Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

Diana Gabaldon said to me… October 20, 2012

Filed under: anecdotes,OUTLANDERishness,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 11:24 pm
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The green shoulder is mine. I’m cropped out because I look like a troll in this shot! lol Diana does not seem to be able to take a bad photo! Check out her funky turquoise nails!

Today I had a blue pencil appointment with Diana Gabaldon at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference.  A blue pencil is 15 minutes of time in front of a professional author, who reads a very short selection of your work, and provides some general feedback.

I knew I’d be completely starstruck, so I asked her a month ago via Facebook if it’d be okay if I recorded the conversation, and she was fine with that.

I arrived into the empty seat in front of her desk in a flurry because I’d been in a line and lost track of the time, so I was nearly late for my appointment (and we’re not going to even discuss what a trauma that would have been after counting down, sometimes by the hour, for 135 days!).  I pulled out my scene, which is a very early, poorly cobbled together start to Grace Beguiling, which is/will be a historical/fantasy novel set in 14th century France.  The scene is 6 pages, which is way too long for a blue pencil, so I’d highlighted parts I particularly wanted her feedback on.  She just smiled, said that she was a fast reader, and zipped through the whole thing, laughing out loud in places, and making corrections of typos.  It is very cool to have your favourite author laughing out loud while reading your writing.  It’s a little embarrassing to have your favourite author correcting your typos.

When she was finished reading, I turned my iPhone’s memo recorder on and recorded her observations, suggestions, and reminders.

The part I most wanted to know about (and had spent months researching) she dismissed with a wave as, “Fine.”  We had some discussion about language choice in historical work and development and structuring of a ‘very beginning’ where there needs to be some action to grab the reader and the story must be established right away.  I am so glad I have that recording to remind me of my focus.  Grace Beguiling offers a number of stylistic challenges, and she’s helped me think about how I’m going to solve them.  There was nothing earth shattering, just common sense reiteration of basic principles.  It’s good to hear those words from someone whose knowledge you trust implicitly.  “Remember that…”  Oh right.  I know that.

Do it.

I wish the piece I’d brought wasn’t quite so rough, but it was a worthwhile endeavour.  One quote is going to be artistically rendered and put above my writing desk.

My favourite author, Diana Gabaldon said to me, “You know how to tell a story.”  That will keep me inspired for a very long time.

 

first draft is dating, revision is marriage October 19, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 7:42 am
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I have a package of buttons for workshops.  The buttons say, “First drafts don’t have to be perfect, they just have to be written.”  There is a blush of first love when writing a first draft.  Every day is an adventure.  When it’s done, and it’s time for the re-write, that’s like marriage.  Work! 🙂  Eventually, with time and effort, something wonderful can emerge, but the romance is only the beginning.  The really great part comes from being committed to the effort of learning and growing, exploring and pulling out fascinating truths, but it’s pretty wonderful.

 

happiness is meeting your favourite author! October 18, 2012

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Reading,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 10:07 pm
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Diana Gabaldon  and I at the Strawberry Hill Chapters in Surrey:  a gala fund raiser for the Surrey International Writers’ Conference.  This was a nice opportunity to chat a bit with her, as I visited with all of the other authors, waiting until the crowds were gone to speak to her.  Since we’ve been corresponding for a few months, she knew who I was and was very welcoming.

Now to get a good night’s sleep before falling off the deep end into the conference!

PS.  You can’t see them, but there are new Fluevogs on my feet after a pilgrimage to the Gastown Fluevog HQ… 🙂  (It’s been a very happy day celebrating my addictions).

PS2.  I didn’t even hyper-ventilate when I met her, although coming home  I wondered if I was having a heart attack.  After determining I simply did not have TIME to fit in a heart attack this weekend, I decided it was the Thai chicken wrap I had for dinner. 🙂

PS3. This trip was partially to help me prepare psychologically for my Blue Pencil session two days later.  You might be interested in reading the post Diana Gabaldon Said To Me as well

PS4. I was also amused to meet Diana’s son Sam Sykes, who wasn’t an official author at this event.  He’s amusing.

 

 

hyper-ventilating October 16, 2012

Filed under: OUTLANDERishness,Pondering,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:29 pm
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I have met some ‘famous’ people over the years, and while I may be in awe of their talent, they generally turn out to be people pretty much like me. I know that. But at the moment, it’s rather difficult to BELIEVE it.

