NEW BOOK! Eye of Glass, set in Ed Greenwood's Hellmaw!

I'm super thrilled to announce that I'm part of the The Ed Greenwood Group (TEGG), a revolutionary publishing venture by the creator of Forgotten Realms himself!

My first book, set in his new Hellmaw realm and already written, will be coming out in February 2016! Hellmaw is a dark world, where ruthless daemons stalk our streets, seeing humanity as little more than cattle.

And then, there's my character, who's by far the quirkiest character I've ever written. You'll get to meet her a bit more later on, but for now, I can tell you that book 1, Eye of Glass, is the first of six books, for my longest series yet!

Here's the book copy:

Following a slight misfire with a prank (on a cop, involving herself as the dead body), Jaeda finds herself confined to a small room, with only a TV as company. Relaxing will help her regenerate her mostly missing body, but that's entirely too boring for her liking. Besides, she has better things to do with her time, like becoming a model.

But when her guardian and keeper vanishes, Jaeda has to move quickly to avoid capture and save herself, her guardian, and her new human pets. Regenerating will simply have to wait.


It's going to be a fun and wild ride.  Make sure to check out the rest of the Hellmaw lineup and meet Jaeda in February!


THE "BODYLESS" SERIES, BY MARIE BILODEAU
Set in the Hellmaw world

Eye of Glass (Feb. 2016)
Lips of Blood (Feb. 2018)
Shoe of Bone (Feb. 2019)
Hand of Knives (Feb. 2020)
Flesh of Decay (Feb. 2021)
Spine of Steel (Feb. 2022)

More announcements soon!

The Great Serialization Experiment, Part 3 - Writing and Cookies!

The last post on lessons learned from writing Nigh is up over at Black Gate Magazine!  I talk writing and cookies. (The two most important component of serializing a novel.) 

Cookie Monster approves of this blog post.

Chatting about Writing over at Planet X

Last week was slow for geek news, so Jay Odjick, Ken Bonnie and I chatted writing over at Planet X Podcast!  Check it out if you'd like some inspiration or ideas! The second half of the episode is filled with writing tips and stories.  We're also on iTunes and Soundcloud.

Serialization: Part 1 of 3

Are you thinking of serializing your own novel?  I'm sharing some of my thoughts and experiences from serializing Nigh, from why I did it, to some technical lessons, and of course the most important part - how to adapt your story so that it works as a serialized piece.

This is the next part of the writing life series, although it's hosted over at Black Gate Magazine. Check out this first post!  

The Art of Terror

JUMP
I stand on the edge of a crane, my toes over the edge, water shimmering below. My mouth is dry, my feet are numb.  I don't have glasses or corrective lenses on, so I just see the sprawling gray of doom below me.

The dive master gives me instructions: "I'm going to count down from five. When I'm done, you'll jump."

My mind can hardly process what I intend to do, so I ask for clarification.

"You mean jump that way?" I emphatically jab the empty air before me.

The dive master confirms it, probably thinking I'll never jump. I don't think I will, either.

He counts down from five. Each number is more terrifying than the last. By the time he reaches one, I think: If I don't do this now, I never will.

The opportunity is now.  I'm secured to a giant elastic. The dive master finishes his countdown.

I don't jump.  But I manage to let go and fall forward.

On still summer days, my screams can still be heard echoing through the quarry.

I am *terrified* of heights. But I let go, and I let myself fall, screaming like an extra in a Godzilla movie.  I slow down and bounce back up, which is even more terrifying.  I'd reached bottom! Why the heck am I going back up?  The mind is scared of falling. It's terrified of bouncing up with the threat of falling back down again.

Once I'm done bouncing, a boat comes to get me down.  I almost fall in the water trying to reach land too quickly.  Very heroic.

JUMP!
Fast foward ten years. I receive tickets to go to a conference in Tunisia. I'm to be a subject matter expert on smart things.  Last minute arrangements. I'm not sure where I'm going, how I'm getting places in Tunis, who my contact is.

I head to the airport, not sure I even have real tickets. The airport staff manages to issue my boarding passes, but only to get me to Paris. I'll have to see if I can board a plane to Tunisia from there.

No problem. Heck, I can think of worse things than being trapped in Paris. But I make it to Tunisia. The country has just had a revolution.  I had missed that bit in my short prep time. I walk around angry soldiers with machine guns.

I see the ruins of Carthage and I find myself in their beauty.

Carthage bath house. LOOK AT THIS SUBLIME BEAUTY AND WEEP!

JUMP!!!
My last day in Tunisia, having been stuck at the conference most of my stay, a Tunisian woman sits beside me. She knows enough French that we muddle through a conversation. She finds out I'm from Canada. I tell her I'd like to see a camel, since I was flying out the next morning.

She tells me to follow her. I get in her car, thinking: This is how people get kidnapped.

She drives me to a café in Tunis, where she informs me is the city's only camel (there needs to be a song about the lonely urban life of camels). The camel has a job: it pulls up the water from the well.  It is also apparently on break.

