June 17th, 2011

The Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award

Thanks so much to Allyson Latta for gifting me with the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award! This is an award that is inspiring in its generosity–the rule is the recipients are the next adjudicators, and have to pass it on some other sweet blogs. Which is actually rule 3–let’s do this in order.

Rule one is to thank the person who have you the award–thanks so much, Allyson. We met when we judged the UofT writing contest last summer–and had a wonderful lunchtime debate over the winners at the Gallery Grill. Also is an insightful reader and a fascinating person, as her “7 things about me” section of the Blog Award requirements proves–you should read it if you haven’t already.

So rule 2–tell 7 things about me. I got into trouble trying to do the “25 Things about Me” Facebook meme a few years ago, but 7 seems more manageable. Let’s see…

(1) I’m from a quite small town, and I lived there until I graduated high school. Then I went to McGill and from there to live in Toronto. Apparently these urban experiences have completely overwritten any rural parts of my personality, because people are always shocked and disbelieving that I grew up planting squash seeds every summer so I’d have something to enter in the fair in the fall. I totally did though–and once my squash won third place!

(2) I have a bunch of qualities that “creative” people aren’t supposed to have–I’m pretty good at math, enjoy socializing and dislike being alone, have an easy time obeying orders and learning from direct instruction. The math is helpful, and so is being good at school-type contexts, but it’s a bit hard to be a writer if you don’t really like being on your own, which is why I am very glad I have this blog. And Facebook. And a good long distance plan. And friends in general.

(3) I really like cats. Really a lot (but not a psycho amount). The pathetic thing is I don’t have a cat of my own, and often, other people’s cats don’t like me. I think it is because I am too needy, and I want to play with/cuddle them more than they want to be played with/cuddled. I joke that I am a reverse cat lady because I have a happy long-term relationship with a man but can’t keep a cat interested–but really, when they sprint away from my outstretched arms and hide behind the couch, it still stings.

(4) I used to be a good driver, but after not having a car for a decade, I’m distinctly tense behind the wheel these days. I’m trying really hard to get better, but I still prefer to have a second opinion on whether it’s a good time to merge now, which doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in my passengers.

(5) I have two small titanium screws hinging my upper and lower jaws together, one right in front of each ear. If you were wondering, titanium does not set off metal detectors in airports.

(6) Of all the “amusing anecdotes” I sometimes tell at lunch or at parties, this one is the most popular:
A couple years ago, I was walking home from the grocery store (about a 6 block walk) and pulled a 600 mL bottle of Coke Zero out of the bags and began drinking it as I walked. A guy strode up from behind me on the sidewalk.
Guy: Can I have a sip?
Me: Uh, no. Sorry.
Guy: Oh, come on. I’m thirsty. Just one sip?
Me: I really can’t. (trying to walk faster, but groceries are heavy)
Guy: Come on, please (repeat several times)
Me: I’ll just give you the soda. Here.
(He refuses to take the bottle)
Guy: Is it because I’m black?
Me: No!
Guy: Well, why then?
Me: It’s because you’re a stranger! I don’t know you.
Guy: Oh, come on, I’m a good guy, etc. (followed by further badgering)
Me (now upset and confused): STRANGER! STRANGER!
Guy: (Backing away, hands up) Ok, ok. I’m a good guy you know. I’m just going to church.
Me: Ok.
Guy: So I’m going to go to church now. (He jaywalks across the street, and does in fact go into a church.)

