Gratitude

It struck me yesterday that a lot of my creative friends are very ambitious.  And they have to be, to survive.  Anyone who's received multiple rejections for one story, who had no one show up to their show or their book launch has to have ambition or passion or a thick skin to get back on the wagon (possibly after downing several pints).

I often hear about the failures. How a story didn't come out quite right, or a book launch was ill-attended, or that they didn't get the award. Heck, I didn't win the Aurora Award yesterday. Was I disappointed?  Of course!  I'm human! (Really...)

I soon found myself congratulating good friends on their well-deserved victories and, as I walked away (in my awesome shoes), I looked at the length of my career. At where I've been since Princess of Light was published in March 2009, just 2.5 years ago. I imagined the road spreading before me and I thought: Holy shit, I was just nominated for an Aurora Award for best novel.  A freaking Aurora Award!  Shit that's cool!


And then I felt gratitude. For everyone who took the time to nominate and vote for me. For my family's unfailing support. For the people I only see at cons and yet offer such friendship and inspiration that I always look forward to the next meeting.

This morning I woke up with a nasty case of expanded gratitude. I started with being way too happy at the purring ball of fuzz wrapped around my head (until I realized how fuzzy my pillow was going to be and shooed him off). My gratitude exploded from there.

I was grateful for everyone who came out to our reprise of Chasing Boudicca on Saturday night. For the tears some of them shed. For the awe with which they commented on the show. I was grateful for my performance friends who delve into stories with me, which translated into being grateful for my writing buddies (the East Block Irregulars) who strive and work so hard and push me to become a better writer all the time. And inspire with their passion.

The day is now progressing into gratitude for the little things. The ability to write in the mornings. The perfect cup of coffee. The crisp coolness of the air and how it cleanses my lungs. And who I'll meet today, or chat with, or think about and smile.

Thank you, all of you, for your continued support and for the joy and laughter you bring. You make everything so awesome it makes me gush at times.  Deal with it.


And did I mention I was on the freaking Aurora Awards ballot?  Awesome!

SFContario

So it turns out I won't be at Hal-Con this year since I didn't get on programming due to some miscommunications. I'm sorry I'll miss all the cool and fun people (you know who you are!), but the budget is tight this year and cons have to pay for themselves. And programming is the golden ticket to getting known.

But no biggie - the con-com is awesome and barring any horrible circumstances, I'll be there next year!

So now my next and final con of the year is SFContario!  I'll only be there on the Sunday since the Saturday evening is the reprise of Chasing Boudicca.  But I refuse to miss out on SFContario and my first ever Aurora Awards ceremony!  Well, okay, I've been to two ceremonies, but this is my first year being on the ballot, so that's fun.  Freakin' fun!

I'll be at the Aurora Awards brunch and ceremony, of course, but also at:

Reading
1:30 pm, Parkview
I think I'll read from Destiny's Fall, the sequel to Destiny's Blood.  Not sure yet. Maybe from my diary, too. Little Marie's deep thoughts are always a success (truly).


The Business of Writing
2 pm, Solarium
Marie Bilodeau(M), Leah Bobet, Robert J. Sawyer, John Scalzi, Douglas Smith


I've been on panels with most of these fine writers over the past few years and they're made of win. I'm thrilled that this year's last panel will be with such great people!

I'm moderating that panel again, which is funny. I don't know how I turned out to moderate most of my panels this year, but I'm enjoying it. Sometimes it's easy - I know the topic well and have a good idea what listeners are looking for. Other times it's a struggle because I have no idea what the panel is about and neither do any of the panelists. That's when I ask really strange questions such as "what's your association with reality?"  Thankfully most panelists are game for a little play time.

The worst part is scrambling to save a panel you can tell is tanking.  That's not always easy, sometimes completely impossible. But trying can be fun, too!  At least I know that my last panel of 2011 will be a success, unless none of the panelists show up, for some strange reason (I'm watching you all!)

So I hope to see you SFContario and, if you're in town, come to Chasing Boudicca on the 19th. I'll blog more about that next week!

Cheers!

NaNoWriMo

Last year, I was approached by a Sudbury writers' group to give them a kick-off message for their NaNoWriMo adventure.  I'm not participating in NaNoWriMo this year - too busy editing the sequel to Destiny's Blood. But I wish all of you who are participating the best of luck, and share the message I wrote last year.  I hope a couple of tips will prove useful! 


In 2009, my first novel was published.  I was also under my first publishing contract to submit the two other books in my Heirs of a Broken Land trilogy within six months of each other.  So I wrote a lot.  I edited and I launched books.  I also worked full time, and I'm also a performing storyteller.  Of course, the storytelling was taking off at the same time, too.

