On Editing and Writing

On Monday evenings I’ve decided to head to my favourite cafe after work and write, just for me, for as long as my heart and soul wants me to.

And it almost feels naughty, as if I’m skipping school or something (which I admit in high school I did often—I hope my sons don’t read this) and there’s something delicious about deciding what you’re going to do with your time—just because you want to.

That feeling of ultimate freedom to do what you want, when you want to is something we can lose as we get older and have more responsibilities, including kids.

But, I’m taking some of that heady feeling back, albeit responsibly (meaning after work) and taking that time just for me to do exactly what I want with it.

And so I feel kind of naughty in a ‘looking after myself’ kind of way.

It feels really good!

I’ve been looking forward to it for days and I think that’s part of the point—something to look forward to.

Something to focus on as a lighthouse in a storm, which keeps us bobbing on the surface of our ocean and away from the perilous rocks and undertow.

For me that’s what writing is, it’s my lighthouse. It keeps me en route and guides me away from the more treacherous obstacles lurking just under the surface.

Because we’ve all got them, those obstacles. Our obstacles don’t necessarily look or feel the same, but we all have them.

The goal is to live with them and let them be a part of you. I do that through my writing, and I believe I’m infinitely better for it.

It certainly feels good, and anything that feels this good couldn’t be bad.

At age 21, Mary Russell is coming of age and about to inherit her father’s fortune. Little does she know that the quest for easy money brings out the worst kind of people from London’s underworld.

In this second novel, A Monstrous Regiment of Women, by Laurie R. King, Mary Russell, Sherlock Holmes’ apprentice, learns that her life is suddenly worth dollars and cents.

Mary’s introduction to a new church in London that does good works for women and children in the community opens her eyes to what her fortune could do. Mary’s fascination with religious doctrines and her recently acquired affluence combine to be an almost deadly combination.

When Mary is confronted by a man with a gun and a sedative, after choosing the latter, Mary disappears. Holmes frantically searches for Mary—once he realizes she’s already been missing for eight days! A false will, giving her money to the church, boldly written up in her absence. 

Mary relinquishes her childhood in this novel, realizing her deep, unmistakeable love for her mentor and companion, Sherlock Holmes.

This is the first in a series of wonderful Sherlock Holmesian books with an inspired and audacious apprentice, Mary Russell. Laurie R. King has outdone herself with this unexpected and truly appreciated introduction of a woman of considerable brainpower into Holmes’ life.

Mary Russell accidentally trips over Holmes while walking on the Downs and begins a friendship that endures through her early university years, minor criminal cases and a life-threatening encounter that brings Moriarty’s ghost back from the dead.

I was thrilled to find this series having read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes adventures when I was a girl. King has created a delicious twist by adding in a formidable female for Holmes to train and mold, and argue with constantly. The relationship between the two of them is intellectual and intense right from the beginning. King has given Mary Russell as much reasoning power as Holmes with a female sense of situations that’s refreshing and genuine.

I highly recommend this first book, The Beekeeper’s Apprentice.

Enjoy!

I went to an art high school in Toronto. I took fine art and figure drawing for five years there and for another year my first year of university.

After my university class I really didn’t draw again. Thinking about it now, I think it’s kind of strange.

I have a friend who paints and one who is an illustrator and between the two of them they’ve got me interested in drawing and painting again.

I know for a fact that my fine art classes are what got me through high school. If I hadn’t had that outlet I don’t believe I would’ve made it through. I was taking an advanced-enriched program and it was so directed and serious that it sucked the creative juices right out of me. My art classes kept me balanced and taught me about drawing, painting, figure drawing, still life, acrylics, water colours, oils, and even ceramics, which I really had no talent for whatsoever. But all the other things I learned, I learned well.

So here I am thinking about going to get a sketch book this weekend and trying to find my old art supplies that are hiding somewhere in one of my closets at home. I’m trying to remember what I like to draw with. I remember a pencil, it was charcoal I think, fairly wide and very black, and I liked the way it moved across the page. We drew on easels while sketching nude models and I’m not sure I can draw in a little sketch book actually. Maybe I need a large sketch book, with big, flowing pages and an easel to work on too. I used to have that, but it’s been a long time.

And what about those paintings that I did? Where are they now? I used to have one up in the kitchen. I remember that. I will go searching and find the canvases that symbolize all those years of learning and training.

What an exciting project! I’m not sure why I turned my back on all those years and all that hard work. I suppose it was my outlet and when I felt I didn’t need it anymore I let it fall away.

But the great thing is I still have all that skill and hard work in my bones and I can wake it out of its long slumber and breathe life back into the artist me again.

I feel as if I’m opening and turning towards the sun.

The word ‘zippy’.

I like it.

It means full of energy, and strikingly fresh, lively or appealing in style.

Using the word makes me feel upbeat and enthusiastic—which I am.

If something sounds good, I say “That sounds zippy.”

I get slightly perplexed looks. Some question marks in response texts, but all in all it’s pretty well received.

And I didn’t steal it from someone. I can’t think of anyone around me who says it.

So it’s all mine—so to speak.

Go with zip!

I tried an experiment this morning. I entered my first name, the city I live in and my profession on Google and I came up as the first two entries thanks to LinkedIn.

I admit, I was surprised. Only a first name and I came up bingo! just like that. I thought at least my last name would be necessary as well. Not the case!

This was prompted by a chance meeting last evening at Chapters. I was talking with someone there who also liked to write and I gave them my first name when I introduced myself and my profession in casual conversation. I wondered if they’d be able to find my last name easily on Google.

Well, I hadn’t considered LinkedIn. The fact that I have a photo on my profile sealed the deal. I was found, and incredibly easily.

Was I able to find them just as easily? Maybe, but no photo. The deal wasn’t sealed. That’s the beauty of photos. Put up a good one of yourself and anyone can find you. Something to think about.

Hey, you never know.