Prolonged exposure

If there was one thing that surprised me most about having children, it was this: I never expected them to be so LOUD.

Now, I know what you are going to say. Yes, it’s true that I’m a writer. There is no doubt that I love silence. I can go through whole days where the only words that leave my mouth between the time my kids leave for school and when they get home are “double Americano, please.” And that’s only because we are new to town and the servers at the coffee shop don’t know me yet.

I used to think it was me. In fact, for the ten and a half years since my first son was born I thought there was something wrong with me. How could I find my child so loud? When we had a second child, the volume doubled. It didn’t matter whether they were laughing, crying, talking, arguing with each other, explaining to me with their ever-increasing powers of persuasion why I should let them have what they wanted, cackling with glee or throwing a tantrum. My kids were loud. I often found myself cringing from the sound of their voices and this added to the terrible burden of guilt which, like every self-respecting mother, I drag with me everywhere.

Window or aisle?
When my eldest son was eighteen months old we flew from Toronto to Vancouver. We were those people you hope never to have to sit next to on a plane. My sweet child wailed and kicked for three hours until he fell, damp-faced and gasping, into the exhausted sleep-state of a post-tantrum toddler.

During that flight I suffered a sudden, significant hearing loss in my left ear. In the ensuing eight years I’ve seen several specialists and been for all manner of tests and all they can say for sure is that it’s not a tumor. But it’s also not the standard gradual hearing loss caused by nerve damage that is common with aging. They think there is some kind of blockage or pressure issue. Something shifted. But underneath that shifted something, I can hear just fine.

There’s an app for that
The other day my husband and I sat down for a quiet chat. The kids were outside playing spies with their friends on the block. It was the night before New Year’s Eve and all was, well, quiet. And pretty darned peaceful.

When the streetlights came on the kids tumbled in. Our two, plus a friend. They settled into the kitchen for some snacks and a play by play of their afternoon adventures. Even though there were only three of them, and even though they were only talking, they were LOUD.

Even my husband noticed. Of course, he has no time for guilt. He would never for a moment think that not being able to tolerate a chorus of children was some failing of his own. Besides, he works in the school system. His entire career is based on being able to think and speak over top of a soundtrack of children’s voices.

“I have to check this,” he said. He proceeded to download a noise level meter onto his phone and check the decibel level in the kitchen.

The loudest sound
It turns out that three children chatting excitedly in the kitchen on New Year’s Eve eve register on a sound level meter at 100 decibels (dB). According to this nifty chart , the weakest sound heard is OdB. The loudest sound possible is 194 dB. The symphony of children’s voices that day was like the volume knob for the whole universe turned to the half way point. It was the equivalent to the sound of a motorcycle or a snowmobile, louder than a subway train, not quite as loud as a power saw.

This useful chart also tells us that pain begins at 125dB. It tells us that hypertension and psychological difficulties can be related to noise exposure. It tells us that, according to the US Occupational Safety and Health Administration, workers can only be exposed to a sound level of 100dB for two hours per day.

However, parenting is not an occupation governed by safety regulation.

Seen but not heard
One of the ear specialists told me that surgery might help, but it might also make my hearing worse. Since I don’t actually have nerve damage I’m a great candidate for a hearing aid. One of those almost-invisible new devices that cost as much as the down payment on our first house would work like a charm.

But do I want to hear better?

Even with my hearing loss I can hear my kids just fine, except when they mumble. And who wants mumbly kids? Plus I’ve gotten really good at lip-reading, so I can tell from across the room when they are plotting surreptitious screen time. Maybe this hearing loss thing has some advantages.

Now that I know it’s not just me, I’m shedding that truck load of guilt. It’s a fact. My kids are loud. Almost as loud as a tympani drum, which provides one third of the volume in a 75-piece orchestra.

It’s nice to know that the option of hearing better is there for me, when and if I want it. I figure I’ll start saving now. By the time my bundles of joy go off to college, I’ll have enough to buy that hearing aid.