(7) In grade 2, there was a sink directly behind the painting easel in my classroom. Sometimes centipedes would come out of the drain and live in the sink for a while, which freaked out/fascinated all the kids. Once while I was painting a picture at the easel, a centipede appeared in the sink. I was so disgusted by this that I took my brush and painted the centipede blue and yellow (this sort of reaction made sense when I was 7). When the teacher came over to look at my painting, she saw the painted centipede and admonished me: “What if I put you in the sink and painted you blue and yellow?” I thought it over and realized this was probably a fair punishment, and climbed in to the sink, which really baffled the teacher.

~~~
Here are some really sweet blogs for your enjoyment–the new winners of the Irresistibly Sweet Awards!

Candy Blog is an obvious choice for this one. Written by a playwright, but entirely separate from her creative work, the candy reviews are totally serious, well-written, detailed reviews of all the candy in the universe. Great reading if you…like candy, but also if you are looking to expand your vocabulary with ways to describe tastes and aromas. Fascinating.

The Corinna Wraps blog is a full of adorably wrapped presents and other confections made out of paper and card. It’s great if you’d like tips for gifts and favours, or even just like to look at pretty things. It’s done by my sweet friend Corinna, who also teaches workshops on how to wrap like she does. I took one of the workshops on Tuesday, and while my paper flowers came out a little wonky, I was impressed at how much she could teach even a klutz like me in only a couple of hours.

A Place is run by my dear friend Fred, but I’m pretty sure her blog would be funny and fun even for those who don’t know her. Just slice of life stuff–my favourite of the recent posts is the reviews of the foods she got out of a vending machine–but with a very charming eye for detail and a sense of humour. This blog is also 10 years old, so there is a wealth of archives to explore.

My friend Scott’s blog Letters to Henry (is it bad that I pretty much read only blogs of people I know?) is often inspiring and always interesting. I always wish for more updates (cough) but really, a fun and fascinating life away from the screen does make for better posts when they do appear.

~~~

Thanks again, Allyson, for this lovely award and a chance to gas on about myself and the blogs I like. A great start to my day!

November 10th, 2010

Rose-coloured reviews the Giller Prize show

I have not watched an awards ceremony on tv since…whenever the first time Steve Martin hosted the Oscars (ah, 2001! thanks, wikipedia). I thought it would be fun because I like Steve Martin, but I hadn’t seen any of the films, got bored almost immediately and gave up. As a child, I liked watching the Tonys, but only for the musical numbers.

Historically, I’ve taken little interest in the Giller Prize, for similar reasons—I had rarely read any of the books, no musical numbers, not even Steve Martin. But this year a number of authors I admire—and books I love—appeared on the list, and it suddenly had something to do with me.

I have to say, good as the nominees are, I have not found following the Giller run-up especially rewarding. I liked seeing This Cake Is For the Party flash randomly on the tv while I ran on the treadmill at my gym, and Steven Beattie’s five reviews are always interesting, but the Giller pledge? A seemingly drunken conversation in the Globe about how everyone under 40 is an idiot? I think a lot of stuff went on on tv, which I don’t have except randomly at the gym, which might have been more entertaining.

But I did want to watch the ceremony, so Mark (cableless) found us a home containing the three necessary elements—a functioning tv, cable, and a resident who didn’t mind watching the ceremony.

I gotta say, the CTV/Bravo folks (I didn’t know they were the same until this event) worked really hard. The show was exactly one hour, unlike the long rambling Oscars. Of course, it helps that they had only one award to give away. Mark and I briefly fantasized that perhaps there would be equivalents of the Oscars’ sound and lighting awards—stuff for book design and editorial work—but of course there wasn’t. Maybe next year.

The host—a Michael J. Fox-ish news anchor who was very charming but who made such intense constant eye contact with the camera his pupils seemed dialated—kept things moving at a good clip. Each book was introduced by a famous person who I had never seen in the flesh before, so I kept exclaiming “That’s what Anne Murray/Barbara Amiel Black/Jim Cuddy looks like?” The famous folks were non-literary except for one past winner, but all did admirable teleprompted jobs describing plot and character. Then there was a mini-movie about each author, showing them strolling around town with their partners and kids and talking about writing. Intercut with that was interviews with the judges, who described what was awesome about the book.

I’m not sure if I should admit this, but I really liked the personal stuff. Most of it had nothing to do with the books, but it was all very sweet and interesting. One relevant bit I especially liked how David Bergen’s university-student son described how he tried to challenge his dad with his philosophical readings, and that had ended up in the book. Some of it—especially the shots of each writer writing—was lame-o, but on the whole pretty tasteful.

