Because I’m away from my familiar, this month’s post is short.
May has been a whirlwind of life. After finally establishing a plan to research, prepare, and submit to publishers that might be a possible fit for me and my manuscript, the days have flown by and my long-planned Calgary family visit is upon me. So here I sit, reunited, among fans of the Battle of Alberta NHL playoff aftermath, some like-minded, some not-so-much, happy my team is moving forward. Maybe Canada can win back the cup this year. Go Oilers!
THIS MONTH’S PHOTOGRAPH:
A Brief Bit of Brilliance on a Rainy May Morning
Full Moon Japanese Maple (Acer shirasawanum f. aureum) Not sure but I think this is the correct genus, species, and cultivar for this lime-green glory accented by my favourite Hino-Crimson Azalea.
THISMONTH’SSKETCH:
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
Wise words. Jazmine and Gary get a rare visit from Granddogma this month.
READING LIST: Also short this month.
It’s not that I’ve read less. I just began more, and completed fewer works:
April has had its fair share of rain this year, but right now with sunshine warming the air and the soil, early bulbs and perennials colour the garden and offer hope for a COVID-free world. (That last bit would be my inner Pollyanna voice.)
30 years ago, on the 26th of April, my sister Jane, died of brain cancer at the age of 42. In the memoir I began five years ago to mark 25 years without her, she factors prominently as my confidant and muse. While a sense of catharsis may accompany the overdue completion of my manuscript, the loss I feel for her remains.
For me, the business part of writing (aka: the road to publishing) is dull and daunting. Tedious enough to make me ask myself “Why bother?” A journey with so many forks, U-turns and dead ends, is enough to test anyone’s drive to succeed.
My biggest problem though, is the anxiety caused by my entrenched mindset to get the work done. Writing and creating are the fun parts and having been raised under the mantra: work before play, I don’t feel dabbling in a new writing project permissible until I’ve got all my publishing ducks organized. It was too much; I needed help.
Many thanks for my Nourishment Call with Chelene Knight who showed me tools to break down and sort the madness impeding my progress and left me feeling more grounded and assured. And to my weekly writing-sprint friend, Andrew. Our chat took me three steps closer to confidence and recognizing the big picture needs of my manuscript.
Now that I’ve taken time to identify the source of my frustration, I’ll spend the early part of May weaving a plan of measured step towards my publishing goal and pepper it with enough fun-framed windows to tease me forward and make me smile.
An early perennial whose bold, bronze foliage provides a flattering backdrop to pink tulips (done), golden Hakone grass (still too small to see) and in this case, a litter of once velvety, now disintegrating Magnolia blossoms. Oh, and the eager Hosta peeking out in the foreground. My garden never stops changing.
READING LIST:
I’ve discovered that keeping track of the books I complete has me not only more conscious of my reading habits, but reading more. Not sure if that’s good or bad …
While I welcome the spring-ahead-time-change, the days can’t get long-enough, fast-enough for me. Maybe I need to spend my summers in the Arctic and my winters in the Antarctic. Who doesn’t love a good warm sweater? And this month, like any other, has had its share of ups and downs.
#Flintdognw
The biggest ‘down’ was the sudden illness of our sweet dog, Flint. We feared we were losing him and our trip to the vet was inconclusive, but over two weeks of coaxing food and water into him and carrying his limp body in-and-out, up-and-down, wherever it needed to be, he has regained most of his energy but lost strength in his left side. We suspect stroke, but can only guess. Sixteen is a long life for a little dog and with this set-back, we treasure every remaining minute he has so he deserves a photo this month.
I had two big ‘up’ moments in March… The first was the release of Resonance, Essays on the Craft and Life of Writing, edited by Andrew Chesham and Laura Farina. I am thrilled my essay, Stepping Into Perspective, is part of this inspiring collection.
After completing the last chapter of my memoir and writing the epilogue that terrified me, I sent the draft off to my VMI mentor Mark Winston. His feedback was my second ‘up’ moment. Not only was his response speedy, but most encouraging. And in fact a wee bit overwhelming:
“…my comments are on the manuscript … but as I suspected, this is a very complete and working-well draft. That is, it’s crossed that magic line from a hopeful early draft to . . . a book! Congratulations!”
Next? The business part of writing. Yikes!