We go to stand by the Mediterranean and admire its shimmering vastness. Then we spot the camel, on the beach, alone.

She grabs my hand and we start running. I think: Wait, *this* is how people get kidnapped!

We visit with the camel. It has no attendant. It's eating rotten vegetables out of a box. I try to explain to her how suspicious the camel is, but linguistic or cultural barriers impede my message. She shoves me near the camel and takes a picture.

I don't care what anybody says. This is one heck of a suspicious camel.

She drives me to her apartment.  Her niece is finishing up a PhD in environmental studies and speaks perfect French. We chat for hours. She asks me if I've ever had almond tea. I say I haven't, guessing Tetley almond tea didn't qualify (I was totally right).

They drive me an hour up a mountain, where is served the best almond tea.  We make jokes, finding common ground. We don't get all of each other's jokes, but we laugh. We also sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery. By then, I'm no longer thinking I'll be kidnapped.

I drink the best almond tea ever, and they drive me back to my hotel.

We hug. I don't know if I'll ever see them again.

JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!
Fast forward another four years. I have the chance to jump and become a full time writer. I have the savings, the budget, the sales and the ambition.

I'm terrified.

But not as terrified as jumping off a crane.  Not as terrified as I am of angry looking soldiers with machine guns.

I jump.

Learning to embrace the art of terror (without going splat or actually being kidnapped) is a must for artists.  We send in our stuff to be judged by editors, by critics, by audiences.

Embrace the Terror.  Learn to love it.

Become an Artist of Terror.*

*Note to self: get new business cards.

Choosing What To Read

Choosing what to read at any public event is important. Well, unless you're not actually supposed to be reading there. Then it's just downright rude.

There's the big question: will you be funny, dark, philosophical, colourful, witty and/or charming?  Sure, those are important and I'm confident you'll figure it out. Other people have said wise things about this in the past - go read their blog posts.

Here, we're just going to stick to technicalities for a minute.

What if you have a cold and your voice gives out on you?  Now we're talking important stuff.  I tend to lose my voice (very sad for a performing storyteller) and I've learned many tricks to working around it when necessary.

At my first Ad Astra AND my first reading at a con, which I shared with the ever entertaining Hayden Trenholm, I had no voice. It just didn't bother showing up that morning (which would unfortunately become a common theme for me at cons. Wussy, wussy voice.) 

I didn't think about backing out of my reading, but I also didn't think about changing them to fit my complete lack of voice.  I was reading two scenes from Destiny's Blood.  One had a bunch of dialogue, and inflections are absolutely impossible to do without a voice.  Trust me on that one.  I sounded like I was having a muted yet forced conversation with myself. I had to add dialogue tags as I read so people knew who the heck was wheezing out all of my finely crafted witty sentences.

Being done that scene was a relief.  The next scene had only a few lines of dialogue.  Oh ya, and singing! Have you ever tried to sing without a voice? I have.  It's painful for everyone: the audience, the singer, the spirits of your ancestors eating popcorn in the back row... 

I was a trooper though. I got through it. And, when I looked up, everyone was looking down trying not to laugh.  So I started laughing, which sounded like a gerbil was choking in my throat.

That was my first reading. It's a miracle they still let me do these things!! 

So, tonight I have a radio interview where I've been asked to do a short reading from next week's ChiSeries. Except I'm still fighting my Christmas flu and my voice is almost existent but not quite. I've been testing my pitches and I can do lower pitches. So no dialogue and no laughing for me. And for the love of all that's good and just in this world, no singing.  I selected something short from Destiny's War. I think it's a good passage to get people interested in both the event and the book, and to make sure my voice doesn't give out halfway through.

... now, if only I can refrain from laughing during the interview, everything should be just fine...

See how successful I am at that tonight on CHUO FM Click Here!

Resolutions vs. Goals

Happy New Year!

I had a great time this holiday season, save for getting the flu for Christmas. It was from my mom or brother, so I know they gave it to me out of love. Surely.

After watching a bunch of B-movies and all of Justice League Unlimited, I seem to now be able to sit at the computer for more than 2.5 minutes, so of course I'll write a blog post!

Since 2014 snuck up on my fevered self, I'm just now thinking about my goals.  It's a bit of a semantics play to call them goals instead of resolutions, but it works better for me.  A goal has measurable outcomes and a plan. Resolutions just seem a bit too airy-fairy for my liking. I'm at my best when I'm accountable.

I also don't set goals on New Year's, usually. I set them as I need them. But, since I'm in need of setting new goals now anyway, the timing seemed good.  Here's how I intend to go about it:

• Get a "goals" buddy who'll help keep me accountable, and I'll return the favour.  (Check on that one.)
• Each Monday morning, send weekly goals to buddy.
• Each Sunday evening, report back on how we did on our goals. We set this on Sunday evening so that we had the weekend to catch up. That's all about coordinating goals with life. ;)

That's it! Overall, most of my goals are writing-related.  Last year was great but not my most productive. This year is the time to pull up my socks and get more words down.  More, better words.

