Day 6: Retro T.V. ~ The Best Way To Watch Your Resolve Dissolve.

I was full of resolve today. I was going to write. Write a lot. And write at least five pages. Unfortunately the first mistake I made was in telling someone that I was going to write. (See Day 1). The second mistake was to get sucked into the campy tune of the Brady Bunch theme. Yep. The Brady Bunch. My husband has made the Brady Bunch this summer's theme show. Every night he settles on the couch with our children for a rip roaring evening of wholesome t.v. fun. So far I have been able to evade the  popcorn and soda and giggles and sing-a-longs (my kids know the theme song inside out now). About the same time as my family is settling in for their late-night laughter I am settling in for a good night's sleep. (I have been working this summer....the rest of the family is off until September).

Alas, tonight I couldn't stay away and, I have no excuse. I am on holiday. Two blissful weeks of spending time with my family. This means that I too get to partake in the 'Deja View' marathons with my husband and children. Saturday nights have always been reserved for Lawrence Welk re-runs. Yep. Old bubble-blowing Larry Welk. True, we do enjoy the good hearted mocking banter. It's how hubby and I bond. But truth be told, I enjoy the music and we both thrive on nostalgia. We both remember the days when members of our family wore floor length ball gowns that were the same colours as the curtains in our homes.
The Golden Girls is another show that warms our hearts. My husband has a soft spot for these ladies. Especially Betty White and Bea Arthur. The fact that he watches Maude re-runs attests to these feelings.The children rarely join us for these shows.

Dallas, All in the Family and Good Times used to occupy our time nightly but now we have moved on to the original episodes of Hawaii 5-0.
Who can write when such a wealth of retro entertainment is calling to me nightly...along with my husband who, although is very supportive of my writing, would rather I massage his feet while we go back in time together?!
Time spent not writing my book, but time well spent nonetheless.

Day 5: Spend an Idyllic Weekend on the Water.

I lay on the bow of the boat listening to the Stones against the backdrop of kids leaping into the river and waves lapping against the shore. The sun was hot and strong; the air hotter and stronger. Any ambition, any motivation to write floated away with the currents.My first day of vacation and all I wanted to do was to spend time with my family. I had spent the afternoon watching my dog chase waves and bark at the boats. I ate fresh raspberries and my mother's homemade chocolate chip cookies. I congratulated my son on the fish he caught and scrambled to get out of the water when he released said fish a little too close to me. At the same time a limp fillet of dead fish flesh floated by thus hastening my migration to the boat. The movement of the boat lulled me into the depths of sensation. The humid air carried the scent of the river and of the trees that crawled over the islands. The water carried the sounds of the boats some humming, some sputtering and others with sails flapping as they passed. The breeze was gentle and soft like a fine silk scarf playing about my hair. I felt languid and tasted sleep. Sweet soft afternoon.

 An island in the St. Lawrence river: The perfect spot to not write!

The next day saw me lying on a sandy beach sipping the rays of sun that beat down around me. Sand buried tanned bodies, sand spilled into the crevices of our blankets, towels and chairs and sand crunched between our molars. More fresh raspberries deposited seeds into our sandy mouths and watermelon washed us clean. Sandwiches crafted with care and bags of chips and Doritos also filled the bellies of the hungry masses of children who have accompanied us on our trip. This day saw the air fill with footballs and Frisbees. Picnic tables sat under the poplar
trees at the top of sand dunes. Great families congregated and young lovers embraced. People pranced like porpoises in the gleaming water.
By the end of the day the sun had siphoned energy from our bodies and we limply filed like ants in a column to the parking lots. The cars welcomed us like bread to a toaster. And we all slept that night like logs in an overgrown forest. Cool and tired beneath thin sheets.
No. No writing for me this weekend.

Day 4: Searching for Research

Research is my favourite part of not writing a book. I can take an idea to the computer with me and spend hours following link upon link until finally I reach the decision to write an entirely different sort of book. I digress. A lot.
If I do manage to stay on topic then I enjoy exhuming articles essays and images;collecting mass amounts of information that I thoroughly intend to read.
Better still is printing the articles. Watching page after delicious page climb out from the inside of my printer. Each piece of paper goes in white and fresh, naive and young. Each paper then comes my way, instantly educated and carrying with it reams of intelligence.
I love finding just the right binder or folder to house my piecework. The colour usually reflects my hope for the book. If I am particularly passionate about the topic I might choose a red folder. If my writing is particularly emotional then I am likely to choose green or blue. I once chose a folder that had a picture of a canoe on the front because I was writing a fairly decent piece of Canadiana. A lot of thought goes into this process.
I then have to find an appropriate place to file my work. If it is a current project I keep it close by me. My bedside table has stacks of books and papers. Some of them have to do with my writing!
My desk has two large drawers that hold my works-not-in-progress. It also has a drawer full of my favourite pens.
Unfortunately these drawers have somehow filled with mouse droppings. I wonder what that says about my writing?













