2013: Year in Review

It has been a crazy year. And so much has happened, I feel like I’ve blogged about 50% of it. Maybe 2014 will be quieter and I'll spend the next 12 months just catching up.

Some of the big things:

I changed jobs (back to my old job, but still)

My book came out

We renovated our new apartment (note: this was happening concurrently with both of the above)

We had a major fire in our old apartment, where we were still living

We moved in (temporarily) with my in-laws

We moved into our new home

I travelled all over for writers festivals and other book-related events: Montreal, Ottawa, Eden Mills, Toronto, Winnipeg, Kingston, Victoria, and Vancouver

I won a prize! 

I blogged more than I ever have, and I read more, too. There were a lot of other things I wish I'd accomplished (more writing, for one), but as I keep reminding myself, this was an unusually busy year. I can't be too upset that I haven't finished unpacking all of my boxes or hanging all my pictures. I had a lot of commitments, as well as all the necessary preparation and pre-event anxiety that inevitably accompanies them. 

2013 book-related stuff by the numbers, as far as I can remember:

2 CEGEP talks

2 library talks 

2 book launches (MTL and TO) 

1 public lecture 

9 writers festival events

2 other miscellaneous public readings 

2 book club visits 

1 awards ceremony

1 gala

2 TV appearances

3 radio spots

10 (?) interviews

3 cover photos 

6 photo shoots 

1 nearly nude fundraising calendar

When I remember that all of this was alongside working full-time and moving (twice! kind of), I'm inclined to go a little easier on myself. I really am so lucky to have had all of these opportunities to  promote Bone and Bread, and I hope that I haven't let the book down in this regard. There are writers who are so much better at talking about their books, and just better at talking, period, that it's hard not to feel like one is constantly letting down one's novel. I hope that this is something one can get better at over time.

2013 really has been a year of highs and lows (though mostly highs). Notable best moments were the winning the QWF Paragraphe Hugh MacLennan Prize for Fiction, the Arcade Fire show at Salsatheque on 9/9/9 (!!!!! times a billion), the Ottawa Writers Festival, and my trip out west to Victoria and Vancouver (if ten days can be lumped into 'moments'). 

Worst moments include the fire, losing my grandmother, and some other passing moments of doubt and insecurity that aren't worth dwelling on.  

Actually, the fire was a kind of mixed lowlight and highlight in that I've never felt more overwhelmed by kindness than I was through the generous messages and offers of help we received in its aftermath. It's probably counterintuitive for a disaster to make one feel safer, but it really kind of did. And it made me feel so grateful for what we have and for the amazing people that we know.  

I haven't made my resolutions for 2014 yet, but among them I'm definitely going to include some non-book-related travel and a lot of writing. I also need to listen to more new music and go to more shows, so any suggestions on these fronts are very welcome...

Happy New Year, everyone!

Things that happened this weekend

Things that happened this weekend:

* On Thursday, the professional restoration people came to take our books and a few other sundries away for cleaning.  I don’t want to tell you how many boxes it took to cart away all our books, but between the books and just a few pieces of furniture, it filled a whole medium-sized moving truck.

* On Friday, my husband shifted the rubble in the kitchen in order to gain access to the cabinets, rescuing what could be saved.  Most of the dishes in the tipped-over dishwasher weren’t even smashed (miracle)!  But the soot in the kitchen was particularly bad…even through the cabinet doors, everything has been covered with a thick and sticky layer of soot that has turned everything a brownish-grey.  This is perhaps most alarming when it comes to my yellow KitchenAid mixer and Le Creuset cookware.  I suspect “Inferno Grey” would not be a popular choice in their rainbow of colour options.  I’m really hoping the soot will shift without major repeated interventions on my part. 

A sooty cupboard, half-emptied. (The platter on

the bottom used to be a light turquoise, like the 

circle in the middle of it where another bowl was resting.)

A lifted-up coaster leaves a white pattern in the

living room soot (somewhat less severe).

* On Friday night, we went to the Sens-Habs playoff game.  And we (Montreal) won!  But it was a real treat for me to see my hometown Ottawa Sens play, too, and it was a very welcome respite from our dirty, stressful week.  (Of last night's game, let us say nothing.)

Youppi was hanging out right 

next to us for a while. 

* On Saturday, we moved out all the stuff we are hoping to clean ourselves (i.e. all of the clothes and most of the kitchen stuff)…which filled up a whole uHaul van and then some.  Ugh.

No less than three sets of firefighters dropped by on Saturday to do walk-throughs as we were packing and moving.  I suppose they take every opportunity they have to see the remnants of a real fire.  I felt pretty pleased with myself for asking the first group of about seven guys if they wanted to help, and on their way out, they each helped --- as per my rapid opportunistic instructions: “This!” “And This!” “And This!” --- to carry all the heaviest items down the fire escape for us. 

Over the course of Saturday night and all day Sunday, I also did about eight loads of our smoky laundry, including a few sinkfuls of handwashing, which has made less of a dent than one would hope in our total combined wardrobes.  But we’re getting there. 