I'm hoping for at least 5,000 words per week, but that goal will change weekly to adapt to my life situation.

What about you guys?  Any goals for 2014?

Here's to a successful year!  

What's in a Dedication?

I usually wait until a manuscript is finished completely before I write the dedication. By the time the story is finished and assigned cover art, I usually get a good view of who this book best represents. Destiny's War was no different for me.

I'm lucky to count so many great friends in my life that it's always a bit tough to choose. In Destiny's War, it wasn't clear to me until I saw some inside art developed by Kari-Ann Anderson, the cover artist of the series.  

It's beautiful and simple - a tender moment between mother and child.  Truth be told, this could represent so many of my friends. But I had seen one of my friends perform this exact tender gesture with her newborn just a week earlier and, despite all of my shoutings about explosions, in the end, Destiny's War and even Fall is really about the love of a mother for her child.

I have so many good friends and I want to shout about them all the time. They're loyal, kind, hardworking, loving and respectful, and beautiful in every single way I can think of. To me, they're the brightest stars in the firmament of my life, right up there with my family. They ARE my family, and their families are my family, and there are precious few things I wouldn't do for each and everyone of them.  There are five of us all together, and they helped to shape my life into what it now is.

One of my friends, Karen, finished university at the same time as me and we both moved to Ottawa, a new city for both of us. We moved into my mother's tiny three-bedroom appartment and had a blast. We bought a cat together - he was orange and got really fat. We watched Digimon and Pokemon and laughed our heads off at ST: Genesis. We got our first full time jobs, discussed our dreams, shared our frustrations.

In 2001, I made the semi-final cut for a Chicken Soup book (before I discovered my fondness for blowing stuff up).  I ran into her room and woke her up, all excited. She hugged me and congratulated me (and didn't tell me to get the hell out), and I think she fell asleep again as I rambled about my writing dreams.

By end of that year, with her support, I'd written my first novel length story. We decided to package it for Christmas and give it to our friends. She drew beautiful pictures and we stayed up an entire night to get it done, giggling and screwing up so many things. So many.

Her dad owned an inn in Gananoque where she'd bring me for weekends, to write away. I got to sing during supper service. She whispered of her dreams and her hopes.

We went away for road trips together, just us, a tent, her car and a big ol' pile of stuff. One night, camping on a cliff in Cape Breton, a storm struck. The wind terrified me and she desperately tried to sleep on as I vanished under the sleeping bag and tried to hide under her, rambling about the fact that this cliff might have been here for thousands of years, but it was going down tonight (hey, I was sleepy!) The next morning, we laughed about it as we drank warm coffee at dawn and changed into our very damp clothes.

We almost made it to Newfoundland. We will, someday.  

With all of my friends, I learned a lot. I learned that friendship is not to be taken for granted. That you have to give and think about what they really need. That you hold your tongue and only whisper encouragements. That you never say "I told you so." That hugs should never be held back. That sometimes, distance is a necessity. That they'll think about these things as much as I will.

With Karen, I went from the whimsical (and psychotic) days of university to tackling this "real world." We learned together about its pitfalls: money, failure, lack of reason and meanness. But we also chose to embrace its wonders: opportunities, hope, laughter and life. And we still learn about it every single day.

So, to you, Karen I dedicate the final volume of the Destiny series. So much of my life would be different without you, my friend. So much of me would be different, the bits that were encouraged to grow and blossom, the parts that keep me going and that I love best of all. Today is your birthday, and I cannot wait to celebrate many more years with you and to see how even more beautiful and amazing you will become, as a friend, a wife, a mother and a kick-ass team member!

Love,

Marie

xoxo

Destiny's War Available as an ebook!

The final book in the Destiny series, Destiny's War, is now available as an ebook!!  This is a special release from Dragon Moon Press.  The print book will be available in the new year. 

The whole series is also now available as an ebook bundle for just 9.99!  That's a steal for three books where multiple worlds get destroyed, lives are changed forever (or snuffed out) and nebulae swallow star systems. (Pretty awesome, I know!)

Several people have asked me (in an appreciative whiny tone) if this would be the final book in the series.  For now, yes.  I'm happy with where the story ends, but I'm not saying I'll never revisit this world. There are still so many stories to tell!

In the meantime, I appreciate signal boosts and of course book purchases and reviews for any of the books in the series.  I'll post links to other bookstores as they come available.  Enjoy the journey!

She had given her up.
To save her daughter from a life of servitude to a silent First Star, Layela Delamores sent her only child away. Willing to miss the first decade of her daughter's life, for a chance to reunite as a free family.

Ten years.
Now, a new First Star is ready to take over from the dying star Mirial, freeing Layela and her family from the clutches of duty and obligation.

