THE NED

Sunny, unspeakably lovely day. Hot and humid - temps 32

Wow - a scorcher! But so beautiful. We're VERY glad Trudy got her puppy cut. We dropped in to Brome Lake Books to hang around and bother Danny and Lucy this morning, and their dog, Jessie (Trudy's mom) also had her puppy cut. Adorable.

Well - it's done!!! On Monday night I lay in bed, thinking of the writing for Tuesday, and I thought - I think, if I work really hard, I can finish the book tomorrow (Tuesday). So I awoke yesterday morning with that intention. Even, I said to myself, if it takes until midnight!

So by 8:30 I was in front of the laptop, with a coffee and breakfast....stayed there through lunch...had burgers on the porch with Michael and the fellow who is doing our geo-thermal - Phil. He was here to paddle around the pond and see if it's deep enough (it isn't). but we all broke for some of Michael's great burgers.

then everyone, back to work.

Midnight came and went. Michael went up to bed. Trudy curled up and started snoring. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. Determined to finish. I could see the end...though as always, it was a tease. Showed me its well-turned ankle, and then slipped further and further away. But finally - at 2am - I caught it. Oh, my God. What a feeling. So few words more satisfying to write, at least for me, than THE END. though by then I was so punch-drunk, and had hit so many wrong keys and had to backspace and re-write it felt as though I was writing each word, each sentence, each paragraph twice! I reached the stage of such exhaustion that I just wanted the murderer to stand up in the middle of a scene and give himself up! (safe to say "him" since this book is set in a monastery and they're all 'hims' - and some hymns ((forgive me, I'm still a little tired))

Normally when I get to 'the end' I made a ceremony, a ritual, of it. To mark this momentous and joyous occasion. But at 2am this morning all I wanted to do was spell THE END right.

I am thrilled to be finished the first draft. I turned out the lights and hauled by achy body upstairs. But not before noticing all sorts of weird sounds about the house at that hour. Including a huge thudding on the window that kinda freaked me out. I went over there and the world's largest moth was trying to get in. It reminded me of that B-grade Japanese horror monster, Mothra. Mothra was trying to get into our home.

I went back to writing. Bookzilla was waiting for me to wrestle it to the ground.

Upstairs I found Michael reading...waiting up for me. Isn't that amazing. He asked if he could save my work and I thanked him, but let him off that hook. Normally after each writing session he saves the work on his 'stick' then down loads it to his computer. I'm always afraid my old clunker will finally clunk its last - and die. And the book will be trapped inside. But I couldn't ask Michael to go down and save it, so we rolled over and went to bed.

When I woke up at 8am Michael was already up. He'd saved the work and had even done a final word-count, since he knows I can't really relax until I hear the 'bad' news. But it wasn't so bad! What a relief. Still needs 10-15-thousand words taken out, but I think I can do that without too much blood and shrieking.

We celebrated by going to cowansville for eggs, bacon and french toast, and all the coffee in chipped white mugs we could drink. And that amazing creeping realization that I don't have to hurry home. I don't have to think about that day's writing, or tomorrows.

I can relax. it takes me a while to really 'get' that - and totally unwind. But it begins.

I plan to take a week off - maybe more. Probably more. But hard to tell right now. I love the book, but I'm so pooped I can't think about it. But I'll know when its time to do the 2nd draft. It's so important for me to step back, detach, get some distance and perspective. Breathe. And then plunge in again.

Thanks for holding my hand through all this. You make it even more fun!

Sigh, sigh, said Pooh

bright sunny skies, cool, temps 55

Storm has passed. Sarah has arrived. Am having a blast in Providence. Went to the New England Independent Booksellers association author cocktail last night. Huge event. All sorts of booksellers there - wine flowing, terrific finger foods. People meandering between booths. And about a dozen invited authors at tables at one end, with a daunting stack of books.

I sat down - Sarah got me some water. And I waited. Trying not to look lonely or pathetic...

And then one person wandered by. I chatted with her, signed a book, chatted, chatted. It's a sort of literary hostage-taking. Can't let her go or I'll be exposed. And then I noticed there were more people lined up behind her. And more. And before long a long line had formed. They were either the Bookseller's Swat Squad (formed to rescue a colleague from a desperate author) - or they genuinely wanted a signed copy of Bury Your Dead.

They wanted the book!!! I released the now quite exhausted bookseller and started signing. Finished more than 2 hours later.

Sigh. I feel I've been holding my breath for a decade. And now, finally, with Bury Your Dead it's safe to exhale.

Went off to another cocktail at a Providence bookstore last night then back to the hotel. Hotel Providence. Odd place. They call it a boutique hotel, and I'm not sure why. Feels like every slightly stuffy old hotel I've ever stayed at. But it's clean and my room had two lovely windows. The phones don't work, though. Can't call out, for some reason. And the concierge, in making a hair appointment for me yesterday, described me as an 'older woman' - so that bit of truth-telling didn't exactly endear me.

I wonder how, and when, that happened? But in my mid-fifties I am definitely 'older'. I guess I just don't feel it.

though, I suppose it could have been worse. She could have described me as an 'older man'. Or said, Ernest Borgnine's on his way over for a blow dry. That would have been hard to recover from!

Off to a book signing in Mystic, CT at about noon....then to Madison, CT and a 7pm event at RJ Julia bookseller tonight.

For those of you in southern vermont, I'll be at the Brattleboro Literary Festival for an event at about 3 tomorrow afternoon. Sarah's driving, thank heaven. And the weather looks great.

Such fun to be traveling around, meeting people. Supporting this book. thank you all for your wonderful words about Bury Your Dead. It means so much.

Michael and I keep in close touch. His son's going to be dropping by this afternoon and staying the night. Michael wrote to say he headed into the village this morning....had to stop to let a family of a dozen wild turkeys cross the road. Described the mist clinging to the hills. And the leaves turning. He stopped at the farmers market - and was apparently attacked by a cranberry/orange loaf, that followed him home. Poor boy.

I miss him. Miss home. But thank heaven this tour has been so successful. I've been on tours that are just so hard - and disheartening. And then, being away from home is torture. This just feels like a quiet ache.

Hope to see you at an event soon!

People!

overcast and cloudy, cool, temps 13

This is about right for this time of year. Nice musky scent in the air, even in Toronto. I'm assuming it's leaves...but...doesn't bear thinking of.

Tomorrow's the BIG day. BURY YOUR DEAD goes on sale in US!!! It has been on sale in Canada for a few days-but the publisher here has worked very hard to make sure there're copies at all my events. I've come to realize that the publication date and the actual 'on sale' date can be two very different things. Like so much in life.

