Cover Art

Isn't this a stunning photo?

I stumbled across it among my daughter's photos when I was looking for something else. At first I thought it was a photo she'd taken, but then I realized that those are her legs. Not too likely that she posed and took the shot. She's flexible, but.... even she has limits.

The image has stayed with me, I guess because it's such an unusual subject, the ballet slippers against the backdrop of a chain-link fence in an industrial area.

Then I remembered that the novel I'm working on features a dancer. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could use this photo on the cover of the book? It would be so perfect to have my daughter as the model. And this is exactly the kind of photo that my last two books have featured, photos that show only one part of the body, the part that suggests what the theme of the book might be... Maybe if I rewrite the setting into a more industrial area....

Okay, I just gave my head a serious shake. I am getting way ahead of myself. The book is only half written. I haven't signed a contract. I may never get it finished and even if I do, chances are that it won't be publishable. And even if I do get it finished and someone agrees to publish it, the publisher always determines what the cover art will be. I've rarely heard of an author having any say on what goes on the front of their books. Their job is to write the story. It is someone else's job to design the book.

But I can dream. And it IS a stunning photo. And I AM a proud mother.

Aging Gracefully

Is there such a thing for women?

Yes, I guess there is. Those women I know who truly are aging gracefully are the ones who never carry on about their fading beauty, their new-found wrinkles, the sagging eyelids, their double-chins. And I do know women like this. They are the women who simply get up in the morning and get on with living a fulfilling life. But really. It's not easy. Everywhere we look we're bombarded with ads for anti-aging creams, teeth whitening products, hair colouring/replacement formulas. The media tells us, insists, really, that we should fight the signs of aging ~ at all costs!

This has really hit home for me in the past few years. I keep a website, and teacher-librarians often check this site before inviting me to their schools and libraries to do presentations. I have not bothered to update my author photo in about 10 years. The old one was a good photo, taken by my local newspaper, but really, I don't look like that anymore. I guess I simply didn't want to admit that to myself.

I met a lovely author in Whitehorse this spring, Shyam Selvadurai, who I only knew through his author photo. Once we met and got acquainted, I teased him about his publicity pictures, and how I'd expected to meet someone about 12 years old. He shook his head and said it was just sheer laziness that kept him from making updates.

I guess that was part of it for me, too, (laziness) but I suspect there was more to it. I say that I never take a good photo, but to be honest, it's not the photo, it's the subject. She's growing old. (See previous post.) There have been clues, loud ones, that it was time to update my on-line presence. In recent months (and years, if I'm being honest), when I've arrived at schools and libraries to do those presentations, the teacher or librarian would often do a double-take. They'd say, "Shelley? Is that you?" I could see them scanning my face, trying to find the similarities to the book-jacket photos they'd seen.

"Yes." I'd say, and smile innocently.

They try to hide their shock, and say things like, "Oh, I was expecting someone with dark hair, or someone taller, or....."

"Or someone younger?" I'd ask.

They always look sheepish, and I can only laugh. Of course they expected someone younger. My publicity photos show someone MUCH younger.

So today was the day. Daughter #2, Cara, photographer extraordinaire, took about 1000 head shots of me. I knew I would hate most of them, and I did. But there were a couple that were okay. Better than okay. Flattering, actually. I may be older, but is that character I'm seeing in that older face? And those lines around my eyes... laugh lines?

I have a new web designer and in a week or two those old author photos will be history, replaced with the new ones, and in the future, I will will try to be like my beautiful friends, the ones who accept the aging process, who don't spend ridiculous amounts of time and money to fight the inevitable. And I will not wait 10 years to replace the publicity photos. I will hire a good photographer (hopefully, Cara) and expect a few flattering shots. I will look at the aging face, and know that if I'm living a good life, it will be well-etched into my features and I hope to feel acceptance of that

In the meantime... posted are a few of Cara's photos. Didn't she do a great job?

Diva Down

I recently spent a long weekend in Vegas with 15 other women. How did this happen? There are dozens of places I'd choose to visit before Vegas.

Call it peer pressure. Call it a weak moment, but The-Book-Club-plus friends-that-likes-to-travel-together decided it was a great idea, and being a member of this group, I signed on. Maybe it was time for a little frivolous fun in my life.

Well. Day #1 was a most extraordinary day, and far from frivolous. The book-club- plus-friends is made up of remarkable women and one of these women was celebrating her 60th birthday. We knew that this occasion needed to be marked in a significant way, so we rose early, (after retiring late), climbed into two vans and drove out to the desert. I could not believe that such spectacular natural beauty could be found rubbing up so close to a city of such unlimited pretension.

We parked the cars at the epicenter of Red Rock Canyon and hiked one of the trails. Once we were immersed in the canyon, another one of our most remarkable women led us in a poignant ritual that marked the decades of the birthday gal's life. No matter how skeptical some of us had been at the start of the ritual, we were each moved to tears by the end as we reflected on our own life journeys' to date. The calling in of the directions, (North, South, East, West, above and below) and the smudging for purification all felt odd, but it set the tone for the ritual, and as a group we moved into a spiritual place that was most profound.