But the star was silent.
When the new First Star fails to ignite, the failing Mirial is the only lifeline to the countless ether races across the galaxy. But not everyone wants to save Mirial, including Layela’s own daughter. Trapped between obligations and hopes, Layela must find a way to save as many people as she can, or learn to live in the dead world she helped to create.

Purchase Destiny's War
Get the whole series! 

I'm Number Two!

I wanted to thank everyone for their votes in the Aurora Awards.  It seriously meant a lot to me to make it on the ballot, and to come so close to a win!  Douglas Smith, a wonderful writer and person, won in the short fiction category.  But I came in second!  That's awesome - I absolutely adored writing Happily Ever After and still feel it's one of my strongest pieces.

I had predicted the winner for the novel category: Tanya Huff.  She predicted I would win, so I got to tell her that sure, she'd won an Aurora, but I was better at predicting winners. Ha!  Tanya is a wonderful writer and human being, and go check out her books. 

I couldn't be happier to see two such wonderful people take the Aurora Awards, as well as everyone else who came away with an award or just made the ballot.  Nods to Robert J. Sawyer for his Lifetime Achievement Award, to Hayden Trenholm for his Best Related Work win (Blood and Water anthology), and to Derek Newman-Stille for Speculating Canada (one of my favourite sites). 

I also had the honour of presenting the award for Best Poem/Song, which went to David Clink (accepted by his brother-in-law, Robert J. Sawyer).  For that, they gave me the punched out leaf from the trophy - it's deadly and sharp. These people know their community!

And so I leave you with my heartfelt gratitude and a picture of me with a punched out leaf:

Thanks to Tracey A. Vibert for accosting me in the corridor to take this picture.

 

Fuck That (or A Call to Action)

Trigger warning: I swear a lot.  If this were in French, my mother tongue, the swearing would be more varied, FYI. 

A reviewer once said "Marie Bilodeau writes good action scenes for being a woman."

You're damn right I do. And I'm going to keep doing it, too.

I considered writing my next book under a male pseudonym.  If I go all out dark side of Marie, I bring high amounts of action, adventure and gore. And I think it's funny.

I was going to be called Simon Lars, based on my multiple middle names. It was an interesting idea, to see if my "male" sales would do better, just as I sometimes suspect that the Destiny series would do better if they looked more like the space opera adventure that they are (I love the covers, don't get me wrong, but I do wonder).

Roomy didn't think I could keep the secret that I was Simon Lars (she's probably right - I ain't very secretive).  Writing friends wafted between be a trailblazer, you wuss, or do it, see what happens.  My editor thought I should stick with my name, that my career is gaining speed and I should ride it out.

Then I thought three things: I write strong female characters, and it'd be damn hard, and I mean fucking damn hard to look myself in the mirror and think I was doing everything in my power to make the future a bit easier for my nieces if I spent my writing career pretending to be a man (did I mention I now have a second niece as of three weeks ago?  She's adorable. She deserves an easier ride.)

And I thought: I'm a girl. I can't hide it. I don't even want to. Because sexism isn't just about the name on a book. It's about going to work and having to fight for equal pay. It's about having to punch dudes when they get too friendly. It's about telling the boys to leave the cosplayer alone, and that I'm a geek, ya, and a damn good one, thank you very much. It's about owning it.

Then I thought: Sure, it might impact my sales.  Sure, I might lose some numbers to a few sexist, misogynist pricks.  I don't care. Because that's crazy tiny in the great cosmos, compared to what not hiding my identity might lead to.

You know, stuff like self-respect. Pride. Nice heels and a heck of a ride. We won't win this equality ground by hiding. So raise the fucking flag high and hold it there.

I'm a writer, I'm a geek and I'm a girl. Get over it. And if you don't like it, then just kindly get the fuck out of my way.

NaNoWriMo Peppiness

I'm participating in Nano this year, because I write with two of Ottawa's regional liaisons in the mornings, and they could beat me up if they wanted to.  I'm just not that swift first thing in the morning and I'm easily intimidated. So I crumbled and agreed when they looked me in the eye and said: "You're doing Nano" (or wait, did they just ask and not state?  Whatever). Regardless, I work great under threats, and I'm looking forward to November.  I'll use NaNo as a spring board for my next project.

Last year, I wrote a pep talk for the Sudbury NaNo Group. I'm posting it here as a reminder to all of us: it can be done.  

 _________

It’s NaNoWriMo!  Woo!  That magical time of the year when words fly onto the page, you don’t change clothes for days and you forget your own name.

Awesome.

When the words don’t fly, however, don’t panic.  Well, panic a little bit, have a cry and eat a chocolate bar.  I mean, those are just healthy coping mechanisms.  But afterward (shortly afterward), try one of these tricks to throw yourself out of a scary non-writing spree. 

1.      Change mediums.  Change from laptop to paper, pen to pencil, lined paper to plain.  That might jog your mind into spewing those words out again.

2.      Change locations.  Go from coffee shop to home, home to a friend’s house, a friend’s house to a rock by the water.  Keep it fresh.  You’re technically supposed to ignore the scenery and write, but your senses are still being stimulated by the world around them, so give them something fresh to mull on while the rest of your mind is engaging your story.