Had fabulous news. The US publisher just found out that People Magazine will be running a review of BURY YOUR DEAD in their Oct 11th magazine - which apparently will be on sale this Friday. Clearly People Magazine is very powerful and can shift time. And books, I hope.

Yippeee!

Please let me know what you think of the book - and if you like it, please tell others.

Had a fun day. A couple of interviews this morning, then off to sign books at a supplier called North 49. Then a fabulous lunch with these four dynamic and VERY interesting women who work at at place called CMMI - which does marketing of books for the big stores like The Bay and Zellers and Walmart. We talked books and the changing markets, but mostly we just talked about our own lives. One of them told a hilarious story about her high school history teacher who was near retirement, burned out and angry at the education system and decided that kids needed to learn practical stuff. Like how to negotiate a buffet table. Get small portions and go back often. That was his advice. Each class he'd give them some bit of 'wisdom', which sadly had nothing to do with history. or wisdom, it seems.

Then back home to read a manuscript someone had sent me. I actually sat in the hotel lounge...very nice lounge...with a chamomile tea (I'd forgotten what a comforting aroma it has) and read. Then called Michael, who was having a relaxing day going between the screen porch and the fireside, with his guests, Marjorie and Kate.

They're all going to the Auberge West Brome for dinner.

Tomorrow I have a 9am event at the Toronto Reference Library with Maureen Jennings, Joy Fielding and a few other authors to officially launch the GoodReads literacy books. And to tape some TV interviews.

A lunch later on with Hachette Canada (my Canadian publisher) people. Then I'll be doing an event at 7 tomorrow night at the Runnymede Library.

Fying to Pittsburgh Wednesday, for a 7 pm event at Mystery Lovers Bookshop - which is actually in Oakmont, PA. Then on to Boston the next day.

I mention all this because I'm not sure I'll be able to blog for a few days as things get hectic.

Such an exciting week!!! I will sure try to blog tomorrow, if only briefly, to yipppeee about BURY YOUR DEAD finally being published in the US.

Such Off?

Mainly sunny, warm, temps 20

Now it's oddly mild. Am in Kingston now for the WritersFest. GREAT literary festival - only two years old but has fantastic writers.Including Joyce Carol oates, jane Urquhart, Lisa Moore, Bill richardson. And lots more.

The event last night in Ottawa went very well....but I had something to eat before that didn't quite agree with me, so halfway through my talk and reading, as I sat on the stage and face the audience, I could feel my stomach kinda twist. Oh. My.

fortunately nothing bad - and memorable - happened. I'm deeply grateful to the god who looks after these things that a) nothing bad happened. b) that I am now very comfortable speaking about the books and doing a reading or two. Was a time when in was deeply nerve-wracking. And that steals a lot of energy, and a lot of enjoyment. I realize many actors say they need to be nervous before a performance - some even throw-up (which I can understand)... but frankly if that's how I felt years into my career, I'd stay at home. Or hire someone to impersonate me. Ernest Borgnine comes to mind.

There was a satisfyingly long line-up to sign books - but I always feel a little stressed because I want to chat briefly with everyone, but don't want those at the back to have to wait an hour. So I end up scrawling a bit in everyone's books. Now, my handwriting is never all that wonderful, then add the need for speed (or perceived need) - and this is a recipe for disaster.

One narrowly averted yesterday. Two young women were there - one having a birthday, the other buying books for herself and friends...so I wrote a few things in each book, and signed.

Then this morning I heard from a woman - Gail - who'd been there. When she left with her signed books she noticed the two young women sitting outside, looking at the books I'd just signed and the one said to the other, 'I can't believe she just wrote that in your book.'

They looked, apparently, quite upset and insulted. Gail - bless her - went over and enquired and they showed her my scrawl. She was curious to see what in the world I could possibly have written to get this reaction. It needed, she admitted, a little de-coding - but it seemed clear I'd written: 'Such fun meeting you.'

Gail told them that's what she saw and the woman took another look and her brow cleared...'Oh, yes. I can see that now. Thank you.'

I would pay money to find out what they thought I'd written. As I sat in the train down here, listening to music and staring out the window at the early autumn countryside, I wondered... Such fun meeting you... What could that look like?

Well, two incidents narrowly missed.

Miss Michael, of course. He calls and describes sitting on the screen porch, or walking Trudy, or reading his manuscript with a cafe au lait by the fire - and I just want to be there. But then I remember that this book tour is a dream - and Sutton will be there when I get home...all the sweeter for having been away.

I also realized I've been counting the days until I get home...but it's not 60 days - the count started at 18. And I realized those were the days until I see Michael again - when we meet for Canadian Thanksgiving at the family reunion in Regina.

Michael is my home.

but in the meantime, the tour is going gangbusters.

Have an event at 1:30 tomorrow as part of the Kingston Writers Fest, with Peter Robinson - called Cops and Authors. then someone's driving me down the road to the Belleville Public Library for an event 6 to 8pm. then hop the train tomorrow night for toronto, arriving about 11pm.

Will be very, very careful about what I eat. Stick to gummi bears. At least I know they agree with me. Such good dispositions.

C'est la vie

mainly sunny, mild, temps 15

Thank you so much for your good wishes and energy. Yesterday was long but very beautiful. jacques' funeral was lovely. it was a bright sunny day, and the cemetery is in a lovely village, surrounded by hills and forests. It smelled of fall, that slight musky scent. there were tears and laughs and great peace.

Louise's best friend- Louise - (I'm not kidding) was there, of course. Lending wisdom and support. This Louise often comments on the blog as 'frouch'. Hi Louise! We're known as LouLouLou. But what a wonderful thing for Louise to have her lifetime best friend there. And 'frouch' was so kind to bring a gift for me! Gummi bears.

then scooted to Sutton for the signing for En plein coeur at the Livre d'or. wonderful event!! Interestingly, my quebec publisher (louise) was there, and she brought her husband and best friend - Louise.

I'm not kidding. it was like a plague. A good plague, if such a thing exists. All these Louise's were kind and loving and supportive. But it did feel like the Bob Newhart show. My brother Darrell and my other brother Darrell.

And - wonderful news - En plein coeur is number 3 on the bestsellers lists. Very happy about that!

Then the celebration party for Jacques last night. Louise - such a courageous woman - spoke, as did Michael. I ate.

then home and we sat in the living room with tea, and talked. Louise described putting the lamp on beside Jacques' chair and talking to him. Then setting the timer and saying, 'I'll give you another 15 minutes, and then I need to get into action.' She wants to make sure she doesn't sink into sorrow. But has balance...grief. But also picks herself up. Amazing woman.

