Yuck!

snow, strong winds, temps minus 4

Just so you know, the title of this post contains a typo.

Storm blew in about 2 hours ago. Not actually all that much snow, but dastardly strong winds. The mudroom (so appropriately named) door blew open and I didn't discover it until I went to take Trudy for her walk and check the mailbox. sitting in the living room, writing, I could feel a slight chill, and a draft. Little did I know the outside was piling into the house like marauders. And our heat was, understandably, fleeing.

but now we're sealed in tight. Or at least as tight as a united empire loyalist brick home gets.

March is a good month to be away from Quebec. As is, I have to say, April. Indeed, April might be a worse month here than even March. Only because of all the false hope. Each year we think maybe this really is it. Spring is here, for real. And each year our tender hope is crushed under yet another snow storm.

So one in mid-March is not exactly a big surprise.

I hear from some of your comments on yesterday's post that we're far from the only ones getting this storm. C'est la vie, I guess. And if we choose to live here, what can we expect?

The problem really is the transition months. Mid-March to mid-April. Mid-November to mid-December.

I'm thinking next year we might try to get to London for April. We've spent the month of April there in the past, renting a flat. But I found it frustrating to try to write when one of the great cities of the world was calling. Too many distractions. And when I was out enjoying London, I was frustrated because I felt I needed to be writing.

But I think I've matured enough in my writing and my process that fear, while always there, plays less of a role. Spends less time in the drivers seat. Yes - next April in London would be fabulous. And Michael's birthday is in April. It would be a fun way to celebrate.

As you see - I dream ahead.

Writing forging ahead. One foot in front of the other. I think it's going well...but then sometimes I feel as though while the word-count is going up, the story is not actually progressing. But I feel like that with all the books. And I might actually be right....and have to remember that with a first draft it doesn't matter. It will never be right the first time.

Issues like pacing are often, for me, more obvious and solved in later drafts - when I can see the arc. Right now the focus is on characters and plot. Getting those forged.

At almost 25-thousand words now. About a quarter of the way through the first draft. And when I finish the first draft I figure I'm about half way through writing the book. There will be at least four sometimes five, six or seven more drafts. But with each one the changes get smaller and smaller. Until it is just polishing. changing a word here or there. Things no one else might notice, but I do.

And still, without exception, when I read the final draft, after the books is out, I cringe, and wish I had just one more go at it.

Off to Montreal tomorrow...pat and tony and their one remaining dog, Filo, moving in to look after the house and Trudy.

2 minutes

partly cloudy, mild, temps 13

Nice day - and a day when nothing is happening. Absolutely no appointments - nothing. Well, I had an interview I had to do, but that was easy.

Michael and I headed off early and walked over to Chelsea Green and a restaurant we like for breakfast (it's about a 25 minute walk) called Tom's Kitchen. As promised, though, here finally is the view down our street (Basil street) to Harrod's a block away.

Heaven.

We turned left at Harrods then followed all sorts of windy roads to the restaurant, where we had cappuccino and fresh squeezed orange juice - then Michael had a brioche french toast and I had scrambled eggs, toast and bacon (which I shared with him just to keep his crying from upsetting the children at the next table).

Then we walked down a block or so the the Kings Road and a favorite haunt. Starbucks. I'm not kidding. it wouldn't normally be our first choice in a city renowned for great cafe's - but this one has a second floor with huge floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the Kings Road. It has become a traditional place for us to go for a hot chocolate or coffee, and read our manuscripts. This time I was actually reading a book for research for the next one I'm writing. Such fun to sit there, reading and making notes.

Then off to Marks and Spencer to more food - picked up the Telegraph and the Times - and home.

yesterday was a long but fun day. Started with a phone interview with a British publication called Women's Weekly. Then a hair appointment up on the Brompton Road -

(just interrupted writing because we could hear horses clomping down the road below...leapt up and sure enough there was a carriage, with two horses, and two Harrod's men in livery. I wonder if that's how they deliver their famous harrod's hampers? Worth ordering one just to see)

Then grabbed a cab across town for lunch with my editor, Dan Mallory. The cab suddenly slowed down and I strained to see what the delay was, only to discover that two cars ahead was the Queen's carriage! Gold and enclosed and flanked by horsemen - returning for the Cenotaph for the Remembrance Day ceremonies. It's very solemn here. Everyone observes it the 2 minutes of silence at 11am. Indeed, one of the top selling video's in Britain is exactly that. It's put out by the Royal Legion and is 2 minutes of silence. Featuring men and women, some famous, some not, just quietly staring into the camera - with just the background sound audible. Excruciatingly beautiful and moving. Michael emailed later and said he was in the shops and at 11 am everyone just stopped. customers in the aisles, clerks, checkouts. Everyone stopped. After 2 minutes there was a sound and everyone started again.

We followed the queen down the road. She turned in to Buckingham Palace, and we didn't.

A few minutes later the cab dropped me at Lutyen's Restaurant, on Fleet Street. I had a few minutes to spare so I went in to St. Bride's church. Known as the journalists church - which surprised me since I always thought journalists were a godless bunch of heathens. But apparently I was wrong. This being Fleet street, a huge number of printed papers and magazines had their names on pews.