3.      Stop whining. I mean, whine a bit.  It’s seriously healthy.  But give yourself a limit.  Have a breakdown in the shower if you must. But get ‘er done.  Whining is good to get the stress out, not for gaining sympathy. NaNoWriMo is not for the strong of whine.

4.      Skip a scene.  If a scene is really not cooperating, dump it.  Skip ahead.  Can’t figure out how to connect one piece of the action with the next?  Then skip that, too.  I usually leave stars (***) in my first drafts when I forgot a character name or can’t connect things right away.  When I edit, they’re easy to find.  Now’s not the time to worry about the finer details of your work.

5.      Kill your protagonist.  It’s a weird trick, I know. But sometimes those protagonists are infuriating!  They just won’t cooperate.  Your head goes in spinny little useless circles trying to figure it out.  I drop an elevator on my protagonists’ heads when they don’t cooperate. This is especially fun in fantasy where elevators don’t exist.  I drop that elevator and go for a walk. By the time I come back, snickering, my protagonist usually smartens up. We erase the elevator (or keep it in for your word count – you did write it!), and we proceed with the story.

6.      Go with your instincts. The best laid plans… You know about them. If your gut is telling you that what you thought would be the best twist ever isn’t, don’t write it.  You’ll stay stuck.  Your gut knows when something is leading you off track or to a dead end.  Your subconscious, cool beast that it is, is making connections your mind hasn’t even thought of.  Trust it and let your instincts take over where your mind might fail you.

7.      The usual. Butt in chair. Give yourself word counts to follow.  I usually write down my word count on a sticky note every half hour and post them on my wall. I find it motivating. They’re coloured sticky notes, too, so it’s almost like decorating your room! (I may not be the best to provide advice on home décor.)

8.      Isolate yourself. If you can, do this. Even a few days could save your word count.  I go to a convent. Cheap, no TV or Internet, three meals provided, and peace and quiet.  Last time I did this, by keeping my butt in the chair and ignoring the beautiful sunny world beyond my closed curtains, I wrote 45,000 words in two days.  Those words needed lots of edits, but the draft was there.

9.      Imagine you are… a warrior in battle, and getting those words down is imperative.  A soldier fighting a war.  A world-renown journalist with tight deadlines. Make your own story about you. Character play.  Do what you have to do to stay in that chair.

I had a tenth idea, but I prefer sets of three in lists.  It’s clean and tidy.  BUT, if I were going to say a tenth one, it would be: Remember how cool you are.  How cool this is.  Because it is.  Not everyone has your power with words and your ability to do this.

So go for it.  Do it. Keep doing it.  And, at the end, give yourself a hero’s welcome. You’ll have earned it.

Reaching The End

The final instalment of the Destiny series, currently entitled Destiny's Whatever (title will more than likely change), is well on its way.  I'm having fun, getting to the depths of various mysteries, while letting my characters have some fun and blow stuff up.

This is the second time I reach the third book in a series (I like three - it's a nice, clean number. Must be my failed catholic upbringing).  When I wrote Sorceress of Shadows, the final volume in my Heirs of a Broken Land series, I very much had the same experience I do now.

The first book is all about discovery. Discovering your world, your characters, your intrigues... It's a wild ride not to be taken lightly.

The second book, I find, is the highest pressure book. You don't want your series to slack off in the middle, so you have to keep things tense. The story can't just be filler.  It has to have a reason and purpose for being, while leaving the readers wanting book 3.  

The last book, however, is a whole other beast. This is probably your characters' final curtsy.  This is your last chance to visit those hauntings, to give them the moments they've been waiting for (or not), and to let them breathe their last.  Oh, I mean, they might live beyond the third book, but  it'll be off page. A whole other experience.

The final book has to live beyond the pages in your readers' imaginations. It has to be a satisfying ending for them, too - the readers stuck with you this long, after all!  And it has to remain true to the story, no matter how much you might want to end on a high note with sparkling unicorns and caffeinated rainbows.  That's rarely the way to go (thankfully).

I'm reading a trilogy right now and I'm on book 3, the final book (at least so far).  I whipped through books 2 and most of 3 in a few days, regardless of their impressive girth. But I'm slowing down, with less than 200 pages to go.  I'm not sure why I slowed down, but I suspect that, at this point, I'm a bit scared. A few events in the last book made me feel like the author was doing this because it was her last chance to make the characters do something, even if it no longer fit the story.  I might be wrong - I haven't finished the story, after all, but it was enough to make me worry.

I might also have slowed down because I know I only have a few pages left with these characters, and after investing so much into them, I'll miss them when they're gone.

I'm keeping all of this in mind as I write my own final book.  I want it to answer questions while coming up with plausible resolutions for issues plaguing my characters, some since Destiny's Blood.  It's a bit hard watching my characters take their final curtsy, too. I mean, it's hard letting go of characters from books you've read, but it's a lot harder letting go of ones you're writing.

