Coffee badgers, Chinese New Year, and Carleton University

• This morning I made coffee for the first time in a couple of weeks, and unfortunately it was crazy strong!  Now I have the shakes and a burrowing anxiety badger in my chest.  Not to mention an upset stomach. Eeeep.  If anyone has a sure-fire method for combating this unruly animal, let me know. My techniques so far include exercise (best), drinking hot water (pretty good), eating something carb-y to send myself into a sugar crash (untrackable but probably terrible), and complaining about it on the internet (acceptable).


• K came for a fun visit for a few days this week, which means we have now officially had our first overnight houseguest! Another milestone for our new home. 


• We had a wonderful Chinese New Year celebration on Saturday, with singing and dancing and glitter and new slippers and tons of delicious food. Thanks to the hosts and the cooks and the fellow attendees for a great evening. Happy Year of the Horse! 


• I started reading A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki, which I’m really enjoying so far. A friend of mine listened to the audiobook, and I have to remember to ask her how on earth they handled the footnotes in that format. 


• I was so sad to hear about Philip Seymour Hoffmann and I’ve been growing sadder by the day as my original disbelief has faded.  Knowing he was in a movie was enough to make me watch anything, and it’s terrible to think of all the performances the world will be missing out on now.  His death is another tragic reminder that addiction is an indiscriminate killer.     


• It was lovely to see a review of Bone & Bread in Room Magazine here! And even more jaw-dropping to see my upcoming event at the College of the Humanities plugged yesterday on the front page of the Carleton University website (as one of a rotating series of pictures…click through if you don’t see it at first). Seeing it was a pretty gratifying moment for me. 


• Speaking of which, I’m not sure how to approach taking the podium at my old lecture hall. It’s a little bit intimidating to think about! However, I feel really honoured to have been asked, and the honour is outweighing the nerves at this point. If you’re going to be in Ottawa on Saturday, why don’t you stop by? I’m looking forward to the alumni dinner that will follow --- I wonder if any other graduates of 2002 will be there?

Ottawa, Walrus Talks, Blue Met, photo shoot...and after.

I wanted to start this post with talking about how great a time I had at the Ottawa International Writers Festival, but reading over my last post, I see I already did that!  But really, though, the lovely time just continued through the reading, the post-reading fun in the hospitality suite, my delicious breakfast in my room the next morning...even the nice chat with the volunteer who drove me to train station.  I was sad not to be able to stay longer to visit friends and attend even more of the festival!

In terms of the event itself, I thought it was stellar. Shyam Selvadurai read from his novel, and now I can't wait to de-smokify my hardcover copy and start reading.  And Cathy Buchanan gave an amazing PowerPoint presentation showing the background on the inspiration and real historical details in her novel.  She also very kindly gave me her own copy of The Painted Girls, as she'd heard about my fire.  I couldn't bring myself to turn it down because I'd been in the middle of reading it and was forced to put aside due to smokiness. But I was so excited and distracted by everything going on that I forgot to get her to sign it...doh!! But the bright side is that when I do get my books taken care of, I'll be able to pay it forward by giving one copy of this wonderful book to somebody else.

The festival venue...
(just down the street from my old high school!)

There were lots of familiar faces at the reading, including high school friends and friends' moms, and my writing instructor from Carleton (Rick Taylor)!

With Cathy Buchanan and Shyam Selvadurai 

at the Ottawa Writersfest

I got back to Montreal on Saturday afternoon, one hour before soundcheck for the Walrus Talks event, where I met so many smart people, including fellow writer-types Pasha Malla and Vincent Lam.  I really enjoyed all the talks, especially Rachel Giese's on adoption, and Will Straw's on French and English.  Jonathan Goldstein's was (as you might expect!) hilarious.  And although I have been anxious about my own talk for weeks, I think it went over just fine.  A number of people came up to me to speak to me about it afterwards...and only some of them were family members...so I'm really pleased.  (And even more pleased it is behind me.)

Later on, I gave a reading at Blue Met with other local writers (all happy new discoveries for me, as I hadn't read any of them before: Peter Kirby, Rae Spoon, and Barry Webster).  I wish my own reading had been a little more energized, but I was running on empty at that point.  When I got home just before nine that night, I was so happy to change into warm, comfy clothes and finally eat a real meal (nothing by canapes since breakfast) and watch SNL (a repeat, but we hadn't caught it the first time around, and it was hilarious). 

And Sunday was the photo shoot for Bare it for Books!  I slept in, made coffee, then walked down the street to the nail place for a mani-pedi --- an indulgence I spend lots of time thinking about but actually haven't done since my wedding.  (Strategically, it probably would have been a better thing to do before my two-day whirlwind of events, but I just couldn't find the time.) Then Dallas Curow came over and did my makeup (reading Dallas' makeup tutorials is one of my favourite ways to relax on the internet these days) before doing her genius photographer thing until we had some promising shots. Compared to apartment fires and public talks, the shoot was a breeze (and, ahem, breezy). Thanks so much, Dallas... you are amazing! 

A selfie before I took off the makeup. (Eyelashes!)

The rest of the day was equally perfect: a quick supper, an impromptu movie (Silver Linings Playbook), a Sens win, and watching music videos online. 

I feel almost ready to face the week...and work, and taxes, and the smoky apartment again. 