But what staggered and humbled me (yet again) was the memorial. To the journalists killed covering conflicts. Including a 23 year old photographer stoned to death in Somalia. Dear Lord.

And the poppies, of course. Remembering.

Dan and I had a fabulous lunch in what had been the Reuter's building (he had chicken, I had dover sole) and we gabbed for hours. Then headed back to the litte, Brown offices for tea. There's a photo of the Little, Brown team. Dan is standing on the far right. How kind they were to do this, so that I could meet them all at once. Such an amazing group of people. I'm really looking forward to getting to know them better. But what I do know is that they treated me - a new author from Canada - as though I was the most important person on their list (which clearly I am not). So gracious.

Teresa, my agent, was also there. Afterward she and I walked for about half an hour along the Thames. It was dark and we could see the London Eye (the huge ferris wheel, lit up all red - as a poppy. for remembrance day. Then the underground home. I got off at Sloane Square. The photo with the bus and the christmas lights is of Sloane Square. Most of London has just been decorated for Christmas and is as beautiful as you might imagine.

What a magical time. Je me souviens.

Nothing on the agenda tomorrow. No lunches, no meetings, no interviews. Just us. Wow.

Raspberries, peas and hollyhocks. Oh my.

misty, foggy, humid this morning - now sunny and hot temps 28

Well, while we were away in NYC the garden went nuts! Happily corralled by Lise and Donna. But all the flowers have exploded into bloom. It's fantastic. The clematis all over the birdhouse, the climbing roses in full bloom. And as I walked Trudy around the pond I noticed raspberries! I wasn't prepared, no bowl, but we got a handful (between mouthfuls - I blame Trudy, dreadful influence).

I adore hollyhocks, and their spires are in full and magnificent bloom.

So lovely to walk first thing in the morning, especially when it's misty. Everything smells so sweet, and a different aroma with each step. Some sweet, some musky.

the phlox are out! I think they're my favorite summer flower - perhaps even eclipsing peony. Lovely little blossoms, but mostly it's the fragrance. Reminds me of childhood summers by the lake.

After breakfast Michael and I sat on the screen porch, sharing the table, each with our laptops...working on our books. He's still at it. Amazing. I stopped about 3pm. Again, more editing than I expected - but more fine tuning. there will be at least one more draft, I know, before anyone gets to see it. I hope to finish this one - the third draft - by the end of next week. Might take the weekend off...then head right back to the fourth draft. Hoping to have it all finished by the time we head to Stratford and British Columbia.

Oh, we've made reservations to go to London in November. Meet with the new publishers and editor again, have lunch with agent Teresa - but mostly...have fun after a very long tour!! Have rented a flat on Basil Street in Knightsbridge, right behind Harrods and around the corner from Harvey Nichols (aka Harvey Nics)

Can hardly wait!!!

but for now, how wonderful to sit on the porch, look out at the magnificent garden, thanks to Lise and Donna, and write with Michael. Bliss.

You've got to pick a pocket or two

sunny, mild, temps 17

Gorgeous day here in London. And a fun day. We're just off for tea at Harrods. bought two big bunches of tulips at a stall along the King's Road and they're now on the tablein front of me. wonderful flat we've rented in Chelsea. We're here until Saturday. Fabulous view...we're on the top floor...at night we see one of the bridges all lit up. And the sun just streams in.

Day didn't start out so great. I discovered my wallet had been stolen last night in the pub. Quite upsetting. But after scouring the flat and realizing it really was gone I called Visa and cancelled the credit and bank cards. Need to alert other places. But I was actually very lucky that there was absolutely no money in it. I hadn't yet put in British pounds...and I consider Michael my bank machine anyway, so as long as the pickpocket doesn't steal Michael, I'm fine.

Went along to the pub to make sure I hadn't just left it there by mistake, then off to the police station. They were polite, but clearly were not going to put a cordon around London. Stop the flights. Then we went and had a big hot chocolate at Starbucks. We go to a very specific one - again on the King's Road. We went to it, and sat upstairs looking out the windows, before Still Life was published...before I had an agent...just a dog-eared manuscript, filled with all my thoughts, my characters, my dreams. I remember sitting in that very Starbucks editing it. And so every time we're in London we return. Today I sat there with the editors notes for Book 6, reviewing them, thinking about them. Making my own notes.

Michael's sister Carol gets home from the hospital today...we're so looking forward to seeing here and hope to tomorrow. She had a serious spine operation and had a bad reaction to the medication. Went quite nutty, apparently...but is fine now. Thank God. We were very worried for a while. She's a really wonderful person. Very smart and very kind.

Off now, as I say, to tea at Harrods...our regular treat when first we arrive in London. I realize how much I like routine, and how rich a place becomes once I've established one. We went, for instance, to Tom's Kitchen off Chelsea Green, for breakfast this morning...another favorite place. I'm not very adventuruous. I find people and places I love and pretty much stick to them.

My needs are simple. Great friends, luxury surroundings, a husband-cum-bank machine. Yes...very humble life.