The book is due this Thanksgiving at Dragon Moon Press, and I still have a lot of work to do.  August is full of cons and outings, but I'm still confident I can get 'er done.  I'll keep you up to date!

Onward to The End we go!  

Aurora Awards for Rotting Heads

So, for the few of you who don't yet know, my short story, The Legend of Gluck (When the Hero Comes Home, ed. by Gabrielle Harbowy and Ed Greenwood, Dragon Moon Press), is nominated for an Aurora Award in the short fiction category!!  I can't thank you all enough for being so supportive of a rotten head (you're all a little twisted and I like that about you).

The ramble
Because it's Friday and I like to ramble. There's actual useful info in the next section, if you want to skip ahead. But, why would you want to???

I found out about this year's Aurora Award nomination during a super busy and stressful week.  I hadn't really put the word out there about my eligible works, just a simple post that said "vote if you wanna, don't worry if you don't wanna."  More or less.

The organizers had been trying to reach me by phone to inform me of my nomination, but I was out a lot that week.  Roomy was working overtime since it was a crazy busy period at work, so I was out grocery shopping by myself, which is super boring.  No one was there to shake their head at me as I spoke to little fruit or danced in the aisle.  Quite dull. 

This was also the day they'd moved everything around at our local Farm Boy, so it was a bit of a discombobulated experience (I was also very sleep deprived, did I mention that?) 

A scrunched up Ukranian (?) woman grabbed my arm as I was examining jars of pickled things and we became shopping buddies.  I have no clue what she said as she spoke in an East European dialect, but we worked it out. I helped her get bread (she was really scrunched up), and she helped me select yogourt.  S'all good.

So, after that experience, she tottered off to another cash and I lined up at my own.  I pulled out my iPhone to e-mail Roomy and see how things were going at work, when I noticed an e-mail from the Aurora Awards Committee, marked as urgent.  I read it, eyes wide, and did a little dance (my feet went on their own - I totally had no control. Totally).

I now confess - we're not supposed to tell anyone about our nomination before the ballot is announced, but I told the Scottish-accented man in line in front of me.  He said: "Well, congratulations, lass!"  He had no clue what I was talking about cause I was rambling, but he seemed as pleased as a muddy pig so he was a good audience.

Anyway, on to the actual point of this blog...

How to vote

To vote, you go here: http://www.prixaurorawards.ca/.  (Canadians only.)

Those that nominated don't need to pay again - it's part of the one-year membership fee.  Those who did not nominate but still wish to partake of the voting fun may do so by joining now. The fee is $10, but this year, the Aurora Awards Committee is offering a voter's package, which includes full novels, short stories, poems, etc.  Considering the titles on that list, it's worth the price of admission.

I have lots of friends on this year's ballot, including some that are in the same category as me.  I wish them all the best. It's an impressive line-up!  Seriously - Canadian speculative fiction rocks!

Again, thank you for your support. You inspire me to blow up more villages, showcase more rotting bodies and destroy more lives. Terribly, irreparably. 

Sniff.  Isn't that beautiful?

The No-Longer-Convent-Convent

I posted before about my writing retreat, a convent, which was recently secularized. I needed to get away for a bit after all of the excitement of cons, book launches, and generally being social. So I headed off to the convent, not certain what I was getting into.

Last time, government workers and photographers infested the no-longer-convent-convent.  I was thrilled to see that it would rain this weekend – great writing weather, and generally good at keeping photographers indoors.

This time, there were few other visitors, but they were all really obnoxious and loud, and they all made jokes too sad, unoriginal and quite frankly painful for me to impose them on all of you. You’re welcome.

My first flower sighting this Spring, at a the convent. A sad little flower. Possibly because it heard the jokes, too.

Regardless of stale, annoying (attempts at) humour, what I finally realized that I didn’t have anymore at the convent is space.

Even the dead ran out of space.

Sure, I still have my little room (which now has a full length mirror – ye gawds, I don’t care to see myself that often, seriously, especially during a writing retreat).  I still have my walks to chat with Giant Jesus, I can still speak to silent tombstones of stacked nuns, I still sit alone at my table for meals, but I no longer have space.

There’s a sense of respect when you know the building’s purpose. Architecture needs not be complex to invoke awe when a purpose is associated with the place.  Tones grow hush when surrounded the weight of history, religion or purpose.  Take that away, especially from a building that evokes nothing beyond its everyday use (it’s no great work of art, let’s face it), and you lose the weight of silence.  You lose that need to speak in hushed tones. You lose the silence of respect.

Buried over someone who died when she was four.  Someone she never met, never knew the name of, probably. Yet someone in 2009 decided they should be stacked together.  Is it just me, or is that freaky neat?

So that’s what I lost, at the no-longer-convent-convent.  People walk up and down the halls loudly. They bang doors, they scream at each other on the front yard, they tell loud, rude jokes in the cafeteria.  Don’t get me wrong – I enjoy all of these activities. But those are social activities.  Those are humans stomping all over my writing space, with dirty, ugly shoes, to boot.