After the little movie, the author was called to the stage. I was confused by this—were they going to give a reading?—but no, they were just given little leatherbound books with the Giller rose on them (what were they?), embraced by the presenter, and sent back to their seats. I guess it was a chance to show off their party cloths (wow, everyone looked good—how does a writer know where to buy and how to wear an evening gown? Does the Giller committee have people to help with that?)

I was surprised that there was so much talk about the books, but no readings. I had thought that’s what the authors were going up there for, or perhaps the presenters would do it, but no. Surely the books are the point of it all, and these talented folks’ actual prose would be much more interesting than the back-flap-chat summaries offered instead. I wonder why no readings…? Especially when so much time was lavished before and after commercials on showing the authors standing against a white screen, answering weird questions very badly. Almost all the clips involved them saying the questions were hard or impossible to answer, and that’s what was kept *in*. I wonder what they cut??

In truth, it wasn’t a very literary evening, even though the host kept exhorting viewers—with increasing anxiety, I felt—to read the books. It was really a sales-y style they used, mentioning the Giller effect and actually showing percentages of how much sales of past winners had increased with the win. I’m not sure what the point of that was, but if I was Linden McIntyre, I’d resent being called Mr. 710%, as he was last night. Isn’t it “The books sold so much because they’re awesome” not “The books are awesome because they sold so much”—right?

Those of us in the peanut gallery fell into decidedly non-literary behaviour, exclaiming over people’s clothing and what might be wrong with Barbara Amiel Black’s head (our hostess explained probably Botox). And then Johanna Skibsrud won, which I think was a big surprise to most, but a pleasant one. She was emotional, but still managed to give a good, clear, not-too-long speech. It was really worth the price of admission (well, we paid in Pirate cookies, but even more than that) to see Skibsrud’s sister crying with delight in the audience. That was lovely.

It was a pleasant evening and I’m glad I watched, though I don’t know that I’ll be in a desperate hurry to do so again. The emphasis on promoting Canadian authors in this show was a bit skewed—they’re only promoting five books. And the Giller pledge doesn’t make much sense and offends me in a way I can’t quite put a finger on—why do we have to promise? Can’t we put the books down if we get bored? And yes, I do think everyone should buy lots of Canadian books to keep our publishing industry going, but there was so much sales talk on this show, completely ignoring how much many people depend on the libraries systems, borrowing from friends, etc., and how that’s pretty good for the industry in its own way.

But then again, I don’t even know how to put on an evening dress, so I can’t really say.

September 14th, 2010

Bronwen Wallace

A call for submissions that might be worth considering:

The Bronwen Wallace Award for Emerging Writers: You’ve got to be under 35 and unpublished in book form to qualify for this one, but otherwise it’s quite uncomplicated to enter. Deadline December 17.

November 26th, 2009

This week in review

Of course, this week is not technically over yet, but rather a lot has already happened. I think it was enough to occupy an entire week if it was spread out, and I am rather hoping nothing further will happen until next. Thus, I dare to pre-emptively summarize:

Tuesday: I attended the Writers’ Trust Awards. It is a pretty glitzy event, with roaming waiters and lots of excited chat before the ceremony. At the ceremony, the Journey Prize was the first to be awarded, which meant co-presenter Anita Chong and I could get our moment of stress out of the way early and enjoy the show! I had perhaps 200 words to say, and really people just wanted to know who won, but I was very worried about flubbing it, or not even making it to the podium because I had spotted a gap between the top of stairs and the stage where I could easily wedge my foot.

But nothing happened like that, and I was able to present the winner, Yatsuko Thanh, for her story Floating Like the Dead with no trouble. What an honour to do so, and what an incredible story. I was charmed by how sincerely stunned Ms. Thanh seemed, and was really glad I got a chance to meet her. And the other two incredible finalists, Dave Margoshes for “The Wisdom of Solomon” and Daniel Griffin for “The Last Great Works of Alvin Cale.” An evening like this one really makes me feel alive to all the wonder and diversity of wonders in CanLit.