As you’ve noticed if you’ve read this blog for any time, I love Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, and I am amazed by her talent and her generosity to her fans and other writers. I have posted questions on her Facebook page and on the Compuserve Writers’ Forum, and she has provided helpful (and sometimes lengthy) responses.

For these reasons, I am hyperventilating as this week ticks by, because in less than 48 hours I will be meeting Diana Gabaldon (and J. J. Lee, Jack Whyte, Mary Balogh, Anne Perry and Michael Slade, not to name drop or anything) 🙂 at a fund raiser for the Surrey Writers’ Conference, and on Saturday I have the honour of sharing the scene that Diana had helped me with in a 15 minute blue pencil appointment at the conference.  I am nervous, excited, and slightly terrified of making a fool of myself.

My son said, “Just don’t be a fan, Mom. Be professional.”

Yeah. Easier said than done, kid!

 

Are you going to NaNoWriMo? October 14, 2012

Filed under: Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 5:47 pm
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If you’re interested in joining me at an attempt at National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) November 2012, get in touch! They suggest a goal of 50,000 words in the month, but something is better than nothing! I’m at shawn (dot) bird (at) ymail (dot) com or you can leave a message here: https://shawnbird.com/about/
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NaNoWriMo_FlyerNaNoWriMo_Flyer.pdf

 

What’s the point of fashion, anyway? October 13, 2012

Filed under: Literature,Pondering,Reading,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:04 pm
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Fashion matters because every day people get up in the morning and, with the palette of clothes they find in their closets and dressers, they attempt to create a visual poem about a part of themselves they wish to share with the world. 

J.J. Lee.  Measure of a Man. p. 53

I was raised by a mother who loved fashion and filled her basement with fabric, patterns and notions.  She crafted beautiful garments, and rarely threw anything out.  Which meant when we moved her from Kelowna here to Salmon Arm, we moved eight closets full of her clothes, and a hundred or so pairs of shoes.  It also meant that Vogue magazine was a staple in our house, and that I grew up with a keen eye on clothes.

J. J. Lee wrote his biography of his father within the context of his time as an apprentice tailor.  His father’s suit provided an exploration of the suit as symbol and metaphor in his own life, but also in the life of all men.  Clothing makes the man, and he was trying to figure out the man the clothing made.

I love his expression of fashion as a visual poem.  It’s very accurate.  Our clothes give the message we wish to send to the world on any particular day.  Whether it’s laid back casual with jeans and a Tshirt or cute and quirky with a hat, bright tunic and leggings, we say something about ourselves.  But we don’t wear the same thing every day, just as we wouldn’t write the same poem every day.

Every day we adorn ourselves to be a visual poem.

I like that.

 

critic? October 11, 2012

Filed under: Commentary,Reading,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 1:15 am
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I am not a critic; to me criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.

Djuna Barnes. “The Songs of Synge: The Man Who Shaped His Life as He Shaped His Plays”, in New York Morning Telegraph (18 February 1917)

I love a lot of books.  Some the critics hate, but I have forged connections with them, and so they speak to me.  Some books, the critics love, and I hate with an abiding passion.  100 Years of Solitude is one.    I don’t relate to any of it, and the fact that half the characters have the exact same name is exasperating.

I love the Twilight Saga.  At present, it’s not cool to admit that, and someone who is an English teacher is supposed to be distracted by the poor writing.  I didn’t find anything so terrible that it distracted me from the story.  The story and the characters I could relate to.  I recognized the dilemmas and the challenges.  I respected the characteristics that don’t meet the societal norms.   I loved them, critics (or cool kids) be damned.

Someone did a poll on Twitter asking whether we want to be critically admired or on a best seller list.  I’m not sure that the two concepts are mutually exclusive, but I would be quite delighted with readers over awards.  On the other hand, I’d be very proud of awards.  We write to be read, though.  If our words speak to the people, but are panned by the critics, then perhaps the critics are out of touch?

What about you?  Would you rather be read or lauded?  Do you read books recommended by the critics or by your low-bred friends?

(Lord David, you can’t answer than one, since I’m sure all your friends are high-bred!) ;-P

 

Four years ago… October 9, 2012

Filed under: anecdotes,Grace Awakening,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 8:00 am
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The week before Thanksgiving in 2008, I was given Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga to read by one of my English students.  That Thanksgiving weekend I bought my own copies of the books, read through the series again, and then poured over Stephenie Meyer’s website, reading everything I could about the genesis of the story, the process of writing, what she’d done to find an agent, and the adventure her life had become.