In the meantime…

I have emerged from edit 86b slash 12 dash 6 of Confined Space to find that:

1. I’m still married.

2. I still run a business and still have clients.

3. It’s two weeks until Christmas.

4. There is a contractor in the bathroom and a hole in the roof.

I can also see from my blog stats that you are the sweetest people in the world! You are stopping by to see what I am up to, and I’m not ignoring you, really. I have a great post planned for the very moment I catch my breath.

In the meantime, why not check this out? This awesome video was filmed in Rossland, Trail and Nelson. The Nelson part is right at the end and goes down a street that is steps from where I live. I can tell you that this guy had the guts to do what every person aged 3 to 93 wishes they could do when they walk by that street after a fresh snowfall. Enjoy!   

JP Auclair Street Segment (from All.I.Can.) from Sherpas Cinema on Vimeo.

The month that begins with No

In my last post I promised I’d be back in November, and, well, here I am.  Forgive me if I’m not quite myself, it’s just that, it’s November. I’m a little frozen,  a little shell-shocked, and frankly, feeling a little exposed.

Remember a few months back, I posted about moving to a new town? Well, we did that. It was a flurry. It all happened fast and there was much to get used to. Now we are here. Everyone is settled and the new has begun.

If you’ve been following along with my Twitter activity, you will know that I have been tracking the changes in season closely in this new landscape. I’m completely fascinated by the mountains here, which are closer, and the valley, which is tighter, and the lake, which is right there, almost close enough to touch. I’m aided in this fascination by a panoramic view outside my writing room window.

Here is how things looked when we first arrived at the end of July:

August is a month I look back on with fuzzy, happy thoughts. It’s the month when my kids actually said, more than once: “Do we have to go to the beach, again?” It’s the month when all the doors and windows of the old Victorian we’ve rented were open and there was sunshine and fresh air streaming in and each time I turned a corner there was a new and beautiful angle of light to discover. 

I wrote a lot in August. In the evenings, the crows would go visiting, flapping lazily from one tree to the next. I would write to the sounds of their raucous block party.

Then came September. School started. I don’t really remember September.

October looked like this:

It was a perfect kiss of a month with long walks and sunshine and an orange canopy of leaves to replace the sun on cloudy days. Some days the clouds would come down the lake, I could see them coming, teasing us. But there was still colour. Those clouds did not scare me.

 

And now here it is, November:

Yes, you see what I mean? I am eyeing the leaves piled on the corners, trying to absorb all their colour, while I still can, before all colour gets bagged up and carted away until spring

 

There is lots happening this November. I have an announcement coming soon, one I have no doubt you will be very excited about. Yes, it involves a publisher, and it involves my manuscript becoming a book. Soon. I am now working with an editor, and by the end of the month that begins with No I will have completed yet another edit (no, really, this should be the last) of Confined Space.

While I’m editing, it is unlikely that I will be blogging. I probably won’t be talking much either. But I will be going for long walks, and contemplating this new landscape. A new Twitter follower asked me today if I would post a photo a day, and while I may not be able to blog while editing, I think that is something I can do. So, during the remainder of this month, if you want to see pieces of the world through my eyes, just follow along with my posts on Twitter. You can find me here.

Please, don’t panic. You don’t actually have to join Twitter, if you don’t want, though I promise it is not as scary as you think. You can just click on the link above, or on the Twitter feed to the right of this blog, and see my most recent posts, and daily photo. No commitment, no strings attached. Just follow along if you like.

Let’s see if we can find some colour in this month.

Taking this blog on the road

Somehow, it is October. I’m not exactly sure how, since it was just July last week. But here we are, in October, and I for one feel like taking a road trip. And since you are all such great company, I’m going to invite you along.

First stop? We are going to do a virtual road trip to Washington, DC, home of the wonderful blog Jenn’s Bookshelves. If you haven’t discovered this fantastic book blog yet, well, here is a great opportunity. In honour (or should we say honor, we’re in the US after all) of Hallowe’en Jenn is hosting a whole month of posts on crime and horror fiction called Murder, Monsters and Mayhem (aka #mx3 for Tweeters.) 

I’ll be blogging over there on October 4th – an interview with my friendly neighbourhood thriller writer. Who is that, you might ask? Well, pop over here on or after October 4th, to find out.