The ritual came to a beautiful end, the birthday girl wore her crown of dessert flowers and we piled back into the vans to return to Sin City, a jarring experience.

Our amazing organizers had thought to pre-order tickets to see Bette Midler that evening. Not being a Midler fan, I didn't have any expectations, good or bad. We'd each brought a boa to wear to the show to honour Bette's poster where she wears nothing but boas to advertize her show. Arriving as a pack of middle-aged women in gaudy boas (see above photo) someone in the theatre took notice and our seats were upgraded from the cheap seats to middle-of-the-road ones.

The moment she came on stage I became a true-blue Midler fan. Such energy! Such charisma. She confesses to doing the same show for 40 years, but you'd never know it. The way she engages with the audience is heartwarming. Part of her shtick was poking fun at how the (old) showgirl must go on. Many of her routines made light of the aging process, and at one point she fell onto her back and moaned, "Diva Down!" It became our mantra for the rest of the weekend.

It seemed uncanny that we could start the day reflecting on our life journey (and growing old) in such a beautiful and profound way, and end the day laughing so hard at the same life journey in a totally opposite kind of setting. Bette is a remarkable performer. No wonder she has such lasting power. After all these years she still appreciates her audience and shows beautiful humility at her continued popularity.

The day had come full circle, from heartfelt reflection to tears of laughter. Two different ways of looking at the aging process, and both equally as valuable.

The rest of the weekend was a more typical Vegas experience, but I will always remember the joy of that first day, for the beauty of the canyons, the rituals, and the growing old Diva who simply won't quit.

One of our lovely organizers sent the above picture to the local paper as they publish photos of locals travelling the world and holding up editions of their newspaper. Our picture was printed, but it was so small no one would have been able to recognize the faces. Kerry Henderson, writer extraordinaire, and with tongue planted firmly in cheek wrote to our Vegas group to share the following.

"I just received a visit in my classroom from both the editor of the North Shore News and Izzy Asper himself, CEO of CanWest Global and newspaper mogul.
They wished to sincerely apologize, in person, for the somewhat smallish and murky picture of the 16 of us in Las Vegas.
I believe their exact words were, "There is no size of photo that could ever be reproduced in the pages of a newspaper that would adequately capture AND reflect the colourful personalities and large hearts of such a group of beautiful ladies".
Of course, I had to agree with them, and accepted their heartfelt apologies on our collective behalf."

Thank you Kerry. You said it perfectly.

Self-Sabotage

My dear friend (DF) recently asked if I'd been doing much writing.
"No," I replied.
"Practising yoga?" she asked.
"No," I replied.
"Hiking?"
"No."
She just looked at me, eyebrows raised. She knows those three things are my major passions, aside from friends and family.
I opened my mouth, about to launch into my many excuses. All legit. But then I didn't. Instead, I threw the same questions back at her.
"Have you been painting?"
"No."
"Practising yoga?"
"No."
"Meditating?"
"Yes." She grinned, knowing she was one up on me.

But the questions hung in the air between us. Why aren't we doing those other things? We know they are good for us. We know they bring us satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment. In short, they make us happy. We've been busy all our lives but in the past we still managed to carve out time for them.

With a sigh, DF and I agreed that staying on track with our passions is like staying on track with anything else. Routine is essential. As with exercise, or a diet, it just takes a few days of breaking the routine and the chances of falling off the wagon increases tenfold. We are creatures of habit, and we have to be diligent in making sure our habits are healthy ones. Ones that bring us pleasure. Ones that help us grow into our best selves. It's hard for me to get started each day on my writing projects, but once I'm warmed up, (like with exercise) it begins to feel good and I don't want to stop. It's just getting myself started, facing that blank page, or getting myself to the yoga studio or to the trailhead that is the hard part. I can't explain why, it just is.

Tomorrow is the start of a new week. There are still boxes to unpack, my mother to take care of and a to-do list a mile long but I think I'll start the day with a sun-rise yoga class. The natural high I experience from practising yoga will stay with me for at least a few hours, helping me accomplish many other tasks. I'll ask one of my daughters to walk the dog and my mother is stable enough to manage a day without a visit. So, after yoga I'll dust off the novel-in-progress. I'll face that blank page. And I'll do it again the next day, and the next. The page won't stay blank for long. I'll be a happier person for it, and the people in my life will benefit as well. Good energy begets good energy.

I know this to be so.

