A shack in the woods

snow, blowing snow, temps minus 3

At least it's mild. And frankly, I'd rather have snow than rain at this time of year. Though yesterday started as rain, quite heavy at times, then changed to snow - and by night it was a blizzard. And we woke up to the blizzard, continuing.

You might notice a slight shift in perspective as you look at the photos. That's because I decided to scoot in to Montreal for a few days - to write quietly on my own. I wish I'd thought of that with all the other books. Just the first few days...so I can totally focus. Just get in some food, some diet ginger ale, some DVD's, and spend the day writing. Then completely relax. Then wake up in the morning and write some more.

I can't explain why this makes such a difference, but it does.

Earlier in my writing career I wasn't sure why so many writers describe the process as isolating. I felt, and still do in so many ways, that I have never been so connected to the world around me, and my fellows, than when I'm writing. Because I have to pay close attention. Listen closely. Observe. Be very present. Take it all in.

But now two things occur to me. When I'm doing that I'm connected....but it's in a sort of observer capacity. engaged at times, absolutely...but often one step removed. Watching.

The other thing is that I find as time and the career and the demands go on, that I crave and need privacy more and more. It really is easier to write when I'm alone. I can see why writers often go away. Often renting a shack in the woods, where they know no one. Where there's often no one to know.

This apartment in Montreal is my 'shack in the woods' - ironic since I left my home in the woods to come here...to find peace.

And when I say I yearn to be alone to write - that doesn't exclude Michael. I'd be happy to have him here. As it is, when we're apart we call and email all the time. But we decided he should stay home to look after Trudy. She's always happiest when at home, and we;re so often away it didn't seem fair.

But coming to Montreal was, for me and the writing, wonderful. This is what I consider bliss. Writing, and not having anything else to think about. Not shopping, not cooking, not making yet another excuse to a kind invitation from a friend.

And the writing is going very well...so often, when I come to the second draft I end up changing a lot of the beginning of the first, so I'm not sure how much of this you'll ever get to read...but it doesn't matter right now. The key is to get it down, and keep moving forward...and getting deeper and deeper into the characters and themes. The rest will sort itself out in time.

As you can see from the snowy photos - Michael took some as he and Trudy struggled to go for a walk. And I took the Montreal street scenes...along Ste-Catherine, near Greene Ave. they don't really do the blizzard justice since you don't get a sense of the snow whipping by.

I know many of you have been clobbered by the same system. Hope you're staying safe.

Michael went off to have dinner at the cottage last night with Bal,Linda, Bethany and their friend, a fellow Canadian writer, Wayson Choy. I've never met him, but they're coming over for tea on Thursday afternoon. I'll obviously be home by then, otherwise it would be a ridiculous invitation!

Hope you're safe and sound, where ever you are!

Weather Permitting

snow, snow, snow temps minus 9

The snow seems to be tapering off a little now - but it was fierce this morning. I took a couple of photos at about 10:30, when Trudy and I went out to feed the birds. When the snow gets deep Michael and I have to wear our old rubber boots because our snow boots aren't high enough. So - like so much in life - it's a trade-off. Rubber boots have no insulation, so our feet get very cold very fast - but they're dry. Unless we've mis-calculated and the snow is higher than thought, in which case it tumbles into the boot.

Very delicate decision making. This is perhaps another reason Canadians don't rule the world. We spend most of our time trying to figure out what to wear. I think our national motto should be 'Weather Permitting'. Or maybe that could be the name of our national anthem - instead of 'O Canada'.

We've been watching the events in Egypt. Rapt. On tenderhooks. What will happen next?

Also watching the dreadful storm hitting Australia. My God, just when I think I have a handle on the power of nature, this cyclone Yasi hits and all my ideas are shown to be pedestrian. Nature, if it wants, can wipe us all out. What resilience the Australians show. I am absolutely in awe.

Our storms here are bad - and certainly unusual along the US coast. But nothing compared to what has hit Australia. If you're there, please know we're thinking of you.

In the meantime, here in quebec, we're snowed in! spent much of yesterday with Kirk at Ikea, looking at kitchens and doing a design on their computer programme. Quite remarkable.

Today Michael and I were supposed to have breakfast in Knowlton, meet a friend who has just finished his first book to talk about publishing. Go to visit Danny and Lucy at Brome Lake Books, then have a meeting with our contractor.

But the snow means we're stuck at home...doing what we do best. Lounging by the fire! REading the Ikea catalogue. Thinking about hot chocolate. And the eliptical machine.