No word about John today. But will let you know. What lovely comments you have sent. Bless you.

The Big Smoke

sunny, mild, highs 16

Wow, we're in london and it really is Spring. Was almost afraid to hope. The trees are in bloom, the daffs are up - heaven. We arrived yesterday morning - British Airways flight changed to Terminal 4 - yay. Easy flight. We changed airlines from Air Canada to BA because BA has a thing called World Traveller Plus. Basically economy class but a slight improvement. A little more leg and bum room. Not trivial on a long flight.

And - after decades of flying AC all over the world they never once upgraded us (never expected it actually) but on our very first BA flight two years ago they upgraded us to business class, which is spectacular on transatlantic flights. Lie-flat beds, individual pods. They had to practically drag us off the plane when we landed.

That didn't happen this time, but we are constantly warmed by the memory.

When we arrived at Heathrow Seamus picked us up. He's a driver we've used before. Always great to have a driver from heathrow.

We rent a flat in Knightsbridge, on Lennox Gardens. Delightful. It's a one bedroom - but unexpectedly large ande bright, and perfectly located. Michael's sister, Carol, and her husband David live just off Sloane Square, so it's an easy walk. And there's a Marks and Spencers very close. We buy all our food there, including fabulous prepared meals - all organic and healthy.

Blew the diet (not even a pretense anymore actually) by doing our traditional Afternoon Tea at Harrods the first afternoon, after a short nap. Bought groceries and bouquets of fresh tulips from street vendors. There are flower stalls all over London. Lovely.

Now it's the next morning - sun pouring in - line edits for Book 4 to read (biked over from the publisher). Will take them to a cafe on the Kings Road.

Before we left for London I had the launch of the Canadian Mystery/History website event at the Redpath Museum in Montreal. That's on the campus of McGill niverstiy and I'd never been there before. It's very impressive. Like a small version of the Natural History Museum in London - with a couple of mummies thrown in.

I was supposed to do a dramatic reading from a very old mystery written about the Redpath murders. But before the event Michael and I had lunch with the Muirheads, friends from Los Angeles. They were staying in our Mtl apartment. Over lunch I was telling them about the event and then I remembered (d'oh) that Oliver is an actor. Very accomplished. Starred in a number of movies - been on lots of sitcoms including Will and Grace, Seinfeld, Friends. So I asked if he'd help. bless him, he agreed.

So the people at the launch (of which there were way more than anyone expected) were treated to me doing the boring bits (He said, she said, ...and then he added, angrily....) and Oliver standing centre stage actually acting out the dialogue. Fantastic!

Life is good. Michael and I have had breakfast (coffee and fruit) and are heading out for a walk - then he'll read his manuscript and I'll read mine - in a city we both adore. Lucky people.

Hope this finds you well, and I'll write again tomorrow.

I keep the book in my head - actually in the gaps of my teeth

overcast, gray, snow turning to rain, highs plus 2

Michael's doing his new back exercises and I'm getting caught up on emails. Had a good day yesterday running around going to appointments. Michael's eyes are VERY good. And his back is doing well.

I went to the periodentist for a cleaning. Quite like the periodentist. Gives me time to think. Realized I had a word wrong in the manuscript, and came up with a couple of small ideas. It's a quiet time in the day, except for my occasional squeal when the nerve gets hit. Or the woman doing the cleaning makes tsking sounds. It was pretty much an hour of squeal, tsk, squeal, tsk.

Apparently I have some rather large gaps between my gums and some teeth. Small communities live in there, and I'm planning a condo development. Perhaps, on snowy days, I can park the Volvo in there too.

Heard from the UK publicist and I have an event with Brian Freeman, a wonderful American writers of mystery/thrillers, at Heffers books in Cambridge, at 12:30 on Thursday April 17th. Also have a critics and booksellers party to go to in London the night before. And Sherise, my editor at Headline, wrote to pass mon a wonderful review of The Cruelest Month in the Birmingham Post, by Mike Ripley - one of the funniest and warmest men in the business. He teaches Crime Fiction at Cambridge, as co-incidence would have it.

They're also exploring the possibility of my doing a cruise with Cunard lines...being one of their guest speakers. Wouldn't that be fantastic?

Wasn't going to write yesterday, but gravitated back to the laptop in the Montreal apartment and ended up putting in 4 hours. Not all that many words added, but fine tuning some of the stuff I had and adding some descriptions. I realize I'm not all that great at physical descritpions. I keep forgetting to put them in. Partly, I think, because I see the people so clearly. Partly because I figure you all know what the village and the characters look like (short sighted, really, since many people come to the series late). But mostly, I've come to realize (a dental chair revelation) because I'm concentrating on their inner selves and not actually all that interested in what they look like on the outside. I think I've gotten better at realizing the editors are absolutely right, and people want to 'see' the characters, not just feel them. So I was doing a bit of that yesterday.

Must be off. Breakfast - cafe au lait at a local cafe with fresh fruit while Michael has cafe au lait and something (anything) with bacon. Yesterday it was a fruit filled crepe with maple syrup and whipped cream! Boys.

Speak to you tomorrow and hope this finds you well.