We're so glad she spent the night with us, not least of all because today was Jacques' birthday. So we put a picture of him on the table - and toasted his birthday.

And now Michael and I are in Montreal. He has an eye appointment tomorrow monring - then he's heading home. I can't quite believe we're going to be apart for almost 3 weeks. We've been apart for 5 days on past tours - but never this long. I know it'll be OK - but sad.

After he's gone I have an interview with C'est La Vie, with the fabulous Michel Saint Germain, who translated the book - and Bernard St-Laurent, the host of the show...and an old friend of mine. Fabulous journalist - especially brilliant on the issue of quebec politics. Love being on his show.

then hopping a train to Ottawa for two events Tuesday. One is for The Hangman, the literacy book - in the morning - with an adult literacy group...then at 7 on Tuesday night I'll be at the main branch of the Ottawa library. Love to see you there.

Long post, but I suspect I won't have time to blog tomorrow. Be well. Thanks for the company.

Anthony Nomination!

mainly sunny, beautiful day...temps 20

Great news...The Brutal Telling has been nominated for an Anthony Award in the States as the Best Crime Novel of the Year!!!

Here's the list of nominees - in alphabetical order:


BEST NOVEL

THE LAST CHILD - John Hart [Minotaur Books]
THE MYSTIC ARTS OF ERASING ALL SIGNS OF DEATH - Charlie Huston [Ballantine Books]
THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE - Stieg Larsson, translated by Reg Keeland [Quercus/Knopf]
THE BRUTAL TELLING - Louise Penny [Minotaur Books]
THE SHANGHAI MOON - S.J. Rozan [Minotaur Books]


BEST FIRST NOVEL

THE SWEETNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PIE - Alan Bradley [Delacorte Press]
STARVATION LAKE - Bryan Gruley [Touchstone]
A BAD DAY FOR SORRY - Sophie Littlefield [Minotaur Books]
THE TWELVE/THE GHOSTS OF BELFAST - Stuart Neville [Harvill Secker/Soho Press]
IN THE SHADOW OF GOTHAM - Stefanie Pintoff [Minotaur Books]


BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL

BURY ME DEEP - Megan Abbott [Simon & Schuster]
TOWER - Ken Bruen and Reed Farrel Coleman [Busted Flush Press]
QUARRY IN THE MIDDLE - Max Allan Collins [Hard Case Crime]
STARVATION LAKE - Bryan Gruley [Touchstone]
DEATH AND THE LIT CHICK - G.M. Malliet [Midnight Ink]
AIR TIME - Hank Phillippi Ryan [Mira]

Fabulously strong fields!!! I wanted you to see the other nominees because I suspect most of you love reading good crime and mystery fiction and these are the best - whoever wins.

Congratulations to all the nominees...I know this is an exciting day for all of us.

Am in Montreal...arrived just after 9 last night. Driving over the bridge in construction season is always terrible, so we find it best to do it extremely early in the morning or fairly late at night. Coming in last night gave me the entire day to work on editing the next book. Got lots done. As I get further into the book less needs to be done, as the themes and characters became clearer. Am also winnowing it down, making it sharper and clearer. I hope!

Michael called to say he'd taken our new baby - the beetle - into Knowlton for lunch. Top down. He showed it off to everyone and even took Lucy from Brome Lake books for a spin. What a guy. I'm not gone 12 hours and he'd picking up pretty women and showing off his 'etchings'. He sure sounded hyped though - having a blast.

Off to Toronto tomorrow morning - by train...such a nice trip. Will blog from there.

Be well.

Bear

mixed cloud and sun, cool, temps 5

Bit of a mixed day. Some lovely sun, and some sleet. Thank you again for all the lovely birthday wishes for Michael. We all went out for dinner last night to L'entrecote st-Jean...Michael, his two sons and me. We all had steak frites (that's all they serve - and do it brilliantly) and shared a couple orders of profiteroles. The Mike and Vic went to see Alice in Wonderland and Michael and I walked back to the hotel. Went into a bookstore on the way to browse. Hard to pass by a bookstore. And fun to go into one at night.

Had a lovely breakfast in the hotel. Cafe au lait and I had the cold buffet while the brithday boy had eggs benedict.

Then home. Stopped for groceries.

We then hopped right over to see Markus. Speaking of whom, I forgot to mention in yesterday's post that I did not 'win' the male masseur. Not perhaps surprisingly one of the gorgeous blonde young women got him. I got a very nice woman, who concentrated on my head, so that when the massage was over I looked like Bozo. But a very relaxed Bozo.

We met a woman named Niki at Jana's. She's a magnificent horse woman - owned thoroughbreds and works with a trainer....she'd just lost her last horse a year or two ago. So she came to see Markus.

I realized after riding him, and speaking with the very wise Jana, that I was a bridge for Markus, not a destination. And we needed to find him a permanent home with someone who knew and loved horses and would give him the training and stimulation he deserves.

But I have to say, I'm strangely upset at the idea of seeing him go. He's way too much horse for the likes of me. It would never work. I know that. But wow, it hurts. The thought of letting him go. Still, it needs to be done. thankfully, Niki seems wonderful. Rode him, cantered him, put him through his paces. And he needs that.

Because he's a rescue horse I won't sell him, but give him away. And whoever takes him will be inspected by the horse rescue people. And they won't be allowed to sell him either. The point, obviously, is to find him a loving home - as much of a permanent home as possible in an uncertain world.

We're watching the masters. Phil is doing VERY well. Not sure Tiger has changed much in terms of his outlook and approach.

When we arrived home there'd been some damage to the property...and Tony and Pat explained it was a bear! Ripped the bird feeders up. Bended a bunch of metal bars. Did not, however, this year leave a soft and smelly conversation piece on the front lawn. Which is a bit of a shame, really. The only thing that made its visit fun last year. Now we have nothing but hungry birds and what looks like abstract sculptures to show for it.

But it sure feels good to be home. Blessedly quiet day tomorrow. A newspaper interview in the afternoon, but beyond that, just writing. Phew.

Hope you're well - and thank you again for the birthday greetings for Michael!

ahhhh

partly cloudy, mild, temps 16

Well, I'm sitting in the Hotel le Crystal in Montreal! What bliss.

Michael and two of his sons are in New York City, having a fun "boys" week. Staying close to Times Square. Just got an email from Michael to say they'd arrived, sorted out a problem with their hotel, headed to Rockefeller Square and been up to Top of the Rock...for a fabulous view of New York. And are now sitting down below, having a very late lunch and watching the skaters.

