Good morning, Readers!

My! My!  Weebly has switched things up this morning.  There are a bunch of cool new features for their blogging function, including the ability to schedule posts (finally. The lack of ability to do so was the only complaint I had about the system).  Neat!

That's not what today's post is about.  Today's post is about being too busy to breathe.  I do this to myself, of course.  And, if I'm going to be completely honest, I rather like being busy.  It keeps me from boredom, and I always feel more productive and thus more satisfied when I'm so busy I can't think.

There are a bunch of things that I need to get done.  Today, for example, I must do my Welsh lessons, write the eNewsletter that is going out tomorrow morning (which includes writing a section of story), try and get my 3 000 words down (I've been failing that, by the way, averaging just under 1 000 a day), start reading Calculating God by Robert Sawyer (as we'll be recording that book for the special filming of Nights at the Round Table at Can-Con this year) and make notes, and I have to arrange set up and tear down for Can-Con this weekend.

All this in between work, kung fu, kickboxing, weights and dance lessons (yes, dance lessons) while finding time to eat and sleep.

Normally I have the weekends to calm down and unwind a bit, but Can-Con is this weekend, and I'm incredibly busy during that too.

I'm going a little insane.

This is not a complaint, though I do have to caution you that if I speak words and they make absolutely no sense whatever, or if you ask me a question and I stare at you with a glazed expression, it's because I am flustered and exhausted.  Please be patient with me this week... and next.  I'll need next week to recover!

Right, onto Welsh lessons now!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Phew!  I've had a busy weekend.

Friday evening saw me so exhausted from the week that I went home and crashed.  I collapsed on my bed and slept for a couple of hours before dragging myself from slumber to edit the first of the ChiSeries readings.  You can watch it HERE if you want.  It's a great, quite sad tale called Dracula Must Die by talented Torontonian author David Nickle.

Speaking of video editing, yesterday was the charity screening of Joss Whedon's Serenity at the Mayfair Theatre here in Ottawa.  Thanks to the Ottawa Browncoats for organising the event.  This does have something to do with video editing.  Stay with me.  Tom of same said organisation helps out a lot with the Silver Stag Entertainment YouTube channel I run, and he asked me to pull together a trailer for the video podcast that goes up every week on the channel.  Not knowing how to capture the spirit of the show, it took me forever to edit together something even remotely decent.  I managed it, though - I hope - and I sent it off to him.  It aired last night during the screening.

I was saving it to show the world until after the initial screening.  I heard tell that it made people laugh, which is what I was going for.  In case you're curious, here is the trailer:

But back to this weekend.  Saturday was spent at a friend's wedding.  It was a beautiful afternoon for it, if a little unseasonably warm.  The location was stunning, with lakes and fountains and the changing colours of autumn.  Sigh.  It really was lovely.  I might also add, that I went not expecting to cry and ended up tearing up quite a bit.

In any case, my most hearty congratulations to the happy couple.  I hope there are many more years of joy ahead of you both.

Sunday, I had a meeting with Rob Olsen of Geek Inked Magazine.  It was more of a friendly get together thing, but it did involve work, so I'm calling it a meeting.  Then I headed over to Patty Boland's Irish Pub and waited for the rest of the Nights at the Round Table crew to arrive to film.  In between the video editing, the wedding, the filming and the meeting, I had to somehow read a book (thank goodness it was short), watch a movie, fix the formatting errors found when I uploaded The Winter Wolf to Smashwords for pre-order and try and get started organising my book launch party.

It was busy weekend.

On the bright side, I managed to read to book and watch the movie.  They were filmed for Nights at the Round Table yesterday, and the book panel should be live right on time tonight.  Even better, I think all the formatting issues have been fixed.  The book should be available for pre-order via various retailers soon.

If you really want to pre-order the eBook for your Kindle, that is already available HERE.

And pre-ordering for the paperback edition is also an option.  If you want.  You can do that HERE.

I'm not much closer to getting my launch party organised, though.  The book is due out Hallowe'en.  In relative time, that's actually quite soon.  I have made it a habit to have the launch the weekend after.  This time, however, the weekend after Hallowe'en is close enough to the actual date that I fear I'll be clashing with other functions... which would make me sad.  I'm currently conflicted.  Should I hold it the Saturday, and risk the other parties that are sure to be happening and thus have people not attend?  Or do I do the same on Sunday, and risk people not attend because it's Sunday?