IMAGES FOR MARCH
This month’s photograph showcases two eye-catching items over our fireplace. The painting, one of a pair, is done by an artist/friend from back in our GardenWorks days, Kimberly Blackstock. Her beautiful work is now making its way to Los Angeles and New York but I especially love how this specimen in our small collection accentuates the colours of the stunning teak clock my husband, Grant, built back in his theatre days. Together the pieces provide a calming visual landing spot when I need to clear my head.
The dog in my sketch this month is unfamiliar to me in every way but I fell in love with his sweet face and was compelled to do my best to recreate his good looks. A satisfying challenge regardless of my marginal success.
READING LIST
This month’s selection of books I completed comes from a wide variety of genres but each was read for its own specific reason …
Despite February’s brevity, the month has felt endless this year. Not that I’m in a hurry for time to pass; there never is enough of that. My problem could lie in the bone-chilling dampness that causes me to crave warmth. (Note, I said warmth, not heat. July and August are another story altogether.)
First on my mind as I post today is the reprehensible threat the Ukrainian people face. I want to express my admiration for their strength and offer my prayers for peace.
My memoir project consumes the bulk of my busy-thinking these days. In late January I received great feedback from my Vancouver Manuscript Intensive mentor Mark Winston. Over Zoom, we discussed ways to cull the narrative from 88,153 words to 75,000 (or less) and the need to shorten some chapters.
So, most afternoons I layer up, log in and search for the superfluous bits. I’m happy to say I’ve exceeded my shaving goal and the manuscript word count currently sits at just over 72,000. And after deleting six entire chapters, that number has gone from a total of 21 to 29.
Hmm. Fewer words, more chapters. Looks like progress to me.
February’s TWS Community Workshop, The Braided Essay, facilitated by Sonja Larsen on Sunday the 27th was amazing. I found it engaging and relevant to my current manuscript and a source of inspiration for future projects. Thank you Sonja.
This month, I struggled to live up to challenge two: one photograph and one sketch, but did squeak them in with a week to spare.
Hellebore are one of my favourite perennials and I have several in my garden but the eager bloomer Ivory Prince is the only variety whose name I can remember. All beautiful, all low maintenance, this elegant specimen braving winter to show off its true colours deserves an early nod of appreciation.
FLINT DOG
I chose to sketch Flint this month since his birthday is February 12th and he has shared 14.5 of his 16 years with us. While he may have lost most of his hearing, several of his teeth, and some of his strength, he’s still both sweet and salty, and loves his daily treat and his people.
And his people love him.
Number three of my self-imposed challenges, tracking my reading in 2022 can be a scramble. Reading serves different purposes for me and most often I put one book down to immediately pick up another, whether digital or print. This month I found it a small test to recollect the specifics but here goes …
Books in order of completion this year, as of February 28th:
Posing challenges for myself has been a life-long tendency, maybe because I had two older sisters to keep up with. While writing a memoir is one of my biggest undertakings yet, it’s far from complete and the first six months of this year I’m excited to spend in Vancouver Manuscript Intensive under the mentor-ship of Mark Winston, fine tuning it to completion.
But lately I’ve felt remiss in some key aspects of my identity. So, I began 2022 placing a few tasks on my calendar.
One being the reactivation of my website/blog joanneebetzler.ca. After a dormancy of at least three years, my lack of activity can’t be blamed only on COVID inertia. The bigger fault falls on the frustration fed by my inexperience, impatience, fears and life distractions that let me wander off. Those impediments still dog me, but I am determined keep-on keeping-on and overcome what I can. Step-By-Step.
Challenge number two involves a couple of activities I love but am inclined to put at the bottom of my to-do list: taking one photograph and drawing one sketch per month, to post. Just to say I’m here, active and real.
Because I’m so close to the wire for this month, both photo and sketch are rushed and not as well executed as I’d like but they do meet the basic criteria of my mission. And because I’m learning my way around this world of WordPress, I ask forgiveness for my fumbles.
WEEKEND COFFEE CUP PHOTO
Our weekday mugs are much larger than this fine china treasure and not at all delicate. The beverage just as delicious, I promise.
Lame, I know.
SMITTEN KITTEN SKETCH
My plan was to sketch my sister’s cat Lezley, who passed away suddenly last week but found all my efforts unacceptable. With kitty-on-my-brain, I hurriedly chose a random kitty with no emotional attachment to anyone I know.
Not my best work but here it is.
Number three of my self-imposed challenges is to track my reading in 2022. Years ago I counted the books I read, each year trying to outdo myself, a habit long broken. Now, I find myself with numerous books on the go at all times and no idea how many I’ve managed to complete in any given week, month or year. So, with the sole intent of knowing which books I have completed, that by default involves counting, I plan to record them as I finish.