The forecast for NYC this week is sunny with temps ranging from 70 to 79!!!

Michael's son's arrived Saturday and we had such fun celebrating Easter. Our friend Wilder dropped by for a steak dinner. Pat, God bless her, made scalloped potatoes and a wonderful apple and pear crisp.

Then up at 6am for the 2 hour drive to Burlington Vt airport. Such a civilized airport to fly out of.

When this trip was coming up I wondered what to do with myself. I could, of course, go with them to NYC and stay in a different hotel - let them have their fun and I could see loads of people I adore in NYC. But the priority is to write. So I thought about it...and decided I could have the best of both worlds. Stay in a fabulous hotel, and write. And the way to do it was to go to a hotel in Montreal.

Yes, I know, we have an apartment here. But I just love hotels...such a treat. I remember when I was 8 my mother took me for our only mother-daughter expedition...and it was a doozie. We were living in Toronto, and Mom took me to the best hotel in the city at the time. The Royal York. Just for one night...but now, almost half a century later, I still remember it. The awe of walking through the grand lobby. The huge bed and soft sheets. Room service! Wow.

I've loved hotels ever since. As you might realize from reading this blog, I don't really visit cities, I visit hotels. In Scottsdale, Arizona I visit the Valley Ho (I know...quite a name - but fab hotel), in NYC I visit the W Union Square. In Toronto I visit the Soho Met. I honestly am not all that interested in what is happening outside the walls. This is not totally true. But a great hotel in a mediocre city is a wonderful experience for me. A bad hotel in a great city is a bad experience for me.

Michael, though, doesn't much care. A cardboard box is fine.

I sometimes wonder if he knew what hit him when we fell in love and married. That God for Love...it forgives so much.

So here I am, trying out this new hotel. Brand now...opened a few months. I've never stayed here before, but the rooms looked huge, and not terribly expensive. And right downtown, on de la Montagne.

The arrival at the hotel was a bit disappointing. Nothing huge. I just think when your car rolls up you shouldn't have to wait for a doorman or bellhop. I had to wait...though I could see him through the glass doors, chatting. I got out, popped the trunk, waited...wondered if maybe I need to take out my own luggage - which I'm capable of doing since I got it in. It was just sort of baffling and disconcerting. but the man finally arrived. And then into the room. Very nice. some small, odd, oversights...but I think as I settle in things will feel better. it is certainly a wonderful hotel in a fabulous location.

And - did I mention - it has a spa!! Guess what I'm doing tomorrow.

As soon as I arrived and unpacked I hooked up the computer and spent the next 5 hours writing. Editing a bit to get back into the swing. I'm finding this situation - being quietly at this very nice hotel - wonderful for writing. Relaxing. I also had the benefit of the 2 hours drive from the Burlington airport, with music, to think about the book. hear some of the conversations.

Am now writing quite a difficult series of scenes. Pivotal. Lots needs to happen, without appearing to. Such bliss to be here until Thursday.

Speak to you tomorrow.

Whoa!

overcast, a little rain, temps plus 3

A little chilly. But the big news (besides Markus) is that the temperatures will be soaring to 20 degrees or more this weekend! and sunny. It should be a spectacular Easter long weekend. Yay.

And Markus has arrived. He's amazing. Very calm, very gentle. Huge. I fed him and apple and he bit it into three pieces from my hand. Very gentle and delicate.

He's resting now. But we're all delighted and relieved.

One of our friends - Sandra - who sometimes posts comments, wrote a few days ago to tell us about her wonderful dog, Ernie. Because they now have a baby, Flora, they find themselves in the heartbreaking position of having to find him a new home - preferably in Ontario or Quebec.

I asked Sandy if she could send me something, just in case one of you might have a home for him. Well, she just sent this link to her blog because she wrote about him today - with pictures...so that's much easier than me trying to figure out how to get stupid ole photos on the blog. Funny - I could do it once...but just spent about an hour and couldn't figure it out. so Sandy was kind enough to send this link...to Ernest -

http://sandradumais.blogspot.com/2010/03/ernest-dumais.html

On another front - We saw the skunk! The bugger was just waddling around our back garden. In the middle of the day. Clear not at all afraid of Trudy, or us. And why would s/he be?

Can you imagine if people could squirt each other like that? The office would be a whole different place. As would divorce court. Of course, the world might be a nicer place, if our bad behavior had such immediate and smelly consequences.

Wrote two thousand today. I was looking ahead to my schedule in April and realized it actually has quite a few events. Many of them social, but still events. So I really do need to not stumble now.

It's quite fascinating what is happening with the story. In some ways it feels as thought i'm running in place, because the time isn't moving forward...but the events are. Pacing is always interesting...can't all blast along, but neither can it lag.

Having breakfast tomorrow with Danny and Philip to discuss the Knowlton Literary Festival this summer. then back home to write. Friday looks free to just write. Saturday two of Michael's sons are arriving to celebrate Easter. That'll be huge fun.

And hoping to go for a ride on the weekend. Not on Markus...Jana said she'd take the first turn. Michael said he might even go for a trail ride, but probably not until later...by later I'm not sure if he meant later in the summer or later in life. He told me the funniest story about his first, and last, time riding. he was a teenager and the horse took off back to the barn. With Michael clinging on and yelling, 'Whoa'. the horse went not just to the barn, with michael still on him, but into his stall. For the next ten minutes, until someone found him, Michael just sat on the horse in his stall.

It was no one's finest moment. Michael hasn't felt fondly toward horses ever since. But we might change that. Later.

Actually, he seemed quite taken with Markus, who was very calm and didn't seem inclined to kidnap Michael.

Don't forget to check out Ernest! He's adorable.

Hope you're have a good day...speak to you tomorrow.

To love that well

gale blowing in am, clearing in PM

So much has happened since the last post. We're in London now. Just had dinner in a pub on the King's Road. Michael had a Sunday roast and I had fish and chips. We both had a ginger beer. And talked about the weekend.

We fell into bed Friday night - exhausted but feeling very calm. Slept extemely well and had a wonderful full English breakfast Saturday morning. Then off to John and Moira's. The place is called the Guildhall and is a Grade 1 listed timber frame home right beside the church. From there we went the 30 minutes to Norwich Hospital to see John. He'd been so well the day before the family, who had been planning to stay, had decided that maybe it was safe to leave on Sunday and come back mid-week if need be.

