So, Friday's mail brought ARCs of Bedtime Story. And today's mailbag brought this…
What, Rob? A new book deal? How is it we haven't heard anything about this?
Well, you will. Soon.
Archive for the ‘Works in progress’ Category
The universe? She is funny…
Monday, July 26th, 2010Mail call
Friday, December 18th, 2009It's no secret — I love getting mail. I love opening a package and not knowing what to expect. Or knowing EXACTLY what to expect. And this time of year is great for mail, as I'm sure most of you can appreciate.
Today, though…
Well, I knew it was coming, but even forewarned, there's still something of a heady thrill receiving an edited manuscript back from ones publisher. Well, a heady thrill, with a healthy dose of anticipatory nausea.
I have a ritual, for times like these. I open the package, I take a quick look at the notes, I glance through some pages, looking to see how many markings there are on the page, and then — this is the crucial step — I close the box and ignore it, for at least 12 hours. Let my initial feelings of shock and dismay fade…
This time, though, I added a step. I took a photo:
Sorry for the grainy cellphone-ness of it, but I wanted to capture the moment.
I've included a copy of Before I Wake for scale.
I heard that! That *gasp*.
Would it comfort you to learn that on the FedEx waybill, the package was listed as weighing 12 pounds? No?
Me neither.
I guess I know what I'm doing after Christmas…
The eternal circle…
Thursday, December 17th, 2009I suppose this is the way these things SHOULD work, timing-wise.
No sooner do I see that the first installment of "Just Like the Ones He Used to Know" is up and getting hits at books.torontoist.com than I receive word from my editor at RHC that a box is headed my way by courier — the first editorial pass through the forthcoming new novel. I should have the pages sometime today…
Story published, novel in revision, new work started… the eternal cycle. This is what my life looks like, and I couldn't be happier.
(On a side note — I've started a post with notes and thoughts and ruminations and such about the Christmas serial. I'm going to hold off on posting, though, until the whole thing is out and read, but you have that to look forward to, if you're the sort that looks forward to those things…)
An announcement…
Wednesday, December 16th, 2009As promised, some news, direct from books.torontoist.com:
The editors of Books@Torontoist are proud to announce the publication of an original story by Robert J Wiersema, bestselling author of the novel Before I Wake (now published in ten countries) and the novella The World More Full of Weeping. The story, “Just Like the Ones He Used to Know,” will be serialized on the site in eight daily posts, beginning on Thursday, December 16 and ending on Christmas Eve. The story of a man who makes a mysterious journey to his home town on a stormy Christmas Eve, “Just Like the Ones He Used to Know” revives the Victorian tradition of ringing in the holiday season with a story of the ghostly and the miraculous.
The serialized story will be accompanied by photos and original illustrations provided by Torontoist’s stable of talented artists and photographers.
Rob was kind enough to provide us with an introduction to his holiday tale. Please read on and return tomorrow for the first installment of “Just Like the Ones He Used to Know.”
At first glance, there’s something a little counter-intuitive about a Christmas ghost story. After all, isn’t the season all about births and rebirths (depending on which point on the Christian/Pagan trapeze you occupy)? Well, yes.
And yet…
There’s a long history of ghosts and Christmas. One need look no further than what is perhaps the best known Christmas tale, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, which has not one but four ghosts (don’t forget poor Marley.) And on the other end of the spectrum one of the best known ghost stories – Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw – which is deliberately framed as “gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be”.
Some of my favourite examples of the form, though, come from Robertson Davies, who collected, in High Spirits, 18 years worth of the Christmas ghost stories which he had delivered at the Christmas celebrations at Massey College. His ghost stories were a little on the lighter side (though in all fairness, compared to The Turn of the Screw, practically everything is at least a little on the lighter side).
When I was asked by Torontoist to write a Christmas ghost story to be serialized in the run-up to the festive season, I took it on as a challenge. I had a limited time to write the story, which meant an even more limited time to gestate the story. I thought, for a time, that I might write something humourous. Or something Toronto-based. Then I thought I might write something personal, a bit revealing. But then, as these things do, the story bubbled to the surface of my mind, almost fully formed, and completely different from anything I could have consciously devised. So it goes.
Although it’s a ghost story, “Just Like the Ones I Used to Know” goes back to those things which are, to me, the fundamentals of the season: warm houses, snow-storms, travel, food, and family. It’s set in the fictional B.C. town of Henderson, and it’s about coming home, and what that means.
You should definitely click over to books.torontoist.com (right now) to see this announcement in its proper setting, with an example of the art James mentions in the release.
For the record, this is the story that I was writing in the early part of this month. I'm actually very pleased with it — it came in on-time, at-length, and it does exactly what I want it to. Which, really, is all a writer can ask.
Speaking of asking: when James asked me to write this story, I had mixed feelings. Traditionally, I'm not good with deadlines (which might well be the understatement of the decade), and I was decidedly overbooked. There was a novel to finish, and reviews to catch up on, and all the ancillary stuff of work and life to contend with. But we spent some time talking it through when I was in Toronto last month, during a boozy late afternoon at the See Hai Lounge in lovely North York, and by the end I was committed.
Thankfully, the writing came easily, and the story came out well.