I'm actually leaning towards Sunday, though OC Transpo's idiotic weekend scheduling would make it difficult for those without a car.  I figure I wouldn't be disturbing too many parties on Sunday and if we end it fairly early on Sunday, then people wouldn't be stuck waiting for buses for ages.

What do you think, readers?

Right, I have to get back to my Welsh lessons, and then to writing.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So you remember how last week I kept wanting to blog about something, but could never remember what that something was (because I'm gifted that way)?  Well, I've finally found the time, the words, and actually remembered!  Now, hold on to your hats, people.  This will be a rant.

A few weeks ago, I posted THIS article on my Facebook page regarding a certain writer, Veronica Roth, and the ending of her Divergent series.  For those of you who don't know what the fuss was about, it goes a little something like this:

SPOILER ALERT

Right, well, at the end of the series (the whole of which had seriously romantic overtones, I understand) she kills off her main character, leaving the romantic interest all alone forever and ever amen.

Her fan base exploded, spewing all manner of vitriol at her.  Some of it was the stuff one might expect.  Things along the lines of 'OMG, this was so depressing.  I want to curl up and cry forever now' (I'm paraphrasing).  You know, the normal grief that readers go through when a beloved character passes into the literary beyond.  I have grieved for such characters myself (looking at you, David Eddings.  SPOILER ALERT: I still cry about Kurik.  Seriously.  That was an iced blade right in the feels).

Some of the stuff, however, were threats; promises of bodily harm and promises to do everything in the readers' power to destroy Ms. Roth's career.

It got so bad that author John Green (whom I adore, if you must know) weighed in on the raging twitter fire storm, saying things like:

"As a reader, I don't feel a story has an obligation to make me happy. I want stories to show me a bigger world than the one I know."

and:

"Basically, I would argue that books are not primarily in the wish fulfilment business. Okay. Rant over."

Incidentally, a reader wrote a blog post HERE about how John Green was wrong, noting:

"You don’t get to build up the promotional machine and pat all these passionate fans on the back for their grass roots support and then slap them in the face with criticism when they aren't loving all the decisions made by the author."

Um, yes.  Yes, you do.  But more on that later.

Ms. Roth is not the only author to receive threats.  Charlaine Harris, author of the Sookie Stackhouse series (you know, the series that served as the base for the television series True Blood).  When an early copy of the book was leaked online by a German fan, Ms. Harris ended up getting all kinds of seriously mess-up shit.  There was the usual milder stuff like, 'I can't believe the author would do that!  That sucks!' (paraphrasing again) to threats of suicide and death threats.  You can read all about these treats (sarcasm is not a typo) right HERE if you feel like you absolutely must.

As a writer who simply does not write happy tales (Ethan Cadfael: The Battle Prince is an exception, and even then, people die and friends part ways), I do have a vested interest.  In my defence, none of the endings I've written were a conscious choice I've made.  I've written about this before, but in all honesty, the way my imagination works is as if the ghost of the protagonist came to me in a dream, introduced themselves and then said, "And this is how I died."  Which I then relate to you good folk in prose.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

But I'm putting away my writerly hat for this.  Today, I am donning the robes of a reader; a very, very grateful reader.  And to those readers who somehow feel entitled enough to dictate a story to its creator to the point of personal threats when the author deviates....

The fuck, people?  Just whose story is this, anyway?

I get it.  People are invested.  I, as a reader, tend to get very invested in the books I read (provided that they're well written.  Poorly written books also give me a visceral reaction, but it's usually gagging).  When the aforementioned Kurik was killed in the final book of The Ellenium series by David Eddings, the first thing I did was shut the book, walk from my bedroom to my mother (who was sitting in the living room), and cry on her shoulder for a good five minutes.  This is absolute fact.  I mourned the death of that character for weeks and weeks.  It took about three weeks before I was ready to return to Sparkhawk's world now that it was devoid of Kurik.  When I cracked open that book again to continue reading, I did so through bitter, bitter tears.  I was twelve or thirteen at the time.  I'm tearing up a bit now just thinking about it (not even joking)!