Saturday, though, found John exhausted. Still aware, but drifting in and out of sleep. Michael and Dick spent time with him. I went in briefly to say hello and kiss him. Then left the guys alone. We spent all morning in the waiting room as the family took turns sitting with John. Then we went to the cafeteria for lunch. After lunch it was time for Dick to say goodbye. He needed to head off. So he went up alone to be with John, say to goodbye in private. It was heartbreaking to see him, so dignified, back so straight, walking to the elevator to see his friend for the last time.

He came back down 15 minutes later and we all hugged and wished him a good trip. He's a lovely man, and a wonderful friend to both John and Michael. And too much of an Englishman to show his pain, though it was evident in the red eyes when he returned.

Then Dick left for the train station and we spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital as the family and Michael rotated in and out of John's room. In late afternoon we were driven back to the bed and breakfast.

Saturday felt different than Friday. As though the air had been released. Deflated. the energy almost gone. It also felt as though the family was reaching the end of their rope...just hanging on. And while Michael and I felt loved and welcome, we also felt they didn't need to cook for us, and make pleasant conversation, drive us home. Besides, honestly, we were tired too.

So we picked up a couple of sandwiches and some softdrinks and cocooned back at the fabulous B&B - Camomile Cottage. I realized I mis-spelt it in the previous post. And perhaps just now too! And I haven't had the chance to read the comments from the previous post, but I will...and I am certain they are loving and kind and wise and caring. And I am sure I will be deeply comforted, as will Michael. Thank you.

Neither of us slept well last night. I could hear Michael crying and held him a few times, then realized when I did he stopped, only to start again. And I wondered if I was holding him, and comforting him, more for my sake than his. That his crying hurt me and I wanted it to stop. But perhaps, I thought, he should just cry. So I let him. But it was hard. sometimes I could hear him speaking to himself, mumbling, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Prayers? Talking to God? To John?

Next morning I found out he was practicing what to say to John today, when it came his turn to say goodbye.

Eventually that time came, and of course, everything he'd planned and practiced went out the window and it was just the two of them sitting quietly, Michael holding John's hand.

they'd had a call from the hospital last night to say John was now in renal failure and he would soon slip into a coma, and die. He might have a day. Perhaps two.

When we arrived, he was awake. Agitated, but not in pain, and not frightened. Michael held his hand, then kissed him. And told him he loved him. Then he left.

And now we're in London. Tired and sad. But also grateful we came. And feeling we, mostly Michael, really has said goodbye. And it was time to go.

We've received many beautiful messages in the past few days. Many very personal, with people telling me about their own experiences, losing someone they loved. the agony of the anticipated grief. Those final moments. How hope shifts from long life, to painless, peaceful death. it never leaves, it just changes.

And Harry sent us these lines from Shakespeare's Sonnet 73

This thou perceivest, which makes they love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Doc says Michael's great!

partly cloudy, cool, temps 8

Cutting to the chase, the doc says Michael's eye is doing really well!!

Phew. I think we're both exhausted. We were going to stay in Montreal until Monday, with me scooting back to Knowlton for the brunch/launch event, then heading back to Montreal...but after seeing the eye doc this morning, and getting the great news...we decided to just head back to the country.

Basically, the damage has stopped - the eye has stopped leaking. The tear has been mended, thanks to donated eye tissue. This was donated by the family of someone who died suddenly and tragically. Can you imagine? And it has saved Michael's vision.

It is both terrible and beautiful.

The pressure in that eye was down to almost zero, according to the doctor during the operation...but now it's back up to 8. Apparently a normal eye pressure is 12-14...but he is thrilled with it being at 8 so quickly.

We have another appointment in Montreal Monday at 1pm - but have every expectation everything is terrific. We feel, too, a responsibility to the person who donated the eye tissue, and to their family. We can't absolutely make it 'take' - but we can do loads not to mess it up ourselves.

We're kind of pooped now. But wonderful to be back in the country. I sat in a bubble bath for an hour...and read...wait for it...People Magazine!!!

Did you see the great review? Yippee.

It's almost 5pm - time for Trudy's dinner...then I actually think I might change all the clocks in the house, convince Michael it's 8pm - time for our dinner then bed.

Hope to spend tomorrow on the first big edit of the literacy novella. Right now I'm pretty sure it's crap. I'm trying to see that as a good sign.

Be well - and thank you, thank you, thank you for holding our hands and our hearts through this time. You are beautiful.

Stuart Robertson

overcast, teeming rain just now, muggy, mild, temps 24

Way above seasonalbe temps today. Rain held off until just now.

About two minutes ago we received the sad news that a friend and former colleague at the CBC, Stuart Robertson, has died. He was 65 and had battled lymphoma for 15 years. He was known as the gardening guy...and beloved for his humour and passion. He had a couple books out and would lecture about gardening...and he had a column in the Montreal Gazette for years.

But he was more than that. He was a journalist who chased hard news stories, though his heart was really more in the happy stories. he loved it when he could uncover good news, and tell people. He was tall and slim and spoke, for reasons that baffled perhaps even him, with a slight British accent. He was married to Donna and has a son, Jeremy.

I realize most of you don;t know who I'm talking about, and to be honest, while Stuart and Donna were at our wedding, we didn't stay close. But it was hard not to have alot of affection for Stuart. He was a delightful man. To everything there is, as Stuart knew, a season. But I can't help think the frost came a little too early.

On another note, after much agonizing, I've decided to cannot leave Michael after his eye operation. So I spoke to the people at my publishers, Minotaur, and they were great. Without hesitation they said they'd look after it, and to not worry.

'It' meant cancelling two important tour events! The talk at the New Canaan library - which I'm VERY disappointed about. There were so many people I was looking forward to meeting, some for the first time, some who have become friend. I am sorry.

It also meant having to bow out of a very important publishing event...the New England Independent Booksellers Association annual gathering. I was among 12 authors voted to join them for their cocktail...to sign books and chat. It was going to be a fabulous chance to meet these important and influential people, and thank them for being so supportive.

I really did agonize over this...going back and forth. It was such an important engagement, for this the biggest book of my career.

But Michael's eye operation was just the day before, and could not be changed even if we wanted to. At first I thought at least I'd be there for the operation, go away early the next morning, then return by noon the next day...away 30 hours.

You can see - I'm good at rationalizing. But I wasn't happy. it wasn't sitting right. And finally I knew it just wasn't right. I could never, and should never, put my career ahead of my husband. If it was a hangnail, yes. But this was his eyesight...and while there is every reason to be optomistic, it is still stressful.

So I called, and bless them, Minotaur and andy martin the publisher could not have been nicer about what was clearly a blow to their marketing strategy. Andy basically said, 'Don't worry. Do what you have to do for Michael.'