Considering, though, that last November I signed on with CZP to publish The World More Full of Weeping over drinks in a Toronto bar, and now this, I'm starting to think I need to spend more time in bars when I'm in Toronto.
So, that's the news. I hope you read the story, and enjoy it.
Simply…
Friday, December 11th, 2009… the best editorial comment one can receive*:
It makes me smile every time I see it.
(*context-sensitive, naturally.)
Insanity
Tuesday, December 8th, 2009It has been noted — by folks far wiser than yours truly — that a good operating definition of "insanity" is "doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results". By that measure, at least, one could, I suppose, question my sanity.
I certainly am.
Really, I should know better by now, shouldn't I?
Certainly after the great "type out the monster" marathon of 2008, you would think that I would have recognized that typing out the manuscript as I go is the ideal, right? You would think that I would settle into a comfortable routine of "write in the morning, type in the evening", wouldn't you? Especially considering this very wise passage from that monstrous manuscript:
It took me another hour, sipping at my second coffee of the day, to type in the day’s pages, making a few changes as I went. When I printed out the pages, I wrote the date in the bottom margin and set the sheets face-down on the top of the stack on the second shelf of the bookcase.
Wise words, no? A perfectly reasonable approach, yes?
So how is it, exactly, that I've ended up doing it again: writing a full story, and now having to input it all at once?
(sigh)
The good news, I suppose, is that the story is done, as of yesterday morning. And it's not that long — another morning of typing will have it done, and ready for revision.
Still, though, it's a good lesson, and a timely one: build a routine wherein I write in the morning, and type later in the day. DO NOT let the manuscript build up. DO NOT fall into the trap of "it's important to the flow that I not go back and type what I've already written; I'll wait and type it all at once".
If only there were somewhere that I could write that down, so I don't forget when I start on the new novel…
Meanwhile, in another part of my psyche:
Yes, the story is done. No, I can't give you the details on where and when it will appear. Soon, though. Soon a press release will magically appear, and it will be copied here with much rubbing together of hands. And by "soon" I mean "within the next 24 hours or so", so not long now.
In the meantime, though, do please listen to this interview I recorded last week with Joseph Planta for thecommentary.ca. (Yes, listen — Mom, this is a podcast. Just click where it says to click, then sit back and wait for sound to come out of your speakers. Everyone else, you can listen on the site, or download the piece and listen to me while you work out. Heh.)
And for the record, I recorded this on a lunch-break last week, in the waning stages of "Omigod, I'm gonna die", which saw me feverish and a bit delusional. I'm not actually sure of what I said*, so if there's anything bizarre (or, you know, wise), I'm blaming the fever. Or the drugs.
(*caveat added upon reading the phrase "they also discuss growing up in Agassiz" and having NO recall of how I handled the question…)
All right, back to my typing…
Minutiae
Tuesday, December 1st, 2009I've been giving fairly regular updates on this — word counts and the like — on Facebook and Twitter, but I thought I should weigh in here in a bit more detail. Well, sort of. The details are a bit limited at this point, for a couple of reasons.
The big news is that I'm writing again — actively writing. First draft, four a.m. writing. It's been a while since I've done that, and I have to say, it feels good. The muscles are loosening up, the routines are re-establishing themselves, and I'm reminded (though how could I have forgotten) just how good it feels to do this.
The occasion? I've been commissioned to write a short story. To write it NOW. It will see "print" in less than two weeks, so there's not a whole lot of room for fucking around.
As for the details, and why I can't provide you with too many?
Well, the nature of the publication and the venue needs to remain vague for just a shade longer. It's not a huge secret or anything, it's just a matter of getting the words on the page before saying too much.
Which, now that I think about it, is actually why I'm not going to be forthcoming on details about the story itself. I've mentioned my muse here before, right? And how… possessive… she is about what she gives me? In case I haven't, the short version is this: I get one chance to tell a story, which leaves me with a choice. I can spend that story in passing – recounting it in a bar, or describing it, hell, even outlining it can use up the opportunity – or I can write it down. Writing it down seems to be the better option, really.
What I CAN say is this: it's a Christmas story. It's a Christmas ghost story, actually. It's set in Henderson. And it's going to be sad. (That last one probably shouldn't come as any surprise by now, but it's tricky — to my mind, it's not sad-sad, it's bittersweet, and ultimately a happy ending. Sort of. But then, I feel that way about Before I Wake and The World More Full of Weeping, too, so take that with however much salt you require.)
I know – sorry about the scantness of information, but take comfort in the fact that you'll be reading the story in less than two weeks. That's not TOO much suspense, I don't think.
In the meantime, though, the minutiae I promised.
I'm a big fan of author's notes and afterwords and things like that, bits of ephemera that give a glimpse into the writing process. I assume I'm not the only one, so:
I'm getting up at 4 am these days. Well, the first alarm rings at 4 — I'm generally out of bed before the third alarm at 4:25.
The story is being written in a Moleskine notebook, with a Pelikan M215 demonstrator fountain pen, tweaked with a Binder .7 italic nib, using Noodler's Black ink.
The music: so far, it seems to be a combination of Bach's Cello Suites, as performed by Yo Yo Ma, and various pieces by Estonian composer Arvo Part (including Fratres and Te Deum). The Part seems to be working quite well — it has the perfect wintery, sad, holy tone that I'm looking for.
Okay. Time to get ready for work.