Books in order of completion this year, as of January 31st:
As I review the events in my 2017 calendar, what jumps out at me first is the richness of my existence. Travel alone can
classify me as privileged. From a winter trip to Mexico with my spouse, children, their partners, and our grandchildren, to my first ever visit to Ottawa for Canada’s 150th birthday that expanded into Montreal, Quebec City and a grand tour of Gaspesie. Two weekend wedding trips, one to Kelowna (Congratulations Luke and Christina!) and one to Sechelt (Congratulations Cameron and Carolyn!). And the eagerly anticipated visits to Edmonton for face to face time with my two grandchildren. It will never be a choice of mine to miss a birthday. A third flight to Alberta for another bit of family time and grand-kids’ winter sports iced the year’s travel excursions (Thank you, John, Brenda, Brody and Aubrey). And finally, our Christmas in Victoria.
Despite best efforts by all, it was impossible to coordinate our date of family travel to Mexico with the schedule of our daughter and her husband’s life-changing move to Aberdeen, Scotland (Congratulations, Eowyn and Jonathan – we missed you). You inspire us to embark on a trip to, as my Grandma would call it, the old country in 2018. Some health issues dogged me this year, but I am not easy to take down. The resurfacing of screaming shoulder pain led me on a new path of recovery. A specialist’s expertise diagnosed a case of bursitis and after her TLC, I am nearing recovery (Thank you, Dr. Ho). The BC cancer agency’s request for a mammogram-do-over resulted in some mind-over-matter exercises, a clear test result and a personal essay of the experience that The Globe And Mail saw fit to publish in October.
The sore on my nose proved more difficult. After two months, the pimple-like lesion refused to heal and I sought medical attention. After a few liquid nitrogen treatments, a biopsy showed basal-cell melanoma. The dermatologist assured me that if I had to have skin cancer, this was the type I wanted, then referred me to a surgeon skilled in MOH’s surgery, a specialized treatment that revealed my small pimple was but the tip of an ice burg of entrenched melanoma. The removal procedure has a high rate of success (well over 90%) and two weeks post surgery, I am nearly healed and optimistic for minimal scarring (Thank you, Drs. Siu, Samycia, and Nasseri).
Writing has been source of satisfaction in my life over the last five years and in that department, 2017 did not disappoint. As the 25th anniversary of my sister Jane’s death, I resolved to fulfill my personal commitment to write about her death’s influence on my ability to leave my unhappy marriage, the same year. Pulling my head from its fiction mindset, I began with a couple of memoir and non-fiction courses (Thank you, Betsy and Mark). I work-shopped piece by piece with my InkTank friends who gave me objective and insightful feedback and helped clarify my skewed vision (Thank you, John, Kristy, Maureen, Deborah, and Rena). Since 1992 I had been hiding behind Jane’s death. I needed to dig deeper into myself and be honest about my realities for my memoir based writing to work. This in mind, I ventured onto a six-week memoir writing workshop (Thank you, Elee, Dhana, Donna, Heather, Maureen, Rena, Sylvia, Sheila, and Carole) that helped me to persevere through the painful process. This weekend I will wrap up the final chapter of this long overdue memoir.
My connection to the Vancouver writing community enriches my world on a regular basis and this year I was honoured to celebrate friends’ book launches (Congratulations Carleigh, Suzanne, Jonina and Carys). Writing consults through SFU and Vancouver public library and Word Vancouver introduced me to some interesting and inspiring writers I would not otherwise have met, and I continue to research my Great Grandmother’s history for a different crack at non-fiction. And I can’t resist stepping onto the stage at Cottage Bistro at least once each calendar year, to share a slice of my writing. May’s audience was warm and receptive. My writing world feeds my creativity with more than words.With the prevalence of changing climate, I find myself captivated by the plight of bees. Not only do they feature in my fiction, they
populate my back yard. This year, I allocated a slice of inspiration to the hard-working pollinators. Root crops were replaced with a plethora of colourful cosmos, sunflowers, heliotrope, marigolds, and allium. The honey-comb garden that invaded my dreams day and night last winter, came into fruition in May with the help of Grant’s carpentry expertise.
During the August visit from our Edmonton family I planned fun Vancouver adventures for grand-kids via TransLink and fussed over meal planning for picky eaters, encouraged by frequent exclamations of “Another score, Grandma!”.