And now, today, to hear about Stuart. And I knew even more I'd made the right decision. We have to put the people we love first.

Besides, what are the books about, if not that? How could I write about love and loyalty, then not be there for Michael?

As soon as I decided, I knew.

Off to Kingston tomorrow for the writer's festival. A 6:30 to 8pm panel, then driving back to Montreal by midnight.

Be well.

Literary facts

light rain, humid, temps 15

Sticky day, but mild. Looks like it might clear.

Watched The Queen yesterday afternoon...that wonderful film with Helen Mirren as the Queen, over the days of Diana's death. I'd seen it before but decided to rent it again. Really enjoyed it.

Sent interview questions off to Alan Bradley, who wrote, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. I'm doing a feature interview with him for Mystery News. That's a fantastic publication about crime fiction, with really extension reviews and lots of interviews and column. If you don't subscribe, and you love mysteries, I'd highly suggest it. But when Still Life first came out Lynn Kaczmarek, one of the editors, interviewed me as a debut author. It was such a thoughtful, intelligent interview I was impressed. I've since met Lynn many times and see why it was like that...she's thoughtful and intelligent. And kind.

At one stage she asked if I would like to interview a debut author in return. I thought about it, and finally chose Alan. For a few reasons. I really like his book, and I like him (though we've never met - only corresponded). He's Canadian, from Saskatchewan. Wrote for many years but never really got anywhere...then, at the age of 70 he wrote Sweetness...and it took off. Won the Debut Dagger in the UK -is published all over. He persevered, and his dream came true.

Great story...so I'm doing it for Mystery News.

The editor of Canadian Literature got in touch. They'd like to publish part of my speech from Bloody Words...the part where I talk about a Golden Age for Canadian crime writers...but also the annoyance of being asked if, maybe, someday, I'd like to try my hand at literary fiction. As though what I write, and other crime writers create, can't possibly be literary fiction.

I'm happy to contribute to this discussion, especially in a review called Canadian Literature. We'll see.

Off to Knowlton for breakfast. My hero, Michael, finished the page proofs for the US edition of The Brutel Telling. Amazing amount of work!! Lovely man.

Must go...talk later. Be well.

The Great Unwashed

mainly sunny, mild, temps 20

Well, the septic tank is in. But it had some company. While showing the tank to the Pompage BM people yesterday Michael fell into the septic tank. Well, not all the way in, but far enough. He called me to say, in a little boy voice, 'I had an accident.' which could mean anything from 'I've broken my neck' to 'My ice cream fell from the cone.' At no stage did I think it could possibly mean, 'I fell into the septic tank.' A weeping field, maybe. Who hasn't? But a barrel full of poop?

Home he came, off came the clothes. and shoes. Into the washing machine they went, into the shower he went. A cup of tea and date square later and he was feeling better.

Honestly, that is not the way you want to go. Imagine that. And imagine the headlines... Man killed by fall...crap sought for questioning.

And just when we thought we'd seen the last of the damned tank we got a call about an hour ago from the city inspector. We'd put it 1 metre from the house (where the old tank ((and briefly Michael)) had been) - instead of 1.5 metres from the house.

So now we need to dig another hole. Oh well. Frankly, I don't think you can have too many holes in a lawn, but Michael disagrees.

Last night - all night - the alarm kept beeping. Not outright wailing, thank God, but a persistent beeping that was enough to drive us from our room and into a guest room. Called the alarm people and while Michael was supervising the septic situation, having intimate knowledge now of the tank, I supervised the repair of the alarm system. Which mostly meant staying out of Benoit's way.

We've made reservations to go to New York at the end of June. That's be wonderful. Staying at the W, I think.

Before that we have a few events, including being the Canadian Guest of Honour at Bloody Words. Denise Mina - a wonderful Scottish crime writer, is the International Guest of Honour. Received the schedule of my events for that. a one-on-one interview and two panels...and I need to give a short speech at the banquet on Saturday June 6th. Need to write that.

Am hoping to finish the first draft of book 6 by June 1st - then write the speech, then head off for an event in Toronto, then the Ellis awards banquet, then Bloody Words - then back to Montreal in time for the apartment move mid-June. Then off to New York.

whenever I feel stressed - which is fairly often these days - I remember my new mantra...at least it isn't a tank of crap. At least it isn't a tank of crap. Repeat after me. At least...

Home

snow, sleet, then clearing. temps plus 3

Back from Paris! Early. I know, sounds loopy to me too, but Michael and I decided after a couple of days that really, we just wanted to be home. OK - I was the one who decided. And, it gets worse - if possible. We arrived on a Sunday. It was snowing! Can you believe it? But, it was still Paris so that wasn't too bad. We were staying in a friend's apartment in St Germain des Pres (great area). But by Monday I realized I was just exhausted...and that the vacation I really wanted and needed was to just stare at a black wall for a week, and do nothing...I had no energy left, and Paris demands energy. So, over a cafe cream in a local bistro, I broached the subject with Michael...could we go home early?

This was not the question he was expecting. Can we buy an apartment ourselves in St. Germain? Can we head off to the Louvre after lunch? Can we go to the Michelin starred restaurant for dinner.... all those he might have found natural if not welcome. But my actual question left him speechless.

And then he smiled, took my hand, and said yes. When would you like to leave?

I thought about it and said, Wednesday. Two days from then. Which would have put us at 3 days in Paris.

His eyes widened a bit, but still he smiled. By now he might have been numb. Or just grateful I didn't ask if we could go to a real estate office and see about an apartment of our own. It's quite helpful that I've tenderized him a bit by making passing references to ridiculous things like that. Anything slightly less ridiculous sounds downright rational. Like leaving Paris almost as soon as we arrive.

Once back at the apartment he called Air Canada, re-booked, paid the penalty.

Next day we had breakfast at Les Editeurs (a fab bistro in the place d'odeon), walked to the Musee Rodin (great museum - astonishing to see the Burghurs of Calais which I refer to in book 4 right there - as well as the Gates of Hell, the Kiss, the Cathedral etc - thrilling) then off to Au Bon Marche (a department store like Harrods in London - if in Paris you really must try to drop by) We go there for the food court, of course.

In the food section - in front of the bank of cheeses - I turned to Michael....

I'm thinking...(I could see him stealing himself - here comes the apartment question...) Maybe we shouldn't leave tomorrow. Maybe we should stay a little longer.

Once again, he looked stunned. Paris seems to have that effect on him.

When? he managed to ask.

Well, maybe Saturday?