Even still, I genuinely don't understand where this reader entitlement is coming from.  The Ellenium was not my story.  I was reading a fantastic series about amazing people and riding along with them like an invisible shadow; experiencing all they did, but unable to affect any of it.  Did I wish that Kurik didn't die?  You bet your arse!  I still wish to this day that he lived on, forever snarking about how idiotic the nobility are.  That didn't happen, and I'm going to have to live with it.

I suppose it's largely because I absolutely agree with John Green and, without knowing it (I only discovered Mr. Green a year or two ago), always have.  Books to me are invaluable treasures.  They are looking-glasses into other worlds, other times, other modes of being.  They exist to expand my horizons, challenge my courage, teach, comfort and chide.  I can engage in battle with vicious denizens of Hell, sail the high seas, ride the clouds, fall from the sky, swim in the darkest ocean, walk through fire all from the safety of my bed.  Wrapped warmly in blankets and with a comforting hot cup of tea (or a large glass of heady red wine, depending on my mood), I can bravely march through the wilderness in hail and sleet towards untold terrors.

Books have been my greatest teachers.  They have taught me empathy.  They have shown me that what is right is often not easy.  From an early age, I knew the value of courage, that courage is not bravado and that even the most insignificant creature in the world can become a hero if they have true courage.  Books have taught me about grief, and hopelessness, and despair, and that I can get through it all to see brighter days.

I treasure books for this reason (and a wee bit of much-needed escapism, but that's beside the point).  I was never under the delusion that I had any control over what happens in these books.  That was never for me to decide, which is another important lesson books taught me; sometimes some things are out of your control and it sucks giant hairy balls.... but you will survive it.

If a book affects you deeply, you have in your hands a good book.  Whether it makes you laugh or cry or rage, you have experienced something profound from the safety of your seat.  This is a rare privilege, denied to many, for which you should be extremely grateful.  If you are so involved in a story that you can call yourself a super-fan, then the author has done something right.

But being a super-fan entitles you only to your fandom, not the story itself.  Divergence is not your story.  It is Tris' story.  Sookie Stackhouse belongs only to Sookie Stackhouse.  It is her tale.  The Ellenium is Sparhawk's story.  None of these stories are yours.  They may not end the way you might like.  Fairytale endings they are not.  And you should grieve!  You should rage against the unjustness of the world these characters you loved inhabited.  But you should also understand that you did not make this world.  You were granted entry into it; a peek at something wondrous you would otherwise never have known.

So, perhaps, instead of threatening the authors of these amazing wonders that you were lucky enough to experience, you might, instead, consider expressing gratitude... you know, once you've stopped balling your eyes out.

Damn it, Kurik...

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Last night I was terribly naughty and skipped training.  It was for work reasons, in my defence.  And by work, I totally mean play.  I was out at the Chiseries reading last night night, filming the event for Silver Stag Entertainment.

The readings were fabulous!  I managed to capture all of the first.

And then my camera frizzed.  And my back up frizzed and now I have patchy footage of both the wonderfully entertaining hat story duel, and the final story... which was spectacular, by the way!

I'm furious and sad and in need of coffee this morning to make things better.  Only I can't have coffee this morning, because construction at the office means that the kitchen is out of bounds right now.  I can't make a pot.

I hate everything.

In happier news, I will be reviewing Welsh lesson three.  With luck it'll be easier than the first time, which nearly exploded my brain.  We are introduced to mutations during this lesson... and then told not to worry about it.  Of course I'm worried about it!  I'm a barely contained perfectionist that must get 100% on every exam ever.  At least I was in High School.  University rescued me from perfectionist hell.

Except about the things I really care about.  You should have seen me work on Celtic Studies everything.  I adored it and it didn't feel like work.  It was just really intensely interesting stuff that I was doing for credit.

I digress.  The point is, my perfectionist tendencies are back, and I must get this lesson perfectly before I move on. So... yeah.  This morning will be spent speaking Welsh.

More on the Welsh thing... sorry if it bores you.... it excites me.  I've been listening to BBC Radio Cymru (BBC's Welsh language radio) online, and while I understood very little, the words I had learnt to date popped up like crazy and I didn't need to think on their translation to know what they meant.  This pleased me.

Ahem.  Sorry.