Feeling Blessed

From the DailyOM: Part of the joy of friendship is the feeling that we are accepted just the way we are, with no need to change. It is a gift friends give us, and one we can give back every day. Ultimately, we choose friends because they make us feel good about ourselves and life. Through tears and difficulties, friends help us find the laughter. When we find those special people who offer us that perfect combination of comfort and stimulus to grow, we are very fortunate. Friends, those wonderful companions that walk with us through life, help us define and refine who we are and who we choose to be every day. http://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/userinfo/settings.cgi?subscribe=1

My life is rich with amazing friends. I was reminded of this once again when I was invited to Leslie's for dinner last night. There was supposed to be 4 of us, very close friends. I should have been suspicious because Leslie doesn't like to cook. She has the local Chinese Take-out phone # memorized. But she said she wanted to try something new, and I fell for it. Some would call me thick. I guess I am. I arrived to a large gathering of many of my friends, all there to celebrate my nomination for the White Pine Book Award which will be awarded next week. I think I went into a state of shock, and when Leslie toasted the nomination with the loveliest of speeches, I was too overwhelmed to say anything coherent, let alone gracious. I'm still feeling dumbstruck.

I may be the first author, ever, who was thrown a party for an award nomination, but that's the kind of friends I have. When I moved recently, the offers of help poured in. I have friends who listen endlessly to my worries about my mother's declining health. I have friends who have helped me through the huge transitions in my life. My daughters have become my friends. My sister is my 'oldest' friend of all. Some of my friends I rarely see, even though we are practically neighbours, but we keep in touch through email. Sometimes months or years go by, and I think I may have lost touch with a friend, but then we'll reconnect and I'm reminded of the special bond we once had and enjoy the rekindling of it. Some of my friends I know through common interests, like bookclub, and I enjoy getting to know them as we discuss how books move us (or not).

I have always made it clear that I never want to be the recipient of a surprise party. I'm most uncomfortable being the center of attention at any event. But seeing so many friends gathered together last night ~ well, it was truly heartwarming. Thank you, Leslie, for being you, for believing that this was an occasion that was party-worthy, and for all your kind words. (I almost felt like I was at my own funeral.) (note to self: make a request in my will to have Leslie give my eulogy.) Thank you to your co-conspirator, Jennifer, for the many ways you celebrate women and encourage us to reach our potential. You are both women that truly deserve to be celebrated.

And I'd like to thank all my other friends, near and far, the ones I know well, the ones I am just getting to know, the ones I rarely see, the ones I see daily. Each of you enriches my life in so many ways. I am truly blessed.

Image from www.whimsicalplanet.com/pages/cats.html

Letting Go

I am moving. I am also moving on.

Deciding what to take with me, and what to leave behind or give away was feeling like an enormous burden until I read a column called Clearing a Space for Change in the on-line OM column I subscribe to. (Register here for free OM newsletter.)

In this particular column I was reminded that it’s easy to... "convince ourselves that unused possessions might come in handy someday or that parting with them will cause us emotional pain." So true. I have souvenirs from long-ago holidays that are simply collecting dust, and clothes that I keep 'in case' I lose 10 lbs, and the drawers in my desk and kitchen are overflowing with trinkets that I simply haven't been able to part with. Each one of these objects has a special memory attached to it, and until now, I felt unable to let them go.

But the OM goes on to say that ... "when your personal space is filled with objects, there is no room for anything new to enter and stay in your life. Your collection of belongings may “protect” you from the uncertainties of an unknown future while keeping you stuck in the past. Holding on to unnecessary possessions often goes hand in hand with holding on to pain, anger, and resentment, and letting go of your material possessions may help you release emotional baggage. When you make a conscious decision to fill your personal space with only the objects that you need or bring you joy, your energy level will soar. Clearing your personal space can lead to mental clarity and an improved memory. As you learn to have a more practical and temporary relationship to objects, positive changes will happen, and you’ll have space to create the life that you desire."

Okay, it won't be easy, but as I pack up the belonging that I truly need and are still useful to me, I will try my hardest to leave behind those possessions that no longer serve a purpose in my life. After all, who doesn't need improved mental clarity and improved memory?

Back to packing...


photo credit: www.janicemarinerward.com/

Why read?

I once sat on a panel of children's literature book enthusiasts at a conference. One of the questions that came from the audience, and it was clearly facetious, was "why is it so important that kids read anyway?"

It was an interesting question, and one that forced those of us on the panel to articulate a concept that seemed so obvious to us, yet one we'd never put into words. "Why," the audience member continued, "is it not good enough that kids just watch TV or movies? They get stories in those mediums too."

My pat answer was to rattle off yet another quote. "I've never met a bigot who was, as a child, a reader." (author unknown)

The other panel members had more thorough answers. First of all we established the fact that we use and challenge a different part of our brain while reading as opposed to viewing TV or movies. Very important. Then we reiterated that it is only through reading that we learn what it feels like to live in someone else's skin, in their circumstances. Through reading we develop empathy and understanding. The more widely we read, the greater understanding we gain of the world outside of our own little lives. We learn what it feels like to be the opposite sex, to live in a different country, a different era, a different political system, with a different set of values. In short, we learn tolerance. And bigots, of course, are anything but tolerant.

In my last post Leslie named the book that turned her onto a reader as a young girl. The Girl of the Limberlost. The book I most vividly remember as a young girl was Harriet the Spy.

What was it for you?

photo credit: http://lowe.lib.wv.us/read01.jpg