Bless his soul, he smiled again, albeit slightly thinly, and said yes. So we loaded up on presents from Maxim's of Paris (chocolates) and cheeses, cold cuts, baguettes and pastries and headed back to the apartment. And the phone.

Yes, said nice Air Canada, for a penalty you can re-book. They didn't buy Michael's argument that one of us had been insane during the last re-booking and maybe we shouldn't have to pay twice. And don't they have a 'family pack' a discount for bulk re-booking? no.

So we got seats on the Saturday flight back to Canada. Then Michael had the very good grace to admit he was happy about that...pleased to stay longer and pleased to head home slightly early.

I think had Rodin witnessed what Michael did for me last week he'd have included his imagine in the selfless men of the burghurs of Calais. Or maybe the Gates of Hell.

So for the remainder of our time we had breaskfast every morning at Les Editeurs, went to Notre Dame, twice. Once to just lap it up, the second time for an hour or so of quietude. The choir was singing and we sat at the front away from the crowds...and it was magical.

We went to the Louvre (late November is a great time - almost empty) walked the Jardin des Tuileries - had steak frites on the rue de Rivoli and wonderful seafood at La Mediteranee. Walked through the Jardin de Luxemburg (next to our friends apartment) - bought newspapers and baguette and cheese every afternoon and went home exhausted to feast.

Then climbed on the plane and came home. I was ready. This has been a tiring year and I really, really just want to do nothing. So now we're back in Montreal - with a stack of rented DVD's and books and a big, comfortable, familiar bed. Here until Wednesday, then back to Sutton and 'real' life.

Have an interview this afternoon with the Toronto Star and want to respond to about 250 emails (not kidding), but will take my time.

Because I was away I didn't get a chance to wish those of you in the States a very happy Thanksgiving. Hope it was exactly as you wanted it to be.

It is good to be home. Though, an apartment in Paris would be nice. Oh, Michael...

Nobel Laureates, Eccles Cakes and Drag Queens

partly cloudy, some sun, temps 20

We're having just the most fun in Cambridge! Sorry not to have blogged in the last few days, but we've just been so busy.

Saturday was Michael's big day - the founding meeting of the Christ's Medical Alumni Association. I wanted to look good for the formal dinner in the evening in the magnificent Christ's College Hall. But, as the day progressed, I looked more and more as though I'd been struck by lightening. A hair-cut was in order. perhaps unwisely I asked the young woman with the orange hair serving us tea where she got her hair done. She told me, I went along, and they had an opening.

In retrospect I really should have made it clear a) I wasn't a boy. b) I didn't want to look like one. I thought of this way too late as the hair fell to the floor. It's not that I generally mind Michael and me looking like a gay couple, I just don't one to be the butch one.

Too late.

Fortunately I think the evening gown I was wearing to the dinner that night made me look a) more feminine b)like a drag queen. Even more fortunately the Brits are way too polite to mention it. or ask.

There was an afternoon tea as part of these Christ's College celebrations. We went to that and met some very nice people. then Michael and the alumni headed off for the secret meeting and the rest of us were invited to...get this...visit the old library and the spectacular collection on John Milton - wh0 went to Christ's College in the early 1600s! I almost fainted I was so excited. The combination of getting into the normally forbidden old library - and seeing the first editions of Paradise Lost was thrilling.

The library, of course, is tiny. Back 500 years ago when it was built a collection of 20 books would be considered substantial. Now it's filled with spectacular first editions. For a bibliophile it was like a heroin hit. And to look at (not touch) the Milton firsts (this is the 400 anniversary of his being there) was amazing. I've always loved Paradise Lost. Was one of those strange kids in english class in school who actually loved reading it, and would memorize sections. In fact, I use parts of it in THE MURDER STONE/A RULE AGAINST MURDER. So it was even more moving for me.

Then Michael and I raced back to the apartment to change for dinner - then ran back through the narrow, cobbled streets to the college. I'd never been into the Hall. We were late, and everyone else was seated. Two long rows of men in dinner jackets and women in evening dress. Candles on the tables. Ancient stained glass windows glowing. It was like something I'd dreamed since being a child. To be surrounded by history, learning, thoughts, ideas. Food.

Michael had studied the seating chart and knew we were at the head of our table, and who we were seated beside. My dinner partner was - Michael prepped me - none other than the former Master of Christ's College. Which is a little like having dinner with you-know-who himself.

We sat down and Michael got to talking with the charming man beside him, and I turned to my companion and after apologies for being late and comments on the lovely surroundings and smoked salmon I asked - 'So, what do you do?'

'Oh, not much of anything, I'm afraid. I sort of muddle along.'

Alarms started going off in my head. I've come to be able to decypher the Brits. When they say they 'muddle along' it means they're either the next in line to the throne, a billionaire, or a Nobel prize winner.

Or, the former Master of Christ's College - a senior British scientist. I finally, slightly too late, remembered.

But he was lovely. Very fun and funny. Alan Munro is his name and we spent part of the evening talking about perfect poison's to kill people. He came up with a great one, I wrote it down and plan to use it in a book very soon.

It was, as you might imagine, a magical evening.

The next morning we went to Christ's College for breakfast with the 'gang' - and the man across from me, beside Michael, really had won the Nobel Prize - last year. Happily I'd stopped asking people, 'And, what do you do?'

My favorite moments from 2 days filled with wonderful memories are - running through the night streets of Cambridge with Michael, looking so handsome in his dinner jacket and backtie.

Listening to him talk about his book with the Nobel laureate, who was riveted.

And then having mid-morning coffee in the Master's garden - a secret walled garden few are allowed into. It's closed to the public and a stunning space.

We're spending the whole week here - bliss. Today we went to the dazzling Whipple Museum - a small scientific museum down a tiny back road...but what wonders it holds. Then had lunch at the Loch Fyne Oyster and Seafood restuarant across from the Fitzwilliam Museum.

Now we`re home, carrying eccles cakes and diet coke - the Times and the Independent newspapers.

I`m sure to wake up soon and find it was all a dream. and that`s OK. At least I dreamed it.

Are you feeling better?

sunny, hot, temps 29

Glorious day.

Poor Michael's sick in bed. We're going to have one week of brilliant summer and he may very well miss it. I should pull the curtains and tell him it's rainy and cold. Hmm, might just do that.

He's running a temperature, but it broke in the night and is now down to normal. I give him pills, soup, juices and slather him in Vicks Vapo-rub. You know, that's almost a comfort smell for me. I remember reading a study about comfort smells and the conclusion was that there were certain smells that most westerners reacted to. Roses. Fresh cut grass.