After Welsh it back to writing, because my brain doesn't get a break today.  I didn't write at all yesterday because I was editing together a trailer for Nights at the Round Table (Silver Stag's video podcast) which will be shown at this weekend's Serenity Charity Screening event held by the Ottawa Browncoats.  The event details are HERE, and you should go.  It's a fun event.

If I'm very lucky, I'll get to my 3 000 word goal.  Monday I managed only 2 000, so I'm not overly hopeful.  Still writing even three words is better than writing none, so I can feel relatively pleased to get that many words down.  I won't be too upset with myself if I don't hit my goal, is what I'm saying.

Right, I have to go.  Have a great day all.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!  Or should I say, Bore dda!

For those of you who follow me on Facebook (if you don't, click HERE and like my page.  For reasons), you will probably already know that last week I started learning Welsh in earnest.

Don't tell my father.  I'm supposed to be learning French.

The point is, Welsh has been on my list of languages to learn since I started university and heard it spoken during one of my Celtic Studies classes.  My Celtic Studies professor, Paul, was a Welshman.  He still is a Welshman, but is no longer my professor.  He's a good friend now.  In any case, he read an untranslated section of Y Gododdin during class once.  Strictly, Y Gododdin is Old and Middle Welsh, being from the Middle Ages and all; and it's about a Cumbric tribe, but I digress.  This post is not about the history of Britain (however intensely fascinating I find it).

The point is, I have loved the language since.

Quite recently, Paul has started a small group of Welsh learners in Ottawa.  As a group, we are currently working through the first course on the website Say Something In Welsh.  It's a great collection of Welsh language lessons served to your brain via a podcast.  The format is fantastic.  It makes learning the language relatively easy and pressure free.  And fun.  The focus of the course is speech, reading and writing are for later.  For whatever reason, it really works.  I find I'm picking up the language relatively quickly, and it's fun and exciting.  I am hoping that the people behind Say Something In will do a course for Occitan (because I also really want to learn that).  And French... of course.

Ahem.

I am learning the Northern Welsh dialect, which, I have discovered, suits me a good deal more than the Southern one.  I find it easier, for some reason, though it is technically a little more complicated than the Southern version (at least thus far).  I have also discovered that I am a massive snob about how the word Cymraeg is pronounced... as in, I much prefer the Northern pronunciation to the Southern.  Not being a native speaker at all, I am fully aware I have absolutely no right to my snobbery.

Dysgwyr Cymraeg Ottawa (Welsh Learners Ottawa) is coordinated via Facebook.  If you're interested, you should totally sign up.  Just join the group by clicking HERE.  We will meet roughly every month or so, with the first meeting happening  9 Hydref (9 October) and are currently working through Course One, Lesson Three so you're not far behind at all.

Join us and learn a fantastic language!

For the record, I cannot tell you why I am so interested in the language and culture of Wales, or the pre-Roman culture of Britain for that matter.  It's not like my interest in Occitan.  My father's family can be traced to Languedoc in France, which is (or used to be?) Occitan speaking.  I have an ancestral connection to the language.

I have no such familial connection to Wales.  At all.  My grandmother's family were from Norfolk and of Cornish extraction, with some Norwegian thrown in for fun and games.  It's a very romantic story of ship jumping for to wed a pretty Norwegian girl... or something.  I'm actually not clear on that.

Anyway, I haven't any connection to Wales which may fuel my interest.  My connection to Britain is very distant and I don't consider myself British, not even when claiming descent (though I do claim Celtic descent; both Britain and France were Celtic, and since those are my dominant lineages, I call myself a Celt.  Usually in tongue-in-cheek fashion.  For obvious reasons).  In fact, I can safely say I'm French and feel less weird about it than claiming I'm British.

Don't ask me why.  I don't know.

Still, despite being in no way Welsh, the language and history of the culture have pretty much always been intensely interesting to me.  For no reason whatsoever.

Since that is the case, I'm claiming a past life association.  I was totally a Briton in the Iron Age in a past life.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Right, here is a techno version of a song sung in Welsh.  Paul posted it to the group yesterday and it's catchy as hell.  You're welcome.

It's about boiling saucepans and a cat that likes to scratch some poor kid named Johnny... or so I've gathered.

Oh, and to translate the title of today's post, it reads:

I am going to speak Welsh.