I was also happy to see that Annabel Lyon took the fiction prize though I have not read the celebrated book, *The Golden Mean*. But if my intense love of her first book, Oxygen is any indication, I should. And I was pleased to hear that, though Ms. Lyon was also pretty stunned by the win, she remembered to mention in her speech all those smaller literary magazines where she got her start, and to please for no further cuts to arts funding in Canada.

Wednesday: On Wednesday morning I went out to University of Toronto Scarborogh to do a guest lecture in my fellow UofT Creative Writing alumni Daniel Tysdal‘s short story class. I did, as promised read the end of a story, “Massacre Day.” When I told the students that I would read the last three pages of that piece, I had the extraordinary experience of watching a roomful of students pull out copies of my book and prepare to follow along.

But that extraordinariness did not all compare with the level discussion after my reading and (very brief) talk. The students were reading intently and speaking insightfully, not just about my work (although I appreciated that very much) but about everything they laid their eyes and minds on. What a fantastic way to spend a morning.

That evening, was the Biblioasis fall poetry party, featuring Zachariah Wells, Shane Neilson and Robyn Sarah. The non-present presence of a 4th poet was Wayne Clifford, whose work was read by all three of the others to make up for his absense. It was really cool to get three interpretations of one voice.

Also last night, I got to meet London, Ontario, novelist A.J. Somerset who just won the Metcalf-Rooke Award. There’s a lot of literary winning going on this week!

Today, is the real American Thanksgiving, I’m pretty sure, so I am wishing you all a happy one of those–I remain as Thankful I was last week, on fake Thanksgiving. Also today, due to a minor incident, I was without tights for a portion of the day, and it was actually warm enough that I didn’t mind dreadfully, temperature-wise. The upside of global warming. What was strange is that I felt like a total scandal, bare knees and nothing under my dress but panties, when of course that is how I spent the entire summer. I think winter makes me puritanical.

I also spent part of today talking books with Kerry Clare while I lay on the floor eating scones and playing with her baby daughter. That was, as you might imagine, delightful.

To continued, low-impact delight.
RR

November 23rd, 2009

On-going goings-on

I think this might be a low-post week due to busyness, but then again it might be a high-post week due to having pictures and reports on the busyness. We’ll see how that goes.

Plans:

Tomorrow night is The Writers’ Trust Awards ceremony. Despite being in a totally different venue than it was two years ago, and thus causing me a little brain-on-fire here-is-not-there moment, I still think it will a lovely event. There will be literary repartee of canapes and fancy drinks, there will be entertaining speeches (at least, last time I attended, almost everyone spoke remarkably well, and briefly), there will be a *lot* of prize money handed out. And there will be me, in a *dress that I ironed* (what I wouldn’t do for literature) helping McLelland & Stewart’s fiction editor Anita Chong announce The Journey Prize 21. Yay for all long-listers, short-listers, and of course, the soon-to-be-known winner (guess who is very excited not to have to keep a secret anymore??)

Then on Wednesday morning, I get to get up very early to go out to University of Toronto at Scarborough to give a lecture of my stories. I’m going to direct my comments mainly towards the last story in *Once*, “Massacre Day,” which is one of the ones the students are studying. It’s also a story I’ve never done a reading from and since the audience has all (allegedly) read the piece, I’m free to read from any point in the piece. I think I might take this unprecedented opportunity to read the ending. But what I am looking forward to most is a discussion with students. It never fails to amaze me when people offer me insightful, thoughtful, utterly accurate interpretations of my work that I never thought of. Can’t wait.

Wednesday evening will find me at Ben McNally’s for the Biblioasis Poetry Bash, appreciating three poets imported to Toronto for the occasion. Should be outstanding–see you there?

So, if this is it for postage for a few days, I would like to leave you with these lines from the song “The New World” by The Burning Hell:

My world would be a place where everyone would play the saxophone
But never soprano saxophone
Only tenor and baritone
Then a drum and a trumpet and a rusty old French horn
Would play a solo and make us shake our little bones

RR

November 15th, 2009

*This* just in

The November/December issue of This Magazine, themed “Legalize everything” is on newsstands now (and has been all month, so this isn’t “just in” at all–I’m just slow and can’t resist a pun!) Among other bits of awesome, it’s got the results of The Great Canadian Literary Hunt, of which I was one of the fiction judges (along with Dennis E. Bolen and Kate Sutherland, with whom it was such a pleasure to share thoughts on the stories). I am so delighted for all the winners and encourage you to go seek out the inspiring weirdness of these stories immediately.