And I don’t need a lot of space, but I need all of it. I need all of the silence, the fresh air, the head space.  I came to the convent back in the day because it allowed me that and more, something else I’ve yet to put my finger on.

Giant Jesus is still a great listener.  But Giant Jesus needs braces, now.  Giant Jesus isn't as stable as he once was.

I don’t know if I’ll come back.  I get lots done in the city, but I’m easily distracted and I need full resets, once in a while, by myself. It’s the introvert in me.  Give my crazy extrovert too much time to play, and my introvert gets grumpy and wants me to hide, alone, with no one to speak to for days.  

I have a feeling I’ll come back once. Giant Jesus is still my sanctuary, as is the cemetery of nuns.  Those still bear the weight of religion and scare people away.  I can rant and rave about plot there.  The dead and inanimate make the best audience.

Fell asleep writing and woke up to manuscript screaming at me. It wasn't that productive a weekend, unfortunately, but I think this chapter is a keeper!

What's missing is a mystery that I need to figure out, for myself.  To understand the loss fully, I need to understand what it is that I lost.  It’s not the nuns, nor the religion, since those don’t resonate with my soul strings.  But it’s something else. 

I’ll figure it out. Maybe next time. 

Ducks!

When the Hero Comes Home - Nominated!

The super cool anthology, When the Hero Comes Home, edited by Ed Greenwood and Gabrielle Harbowy, is a finalist in the Foreword Book Awards!  This anthology includes my rotten-head-dragging story, The Legend of Gluck.

Last year, Destiny's Blood won bronze in the Foreword Book Awards' SF category.  This year, I hope Gabrielle and Ed will take the gold in the antho category - the anthology deserves it! It's been called a perfect example of what an anthology should be, and I couldn't agree more.

Check it out if you haven't yet.

About When the Hero Comes Home
HEROES come in a thousand guises, and so do stories about them. The only survivor of a war struggles to return to a home that doesn't exist anymore. A rebel leader loses everything she fought for and must start from scratch. A hero who has fought for her village her whole life must retire into obscurity without ever being known for her deeds. A starship returns to an Earth that is much changed, yet too much the same. A soldier is haunted by the very thing that saved his life. And King Arthur returns in Albion's hour of need. Dark fantasy. Urban fantasy. Political intrigue. Science fiction. From the horrific to the heartwarming. Introducing 19 pulse-pounding tales, by luminaries and great new voices. Co-edited by Gabrielle Harbowy and Ed Greenwood. Featuring an introduction by Susan J. Morris.

Destiny's Fall Update!

Things are trucking along for the various Destiny's Fall launches!

First off, most exciting news, the book is available for purchase on my publisher's website!  Woo!!!  Ebook lovers can pick up their copy for 2.99, and the print copy is 19.99. (Or you can come to a book launch because they're awesome fun!)  It'll be popping up on other sites soon, but this is the first one and so must be celebrated.

In other news, I'm informed the Toronto book launch at Ad Astra will take place in the Event Space, not the Con Suit.  Still at 8:30 pm. Check out the awesome posters made by the lovely and talented JM Frey:

The Winnipeg event at McNally Robinson book launch now has an event listing with all the info, and I'm chatting with the Keycon crew to figure out details for the launch there.

Meanwhile, back in Ottawa, my mom, Roomy and I went to check out the space at the Lieutenant's Pump, and it's absolutely lovely. We then decided to sample the fares to ensure it was awesome enough for our party, and it was quite lovely.  Kerri tried a hamburger, I had a roast beef sandwich, and mom tried a vegetarian option. Trust me, if you come for food, you'll love it. If you don't wanna come for food, come for a book!  You'll love that, too. Even more!

So there you have it - it's all coming together!

As a treat, here's an excerpt from Destiny's Fall:

“Cap’ain!” Avienne's second-in-command, a short man named Larod, screamed.

“Gun the engines, get us out!”

“Solariers are telling us to stand down,” said Jaru, her systems analyst.

“And I’m saying the docks need redecorating. Gun the engines!”

The two moved quickly to obey her order. The engines churned to life, the scent of rotten cabbage pumping through the entire ship. The ship jerked once and the engine popped, and her hull vibrated, resonating in Avienne’s skull.

“Come on, you useless piece of crap!” She kicked the tactical controls and half the panel lights blinked out.

“Blood and bones, I need to steal a better ship!” The engines sputtered and the ship stopped vibrating.

“Engines online, Captain!” Jaru screamed. Avienne whooped and switched the viewport on. The entire metal structure of the docks buckled as they pulled free without first de-clamping, ripping great chunks of metal. The Dessicate’s engines kicked in full blast, throwing Avienne back into her seat. The docks swayed for a moment when the engine’s jet of hot hair struck them, then buckled sideways, and seemed to be righting themselves before suddenly collapsing in a heap of smoke and metal, dragging a few of the smaller ships down.