Ciao!

Good morning, readers!

At long last, the final schedule for this year's Can-Con, Canada's homegrown speculative fiction convention, has been released into the wild (read here: the internet).

I am very busy this convention!  Last year I sat on perhaps two panels and also did a reading.  This year, I am on five panels, as well as on a live recording of an episode of Nights at the Round Table for Silver Stag Entertainment and I'm also doing a reading for The Winter Wolf.

Holy panels, Batman!

I'm actually super stoked about it.  This will be my third year at Can-Con, and I have never not had a blast.  The panels are usually great, and everyone is almost always wonderful.  In case you are intensely curious or feel like stalking me, all of my appearances are listed below (and you can always come and visit me in the dealer's room, because it's the place where all the cool kids hang out):

Friday, 3 Oct, 2014

Panel: The Past, Present and Future of Fandom
Time: 8:00pm
Location: Room 2

Saturday, 4 Oct, 2014

Panel: The Economics of Self-Publishing
Time: 10:00am
Location: Room 3

Reading: Excerpt from The Winter Wolf
Time: 11:00am
Location: Room 5

Panel: Multimedia Fandom
Time: 6:00pm
Location: Room 1

Panel: Email Spam: Can a Narrative be Created? (Silliness may ensue)
Time: 7:00pm
Location: Room 3

Sunday, 5 Oct, 2014

Special Live Recording of Nights at the Round Table
Time: 12:00pm
Location: Room 5

Panel: Talking About Your Sonic Wrench and Other Tricks for Flushing Out the Nerds Who Are Hiding As Muggles
Time: 1:00pm
Location: Room 2

So there we have it.  I'm very busy and very pleased about it.  The problem, of course, is that I won't be at my table in the dealer's room very frequently.  This may prove to be a problem this year, as the Amazing Flatmate has an amazing job and will be working all of Sunday.  I shall have to figure something out.  Le sigh!

Of course, though I am partial to the panels I'm on, they aren't the only panels on offer.  Click HERE to see them all, and decide which you must attend.  There are so many great panels.  I wish I could get my hands on a time-turner and go to them all.

Le sigh.

By the by, do come to Can-Con.  It is almost always a spectacular time.  I was so intimidated my first year at Can-Con, but everyone proved so wonderful that now it is one of my favourite places to be.

Hope to see you there!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

How was your evening?  Good?  Good.

I burnt my hand.

That's really all I wanted to say.

I'm a little accident prone, if you haven't guessed already.  To be honest though, burning my hand was less an accident than an incredible act of monumental stupidity.  For future reference, don't grab the handle of the cast iron skillet you just took out of the oven without an oven mitt.  Just don't do it.

The burn isn't terrible, thank goodness.  I thought it was going to blister something awful, but we got the aloe gel and Polysporin on it in time.  Now it just looks like I have some vaguely pink plastic stuck to my hand.

Moving swiftly along, The Winter Wolf received its first review!  Yay!  It's a lovely review too:

Wasn't that lovely?

Full disclosure:  I know the reviewer.  He's a good friend of mine, and one half of the awesome couple behind JenEric Designs.  He was also a Beta Reader for the book, coming through for me when my previous second Beta Reader found herself unable to finish; understandably, I might add.

An aside:  Beta Readers do this stuff for free.  They are often fellow writers who have lives, goals and dreams outside of your work.  Be mindful of that, and don't expect a Beta Reader to drop everything at your call.  It doesn't work like that.

Right, anyway, he stepped in last minute and did a fantastic job.

The thing is, I totally forgot that he was a Beta Reader for the book, and was gearing up to politely ask him why he reviewed the book without reading it... because, you know, I generally frown on that sort of thing.  Even if the review is complimentary.

I totally thought I was getting a pity review, okay?

Point is, it wasn't a pity review.  And I think I may have insulted poor Éric a bit by admitting it was.  He's really not the type to give a fake review.  Sorry Éric!  On the bright side, that means I can use this review for promotion stuff without feeling like an utter fraud!

Huzzah!

The review is up on Goodreads, as is the giveaway I'm currently running for a free copy of the book.  You should totally CLICK THE LINK.

Ahem...

So, that's really everything I wanted to cover.  Want a picture?  Here's a picture:

Ciao!