After that, we’ll be travelling to the Vancouver International Writer’s Festival, where I will be blogging for some crime fiction events. (She said, casually.) OK, so if you know me at all, you’ll know that I’m super excited about this. In fact, I can’t wait. But, I do have to wait, so will use my time well to PREPARE. If you want to prepare for this portion of the trip too, here is a suggested reading list:

River City by John Farrow (aka Trevor Ferguson)
This will help get you ready for this October 19th event, Montreal Mystery and Music. Also, if you haven’t read City of Ice yet, you might want to get on that. You can read my previous post on this author here. 

Fall from Grace by Wayne Arthurson
End of the Wasp Season by Denise Mina (Yes, Denise Mina. Just a little excited. Remember when I discovered her? Posts here and here.)
The Complaints and The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin (I will admit, I’m not the hugest Rebus fan. There, I said it. But branching out into Rankin’s non-Rebus world, I’m quickly falling under this author’s spell.)
Shatter the Bones by Stuart McBride
Something by Peter Robinson (No, that’s not a title. It’s an admission. I’ve never read this author. How can this be? If you have a title to recommend, by all means, leave a comment.)
All of this reading will help us get ready for this event, where, believe it or not, all five of these authors will be in the same room at the same time. And that’s just Friday morning!

For Friday evening, we’ll be moving over the the literary side of things, for An Intimate Evening with David Adams Richards. My advance reading list includes The Lost Highway and Incidents in the Life of Markus Paul. But that’s only because I’ve already read much of this author’s previous work – your list might be longer. I’m a little nervous about veering away from my crime fiction patch and blogging literary for a night, but I admire this writer so much that I’ve decided it’s worth the risk. Plus, jacket copy on The Lost Highway promises at least one murder, along with greed and betrayal, so, I should be fine.

The festival runs October 18-23, and the Festival Blog can be found here. I’m only one of many bloggers covering a whole spectrum of events. If you can’t make it in person to see writers from around the world take over Granville Island for six days, the Festival Blog is a great way to follow along.

So, I’d better run along to get ready for this trip. Lots of reading to do, plus the regular contract writing, and drafting the new book, and family, and, possibly starting edit 87.3.E dash 4 of Confined Space sometime in the near future. (Not to mention laundry, I’ve yet to find someone to take that off my hands.) It’s an exciting time! I hope you will follow along with these guest blog posts. I’ll be back in this space in November. If you want  more recent news, you can always track me down here on Twitter.

Also, if you have a must-read title from one of the authors listed above, or anything else you’d like to say, please leave a comment. You know how much I love to hear from you.

What it is NOT like to have an agent

With all the negative buzz about Facebook this week, I’m not sure I dare say this too loud. There is one Facebook change that I really like. I noticed it for the first time about a month ago. It’s the “Your status one year ago today” feature. Have you seen that? It’s reminding me about all kinds of markers along the journey I’ve taken to becoming a published author.

So, let’s play along. One year ago I was on my way to Whistler, BC.  A program that I had been coordinating on behalf of a client had received several awards, and I was invited to speak about it at a huge conference. The audience would be made up of mayors and city councillors from all across British Columbia – over 400 of them.

It’s a bit of a trick to get from where I live, (middle of one mountain range) to Whistler, (middle of another) and at some point in that day of planes, buses and automobiles, I got an email from one of the agents at the agency that now represents me.

I remember getting to my hotel room and quickly checking my email before heading to the rooftop hot tub. That little trip to the roof did not happen until much later. Here’s what I did instead:

I cried. I did. In just a few short sentences, that email validated all of the hard, lonely 4:00am work that I’d been doing for years. It erased the doubts, the what the hell am I doing, the who the hell do I think I am? It shushed the man I know who said to me: ”You don’t really think that’s going to be published, do you?” And the much meaner voice in my own head that taunted me with that same question for every page I ever wrote.

I jumped up and down.

I stared at the ceiling with a silly grin on my face.

I watched HGTV, since we don’t get that at home.

I went for sushi.

And yes, I did have that hot tub under the stars. Somehow I managed to get some sleep, and the next morning I managed to make a presentation to 400 municipal leaders without hyperventilating.