If we can get out, we have an appointment for the VW beetle in Sherbrooke....then breakfast at Hovey. Hope weather is OK for our flight out Monday. if not, you'll hear the shriek!

Speak to you soon - hope you're safe - and no snow has gone into your rubber boots.

Scotland and Quebec - separated at birth

snow, snow....snow. windy. temps minus 6

A blizzard suddenly blew in. Completely unexpected. some snow, as you know, was falling yesterday, but no one expected the two feet we've had since last night. Here're a couple of photos...of Michael and Tony digging out Michael's 'real' car, and Trudy sitting in front of my beetle, in it's convenient snow garage.

Now, you might wonder why we were bothering to dig a car out, when clearly the blizzard was continuing. Well, one clue is...it's Tuesday. And, as heroic readers of this extraordinary blog know - every tuesday is shrove tuesday for us. Well, if not pancake day, it's french toast day. At The Station restaurant in Cowansville.

I barely slept last night, for the howling outside and the dread that the storm would keep us from our french toast, with bananas and stawberries, and bacon, at the Station. And certainly when we woke up to two feet on the ground and more falling - sideways - it seemed unlikely and even unwise - to leave the property. But a call to Tony, and Michael suiting up, fixed the problem.

Nothing would keep us from our goal. Indeed, on the drive to cowansville, we wondered if that's what propelled the pioneers. Did someone whisper in their ears....'There's French Toast in California.'? Is that what motivated Lewis and Clark? The Franklin Expedition?

It sure motivated us. And wow, did it taste great after an hour of digging. Came home, lit the fire, fried up a couple cafe au laits and got back to editing. Fed the birds. Took Trudy out. snowed all day long. And heaven knows what we'll find tomorrow.

Had a great email from Linda in Scotland - Glascow actually - with a photo of her children, jennifer and Christopher - her husband Kevin and her snowman. In Glascow. Scotland!!! Here's an excerpt from her letter...

Thought for fun I'd send you one I took over the weekend of our back garden and one of a snowman Kevin made with the kids, the snowman has been part buried in a fresh fall of snow yesterday we had another foot or so of snow on top of what we already had, it, for some reason took the Scottish government by surprise and the whole road network in and around Scotland came to a total standstill, it's all over the news here, hundreds of motorists were trapped in their cars overnight on the untreated motorways, there were stories of car drivers being stuck in vehicles for up to 12 or so hours, can you imagine! Kevin spent 3 hours in the car trying to get back from work last night (this journey normally takes around 30 minutes) but we consider him lucky to get home. His work closed today as did all schools. Our day time temperature was -14 today) the temperature is supposed to rise on Friday and Saturday to above freezing (this will be considered tropical) but it's to drop down again next week with yet more bad weather forecast. Just hoping to get out for some supplies soon. Christopher asked me today if we are running out of sweets, he has is priorities sorted!


Sure makes what we're going through seem easy. And it is. Sure makes a difference when we don't have to go out for work. Only for French Toast.

More editing tomorrow...but it's moving along nicely, thank you.

Clara Hughes!!

overcast, mild, blustery, temps plus 2

Oh dear - we might be losing all the magnificent snow we had yesterday. About two feet of the stuff. Gorgeous. Anthony's back, doing some more shoveling. It's such fun - there's so much of it that walking out our back door is like walking into a snow fort - with high, carved walls of snow on either side. There was so much snow we couldn't see our car...it was buried.

But then, unexpectedly, Michael came and said we had to go into the village - to the post office. Something needed to arrive at the government by Monday. Fortunately Tony had already dug the car out so we all just brushed it off, and we headed into town.

Honestly - thank God for all wheel drive, and snow tired. The plow had been by in the last hour, but only one swing, so our road was one lane wide. Had we met any other demented people on it we'd have had a bit of a problem. But no one, as it turns out, was quite as nuts as us.

We got to and from the post office just fine. Even climbing the very big series of hill to our home. We're pretty much on a plateau snuggled on the top of some mountains, but between a few higher ones. It will be snowing at our place but rain in the village. And we can see the temperature (as measured by our car, which is clearly smarter than we are - now that would be a good game show. Are You Smarter Than Your Car? the answer is, no.) but you can see the temperature drop as we climb the hills to our home.

it was actually quite fun - except it mean the almost inconceivable...I had to leave the couch by the fireplace.