Sadly, reading and writing has fallen so far by the wayside amidst all this upheaval that I am almost despairing of ever picking them back up – except one of the few things I have managed to gain over the years is the ability to (at least temporarily!) stave off this kind of despair.  I have too many things I’m excited about not to start writing again soon, but now is not the time to feel bad about it.  (Right?)

high hopes and other things still standing

[I'm sorry for the slowness of this update, as I know people are concerned.  I've been writing this post since yesterday...I fell asleep in bed while writing the first part last night.]

Last night when we left the chill of the street in our pyjamas to go to the neighbours', there were massive amounts of smoke billowing out of all of our windows, and huge flames visible on both sides of the building on the second floor, including the apartment directly below ours.   It seemed unreasonable to hope for much, though as I lay awake trying to sleep, I did let some hope creep in around the sides.  Maybe the papers inside the filing cabinets would be okay.  Maybe the enameled cast iron pots would make it through.  

                   

The third-floor windows are ours.

Here's the story on CTV, the Montreal Gazette, and the CBC (where I grabbed the video).

In the morning, I discovered my stepdaughter had been thinking the same way.  Maybe, she said, Blue Bunny (her beloved stuffed rabbit, companion since birth) would have made it through, somehow.  Maybe, I said.  But I don't think we should be too optimistic.   No, she agreed, he's probably burnt to a crisp.  

Well, he wasn't burnt to a crisp, through he was in a half-collapsed kitchen, smoky and waterlogged, and one trip through the washing machine still hasn't gotten the smell out.  But Blue Bunny lives!

Rescued friends.

In fact, though it looks like a tornado has ripped through the middle of our place, many of our belongings have been spared (although they all have severe smoke damage, and it remains to be seen whether it will be a) possible or b) economically feasible to have the smoke removed).  

Based on my blog post the night of the fire, Steph at Bella's Bookshelves started the most generous campaign to help me rebuild my library, but I am happy to say that somehow the books have survived, apart from smoke damage.  I am also touched beyond belief by all the supportive messages and offers of help I have received.  If I haven't had a chance to write back to you personally yet, please know your thoughts have made a difference in this stressful time.  

(Re: stress. It is possible I might have said something along the lines of 'This week couldn't get any more stressful"...between the two talks I have to prepare and give, plus three readings/appearances, a 24-hour trip to Ottawa, and a charity photo shoot...  well, anyway...I was wrong!  Thanks, Fate, for taking me up on that.) 

We were able to get into the building yesterday and today, and we grabbed a few things.  The acrid smell is terrible, though, and it is hard to breathe.  After a little while, my head hurt and I started to find it difficult to think clearly or make decisions.  At least half of the photos I took today were unusable and blurry.

The floor.  There's a carpet under there somewhere.

More of the living room floor.

The living room.

The kitchen.

More of the ex-kitchen.

I'm not sure how it worked out this way, given all the books we have (in my previous blog post I estimated 16 bookcases, but it is actually more like 20, though some of them are small ones), but none of them were touched by fire or water.  They seem to mostly have been out of range of the disaster, except for the smoke.  Anyone who has read Steph's blog post (I know the original post was re-shared several times without the update) and wants to help, I would ask you not to send me any books.  Your kind thoughts mean so much already, and right now, we are just coping with what we need to do to save the ones we have.  (Literary agent Denise Bukowski left a kind comment saying that it would probably be more helpful to me to buy a copy of one my books, and I certainly can't argue with that.)

More kitchen disaster, but with a bookcase still standing.

We had nine bookcases in the hallway. Only a few books fully trashed. Points for picking out the CanLit titles.

The fire started just after 10:30 p.m.  We were watching television when we heard a very loud banging on the door.  When we went to see what it was, we saw thick smoke billowing in under our front door very quickly.  We woke up my stepdaughter, unlocked the back door and headed down the fire escape together.  The neighbours who had banged on our door were already out there. In a way, I'm proud that I did not stop to grab a single thing.  We all got downstairs in less than two minutes, and by that time, the smoke was coming out the back door.

Of course, in the long night when I was sure everything was gone, I had a pang about not saving anything. Besides the obvious practicalities (wallet, phone, computer), here are the things of mine I thought about and wished I had been able to save: 

• a painted book of illustrations from my wedding, made by my friend Kathleen, which I've been meaning to scan for months and months, in case anything should happen to it

• some love notes from my husband 

Given that I have always been a pack-rat, someone who is extremely sentimental about parting with belongings, it interested me to note that these were the only things it really made me cry to consider losing, out of a whole overstuffed apartment full of stuff.  I'm going to try to remember this fact, going forward.

Some other things I really, really regretted the possibility of losing:

• a necklace my husband gave me for our first anniversary

•  a small David Milne watercolour that had been gifted to us

• my childhood books

• some stories I wrote when I was a kid 

But all of these things are fine.  We have lost nothing that matters, and all in all, we are unbelievably lucky.  Of the four units in the building, ours is the only one that is not completely destroyed --the two bedrooms are basically fine, except for severe smoke damage. Given the 90 firefighters it took to put out the four-alarm fire, it seems nothing short of miraculous.  They did an amazing job preserving what they could.  I am so grateful to be alive, so grateful to have somewhere to go (we're staying with my in-laws), and so touched by the outpouring of support from friends, family, acquaintances, and even strangers.  We're part of an amazing community.