The few weeks that followed were dizzying. There was a very short period of time where I was on the moon. Over the moon. I hardly dared talk about it until the contract was signed by both parties and safely tucked away in my filing cabinet. Even then I could only talk about it in a whisper.

For the most part, life just went on. I still had a family to look after, client work and volunteer work. I still had laundry. I still had to write the next book, and the one after that. I still had to get up at 4:00am. Plus I had to learn about contracts, and editing, and building a platform, and so, so much more.

There were a few surprises about “landing” an agent. (I hate that term. I truly do.) In many ways, it was not at all what I expected.

First, I expected everyone around me to recognize the significance of the moment. They didn’t. They just kept asking if they could buy my book yet and what was taking so long anyway, hadn’t I finished it ages ago? So, so many sweet people wondering what I was so excited about. Aren’t agents just like realtors? You just pick one, and off you go, get your book sold?

I also expected to feel like I’d arrived, and I seriously hoped I’d be able to start sleeping in. I had focused for a long time on the goal of finding an agent. I knew other stuff would come next, but I didn’t give it all that much thought. Just get to the top of the mountain, right? Well, guess what? Once you get to the top of that first mountain, you can see that beyond it there are many, many more. Whole ranges, in fact.

Having an agent is not what I expected it to be. I worked hard to get here, yes. But it is not a destination in itself. Just a road marker. A badge perhaps. One that has earned me the right to work even harder.

Not that I’m complaining. I’m certainly not doing that. It is deluxe to have someone to ask questions of, and to take advice from., to have an industry expert guiding me along. The confidence boost has done a lot for my writing, I’m no longer plagued by doubt – at least not every single moment. I can look that well-meaning man in the eye and say: “Yes, I actually expect that this will get published.” In fact, I did that, and it felt damn good.

But when exactly? See, now we need to call Mark Zuckerberg. Wouldn’t that be a great Facebook feature? “Your status one year from today…” By one year from now, I’m pretty sure we’ll know the answer to that question.

Sam Spade does not get the last word

Just a few sentences in to reading The Damage Done by Hilary Davidson I was smiling. Chuckling, even, and I wasn’t sure why. I scored a signed copy after the Arthur Ellis Awards dinner when the winner of the prize at table 8 left it behind. I scooped it up (just for safe keeping of course) and started reading on the cab ride home.

The Damage Done is garnering all kinds of accolades. It has been nominated for the Arthur Ellis, Macavity and Anthony awards for best first novel, and has been getting amazing reviews, including a ringing endorsement from crime fiction critic Sarah Weinman recently in the National Post.  It’s clearly a book worth reading, and Hilary is a writer to watch.

Hilary Davidson, me, Robin Spano at the Arthur Ellis Awards

But what is it that had me chuckling? It took me a while to sort it out, and I was probably half way through before I realized. This novel works on many levels, one of which is that author Hilary Davidson  takes the classic detective novel of the 1930s and 1940s and spins it right over on its head. And she does it very cleverly indeed.

 

The Damage Done opens with travel writer Lily Moore, returning to New York City to search for her ne’er do well younger sister, whom the police presume is dead.

 

Remind you of something? Yes, me too. Remember Ms. Wonderly, the “tall and pliantly slender, without any angularity anywhere”  client who gets shooed in to Sam Spade’s office on the first page of The Maltese Falcon? She’s rather helpless, or so it seems at first glance, and she’s arrived in San Francisco to search for her own ne’er do well younger sister.

 

It’s the first of many references to books, movies and fashion of the 1930s and 1940s that crop up in The Damage Done. Maybe references is too strong a word. Maybe I want to say echoes. And that’s what had me smiling. There was something deliciously ironic and nostalgic in this novel. Yet it’s fresh and smart too, with its ever-so modern setting and heroine. A new sub-genre I’m calling Noir Chic. I suspect there will be imitators.

 

For all the care she takes with her clothing and other people’s impressions of her, there is nothing helpless about Lily Moore. She’s feminine, soft-spoken (most of the time), pliable (to a point), but will stop at nothing to find out what happened to her sister. There’s not a lot of high-stakes action or violence – perhaps the most destructive scene is the one where Lily’s dress gets torn – and yet there is no shortage of tension, suspense and layers of intrigue and irony. I did not want this book to end.