Regular visits and dinners with Grant’s ageing parents are enjoyable and add perspective to my outlook on life (Thank you, Robert and Margaret) and the scarce moments that my daughter and I find to share fun experiences like a trip to Granville Island or the Circle Craft Christmas Market, treasured (Thank you, Megan). I especially enjoy Grant’s Sunday trips to the golf course with my son-in-law (Thank you, Mac). Their seasonal outdoor recreation offers me a cherished early-morning solitude for grounding myself in gardening or in writing. I had two constants in my life, this year. The dog was just a dog. Funny, playful, pesky and sweet (Thank you, Flint). But ever since I’ve known him, my husband has been my anchor and 2017 was no different. His unconditional love and encouragement inspire me to have faith in myself. He challenges me, laughs and sings with me, and when I falter, is but a warm shoulder and a word of encouragement away. (I can’t thank you enough, Grant).
Saying good-bye to 2017 is bittersweet. The good outweighed the bad big-time but life is about moving forward and 2018 opens with possibilities of new ventures in life, family, and travel. I am ready.
I’m happy I took the time this morning to review my 2015 calendar. The difficulties of the year have weighed me down in a way I can’t quite define, other than to say they felt heavier than usual. More challenging. Yesterday’s wipeout in Pacific Centre was insult on top of injury and all I can say is, it’s a good thing I’m resilient, because two tumbles in two weeks is definitely out of the ordinary.
After taking inventory of 2015 events and placing them on a balance sheet, I am happy to announce that the good times far outweigh the bad. The vicious dog attack on me in my own neighbourhood, the vandalizing of my truck, and the disastrous water leak that took out both our bathrooms and all of our bank account (I’m going easy on this one – trust me), were quickly conquered by rare visits from nieces, nephews, grand-nieces and grandnephews that filled our lives with happiness and fun times. Thanks to Megan and Mac, we met our new grand-dog, Sprout. The summer was topped off by a most special visit from our two grandchildren, Brody and Aubrey, who were generous enough to bring their parents along for the ride. What fun we had! Thank you, John and Brenda.
We outsourced the task of evicting a rogue squirrel from our eaves, and I’m choosing to take a positive spin, despite the cost, on our installation of a new furnace. But Autumn did bring a new trial. While Grant’s brutal shingles attack was his alone to bear, his struggles made me ache for the ability to soothe and take away his pain.
The October time we had booked off for travel became a road trip to the Okanagan. Kelowna, south to Penticton, tasting wines and visiting our lovely, generous friends and part time wine tour operators, Paul and Patti. Further south to Osoyoos area and more wine tasting, the excursion was a refreshing distraction. Our Portland trip to see a dance debut turned out to be a daughter’s wonderful surprise wedding. Congratulations, Eowyn and Jonathan!
I had six great months working with a most excellent group of writers in a TWS Manuscript Intensive, exchanging valuable feedback and gaining new insights into my own writing. Thank you, Wayde Compton, Carys Cragg, Karen Faryna, Lorraine Kiidumae, and Kelly Roulette. Bimonthly workshops with the Ink Tank group, Maureen Reynolds, Kelly Roulette, Christy Storey, and John Taylor, further helped me hone my writing. I am grateful to you all.
The completion of my last chapter, is without a doubt the icing on my book, and my entire year.
Christmas in Tofino with Grant and Flint rounded out December. Surging, heaving waves, ever changing tides and light patterns, brute strength of the Pacific Ocean, grounded me and I recognized the enormity of nature and the world, and how small a player I am in its structure. What are my few hiccups to such earthly power?
Yes. The positive in my 2015 far outweighs the negative. A son’s engagement at Christmas, (Congratulations Luke and Christina!) two new bathrooms and a new Prime Minister, fundraising events for Honour House, Looking Glass Foundation and Fraser Fest are just some of the year’s highlights that outshine and diminish a few pesky inconveniences. My difficulties are minute, even in the scope of other First World problems. Freshly bruised knees and a stiff neck are my badges of defiance at 2015’s pathetic attempt to hurt me. Raising my throbbing, purple ring finger as a flag I thumb my nose at 2015.
Two and half years (approximately) in the creating, I finished writing my first novel yesterday. From the beginning of the project, the expectation I carried for my reaction to that moment was extreme satisfaction, even elation.
Instead, it was almost the opposite. When I hit save before closing the file on my computer, a weight of sadness settled in my core. Oh, I was not deceived into thinking the work was complete. Proofreading, editing, rearranging, and queries all critical to the big picture process, are outstanding. Yet somehow, I believed that pulling together that last chapter would give me a sense of fulfilment, if not completion.
