Finished - again

beautiful, sunny day, warm and humid - temps 26

Stunning day! And wonderful news. I finally finished the fourth draft. Thought for sure this would be the book that kills me. Not because there's anything wrong with the book - I hope! But because of all the other things in my life.

Have pledge to say 'no thank you' to everything next summer. And just have two quiet months, Michael and me alone in Sutton. It's gotten to the point where days when all I have to do is write feel like vacation.

Like today. Had 20 pages to complete and took me all day. Sometimes the fine-tuning is like that. I can stare at a sentence for half an hour wondering why it just isn't right. And then taking it out changes everything around it and so that needs fixing - and made better. There's just a whole lot of very, very delicate work.

But also took a day away from it last week. Michael and I went with our friend Susan to Shelburne, Vermont. Stayed Thursday night at the Shelburne Inn - which is on a spit of land jutting into Lake Champlain. Fabulous home build by one of the Vanderbilt daughters. Huge - but apparently considered something of a shack compared to the homes of other robber barons that were built on long island etc. They were considered quite strange to come to Vermont.

But the home has been preserved - furniture saved - and so staying there is like getting into the time machine and stepping out a glorious Vanderbilt in the late 1800's. Except - there's running water and electricity. But - no air conditioning or heating. So the Inn is closed from Oct. to May.

It's in a 400 acre farm - that produces cheese and meat and vegetables. And that was why we were there...to take part in a Vermont Farm Fresh dinner thursday night.

To say it was magical would be to sell it short. We arrived at about ten to six for the six o'clock dinner. Parked the car outside the huge barn, expecting to be show to tables inside. But instead, we were shown up a path through a field, and up a hill. To a plateau. There, long tables had been set with white linens, silverware, glasses. flowers. A beehive oven was making bread. A bar had been set up and young men and women in livery were serving.

Now this was like stepping into a film set, without the annoyance of anyone shouting 'Cut!'

We chose a table at random, got a drink, and then it was time to eat. Course after fresh course. Salads, casseroles, free range beef wrapped in cabbage, all different ways to do summer and winter squash. And two young women who'd grown the vegetables and harvested them, were there, talking about it.

And from the field, as the sun set, we looked out across the farm, to the Green Mountains in the distance. Candles were lit. Dessert came. Tiny cupcakes made of fruits and beets, with whipped icing.

And then we followed the lamps back down the path, to our cars. Knowing we hadn't had just a meal - but a memory.

Next morning we got up, wandered the grounds of the Inn - had a magnificent breakfast. Sat in adirondack chairs by the lake. Then drove home. Amazed, yet again, at our good fortune and dumb luck, to live here.

I haven't blogged, as you might have noticed, for a few days. Life too hectic - have been focussing on getting the edit done. Some more smoothing still before I'll print it out - but it's all there. Just a small thought here - a clarification there.

Had a lovely, big article in La Presse yesterday on the French version of Still Life, called En plein coeur. And nice mention in Le Devoir as well. Have an interview tomorrow afternoon with the newspaper La Voix de L'est, and a TV interview, taping at Hovey Manor (more suffering, I'm afraid) - with Radio Canada Television - on Tuesday. Then off to Toronto for an event at the Canadian national Exhibition on Thursday night with Linwood Barclay. He's terrific - wonderful writer and lovely person. Then home Friday. Doug and the kids are coming for the long Labour Day weekend.

Oh, and I still need to write the Sept Newsletter. Yikes. Gotta run. Hope you've been well. Speak soon!

huge vacuums

rainy, cool temps 22

Thank you for all your supportive comments - limping toward 'the end'...hoping to finish this fourth draft by Sunday. Then will write the September newsletter on Monday.

But I must tell you about the launch of En plein coeur...well, not really a launch since it doesn't actually come out until Sept 2nd. but this was an intimate lunch for the books editor at La Presse, and a book reviewer at Voir. Simone, the publicist was there, as were Louise Loiselle, the publisher at Flammarion Quebec, and Michael Saint-Germain - the translator. The good news is that the editor at La Presse really liked the book! The other woman hadn't had the chance to read it all, but was enthusiastic.

Can't tell you what a relief that was. And the food was spectacular. Restaurant called Le Local. Highly recommended - though very hard to find. It's on rue William in Montreal. Susan and I had once again practiced, and realized I'd said, at one point, that I had very big vacuums. What I'd meant to say was I have large aspirations.

Aspirations. Aspirateurs. French - a language of nuance.

Tried not to repeat that over lunch. We chatted away in both French and english, often switiching in mid-sentence. Some days my french is good, many days it's very bad. But not as bad as my Italian.

I remember when Michael and I arrived at the airport in Venice several years ago, while he organized the luggage I went in search of the vaporetto (sp?) - the water taxi's - that would take us to our hotel on the Grand Canal. I found the desk, went over to them, opened my mouth, and only then did I realize I don't speak Italian.

you'd think, maybe, I'd have known that a little earlier - but it actually came as a surprise.

I also remember doing an interview on CBC Radio - live on air - one of my first. I was asking one of the Vietnamese boat people - back in the early 80's - about his experiences.

'Tell me what it was like leaving your home?' I asked.

'87' he said.

I paused.

'What was the journey like?' I asked, slowly, clearly. Loudly.

'87,' he said.

I was faced with a choice. either come up with a series of questions whose answer was '87' (What comes after 86?), or saying 'Thank you, and goodbye.' I said goodbye.

I've often wondered if that man realized he didn't speak English. And why he'd ever agree to do an interivew in a language he obviously did not speak.

Now, as I face a raft of interviews in French, I'm beginning to understand how this sort of thing happens. Wishful thinking and the inestimable power of delusion.

After the lunch Michael and I jumped in the car and headed to Granby to see jacques and Louise. We wanted to be careful not to exhaust Jacques, but we ended up staying an hour and a half. And he and Louise continue to amaze us. He's no longer eating or drinking. slivers of ice is all he can manage. It is in other hands than ours, or his. Louise continues to be gracious and open. But it's exhausting.

Then home about 7pm...took peanut butter sandwiches up to bed. Asleep by 8:30. The thrilling life of a writer!!

Spending today in sweats in front of the fireplace, editing...juggling scenes...writing a few new ones...as I read the hardcopy manuscript I realized I needed to switch the location of a scene and add a character - which of course reverberates through the rest of the scenes. So that takes time. Hope to get to page 180 today. 200 tomorrow - heading off at noon to drive to Shelburne Farms Inn, south of Burlington, Vermont. Susan, Michael and I are taking part in the framers dinner tomorrow night. They're holding it in the barn onsite. Then we're all staying the night at the Inn, and going to the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Shelburne Museum on Friday. Home early afternoon.

Really looking forward to that! A late summer treat. Speak soon - and hope all your vacuums are met.