 

And if you’ve ever gotten tired of the descriptions of gorgeous, helpless women in early American crime novels, well, The Damage Done offers this kind of antidote: “Detective Burton was a pit bull disguised as a man, all lean muscle and sharp teeth and chilly blue eyes that never veered away from their target.”  Take that, Sam Spade.  

 

To the prize winner at Table 8: You can have your copy back now, if you like. It’s a little dog-eared, and you’ll have to come get it, but I’m done with it. I’m eagerly awaiting the next installment, The Next One to Fall, which will be published, appropriately enough, on Valentine’s Day, 2012.

 

My little town

I’m a city girl. The fact that I happen to have spent the last fourteen years living in a town that has about the same population as my former high school has not changed that. I came to this town quite by accident, stayed because I fell in love, and then just lost track of time. Really, I never thought we would be here quite this long.

"My Little Town" Painting by Nancy Pridham

But now we are moving. Not far away. Just over to the other side of the highest mountain pass in Canada, to a slightly bigger, though still pretty small town. One that has sushi. And shoe stores. And French immersion. 

 

A few months ago I started a conversation on Facebook with the words: “You know you live in a small town when…” I started it on a day when this small town was driving me crazy. On a day when it took longer for the cashier to grill me about my personal life than it did for her to ring in my groceries. On a day when I craved the anonymity of the city.

 

 

Now, as we extricate ourselves from the fabric of this community that has woven itself around and through us, I thought I would share that conversation with you. Here it is.

 

You know you live in a small town when…

- about two dozen people ask if everyone is okay at your house, since they saw an ambulance in the driveway.

- the teacher looks out the window, sees someone leaving the house and marks him as late already.

- more often than not you can recognize people you barely know from behind, at a distance, just by their way of walking.

- a guest of a local asks her host, on coming out of the drug store: “How did they know we weren’t from here?”

- the closest mall is an hour an a half away.

- everyone knows your bad news five minutes after you do, but then there is a whole community of support too.

- the clerk at the video store tells you there is a late charge on your account, then asks if you want to pay it now. You can say no and still rent the movie.

- grocery shopping is as much a social event as it is an outing to restock the fridge.

- you ask the drugstore clerk which aisle the band aids are in. She points to a shopper and says: “See Rob over there? He’s standing right next to them.”

- the cashier at the grocery store knows more about your life than you do (and has a long discussion with the customer behind you in line about what you should do about it.)

- you don’t do things because you know everyone is playing connect the dots with your life. (If they are doing this…they must be up to that…)

- caveat to the above is when your car is in the shop, or you have a new car. Then you can do what you want for a few days, until everyone figures out what you are driving now.

- you have a family connection with every single child at circle time at day care.

- you drive around for hours trying to get lost…and don’t manage to.

 

Goodbye, our little town. You have given us so very much. Thank you.

 

By the way, our house is for sale. There will be an open house on Saturday, July 16th from 11am-1pm. So, come on by! Tell your friends! I would give you the mls number, but you don’t need it. You know where we live.

 

The gorgeous painting is by Nancy Pridham and you can find her here: http://pridhamstudio.blogspot.com/

 

Good things come

It seems like only yesterday that I was jetting off to the Canadian crime writing conference Bloody Words in Toronto, but it was in fact a whole year ago. And what a difference a year can make!

Looking back, these past twelve months seem to have been all about waiting. Waiting to find out if my manuscript won the “Unhanged Arthur” (it didn’t), waiting to hear back from agents who were reading it (some said no, some others said yes), waiting for the agency contract to arrive and then come back again signed (it did). There were times when I seriously thought I might explode from all that waiting. I’m not a very patient person by nature, but I’m learning.

It is amazing now to look back on a year where progress came in great leaps, followed by relentless periods where nothing seemed to be happening, and to see how far things really have come.

