Surviving the Move

It's been over three months since my last post. Some of you have stopped looking for me, I know. Well, everyone, having recovered from the stress of my move, I am as back to normal as I can ever be. (I wasn't that normal to start with.)

From where I'm sitting now, I can hear a bunch of rainbow parakeets chattering and screeching in the trees in the courtyard here. Members of the parrot family, they are the noisiest birds in the world, but I love every minute of it. They sound so happy to be alive! I don't know if it's their exclusive food, but they hang out in bottle brush trees (so called because their red blossoms look like bottle brushes), and they sip on the nectar all day long. Having two of these trees directly outside means I hear all the action.

So I know where I am; it's audible. Then there is that unique smell - of eucalyptus, jacaranda, and other flora that gently surrounds you the minute you land here. It's as different to Brighton (in both England and Canada) as tea is to coffee, or whiskey is to vodka, but I'm always grateful I've had the opportunity to appreciate all these places, along with the others. I'm a wanderer. Like the song. But time to stay put now, not just for my sake, but my dear cats.

I finished Summer Must End back in August as I predicted. I have yet to pull together a one-page synopsis and shorter jacket blurb for it, but there's plenty of time to do that. With the two other manuscripts patiently waiting their turn, I doubt much will happen for quite a while. Does that matter to me? Not at all.  I am already well into my fourth novel and I'm guessing that there will be more before Summer comes under the microscope. You have to have huge patience in this writing game. But you guys already know that.

The great news is - dare I tell you? You might recall that I dropped an agency last year, and perhaps you thought I didn't  take the process seriously enough - I have a new agent. She is absolutely lovely. The ideal for me always (a bit of a fantasy, I thought)  was having an agent who was very friendly, uncomplicated, excellent at her craft, and available. And then there she was, like an old friend in the way she responded to Hafan Deg (although I'm persuaded that title should change to something more recognizable). It's quite a shock to deal with someone who communicates so easily. I send an email, and she replies immediately, always sounding enthusiastic. Oh, my... (Pinching myself again.)

Jeeves longing to get out there...

Baby contemplatng the garden...

So there it is.


The move to the Antipodes is over; my cats survived it with only a little resentment; I'm working on my new novel; I'm agented for the first. Oh, and another bonus: the local library is directly across the street. What more could a girl want? Seriously.

Love being back here. More about the new book next time.

On Goofing Off Last Week With Bloggers' Blahs. (Perhaps nobody noticed...)

I goofed off last week. Perhaps nobody noticed. Only dear Squeakie mentioned he'd not seen my blog, sweet guy. I know I mentioned taking a Writers' Rest the week before, but now I think I have a case of Bloggers' Blahs.

A lot is going on with me right now, yet I've found it so difficult to sit down and try to explain it.  You seemed to be waiting for me to report in, as well, last Friday, which was very disconcerting, because I felt somewhat stressed, as if I'd stood you up for lunch. I know you wouldn't want me to feel like that just because I miss a blog or two, right?

Anyway, I've finally made a decision about where to live. I shan't say where until it's finalized - a lot of stuff needs to be arranged, but I've started getting quotes on freight, and cat transport, that sort of thing.

I haven't truly been myself for the past three years, but I didn't realize how unlike myself I'd been until I made this decision to move. I immediately felt light-hearted, vigorous, and full of anticipation - the way I always used to feel, but had forgotten.

My writing has gained from this rurally-generated, introspective period, of course, and was a life-saver. To mess about with painting (thinking, thinking, all the time, about my situation, as I applied the paint) would have been unhealthy, but writing took my mind off all my concerns, my anxieties. It was the one thing (other than my cats!) that got me springing out of bed in the morning. I will finish this third novel, Summer Must End, at just about the time I will need to start packing to leave this bit of rural Ontario, which is planned, coincidentally, for around the end of summer.

In retrospect, country living was necessary for me because I had never done it. I thought I would find myself here. Well, I looked all around, and there wasn't a sign of me anywhere. I gave up looking after the first year, but I did find my writer's muse. Everything has a purpose, even when it's not immediately recognized. Loneliness did it for me, as it does for a lot of writers.

Writing this now, I feel as if I'm saying goodbye, which is just plain silly. This blog isn't going anywhere, although it will have a different IP address, if you cared to check it. It's the first time I've travelled anywhere and not had to say, "I'll call you when I arrive," or, "I'll see you next summer," or similar sentiments. In this case, I'll sign off from my blog one Friday morning, and sign on again in another time zone the following Friday, and you won't even know...

I've heard nothing from my agent, and this is now starting to totally irritate me. I would email them, but I'm too prickly - probably say the wrong thing, and I'm not that confident about finding another agent if I upset the one I have. But, I mean, what's with them not even politely bringing me up to date with my novel's journey? What publishers have seen it? Has anyone turned it down out of hand? Has there been even a murmur of interest anywhere? It would take just a few clicks of the mouse and a quick email to reassure me. I'm starting to have doubts... It's been six months. Perhaps that's not so long. Like Scarlett, I guess I'll think about it tomorrow...