I saw Clara Hughes win bronze. What a remarkable woman - indeed person - she is! You know she's won SIX olympic medals...most in speed skating, but one in the Summer Olympics in biking. And she works hard for others - raising huge amounts for a cause called 'Right to Play' - for children in developing nations. Lovely woman.

I cannot believe we've never actually met. She's been training in Vancouver for the past 18 months, but still - before that...even in the IGA for groceries. You'd have thought... I must send her a congratulatory note. And when she gets back see if we can't get together for a coffee...though I suspect she'll be very busy.

We also watched Canada defeat (easily) the Russians in hockey. They looked a different team than the one that lost to the US on Sunday night. So - we're still in it. Tonight it's the women's long programme in skating. Go Joannie! And that delightful young American...Flatt is her name? Actually, though I really will be cheering Joannie, I have to say for the most part I just love seeing all their performances. Such poise under unbearable pressure. Can you imagine standing alone at centre ice in the Olympics in that silence before the music begins.

Wow.

Having a quiet day. Fine-tuning the newsletter...answering Michel's questions about the french translation for Dead Cold/A Fatal Grace. Doing bits and pieces. Trying to really clear the decks before starting to write book 7. hard to believe I'm actually at book 7.

In answering some of Michel's translation issues I needed to go back to Dead cold/A Fatal Grace. Always afraid when I do that I'll hate the book - be embarrassed by it. But, you know, I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. A huge relief. One day, perhaps when I'm 90, I will sit by the fire and re-read all the books (all 45 of them). I look forward to the day I can do that. Right now I can't re-read a book already published. Bits and pieces, yes...but not the whole thing.

But, when the time comes that I have the time and distance to do it - and my internal critic had died and gone to Hell - I will pour a cafe au lait, get a croissant and read. And remember this amazing, blessed, glorious time in my life. When I have Michael and this lovely career.

In the meantime - forward!

Quietude

blizzard, blowing snow, temps minus 14

But inside it's snug and warm, fire laid ready to be set. Coffee on the pine table beside me. Laptop open. Surrounded by notes and manuscripts, books. Michael writing. Trudy sleeping - wet and stinky from chasing her ball through the storm, digging for it, finding it, tossing it into the air herself. Rolling on it.

And today is the gift. No one coming. We're going nowhere. Will sit by the fire or the television, or in the bath. Doing what I want to do.

Rock Cornish Game hens for dinner.

Tomorrow...more snow. More quietude. More peace.

Unless...

As we all know - anything can happen! Still, for now while the blizzard snows us in and throws itself against our home, we are inside with everything we need.

New York Times Bestseller!!!

Cloudy, flurries, temps minus 5


Yippeee!!!!

Hope Dellon, my editor and Andrew Martin, the publisher of St. Martin's Minotaur called late yesterday afternoon with the news I've dreamed of all my adult life...for 30 years or more.

'You've made the New York Times Bestseller list with A Rule Against Murder!'

I started trembling then and I don't think I've stopped. However, the shrieking has died down...a little.

This is what's called the 'extended' list - which is for the top 35 hardcovers, and it's the list for February 8th (don't know wny it's a week ahead, but I suppose that's what makes the New York Times great...they see the future. Perhaps they're also built on a cliff). A Rule Against Murder is number 33.

We did it. You and I. I wrote it, you read it and told your friends - and over the course of the 4 seasons we've built the series. I am so grateful to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me this amazing gift. I will never, ever forget sitting in the living room in Quebec City, in front of the fireplace, clutching the hot water bottle (I think we've bonded) - and getting the call. Frankly at first I was confused about why both Hope and Andy would call. I figured it was either wonderfully good news, or horrific news. Since they probably wouldn't be the ones to tell me someone I love died or Michael or I have cancer I figured the news couldn't really be all that bad. Could it?

Andy even asked, 'Do you know why both of us would be calling?'

I think he presumed I knew it would be the Times - but since it has never happened to me before, it was so far from my expectations I honestly had no idea.

And then they told me. I might have shattered their ear drums with the scream. I know Michael came running.

Wow. Thank you for this. I really hope you feel the thrill too. You're as much a part of this as me. All my life I'll remember this moment.

On other news - the storm hit! Michael and I were exploring the Plains of Abraham, where the definitive battle between the French and English forces happened in September 1759 - and suddenly it started snowing...then more, then more. We ducked into the Cafe Krieghoff on rue Cartier for lunch and by the time we came out the blizzard was in full flight. What distinguishes blizzards from smily heavy snow is the wind.