Writing requires dedication.  Your first publishing contract probably won't promise a six-figure advance, you won't be able to quit your day job right away, and life won't screech to a halt while everyone breaks into song to celebrate your success (I was disappointed, too).  Instead, you'll be published and suddenly have way more demands on your time and energy, and you'll still have to juggle everything else in your life.

And it's awesome.  Enjoy every minute.

Here are some of my war lessons and some basic things you should accept about NaNoWriMo:

1. People will think you're crazy.  They're right.
2. You will have bad days when everything you write is crap.  Keep writing.
3. Eat well, sleep some, stretch lots.  Your body is the conduit for your words.  Treat it with respect.
4. Write every day, at least a bit.  Novels are demanding lovers and will shun you without frequent attention.  
5. Life doesn't get in the way. Our choices do.  Choose wisely.
6. When you can't tell dreams from writing from 'real' life, you're on the right track.  
7. Don't drink yourself into oblivion.  It dulls your spirit and your writing.  Caffeinate yourself into existence, instead.
8. Writer's block is a myth.  Change mediums, POV characters, rewrite a scene, ignore that connecting scene and trudge on, change your surroundings.  Do what you need to do to keep those fingers typing.
9. Discipline works best when enforced.  For example, when writing, set your screen saver to come on after two minutes of inactivity.  If it comes on, your fingers and mind must get back to the task immediately.  You can be nice to your psyche when you no longer have a word count deadline.
10. Don't over-think.  Believe in the process.  Focus on writing scenes.  

Once you're done, don't send off your manuscript in a wave of enthusiasm.  Trust me, it's not there yet.  Let it rest for a few weeks.  Finish it if it isn't finished.  Then re-read it.  And learn to edit.  Getting published isn't magic. It's hard work and dedication, and a willingness to share your work.
NaNoWriMo is a great way to get those words and ideas out, so make sure to remember everything you've learned and apply it all year long, in a less frenzied pace!

Bon succès!

Bullied and Bully

The talk lately has been loud about bullies. And well it should be.  Kids hurting kids, kids feeling the only way to escape the world by killing themselves... it's not right, it never was, but it's always existed.

And it's something we don't really speak of, still. More and more people mention it, but it's not spoken of that much when you consider the devastating consequences it can have on innocent lives.

Everyone needs to speak out against bullying.  It's not just about being gay, or poor, or even rich, pretty or ugly, smart or not so smart.  It's about people and how people hurt people.  Not just about the labels they use to justify their behaviour. We can all be targeted, with no rhyme or reason, for something as simple as saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

In grade four, I was bullied in a pool because I said "sorry" when I bumped into someone.  The kid (a girl) pushed me in the water until I was coughing and spitting out water and she kept screaming "Sorry!"  I was still learning English and was confused between "I'm sorry" and "pardon me," so I couldn't tell if maybe I had used the wrong word.  It took me ten years to ask one of my university friends if sorry was the right way to apologize.  (I totally use that word when I bump into people now, too.  And I bump into a whole lot of people cause I'm a klutz.  Never got beat up since.)

Most of us were bullied, too, at one point or another.  Parents, siblings, schoolmates, bosses, co-workers... we all have to learn to cope or fight back in some way.

I followed the usual advice, at first. "Ignore them and they'll go away."  Really?  Who the heck came up with that advice, anyway?  "Ignore the grizzly running towards you and you'll be fine!"  "That bus sure is big, but if you ignore it, it surely won't hit you."

Those words are stupid.  I came to the conclusion early on that people utter those words hoping that they can ignore it, and it'll go away. And it's understandable, even.  Parents might have been bullied at one point and it might be their sincere wish that it'll fix itself because they're afraid of facing the bully's parents, who might also be bullies.

I get it.  But still, don't utter that sh*t.  Standing up is hard, but so is being bullied.

When I was growing up in a welfare, drug-ridden area (which is now a lovely area, might I add), I was lucky because I had my brother and my mom, and we lived on the outskirts of the "low-income housing."  Sure, the house was falling apart and was insulated with Jehova's Witnesses pamphlets (learned that when I leaned on the wall and went through it), but it was home and I loved it.  There was a lot of bullying, but I only got beat up once.  It was for a Club Z towel.

Club Z was the predecessor of the HBC points, before the great Zellers/Bay merger.  The towels were given out for free when you joined.  And that's what I got beat for.  An old towel that everyone got for free, for signing up for a points card.

It wasn't a horrible beating.  No broken bones, no bruises that were difficult to hide, but I remember thinking how sad it all was.  Beat up for a free towel.

I grazed over that incident (and many other incidents, including large objects hitting me). School is where things were really annoying me.  We were a low-income (or poor, as we used to call it) single mom family with two kids, and we didn't have money for "un-necessities," which included clothes.  So I got hand-me downs from my cousins.  My boy cousins.  My straight-as-a-stick boy cousins.  And I developed early, to boot.