But - the intersting finding was that comfort smells are evolving and generational. For people over 70 they're likely to be fresh baked bread, line dried clothing, vanilla. For baby-boomers they're more likely to be Vapo-rub, gasoline, talcum powder, Kraft dinner. In other words, a more chemical smell.

I remembered that as I spread the Vapo rub on Michael's chest. While it clearly signals illness, even more than that it signals caring.

The amazing Linda Lyall - the woman who designs and maintains my website - sent out the September Newsletter today. That's always fun.

Had a great breakfast at the Saint Patrick restaurant in Sutton with Cheryl. We talked about all sorts of things including maybe one day taking a couple of weeks in the spring or summer and sign up for one of the short courses Trinity in Dublin or Cambridge University give. Take something like anthropology, comparative religions, the history of recluses - something almost totally useless but fascinating. Wouldn't that be fun?

Cheryl's one of the most gifted people I know. A writer and artist, she has a series of children's books. One's already published and is called Dragon Dreams, and the others are in various stages of completion and about to be sent to her publisher. We're lucky enough to own one of her original illustrations. A real treasure.

Must be off - check on Michael. We're watching Gustav on the televison and very relieved it isn't worse...though I suspect it's bad enough.

My goal is to see how many times Michael can be asked, 'Are you feeling better?' before he explodes. Wish me luck.

The Globe and Mail - and mail

mixed sun and clouds, sprinkles, temps 20

Odd day - great threatening clouds, but then nothing happens. heavy Scotch mist as I walked the dogs this morning.

Heading off to Sutton to do a massive mailing...all sorts of things waiting to be sent out. Went to Cowansville this morning for breakfast and to do the bank. And have a laundry in for clean clothing for the Scene of the Crime Festival this weekend on Wolfe Island, near Kingston. leaving 5:30 tomorrow morning to drive there.

The Globe and Mail today ran the column I wrote for their Romantic Love series. Such fun! An artist even illustrated it. Must find out if we can get the original drawing. The column is about Michael and my courtship.

And, Hope - my US editor at Minotaur Books - sent a blog which lists the top debut books (in terms of awards) since 2000 - and Still Life was number 5! Julia Spencer Fleming was number 2!! Clever woman and wonderful book - in the Bleak Midwinter.

Must run to the post office. probably won't blog again until Sunday...might see if Michael could, but I know he's busy writing his amazing book.

Take care and will speak to you soon.

The End - almost - really

rainy, snow (!), cold, temps 3

Can you believe the rain turned to snow this afternoon? I was stunned - though you'd think I'd be used to it by now. such an odd, unsettled, season.

Spent most of the day writing. Enjoying this section. I can see the end now. Is this beginning to sound familiar? When I first finished STILL LIFE I announced to Michael that I'd written, 'The End', and he took me off to Hovey manor for the night to celebrate. Then six months later I told him I'd finished the edit - this time I was REALLY finished. He took me to dinner to celebrate. About 4 months later, again, the big announcement...the polishing was finished - this time for sure! He bought me flowers.

After a while he's stopped responding altogether. Funny, that.

Still, I have to say, that finished the first draft is the biggest thing. When I write the first words (back in january or february) and am counting every, single, word it seems inconceivable I'd ever write 'The End'. But now I can see the end.

Just don't tell Michael - he won't believe you.

The Mayor called today...I'd been told he wanted to ask me something. I began to suspect it was to play a role in the upcoming celebrations of Townshippers Day, which is being held in Sutton this year, on September 20th. I'd already had to turn it down since I'll be away - but I guess no one told the Mayor...so he asked again if I'd be the Honourary President, and again I had to say no thank you. I felt horrible. I love this community, as you probably can guess. And this really is a huge honour. But we'll be away - actually at a family reunion.

Hope my brothers appreciate this! Don't brothers always?

Maggie and Trudy are off to be groomed first thing tomorrow morning. Trudy's operation wound is almost healed...fantastic. We're off for our Cowansville breakfast and chores. Was trying to arrange a coffee tomorrow afternoon with Joan rose and Michele Brault, but it doesn't seem possible. Might get more writing in.

and will finally mail off the proof edits to New York - and do a ritual cleansing of the house.

Be well - I'll talk to you tomorrow.

I'm baaaack

cloudy, mild, highs plus 4

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
Eleanor Roosevelt

The tour is almost over - Burlington, Vermont on Wednesday. But I'm home!!! Made the tight connection in Chicago and arrived back last night. And Michaerl surprised me by being at the airport - and I burst into tears. Didn't expect him - and didn't expect to cry. But I fell into his arms, the tears already flowing. Poor guy. We talked a lot (as St Martin's will find when they get the phone bills from the hotels!) but it wasn't the same as being able to stalk him in person. He gave me all these cards to open at each stop - then even sent one to the hotel in Houston (my last stop) but it didn't arrive. Lovely, lovely man.

And I read his beautiful blogs. Just noticed what a dreadful word 'blog' is - I realize it comes from weblog - but doesn't sound as lovely as many, many blogs actually are - including Michael's.
As I tolod people on the tour, despite a lifetime as a pediatric hematologist (he's the doc you NEVER want to have to meet) and sitting at the bedside of desperately ill and sometimes dying children, Michael is the most joyous man I know. Actually, it's not despite his work, but because of it, I believe. He knows what tragedy is, and he knows what a blessing and gift life is. He sees children denied it - and knows what a betrayal it is when people turn that gift of life into a self-manufactured misery. Like Gamache, Michael is happy not because he's never met loss and sorrow, but because he has.

But now I've kicked him out of the 'blogging' chair and reclaimed it! Haha. The power. Whaaahaha.

I'll write about the tour as the days progress - don't want to make this first one an essay - but I do want to say what a joy it was to meet some of you - and how genuinely grateful I am for your support - Donna and Lesa - and Kay, I read what you wrote Michael (as did others) and I'm moved.

St Martin's Minotaur has asked me to write their blog next week - so I'll actually be cheating (not for the first time - you should have seen the size of the pizza we had for dinner last night, disgusting) and using this blog as theirs - but you might notice some odd things because I'll be introducing myself a bit - saying things I realise you've already heard. So my apologies in advance. This is what comes of sloth.

Today is a day to recover...we're staying in Montreal because we have a series of appointments (not least with FRank, our accountant about the taxes) early this week. Might do some writing this afternoon. Took my notebook, sat on the plane, and made notes... scheming. Very healthy. Thank God Homeland Security didn't see any of the things I wrote. Murder on the mind.

It's so good to be back - but such a real joy to meet so many of you.

Be well, and I'll talk to you tomorrow.