The snow was hurtling sideways, and getting into our eyes, ears, under our collars. We have about 2 kilometers to walk...so, heads down, off we went. It's actually quite exciting. We were well dressed and there was never any fear we were in danger.

then arrived home to this terrific news.

Now need to rush out - breakfast, then I have a 10am meeting at the Literary and Historical society, just up the street on Saint-Stanislas to talk to Patrick Donovan about where the skeletons are buried. I love research.

Did I mention about the New York Times??? I feel like running through the streets laughing - proving to Quebec once and for all that Anglos really are nuts. Happy - but nuts.

Storm Watch

overcast, temps minus 15


It went down to minus 30 yesterday!

As you can see, we Canadians are fixated by the weather - or at least this Canadian is. There's a saying that history is geography spread over time. I believe it. Especially here in Quebec City where geography determined the founding of the settlement (its where the St Lawrence narrows and so is easy to defend - and its on top of a cliff so you can see down the river for miles...you can see the future.)

But geography also decides climate. And as Canadians we are defined by our climate. Oddly, not at all limited by it. We can grow everything we need, as long as we don't need bananas. And the snow actually makes getting around easy. We have ice highways and ice bridges. Some communities that are extremely difficult to get to any other time of the year become accessible in winter - by dog sled or now, by skidoo.

Indeed, the unofficial anthem of Quebec is by a wonderful, wizened Quebec chansonier/poet named Gilles Vigneualt...he wrote...Mon Payes C'est l'Hiver. My Country is Winter.

I think about these things today in this glorious city of Quebec because there're weather warnings out all over the place. For a country and city so steeped in weather this is unusual. Storms come and go all the time almost without comment. So this might be a
doozy (a word Monsieur Vigneault has yet to use in any of his poems). Mon payes n'est pas un floozy - Elle est vraiment un doozy.

This poetry stuff ain't so hard.

I'll let you know tomorrow about the blizzard. It's supposed to hit today. We'll be inside our old stone home, reading page proofs for the next book and research books on Champlain for another, sitting in front of the fire with the ubiquitous hot water bottles and coffee. In a home that's seen worse than whatever is coming our way.

Be well - I'll talk to you tomorrow, mon ami.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

snow, blowing snow, minus 12 (windchill, -20)

We're in Montreal. The sidewalks are reduced to one trodden lane through drifts of snow. We had more than a foot of snow on Sunday, then more yesterday and another 7 cms today. Streets aren't cleared yet. Cars skidding, many stuck in snowbanks which with time and bitter temps have hardened into concrete. Little girl, 7, trapped in a snowbank and suffocated. A 40 year old woman was hit by a snowplow last night and killed. Driver didn't even see her, and had to be stopped a few blocks away.

Terrible.

At one stage today I felt as though I'd stepped into the pages of my second book A FATAL GRACE - DEAD COLD in Commonwealth. Set in Quebec during a snowy Christmas season everyone was bundled up and anonymous. Perfect for committing a murder.

Michael and were out from 8:30am until 4pm - slipping and sliding, hailing cabs and walking, praying the wind would change direction and stop stealing our breaths and the blood from our faces. But have to say, we've had 2 winters that were freakishly mild. Almost no snow. This is the Quebec winter of my childhood. Of snowdrifts like mountains, big enough to toboggan down. People alternately smiling at each other and giving each other the finger - which in thick winter gloves is extra impressive.

Spent the morning in the hospital - Michael needed an x-ray. Huge waits. But still, people kept their tempers and managed to smile at each other. The ceiling at the Montreal General radiology department was festooned with brilliant red and blue fake icicles. They looked slightly threatening, like tiny Swords of Damacles hanging over the heads of these hopeful people.

Then off to get our hair done which with knitted pompom hats is really a waste of time - the hair looked great for about three minutes. Then the hat went on. Scampered across the street to the bistro on Greene Avenue for lunch. Off came the tuque and the hair stood straight up. Happily everyone in the restuarant had the same 'do.

Am reading the proofs for The Cruelest Month - and left them in Sutton! What an idiot. Found a HUGE mistake (which I won't tell you about - but it's in the first UK edition!!!) Needed to tell the US editors quickly, so had to call our contractor Gary, who has now aquired squatters rights to our bedroom. He read us the notes over the phone. He was disconcertingly close to them, which means he either ran down the stairs to the living room, or he was snoozing by the fire when we called.

Off now. Doctors appointments tomorrow am, lunch with good friends Jim and Sharon (upon whom Clara is loosely based) and one more night in Montreal before we leave. Might even catch a movie - a great treat while in the city.