RR

October 2nd, 2009

Another week

And another week’s end round-up:

Michael Turner answers 12 or 20. Mr. Turner is an important author for me (although really also for Canada) for various reasons, not least his was one of the first literary readings I ever saw, and at said reading, the very first pornographic film I ever saw.

The Literary Type has a hilarious post about The New Quarterly’s adventures at Word on the Street. My favourite part is when Melissa worries she’ll have to live in the parking garage. Oh, I love those guys!!

My matching quote game was met with near-resounding silence (thanks for trying, AMT) but here are the answers anyway: 4 a), 3 b), 2 c), 1 d), 5 e).

The Writers’ Trust announced their shortlists on Wednesday, including the Journey Prize shortlist, announced by Camilla Gibb and me.

It got really cold in Toronto and I hate it. I am also encountering some sort of wardrobe malfunction wherein all my clothes disintegrate (within the privacy of own home, mind) so I have to cobble together outfits that don’t make sense just for frostbite prevention. I will shop tonight, I swear it,

Behaved very badly in the arms of a boy
RR

September 29th, 2009

Master Classes

If you read much of Rose-coloured last spring, you likely came across notes on my time teaching creative writing to grade 10s and 11s. From this, I learned so much–nothing makes you critical of your own assumptions, limits, and biases like trying to impart them to cranky teens. Every time they questioned me, I questioned myself, and discovered either renewed confidence in my ideas about writing, or renewed eagerness to come up with some better ones.

This spring and summer, I found another way to shake myself out of my habitual thinking and look at things in new ways: judging. When I was asked sit on the jury for Journey Prize 21 I was honoured and terrified–the nominated stories were selected by journal editors as the best they’d published that year! So they were all going to be *pretty* good, and how finely could I discriminate? How could I choose between one very good story and another without simply falling back on my own ingrained prejudices about what I *prefer* in a story, but is not always perfectly coincident with what’s *good*.

By reading really carefully and slower than is my wont, by taking notes, by rereading, rereading and rereading. Also, it turns out, by talking. The Journey committee deliberations had some email components, but also a long day in a room with nothing but a pretty view, a lot of delicious food, and stories to discuss. When I sat down with Camilla Gibb and Lee Henderson, I thought that it would be too indimidating to speak up, and yet too irresponsible to the stories not to. So I talked a little, and they were warm and collegial. So I talked some more, and though we didn’t always agree, we did always take others’ points seriously and honestly, and everyone was willing to return to a story and try to see someone else’s reading of it.

And I did too–it was shocking, the way school is shocking. You walk into class having done the readings and formed your opinions, and you aren’t even wrong–there’s just another layer, another dimension, that the prof (or fellow students) introduce and make you go back and reread and say, “Oh!” I think we were all able to provide these new layers on different stories for each other, and that was what was so amazing and educational–this 360 view on published stories (we do this all the time in workshop, but that’s with an eye to the story being rewritten).

The next time I was asked to be a story contest juror, I was much more eager and less trepidacious, and it was another wonderful experience even though, as it turned out, I didn’t actually get to do it. I was merrily reading and note-taking for the University of Toronto alumni short story contest when a story I recognized popped up in the second round. As said story progressed to the shortlist, I realized I had to recuse myself from the jury.

By then, though, I had some pretty strong attachments to the stories and was depressed that I’d miss out on what was sure to be a fascinating discussion about who should be a finalist and who should win. I’d also heard through the grapevine that the discussion was to be held at a really good restaurant. So I offered to be a silent audience, mouth opened only to put food in (it really was excellent). Everyone agreed, thank goodness, because this was a whole other education: to listen to the intelligent dialogue and short-story dissections of Andrew Pyper, Lee Gowan and Allyson Latta without the burden of self-consciousness. I had a very solid grasp on the stories, but since I didn’t have to be articulating that grasp every minute, I was able to listen ever more deeply to what the other judges thought and felt about the stories. Once again, we were not always in accord, but everyone presented their thoughts with respect for even stories that didn’t work for them, and with a willingness to see things from another perspective, should one be offered.