Avienne hissed. That made a nice, round ten worlds on which she would no longer be welcome. She was running out of planets to do business on.

“Where to, Captain?” Larod asked from navigations.

“Mirial. I believe it’s time to pay my brother a visit.”

New Story: The Buried Moon

Tyche Books, a new Canadian publisher, launched its inaugural anthology yesterday, Ride the Moon.  I'm happy to say that I have a story in it, The Buried Moon.

The inspiration for this story comes from an old English fairy tale I heard at a storytelling show.  It's a pretty awesome story with monsters, live burials and a desperate rescue - look for The Buried Moon or The Dead Moon and you'll find a bunch of versions of it.

My story takes place long after the original fairy tale, when descendants of the moon are still being hunted by the bog creatures.  One reviewer said: "Marie Bilodeau has a chilling and exciting tale Buried Moon, bringing out the darkness in rural communities."  There you go.  Right from someone else's mouth.

It's a lovely anthology with great cover art, and has stories in it by a bunch of fine writers, including Claude Lalumière and Edward Willett. Pick up your electronic or print copy.

Aurora Awards - A Request

The nomination period for the Aurora Awards is now open. I have one eligible short story: The Legend of Gluck, from Dragon Moon Press' When the Hero Comes Home anthology.  Check out a list of eligible works.

Again, all Canadians can vote for Canadian works of SF/F.  Simple enough.

Important note: They changed the nominating/voting rules this year.  It used to be that you could nominate for free, and then you had to pay a nominal fee (last year 5.50) to vote.  This year, you have to join to nominate, at the cost of $10.

If you're a big sci-fi fan and really want to show your support for a bunch of people, then do so here.  Any nomination is of course welcome.  Last year, I was a finalist in the novel category, and it was definitely a highlight of my career.

My request: I know a lot of my readers are not in the sci-fi community. Obviously, I appreciate the desire to support authors we love. I try to do it myself!  But I honestly can't help but think that $10 is a lot of money if you're not a part of the community.  So if you'd like to show your support but are strapped for money, and I suggest this for any of the Aurora categories or anyone whose works resonate with you, then support them by helping spread the word.  Tell a friend.  Write a review on Amazon.  Tell your blog readers about said author/convention/filker/etc.

That's showing support, too, and is greatly appreciated.  Again, last year's nomination was a highlight of my career, and I can't thank you all enough for that. Your support, in any shape or form, is always appreciated.

Let this in no way be interpreted as criticism towards the Aurora committee.  They are an awesome, hard-working bunch and they need the financial backing to do what they do, which means a lot to the community.

But my priority is, of course, my readers, and it's up to them to show their support however they feel best. And I certainly love giving options.

Either way, I give an ever eternal thank you to all of you.  You = awesome, and I wouldn't be where I am today without you.

Love,

Marie

A New Love

Dear friends,

The new year is already plodding along and I've not yet made a peep on my blog. It's hardly intentional, but rather an unfortunate side-effect of my current situation.

Over the holidays, you see, I invited a new person to share my life.  His name is WIP, short for Work In Progress.  It's a beautiful name, isn't it?   Mostly, I call him "Man," short for manuscript.  We're still working through our little nicknames (we're cute, I know! I hate new couples, too. Annoying, gushy things that we are). 

Anyway, Man and I met just at the end of last year, on Christmas day.  I was on my couch, a phlegmy disgusting remnant of the woman I had once been.  I groaned and flipped between a Doctor Who marathon and a Big Bang Theory marathon, and he showed up unexpectedly.  I hesitated at first, not believing on this day, on a holiday, when I was sick and sequestered at home, that he would show up now.

I soon found my manners again. I forced myself off the couch, put on two pairs of fuzzy socks and a thick sweater, made some tea for both of us, and then we sat down together.

It wasn't magic right away. I mostly entertained him because he'd showed up. I mean, to be fair, part of me knew he would soon be coming, but I hadn't expected him today.

The next day, we met for coffee outside the house, with a chaperon, to be proper. But that didn't last. A few days later, I was shutting myself away alone with Man, spending hours together by candlelight.

And I love him. The year is already sliding by as we nurture our romance. Just the other day, he showed me that eating people wasn't such a bad thing. I never knew that! And then, I taught him to clone himself out of safety. He liked that.

I won't go into the details, those are private, for now. He has a very dark kernel in his soul that I find endearing, and he cleaves people and splits their heads open. But don't worry - he's also very gentle and conflicted.

I hope you'll all love him, when you meet him.

And so I'm sorry I've been so silent. But, as all good things must come to an end, I'm hoping this wild romp will end in a few months, to transform from passionate love to something quieter and more everlasting. We'll see how the world greets Man, when I finally let him go.

I promise I'll try and come back more often. When Man and I are taking a break, perhaps.

In the meantime, I hope your 2012 is going well and that you're enjoying a wild, passionate dance of your own.

Love,

Marie