Last night’s Arthur Ellis Awards banquet is a case in point. Last year, I knew exactly one person when I walked into that restaurant in Toronto. (My aunt – she was my date.) Last night, after working as the banquet chair for over six months with an amazing team from the Crime Writers of Canada – it felt like old home week. I had met, or emailed, or Skyped or phoned every single one of the 75 people in attendance, and many others besides. We had a fantastic time celebrating Canadian crime fiction in Victoria last night. Even those who weren’t able to make it said they felt they were there, through live tweets, and photos uploaded instantly to Facebook and Twitter.

Today, Bloody Words 2011 starts. In about an hour in fact. I can’t wait to get there and continue the celebration. No doubt there will be plenty more waiting in the next twelve months, and the twelve months after that, and so on. It seems authors are always waiting for something, which is maybe why this “bloody gang”, as they call themselves, have such a good time at this conference every year. It’s a chance to pause the waiting game, and just enjoy ourselves, each other, and this genre of writing that we all love so much.

Hope to see you there!

 

Sharing some library love

I am giving a presentation today at a regional library conference in Nelson, BC. My partner in crime? The one and only Anne DeGrace, author, librarian and Nelson’s 2011 Cultural Ambassador. We’ll be talking about publicity for libraries, and my job is to cover communications planning and social media.

It just seems wrong to make a paper handout about social media. So, here, live before your very eyes, is my handout for the 40 librarians from the East and West Kootenays that are attending our workshop today.

As a way to encourage these librarians to actually do their homework and check out this post, I promised them I would share a personal story here, about how the work that they do in organizing (and publicizing) library events changed my life. Ready? Here goes:

Somewhere around 2002 (might have been 2003, frankly, it’s all a blur), I spent few years at home with my young son. For almost the first time in my adult life I was not working, and it was a huge adjustment. I mean, I loved it, and did all the right things (homemade play-dough! frozen oatmeal cubes! tubs filled with beans!) but part of me was always a little disoriented. Wasn’t I supposed to be writing brilliant mystery novels? What happened to that plan? Was it gone forever?

In the midst of all of this, I saw a poster at my local library for a reading by Sandra Gulland. (The reading was organized by the Kootenay Library Federation, which is hosting the conference today – my, we’ve come full circle haven’t we?) I had read Gulland’s Josephine B. trilogy not long before and loved it. (Haven’t read them? Do. Not a historical fiction fan? No, neither am I, but read them anyway.) During a time when my son and I were rarely apart, I managed to squeeze this event in, under the guise of a trip to the grocery store.

Sandra Gulland was amazing. Dressed in period costume, in the musty basement of the old Creston library building,  she was regal, gracious and kind to each of the four people in attendance. And she told a story I will never forget. She was a mom, at home with her kids, living in a small town in Ontario. After years of unpaid work, when it was finally time to ship the last of her young people off to all-day school, she “begged” (her word) her husband to let her stay home for one more year before he “made” her go out and get a job. This would give her a chance to finally write the book that was inside her.

That story of Sandra Gulland’s changed something in me forever. She taught me that:

• it was possible to have kids and a fulfilling creative life (if not right away, then eventually)
• it was possible for a writer to live in a small town and be published by a major publisher (and write amazing books that people really want to buy and read)
• maybe I was not crazy for wanting those things too. (Jury is still out on this one.)

I was so excited by Sandra’s talk that I spent half my family’s grocery money for the week on a full set of her Josephine B. trilogy. After we had a nice chat about writing and mothering, she signed one of the books for me. I have it here on my desk. It says: “Perseverance! Bon courage!”

A few lessons to be learned from this story, for those librarians reading this:

• You are in a position to change lives through the audiences you reach through your publicity.
• You make posters and write media releases and status updates and web content and possibly tweets. You never know how this information will get into someone’s hands, and what will happen when it gets there.
• Please don’t worry if you have an event, or run a program, and not many people show up. It likely still made a difference in someone’s life. (And hopefully, using the tips you learned today, more people will turn up next time.)
• It is worthwhile to reach out to new audiences in new ways.
• You are making a difference in people’s lives with the work that you do every day, so: “Perseverance!” and “Bon courage!”