Wanting to share my accomplishment with the world, I reached out on Facebook and posted the following:
XXXII Chapters done. And done. I know I have lots of editing to do, but not right now. I’m just empty.
And that’s just it. I felt empty.
An indescribable sense of loss dogged me throughout the evening and into my sleep last night. As I awoke today, thoughts of rearranging the last two chapters, perhaps splitting them into four, were at the front of my brain and I spent most of the morning in a state of agitation, prepared to dive in and make my book complete in one intense binge at the computer.
My partner has a cooler head and more logical thought process than me. The distraction in my brain became less insistent as together, Grant and I navigated our Saturday morning within a somewhat normal structure: coffee, Globe and Mail, game of Cribbage, and a hearty breakfast.
But still, my brain remained muddled. Finally, a hot shower rinsed away some confusion, and my thoughts fell into place. A wallowing, self-absorbed, blog post, of course. What better way to disgorge the garbage clogging my creative process?
A simple, three hundred and thirty-three word vent, and I feel renewed enough to celebrate my accomplishment and enjoy a writing free weekend.
When the well-dressed Translink executive, on his way to a GVRD transportation meeting, sat next to me on the skytrain and asked my opinion, I told him it was vital they be mindful of their spending choices when growing public transit in B.C’s lower mainland. One wrong step such as adding an extra CEO and paying them both exorbitant sums and bonuses beyond the comprehension of the system’s general ridership, there would be an entire mainland population up in arms.
“Before you know it, people will be clamouring for the job of running the intricate urban transportation link with claims of the ability to accomplish so much more for so much less. And in a far shorter time span.” I said. “And should you plan to fund the growth through any kind of tax, no matter how small the fraction, plebiscite or not, Nay Sayers will scream. Not everyone, mind you. Just the Nay Sayers and they will be heard yelling ‘foul’ to the ends of the Fraser Valley.
No amount of reasoning will convince them that transit lines, cars, busses and operators don’t grow on trees and the system will not automatically appear overnight. They will never accept that the money has to come from somewhere and the expense is most logically shared by the entire population that stands to benefit from a vast transportation network that unites communities and facilitates an enriched life experience for everyone concerned.
That vocal segment of the population would have us living in the past. Back in a time when the hundred mile diet was a harsh reality because horses and carriages have their limitations. When access to education was restricted to the distance one could travel under their own steam in the limited amount of time available away from the homestead.” I went on. “So many cultural activities to miss out on, and the Pacific Ocean … Don’t even get me started.
“So remember to hire judiciously at the outset. One CEO will do for starters. See how it goes. No one will begrudge you another should it prove necessary after the initial trial as long as you are forthcoming and transparent with the needs and the costs. Save the bonus structure for a later date.
Last of all, please don’t forget to extend the validation time of a three zone bus ticket to accommodate the extra time it takes for busses to weave their way through the congested roads of North Vancouver all the way to Langley so I can complete my journey home before my ticket expires.”
“To have a sacred place is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room or a certain hour of the day or so, where you do not know who your friends are, you don’t know what you owe anybody or what they owe you. This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be …” (Joseph Campbell)
I hunger for space. My space. And by space, I don’t mean a cupboard, or a big empty basement room. The space I crave speaks to me. As I am. No questions. No conditions. No criticism. Welcomes and accepts me. Lets me immerse myself in other worlds. Worlds of words. Worlds of ideas. Worlds of stories.
Three years ago, I decided to have that space. I cast aside my acceptance of a pipe dream. I was tired of slinking down to the cold dark basement. Twisting and turning chairs and lamps to find optimal lighting. Packaging myself in sweaters, blankets, and wool socks.
My work station is located in the den/guest room of our 1950 era two bedroom house. It has a desk with computer, monitor, office chair, printer, and stand along the east wall, with a book shelf in the NE corner. On the north wall is a 4.5’ x 3.75’ blinded window, and the west wall is occupied by the doorway to the room, and a loveseat that pulls out into a bed. The south wall houses a closet and a bookshelf.
I painted the walls cheerful lemon lime, and adorned them with a favourite painting and family photos. Because the house was built in 1950, the closets are small and I am forced to share the space with my husband who stores his clothes in this room. He keeps his belongings confined to a tight corner and the joint use of the room does not pose a problem to my productivity. The pullout bed is our secondary guest sleeping quarters, so even as a guest room, the inconvenience is negligible.