At one point, in grade six, I only had two outfits for a few weeks.  One red plaid shirt and one blue plaid shirt.  (My love for clothing and shoes developed later in life, thankfully).  I was teased a lot, as you can imagine.  One day, I was walking home and a boy followed me, screaming at me, asking if I only had two pieces of clothing and saying other nasty things that don't bear repeating.  I tried to ignore him, like I always did with bullies.  Like I'd been doing for years. 

I cried as I walked faster and faster, but he kept screaming at me. The sole of my right shoe chose that moment to begin ungluing and I was horrified he would see it wobbling and make more fun of me.  I couldn't walk faster because of my shoe. He got closer.  I got more scared.

Then something snapped.  I remember my eyesight actually turned slightly black and I got light-headed.  I was pissed. I'd ignored for too long.  (Totally a Hulk moment, but less nakedness, thankfully. Though I look good in green!)

Physically, I wasn't able to defend myself all that well, but I soon learned that words were just as powerful a weapon.  I'd been insulted enough.  I had material to work with.  I made that bully cry and I was proud of it.

And then I made a lot more cry.  Not just bullies, too.  I bullied friends, their siblings... whoever was close enough for a lashing. I was a generalist as a bully. I didn't pick on people because of labels.  I just attacked before others could.

We moved right after the tenth grade and I changed high schools. I hated it. My brother didn't change cities with us, so I'd lost my best friend. We'd gone to five grade schools (that we recall) and I was used to having him around as my sole, dependable friend. I became an angry, dark teenager (I could have totally gotten on the emo train, if the emo train had been identified and labeled back then!)  My new high school was less than favourable and had a lot of bullying, drugs and fights.  I wasn't in the mood for any of it.  There were three bouncers in my new school and they were all scared of me within a week.

My tongue lashings seared and I knew it.

Around this time I also discovered heroic fantasy literature and took away the lesson that it was okay and good to stand up for yourself.  But see, I turned it all wrong. I stood up for myself by becoming, quite frankly, a bitch.  A bully in turn.  I had become my enemy.  And I was damn good at it, might I add.

I enjoyed it.  I laughed at the tears.  I was still well liked, generally, since I was outgoing (always have been). People opened up to me and I threw their pain and weaknesses back at them when it suited me.

I skipped grade 11 and went straight to 12, not wanting to bother with high school anymore.  My situation at home was degrading, I had only a few real friends and I felt smothered.

I was all dark nebulous clouds and lightning.

Before leaving for university, which was at least eight hours away, my mom told me this: "Be careful of your words.  I don't think you understand the power in them."

Now I'd read enough fantasy and comic books by then to take these words to heart.  I really thought about those words for a long time.  My brother gave me a yin-yang ring to remind me to strike a balance.  It didn't have to be all or nothing.  I was terrible at defining boundaries.

I went to university with a clean slate.  I decided not to be the bully anymore. I thought I could be more.  I was right.

Being a bully was, honestly, easy.  It seemed to be the only way to protect myself, because "ignore it and it'll go away" just didn't work.  I tried, until I couldn't take it anymore and snapped.

I had to relearn to treat people right and respect them, but when I was ready to do so, I met the four women who are still my best friends to this day, more than fifteen years later. I had stopped being a bully.

I still wear my brother's ring, to remind me about balance.  To be bullied or the bully are two dangerous extremes.  I write books I hope will inspire people, especially young women, to stand up for what they believe in and for those they love, not because they have the right guy, weapons or outfit, but rather because they believe or learn to believe in themselves and are willing to do what needs to be done. I really want people to believe in the good and the harm they can do.  To refuse responsibility is to deny potential. It makes me sad just thinking about it.

I avoid talking about my past generally.  I hesitated in telling this story, too.  I tell the funny stories (and there are many) and the quirky stories, but the ones I'm not overly proud of, I keep to myself.  Often I also don't feel I have a lot to add to dialogues.  But in this case, I wanted to speak up.  I've been on both sides of the train tracks, I worked hard at becoming who I am today and still work hard at it, and I'm a strong believer in personal responsibility.  I'm also a straight white girl.  Being bullied and being the bully are not all about being gay or macho, different skin tones or belief systems.  Those are the stories I've been hearing lately.  They're important, so important, and thank you for everyone who has the courage to share them. It's not easy.

But they're not the only stories.  There's no need to further isolate kids by saying the label brings the bullying. I know it's meant to bring solace to the bullied, but it somehow echoes the message that bullies who bully certain groups are "normal" bullies.  Bullying affects everyone at one point in their lives, regardless of who they are or what they represent. And we all need to stand together, so that those who are more likely to get picked on know they're not alone, that they have allies.  And not just allies in people that are "just like them," but allies in everyone else, too. Let's break the isolation.