That’s then end of my story. Do you love your library? Love Sandra Gulland? Are you a librarian that had a great time at our presentation today? Why not share the love by commenting below, or retweeting, or subscribing to this blog, or posting this to your library’s Facebook page.

I’ve tweeted this to Sandra Gulland herself. Sandra, if you made it this far, please tell us: Did you ever have to go out and get that job? UPDATE! You can find Sandra’s response to this question here.

Now, back to business. Librarians, do your homework! What follows is a list of links that may be of interest to libraries looking to enter the world of social media.

Facebook links:

• Nelson Library is doing a fabulous job on Facebook. Fun, looks relatively simple, and is up to date.
• Creston Library – this is where I get my library news.
• Boston Public Library
• Creston Museum on Facebook and on web. A great example we looked at today, of what a small organization can do with a good communications plan.

Libraries on Twitter

• Okanagan Regional Library
• Vancouver Public Library
• Calgary Library loves Twitter -  two different streams. Here and here.

Librarians that are taking the pens out of their French twists an letting their hair down on social media:

• The rarin’ librarian: blog and  twitter feed.
• The bitchy librarian: blog and Twitter feed
• The wine librarian: blog and Twitter
• You get the idea…there are no doubt more. 

Blogs and other sites, discussing social media and libraries:

• The Social Networking Librarian blog. Best how-to site I could find for libraries and social media.
• www.mazar.ca “News from the Trenches of Librarianship”. In particular this interesting post on why libraries should look before leaping into social media.

Mind your manners! Social media etiquette for organizations:

• This post is aimed at business advertisers, but if you can see past the business-speak, there are some nuggets there for librarians.
• This post is aimed at authors. Any authors still paying attention? This is good advice.
• I like this post too. If you figure out the connection between the naked guy and the lightbulbs in the tree, please let me know.

Social media policies for libraries:

• Excellent article here, related to school libraries.
• Excellent example of a one library’s social media policy.

I think we’re all done here. Are we, Anne? Yes, we are. Tonight, we are off to hear the wonderful prose poet Fred Wah at the Nelson Public Library. I can’t find Mr. Wah on Facebook, or on Twitter. He doesn’t even seem to have his own website. But that’s okay. He’s a poet, not a librarian.

A mighty fine read

I promised this post a few weeks ago, when I got a book in the mail. Remember that? A book by a crime writer I hope the whole world will discover. Well, it took me a while to get down to writing this post, but it turns out my timing was perfect.

Last night the Arthur Ellis Award shortlists were announced, and Slow Recoil by C.B. Forrest is among the nominees for Best Novel. That is quite a statement. There were 56 novels entered in the category, many of them by household names in Canadian crime writing. I can’t imagine the job of whittling that list down to just five nominees. That is one tough category, but I’m not at all surprised to find that Slow Recoil is still “on the island”.

The only problem I can find with reading crime novels by Chris Forrest is that his writing is so fine, it’s easy to lose track of the plot. Each sentence pulls you along and you are half way down to some dark place before you realize you’ve followed willingly.

“At last McKelvey sighs, pushes aside the roll-on deodorant, the striped can of Barbasol shave cream, and his fingers find the little plastic bottle – always pushed to the back, as though this will somehow delay the inevitable. Spills the remaining tablets into his palm, counts them, measuring them across days or weeks not unlike his own father used to stand in front of the refrigerator on a Saturday night, lips moving in thought as he worked through the mental calculations: bottles of beer against hours remaining until the start of work on Monday.”

It’s that kind of beautiful craft that makes me think of Forrest as a writer’s crime writer. His Charlie McKelvey is both troubled and loveable; independent, yet quite helpless. But I think it’s Forrest’s handling of his antagonists that makes his work really shine. Sure the bad guy in Slow Recoil is bad. But after travelling with him through a few stunning pages, you can understand how he ended up feeding his scratch lotto ticket habit between assassinations.

Forrest’s first novel Weight of Stones was one of my favourite reads of 2010. You can find my review here.

Congrats to all the Arthur Ellis Award nominees! The awards banquet is on June 2 at the beautiful Hotel Grand Pacific in Victoria, BC. Don’t have your ticket yet? Find out more here.