I think I am going to have to research that.
**********************************
http://www.duke.edu/web/isis/gessler/topics/island.htm
"Island of Research"   fromTHE SCIENCE GAME by Neil Agnew and Dandra Pyke. Prentice-Hall, Englewood Cliffs (1969).

Day 3: Wondering about the man from Montreal.

 Last night I sat on a hotel patio down by the lake with my friends researching the habits of humans. What I mean to say is that since the band was too loud for us to converse I spent my time watching people. I watched an older woman with gray hair waving her jazz hands and claw-like fingernails to the beat of every song as though she was trying to cast a spell on one of the guitar players. I watched the sax player and listened to his fingers when his mic failed. I watched a family parade from one end of the patio to the other, bopping with babies secured to their abdomens. And I wondered about the man whose table we appropriated. The man from Montreal who was passing through. He had left half a bottle of beer to guard his table while he stood to the side of the patio smoking. His wife was sick and sleeping upstairs and he had come down to hear some music and have a few drinks. The first thing I noticed was his big head. Then I noticed his big toes. It made me think about genetics and I wondered what his children looked like. If he had a son was he large like his father? I imagined his wife a petite french woman with black hair. I don't know why. It just seemed right.

I wondered what this man thought of us. Two women first, sitting at his lonely table. Slowly more women joined our party until he was surrounded. The look on his face told me he was a gentleman.
I wondered if he was worried about his wife looking down on us. What would she think? Anything?
The man was jovial. He spoke to us English as a Second Language teachers in broken English. We spoke back in our best broken French.  He stayed for two more beers, and at least five more smoke breaks before bidding us adieu.
We stayed on watching the fireworks over the fort and watching the great orange moon rise over the river.
I can use my imagination and build this man up to a fantastic character, or I can reduce his likeness to a mere passerby in the book that I am currently not writing. (Too busy drinking on the waterfront patios).More than anything though, I can wonder what it was that brought us to his table and too what degree will my wondering procure the meaning in our meeting?

Day 2: How Not to Write a Book on a Sunny Day.

Last night I was walking home down a long straight stretch of road and I noticed how black the trees turn against the pale blue and orange sky. Birds flew high overhead then perched solemnly atop the highest branches. The sun was so strong and the sky so clear that it seemed impossible that night could rise against the day. Night was indeed quick and quiet. So quiet that the sun rose today with a smirk; almost with arrogance. I was weary walking to the park to exercise at eight a.m. but I decided to meet the heat head on. Rather than be a victim to the sun's rays I pushed myself to produce more perspiration than the sun could reap from me. Walking home I took in the flavour of summer mornings. I savoured the shade, the way the brown grass crunched beneath my feet, the dew that grabbed hold of my ankles and the strains of summer scents trying to thrive despite the heat washing over our summer in waves.
All of this I drank in and stored for the morning when instead of challenging the sun I might challenge something else and succeed in writing a line or two.
Beautiful weather inspires me but it also distracts me. I did not write today. I tucked the images. scents and emotions away until such time as I need to recall them for a scene in one of my chapters.

Day 1: How Not to Write a Book.

Welcome to my blog.
As this is my first attempt at blogging, and it is my first day, I thought I would start simple.
My goal in writing here is to log my attempt to write a book.
I, like you, and like everyone else I know, am writing a book. I have been all my life it seems! How many of us like to tell our family, our friends, and anyone who will listen, that indeed! "I too am writing a book!"?
How embarrassing when months later said people ask how our book is coming along? Or worse, no one asks at all because you see, they too are busy writing their own book. *sigh*!
So I am starting this project. A project that will highlight the power of procrastination over will power. Maybe by doing so I will one day have a completed manuscript to share. Maybe.

In the meantime I have a few thoughts to share about how not to write a book.

1. Tell everyone that you are writing a book.
2. Think. Think a lot. Think about what you are not writing..all of the time.
3. Get your priorities in order: Family, finances, work, play...anything that will give you an excuse not to write today.
4. Have frequent showers and naps. My best and most creative ideas come to me in the shower...the place least likely to have a pen and paper. Ideas also come to me at night, when, I am either dreaming or too tired to roll over and grab a pen and paper from my bedside table.
5. Take a walk and listen to music. You are sure to lose your train of thought as your creative ideas slip away on a stream of melancholic notes and snake their way up to the great clear skies of distraction.
6. Create a blog about how not to write a book. Writing here will surely waste the time I could have used to write the book that I am not really writing.