time to write, and I had a new novel idea brewing in my head that I really needed to get done. So I took a six week leave. Well, I asked for a leave and they told me I’d have to just quit, so I did, but then a couple of weeks ago, I was asked to come back. And I am. On Monday. And not a moment too soon, because on Friday, I finished the book. I initially felt like I powered through this one, but I worked on the last novel pretty much once a week until it was done. So technically, this one probably took me the same amount of hours, except that I wrote about 2000 words almost every day since January 2. It’s called Charybdis—yes, like the whirlpool monster from Greek mythology and it’s a gothic thriller. I’m super happy with it. I like to finish a chapter or two and let Ken read it first for feedback, but this time, as I got close to the end and started explaining to him what was going to happen, he said, “Stop. Don’t tell me. I want to read the rest of it in one chunk and find it for myself. I want to be surprised.” And that was fine, but then the other day, I was driving on the highway and the weather was shitty, and it suddenly occurred to me that if I crashed my car and died, he would NEVER KNOW. And it would haunt him for the rest of his life. So I started trying to summarize the rest of the book in my head VERY succinctly, so that I could whisper it to him as they were loading me into an ambulance or whatnot.

But then, after I had finally come up with a pretty good synopsis of the ending for him, I started struggling with the plot a little, trying to make it both suspenseful, twisty, but logical. I literally lay awake in bed for hours, trying to put all the pieces together in a way that made sense, and once that happened, I completely changed what I’d thought I was going to do (because I’m a pantsing plotter), and then I had to re-summarize the whole ending AGAIN just in case I got hit by a forklift or something. So as you can see, I’m exhausted. If only there was a place where I could sit and rest…

Seriously. Was there no thought AT ALL put into this sign? If I’m sedated, why would I BE DRIVING?!

And here’s something really weird that happened last week. I looked out the window at my balcony, and I yelled for Ken. He came slowly ambling in (because no matter how much I yell, he never runs), and I pointed at several small pieces of blue and green paper:

Me: How did that paper get up here? It wasn’t there yesterday.
Ken: That stuff is all over the neighbourhood. It’s like someone shot off a confetti cannon. There’s a gold paper star right in the middle of our back yard.
Me: AWW. That’s kind of nice. But strange.
Ken: Maybe they all flew out of a recycling truck that drove by very fast.
Me: I think you’re reaching. Let’s just call it magic.

In other news, I just found out that my first novel Smile is under contract with my Canadian publisher to be translated and published in Georgia. And every time I tell people that, they say “Great, y’all!” No, not Georgia the state, Georgia the country. And what language do they speak in Georgia? Georgian, of course. It’s due to be released this summer. Maybe I should buy a confetti cannon. Now that I’m going back to work, I can afford one.