By the time it came around to adjudicating This Magazine’s Great Canadian Literary Hunt, short-story side, I felt like I was gaining some expertise (of course, not everyone would think it brilliant time management to agree to sit on three story juries in six months, but honestly, how do people say no to these cool opportunities???) This time it was an e-discussion amongst Dennis Bolen, Kate Sutherland and myself. Again, a vibrant mix of reading styles and expressive styles, and a great openness to very different readings of the same story (although this time, sadly, nothing to eat). Again, a feeling that the other judges had opened up the stories for me, making me read even those I loved in new ways, and giving me ways into stories that hadn’t previously spoken to me.

You can see the results of the UofT and This contests in those magazines’ last issues of the year, and you can see read the Journey Prize longlist starting next week, when the book is for sale. You can also come see me and Camilla Gibb announce the shortlist for the Journey, tomorrow at 10am at Ben McNally Books, along with a few others of the Writers’ Trust Awards shortlists.

Or you can do none of these things and simply trust me on this: people are writing really amazing short stories out there, and they don’t seem likely to run out of ways of surprising us with the form anytime soon. And people are thinking about short stories out here, too, and we don’t seem likely to be run out of ways of being surprised, either.

All the lies in the book
RR

September 18th, 2009

Suggestions

There is *so much* going on of late that is awesome that the only way I can imagine anyone going wrong is if they were to sit home in the dark and not read anything. But if you are looking for suggestions…

1) Leon Rooke!! Everyone thing the man does is astounding, but specifically:

a. His new book, The Last Shot, promises to be thrilling. I have to admit I haven’t opened it yet, as I only attended the warm and wonderous launch last night, but such was the buzz in the room that I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.

b. His festival, The Eden Mills Writers’ Festival, which Leon and his late wife Connie started over 20 years ago, and which continues to surprise and delight and extremely talented authors to read there. This Sunday afternoon, by the river outside Guelph. I’m bringing muffins, a sitting-on-the-ground blanket, and book-buying funds–see you there?

c. His art exhibit, Peculiar Practices, at the The Bookshelf in Guelph, which runs until this Sunday. I have no idea what to expect, but am excited anyway!

2) If for some reason you can’t be in the Guelph/Eden Mills regions but you can be in the Sharon region, maybe try the Words Alive Festival in Sharon, Ontario, also with a bevy of talented readers, and (I’m told) a beautiful setting… If I weren’t already booked!

3) In preparation for hearing her read at the aforementioned Eden Mills, I have been joyously reading Saleema Nawaz’s beautiful story collection Mother Superior. I’m only halfway, and still have no idea what the cover art means, but I already know that this is one of the best new books I’ve read in a while.

4) Online: Alex Boyd has a new blog, Kathrine Nabity is doing a wonderful history of how she wrote and published her first novel, and *I* have an author page on GoodReads!!

5) I’ll be reading in Ottawa on October 17, 5pm, at the Manx Pub as part of the Plan 99 reading series. I am very excited.

6) You can go read some good stories at the University of Toronto alumni Short Story contest readers’ choice site. If you are yourself an alumnus, you can even vote for your favourite. (completely equitable hint)

I am very excited about everything in the universe right now, except that it is cold out and I am not feeling well. So, thank goodness for literature! As usual!

Precious precious precious
RR

August 26th, 2009

Relit Awards Long List

I am a bit behind, as usual, but someone nice just pointed out to me that the Relit Awards Long List were announced last week, and *Once* was included (in the short fiction category, natch). It’s a big list, full of amazing books, and I’m delighted to be included. This news makes up for the rain for sure, and maybe even the ongoing lowlevel rage that left-handed mousing is producing. That one may not have been the best idea I ever had. But on we struggle!

Talking to all my little pets / smoking the same old cigarettes
RR