Rest and refuge in Ottawa at the Writersfest

I woke up bright and early this morning to catch a train to Ottawa. Got here in time to catch a great noon event at Knox Presbyterian Church --- John Metcalf, Nancy Jo Cullen and Tamas Dobozy talking about the art of the short story.  A nugget of wisdom from Tamas: the end is also the beginning, as it recasts the whole story in light of it.  Nancy Jo Cullen said she thinks of endings as a "breath" in the story...before it goes on without us. I like both ideas.

As soon as I arrived in Ottawa, I felt relaxed and welcomed.  Things at the Writersfest run like clockwork thanks to all the wonderful volunteers and organizers. 

This afternoon, I was initially supposed to go to a tea at the U.S. Embassy along with the other invited writers, an event I was excited about, but I was also invited to do a reading for All in a Day with (the very lovely!) Alan Neal.  And who can resist the call of the CBC?  

Then I got back to my hotel, finished and practiced my speech for the Walrus Talks event tomorrow that has been wreaking havoc with my nerves for weeks --- and promptly had a long, deep nap in this amazing bed.  

Just ignore the monkey pyjamas.

I'm sad to be missing the event right before mine, but I'm so grateful for the chance to recharge and de-stress a little.  Now to iron my dress, put on some makeup, and get ready for my event later.  Looking forward to meeting some great writers and catching up with old friends.  

Still life with iron and lint brush

See you in a bit, Ottawa?

cover girl

On newstands now!

This is the end product of the photo shoot with Guillaume Simoneau I wrote about here.  I was surprised when I saw the picture as I had seen a neat close-up picture he'd taken on his camera (my face next to one of the long, sesame-seed-covered wooden paddles they use for lifting bagels in and out of the oven), and for some reason I assumed the magazine would use that one.  But I love this and it makes me really happy it was taken inside Fairmount Bagel, which inspired the novel. (The photos inside the issue were taken at St-Viateur, which also makes a pretty unbeatable bagel).

I felt a little self-conscious when I went to buy a copy.  I picked up two, one for myself and one for my mom, and I was worried (why??) that the clerk would notice, but he didn't.  (Although Edmonton-based poet and writer Alexis Kienlen had someone ask her if she was the one on the cover when she picked up at copy!)       

But self-consciousness aside (which is mostly related to being designated as a "star" in large lettering...gulp), I am so excited about this!!  How could I not be?!  Quill & Quire is basically the only magazine I actually sit down and read from start to finish with any regularity.  When I was working hard to finish Mother Superior, I used to read the author profiles on the Quill site to give me motivation to get writing, and I daydreamed about having one about me there someday.  (Though I never once dreamed about the cover!)

Somehow, wonderfully, there has been so much coverage of Bone and Bread that I actually feel daunted and bashful about posting about all of it here, but I will try to catch up with mentioning everything over the next little while.

So along those lines, this is a very nice review/profile by Peter Robb that ran in the Ottawa Citizen -- my hometown newspaper!  

In other, regular life news, I am still knitting up a storm as my cold gradually (oh so slowly) ebbs away.  Last night's knitting group was hosted by J. at S's amazing studio and featured sparkling wine and chocolate babka from Cheskie's, among many other yummy snacks.  S. is a costume designer (right now she's designing for the opera!) who is also apprenticing to become a bespoke tailor, which sounds even more intense than you might imagine.  No pins!  And no electric sewing machines. 

Also, today at lunchtime I used my gift certificate to Paragraphe to pick up Swamplandia! by Karen Russell and The Dinner by Herman Koch.  Looking forward to starting one or both this weekend, and doing some real writing at last. 

WESTFEST in Ottawa, June 13

Last Saturday I participated in Ottawa's WESTFEST, a free arts festival in Westboro. It went pretty well! I think I'm getting a little better at these things.

It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too hot -- very key since the festival took place outdoors. I was happy the weather cooperated with my plan to wear a new sundress. And I was excited to be on the lineup with the other excellent writers (Priscilla Uppal, Nichole McGill, who also curates WESTFEST Lit, Mark Frutkin, and Mike Blouin, who was shortlisted just this week for the Amazon.ca First Novel Award), and I really enjoyed all of the readings. The never-ending stack of books I want to read is always getting longer!

WESTFEST itself was a really fun weekend event. Since everything is free, it makes for a really great atmosphere and a really diverse mix of people. We caught part of the Spoken Word sets, and saw Prairie Oyster later that night. Also, I pretty much just love a street festival. Any street festival. If there is a street blocked off for pedestrians and food vendors, I'm there.

One thing: it was a family-friendly event, and I'd chosen my selection accordingly, but I did have one line with the word "crotch." I saw it coming on the page, but I couldn't think of a way around it on the fly. In context, I think it was more or less innocuous, but maybe my own self-consciousness came through and made the word feel more loaded. Two women with a few small children between them got up from the front row and left shortly thereafter. But maybe it was a coincidence, yes? There were other supportive audience members smiling and making eye contact. Love supportive audience members. Maybe even more than a street festival.

Here's the whole WESTFEST literature crew, photo courtesy of Nichole McGill:

(L to R): me, Priscila Uppal, Mark Frutkin, host Lucy van Oldenbarneveld, Mike Blouin and Nichole McGill