Let's all join our voices against bullying in a chorus that can't be drowned out.

A Tale of Betrayal - by Underwear

Winning story told at the first slam of the second season of Once Upon a Slam in Ottawa. 

But really, need I say more than the title? 

Letters with no Reply - Sears Canada Online

I totally had made diagrams and included pictures, but unfortunately lost them.  It was by far the most complex letter I'd ever sent.  But fear not - I reproduced a diagram just for you!  Or what I imagine it looked like, anyway....

Dear caretakers of Sears Canada Online Catalogue,

Let me begin by saying that yours is a very friendly service and that despite growing doubts that I will ever receive merchandise from you, I would certainly call again to delight in the warm reassurances of your customer service representatives.

I do sympathize - it must be very difficult to assist customers who are faceless.  Although I have always believed my voice and convivial phone demeanour were enough to convey some of my personality over the cold data lines, I was obviously mistaken and sincerely apologize for my error. 

But let me step back a moment and explain.  On January 28, I ordered a family ring (picture and online confirmation attached for your perusal).  The ring was for my mother’s 60^th birthday, which has come and past without a gift, but still boasted a very fine party involving much cake, laughter, and, as all great moments, a few tears shed purely out of love.  You may also be interested to know that of the seven stones affixed to her might-be ring, six represent each one of her children (the seventh and middle one being, of course, her own).  And what is even more interesting is that she only has two biological children, of which I am one (please see attached family album to further comprehend).

Marty, Kat's fiancé, also wanted on, but there was no room.  Wess is also my sister-in-law, but she was my BFF first, so I give her this title.  And now, Ren is married and has a son, my bro and Wess have two kids, and can you imagine the family jewelry now?  I mean, it'd have to be a broche!  A shiny, shiny broche!  See the business they're now missing out on?

As you have no doubt deduced by now, I never received the ring, but have often basked in the glow of your reassurances and promises.  Not prone to suspicion (although perhaps a tad to paranoia), I thought that perhaps you simply needed a face, or seven, as it may be, to expedite the process by which you feel we would most fairly be compensated.  My mother regrettably suffers from some ill health, and is in fact currently on sick leave, and I would love for nothing more than for her to be able to gaze down at her finger and see how loved she is, and always will be. 

But I cannot accomplish that goal without your help. I trust you will find the attached documentation to be sufficient, and encourage you to contact me at (819) ***-****, should you need further information. I have a wonderful picture of my mother in her twenties, and although I agonized over the possibility of sending it to you, in the end, I chose to preserve the keepsake and not submit it to harsh scanner light.  But I could be convinced otherwise.

I hope to hear from you soon and wish you a most marvelous day.

Love,

Marie

Note: My mom's good now and enjoys her ring and various grandchildren. So I guess we can close this case as a happy ending, though I did bring in pictures of my mother to one of their store counters in an attempt to gain either sympathy or speed.  Gained latter. 

Destiny's Blood Super Duper Special Signing!

Destiny's Blood has been making the rounds, partying with people across the world.  It made the ballot for the Aurora Awards, and we celebrated by offering it as a free ebook for a while.  It won the bronze medal in science-fiction in the Foreword Book Awards, and we got slightly tipsy on mimosas. 

It's such a party even Layela's partying! No drink for her, though.  Best to keep sober when so many people are trying to kill you.

Now the Aurora voting period is ending tomorrow (get your votes in), and we're entering a whole other realm of partying!  This weekend, you can purchase a signed copy of Destiny's Blood!  (For the usual ebook price of 2.99.)   That'r right, a personalized ebook, because Dragon Moon Press is at the cutting edge of technology (and my sister-in-law let me steal her iPad for the weekend.  Mwa ha.)   As it's hard to sign on the iPad, each barely legible signature and dedication will also be accompanied by a carefully crafted, personalized drawing made by the author herself (moi).  Here's a selection of my as-of-yet undiscovered works bound to be worth millions:

Coconut Bill is a classic.  He's an actual coconut that I found at the bottom of a dry lake more than a decade ago, which I painted a face on and stuck a lock of my own hair on top as a toupet.  Yes indeed, a classic drawing not to be missed!

A balloon.  Because we're celebrating!  Note skillful use of colour and shading.



A psychotic happy face. Because nothing says "I'm happy" like differently-sized misshapen eyes surrounded by a huge mouth.

If my publisher had a say (which she apparently doesn't), I like to think she would stop the madness and disable the drawing feature. But she doesn't, or at least hasn't yet. 

To get your copy before my publisher steps in, please send me an e-mail at marie.s.bilodeau@gmail.com. 

Okay, that's as salesy as this girl can get. Back to writing!  Hope to see you guys this weekend at Con*Cept!

Cheers,

Marie