I was completely, totally, thoroughly inspired.  An idea sparked.  I’d had a story floating in my head for decades.  I’d written it down in a couple of versions before, but it wasn’t right.  I had known I needed a hook, but I just couldn’t figure out what it could be.  Stephenie gave me the solution: mythology.  Just as she had used vampires and werewolves, Greek mythology could be melded into the experience I wanted to share in order to provide the depth and conflict that had been missing in previous drafts.

The Tuesday after Thanksgiving (that is, this very day four years ago) I began writing Grace Awakening.  That first day, I wrote about five double spaced pages.  The second day I did the same.  Then the third.  By the end of three weeks I had 75 pages of writing.  I set the goal to keep writing 25 pages a week. I met or exceeded that goal each subsequent week.  Twenty three weeks later, the first draft was complete.  It was the week before Easter, and I had 155,000 words.

A couple of weeks after Thanksgiving in 2009, I went to the Surrey International Writers Conference.  I pitched the book to a small Vancouver publisher.  She was interested and asked to see more.

A week before Thanksgiving in 2010 I signed the contracts with Gumboot Books.

In 2011, Gumboot Books went out of business, but Grace Awakening Dreams was released anyway through Lintusen Press in July.  By Thanksgiving 2011, it had been in the list of  Top iTunes Fantasy books in Canada over a hundred times.

In 10 days, I’ll be back to the Surrey International Writers’ Conference to pitch Grace Awakening Myth, a companion novel that tells  Ben’s version of  his battle for Grace.

It’s a lot to be thankful for: four years of creativity, empowerment, challenge, excitement, growth, and adventure.  It’s been an amazing ride!

Four years ago, when I started typing, I would not have been brave enough to imagine that I’d be in this place today.  But here I am.   My friend Heather observed, “Where will you be in another 4 years? Do you not love the “wait and see”‘ of life?”   The thought of it hit me in the gut.  Where will I be? I can only dream where Grace will be, keep writing, and hope I’m holding tightly to her coat tails as she explores the world!

 

 

HELP! Which start is your favourite? October 7, 2012

Filed under: Commentary,Grace Awakening Myth,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 3:00 pm
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I’m unhappy with the opening to Grace Awakening Myth.  I need something strong , intriguing and compelling.

I’m brainstorming, and would appreciate some feedback from you!  Here are six versions of the first 100 words or so.  Version one is the original.  Which do you think is the strongest option?  Can you identify why it appeals to you?  Would you mix components of a couple of the options?  Please leave your observations in the comment section below.   (Though I see many of you are using Facebook, and that’s all right as well).  Thanks for your help!

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Version 6:

Aphrodite’s words exploded in my head like a missile shot from a catapult, leaving me dizzy and stunned.

I stared at her  as the words ricocheted through my head, smashing through my consciousness, crushing my hopes, and destroying my future.

Finally, I sputtered, “What did you say?”  It couldn’t be true.  She couldn’t have said what I heard.

Aphrodite stood, her back to the temple columns, watching me solemnly.  “Oh, Orpheus,” she sighed.  “I said, ‘This is that girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.’”

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Version 5:

Aphrodite’s words exploded in my head like the sound of crashing swords, leaving me dizzy and stunned.

Finally, I gasped, “What did you say?”

Aphrodite stood, her back to the templecolumns, watching me solemnly.  “Oh, Orpheus,” she sighed.  “I said, ‘This is that girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.’”

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Version 4:

Aphrodite was watching me with a solemnly pitying expression as I came over the hill.  She leaned languidly against a pillar, golden hair flowing around her in waves, waiting.

She made me nervous.  I bowed low.  “You wished to speak to me?”

She nodded, stepping forward and straightening into a formal posture. “I am to inform you, that this is the girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.”

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Version 3.

Aphrodite leaned against the temple column and watched me warily.  “Did you hear what I said, Orpheus?”

I bowed respectfully, shaking my head.  I had heard, but I wished fervently that I hadn’t.

“I said, this is that girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.”

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Version 2:

Aphrodite’s words sliced into me like a sword and I wheezed, feeling the blood rush from my face as the pain of them slashed through me.  “What did you say?”

Aphrodite stood, her back to the templecolumns, watching me solemnly.  “Oh, Orpheus,” she sighed.  “I said, ‘This is that girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.’”

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 Version 1:

“Orpheus!  Come here.  I need to talk to you.”  Aphrodite stood, her back to the templecolumns, watching me solemnly.

I didn’t like the expression on her face.  I bowed respectfully, “Yes?”

“This is that girl’s last life time in the Earthly Realm.  If you are to have her for eternity, she must choose you this time.”

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(FYI- this is what follows the above…)

That girl.  She tossed the words like Grace was of no consequence.  The girl I had followed through time, the girl who made my life complete, and gave me music.  The girl who could save all that was good in the world.  The girl I was waiting for.  My heart started to pound.  “Where is she?”

She shook her head.  “I’m not allowed to say; you know that.”

“I was told Canada.  In Calgary.”

Her eyes widened and she tilted her head, but she made no comment.

The eyes were enough confirmation.  At least I didn’t have to scan the entire population of the planet.  I only needed to find Grace among the million or so residents of Calgary.  I’d come to the city a couple of years before on a tip, and had settled myself into high school there.  My informant had assured me that Grace would show up there eventually, but I had reached my final year in high school without any sign of her.  I’d begun to doubt, but Aphrodite’s alarmed surprise was enough evidence that I was in the right place.  I would try to be patient.

 

unitards… September 30, 2012

Filed under: Grace Awakening,Grace Awakening Myth,Writing — Shawn L. Bird @ 4:54 am
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It’s gratifying to go back through a manuscript completed ages ago, and find yourself giggling at scenes you’d completely forgotten about.  As I’m editing Grace Awakening Myth this evening, I came across this scene, and I thought you might enjoy it, too.

Please note that this is a draft version, I can already see several things to fine tune! 🙂

Ben is backstage, preparing for a band concert.  One of his friends took dance to meet a girl he likes, and he’s about to perform in a quartet dance number as part of the concert.  Ben is narrating.

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I could sense Grace in the audience as we set up the stage for the band concert.  She must have come early with Christie.  The tenuous ribbons of connection between us floated invisibly in the air, but I could feel them.  She had been ignoring me at school, but her mind had been busy thinking about me.  She was opening possibility, and the awareness made my heart soar.

Her presence was calling to the music in me.  Surely, the other players would be captivated by it as well.  The concert was going to be a good one.

Ryan was shivering in a corner.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“It’s just nerves,” I said.  “You’ve played concerts plenty of times.  It’s always fine.”

He stared at me like I was a moron.  “I’m wearing a spandex unitard under this band uniform.”

I laughed, and as the picture seered my brain, I laughed harder.

He sent me a withering look and the tears started.  They stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

Paul came over.  “What’s so funny?”

“Ryan,” I sputtered.  “Spandex.”

Paul wrinkled his nose.  “Ooh, nasty.  Nothing is worth that, Bro.  What were you thinking?  On the other hand,” he glanced to the wings, “Georgia is looking mighty fine this evening.”

She was.  Her hair tumbled loosely in waves almost to her waist.  She was wearing a beige unitard that disappeared at a distance.  Her curves were magnificent.

Ryan sighed.  “It is sooooo worth it.  Excuse me,” he muttered to us, and went to stand with her.

Her smile lit her face as he came near.  It made my heart warm.

Paul looked around for Tanis, and saw her standing off to the side watching Ryan and Georgia.  “Do you think she’s jealous?”

I shrugged, “Maybe a little.  Don’t let it worry you.  Have you seen J-Roy yet?”

He looked around, “There he is, at the back in black.  Oh my.  Is that the same thing Ryan is wearing?”  He started to snicker.

I sucked back the guffaw that started to explode out of me.  J-Roy was clad in a black unitard.  A hood covered his trademark lion’s mane of tawny hair.  The only skin that showed was on his hands, feet, and face.  J-Roy is athletic.  He stood tall, his body rippled with muscular definition.  He looked fantastic.  “Oh, poor Ryan,” I groaned.

Ryan’s slightly paunchy belly and sloped shoulders were not the optimal build for a unitard.

Paul smirked at me, “Maybe Ryan hopes the black will be slimming?”

I started to shake, pursing my lips tightly.

Misty floated by in a glowing euphoria, with frequent glances over to J-Roy.  “Doesn’t he look like some kind of Greek god?” she murmured to me.

I pondered a lecture on over-generalization, but with another look to J-Roy I had to acknowledge that he did, in fact, bear a strong resemblance to some of my relatives.