A Day with Shay

The best things in life are often unexpected. 2010 will go down as my favorite Halloween weekend on record because I was surrounded by family and friends at the Nightshade release party. I'll do full-party blogging soon (I'm waiting on all the pictures to come in), but I wanted to do a Halloween post about joyful surprises.

I was shocked by the number of people who drove long distances to come to party. Dear, dear friends came to surprise me including my high school English teacher, Mrs. Heisler, who always encouraged my writing dreams.

One of the best surprises of this entire experience, however, have been the new and wonderful friendships I've made through Nightshade. My awesome teams at InkWell and Penguin - the amazing YA authors I've met at conferences. And then there's Shay.
Actually he's Will Browning - the actor who brought Shay to life in the Shadow Days webisodes. Getting to know Will has been awesome because not only is he incredibly talented, he's also one of the loveliest people I've ever met.

I was honored that he came all the way from Florida to attend the Nightshade party. And (bonus!) he spent the weekend hanging out with my family and friends.

We took a tour of Minneapolis and St. Paul highlights and he took lots of pictures.

We carved pumpkins
and named them Bateman and Sebastian.
And he stayed up until 3 a.m. with me watching Labyrinth.
As an author, I thought there could be nothing better than having a talented actor portray one of my characters. I was wrong. What's even better is meeting a kindred spirit and making a friend for life.

Thanks for everything, Will!

Wishing all of you a Happy Halloween full of more treats than tricks!

And a huge thanks to DJ for sending me a picture of his pumpkin! Yay!!!

A Sense of Place

I'm often asked what inspired me to write Nightshade. In the case of this trilogy, the inspiration was Calla, a character whose story had to be told. But this story is something new; I wrote Nightshade between Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2008.

Love of writing is something that's been with me much, much longer.When I think about what inspires me to write I always go back to where I'm from. Recently I had the chance to take a trip to my hometown and was reminded once again why I love it.

The South Shore of Lake Superior is exquisite, but remains undiscovered in many ways.
It has a quality of wildness that lends itself to creative sparks.The landscape itself holds secrets, memories, and histories that evoke storytelling.
My writing also thrived because of the unwavering love of my wonderful family (that's my mom watching the island during our ferry ride. Hi Mom. Thanks for being you!!)
Places inspire me, but none quite as much as that very place where it all began.

What inspires you?

The Fam

It's Father's Day (hi Dad!)Last night I had a very strange dream about saying goodbye. My family were all packing up our cars up at my parents house and hugging and talking about the next time we'd be together. And I was horribly upset through the whole dream. I woke up puzzled because life is good right now. It's great, in fact.

So why the bad dream? (It also had a part involving killer bees, but that's unrelated)
I'm blessed by a truly extraordinary family. When we get together we have a wonderful time.

Case in point - last weekend we all got together for the wedding of a very close friends, people who are very much like extensions of our own family.It was beautiful and wonderful and the joy of the moment could be testified to by the fact that my Dad - who DOES NOT dance - pulled us all out on the dance floor at one point with the exclamation "We need to dance! We need to form a family circle and dance!"
Awesome.

I think the dream was a reminder that those family gatherings are special and I wish they happened more often. My brother, Garth, lives in LA and that is TOO FAR from here. I see my mom and dad quite a bit because they're only a few hours away, but I'd like to see them more.

Family time leads to hi-jinx and belly-deep laughter that leaves your in happy tears. Who wouldn't want more of that?

Happy Father's Day. Happy Family Day.

Little Victories

We had to move Christmas. The National Weather Service described travel conditions at the time we were meant to head North for the family as 'life-threatening.' No family, no presents. It started as a terrible disappointment. It could have been a disaster.


But sometimes inconveniences, big and small, can bring to light the best parts of life. Instead of gathering at the traditional time in the traditional place, we cobbled together a small dinner for those of us close enough to meet without risky life and limb. Christmas Up North has been rescheduled for next weekend. Our impromptu Christmas dinner was delightful. Today, Boxing Day, we loafed about, tucked under quilts, nibbling leftovers, until it was time to move the cars because of the Snow Emergency.

*This is not us, but we looked very much like this*

Since this latest storm consisted of not only snow, but also ice, the streets have turned into corridors slicker than skating rinks. It took a group effort to get the car moving, but move it did amid laughter, shouts from the open car door (the windows were frozen shut), and celebratory dancing in the street upon success.

Little victories make the world bright and have made my out-of-the-ordinary Christmas a very nice one indeed.

Family Ties

My parents are here for a visit and they brought their dog, which brings us up to three dogs, one parakeet, and one wild rabbit in the house.


She made herself at home, living up to her namesake: Loki.

And Rocco learned about sharing.

And, yes, I am terrible about making the bed.

The Work of Days

Some days are meant for life, and others death.

Today belonged to death.

My grandfather's funeral was meaningful and comforting. The service reflected his unique character and gave testament to the loving community of which he had been a vital part. Musician, story-teller, WWII veteran, he was a man of puckish character and unmatched generosity. He lived 91 years, vitality at last succumbing to the damage caused by mesothelioma (asbetos-produced cancer).

After hours filled with memories and family, we arrived home late, in the dark. Amidst the chore of unpacking, mind still netted in the frantic pace of the days leading up to the funeral, my husband called me outside.

The neighborhood cat had another rabbit.

My husband had our dogs and couldn't intervene himself.

I hesitated for a moment, wondering why I'd encountered this moment twice and what I would do with two wild rabbits in the house. Still full of questions I headed out into the night.

The cat was nestled against a small apartment building, its pale fur revealing its hiding place among the shadowed bushes. I spoke in calm tones as I approached, the cat looked satisfied when it emerged to greet me and my skin crawled.

I picked up the cat, holding it under one arm while I scanned the ground for the rabbit. It was too dark to see, so I resorted to feeling along the ground.

My breath caught when I felt its soft fur and still body. My eyes adjusted to the dim light when I knew where to look. The rabbit's liquid obsidian eyes were wide and unblinking, its body lay limp and stretched out in the dirt. It was the same size as Dandelion who I'd just left happily munching on clover in our living room.

I was too late. There would be no saving today.

Sometimes the world moves and you stumble upon life and hope in the oddest of places. But lives end, all lives. Death reminds us that all creatures are fragile beings, born to have an end, and all we can do in the face of death is breathe, reflect, and walk on.

Family Reunion

I spent the weekend at my home away from home - Irvine, Scotland.
Irvine is perched on the western coast of Scotland, halfway between Glasgow and Ayr. For those unfamiliar with Scotland, the west has the very broad (for many, unintelligible) accent - and it is one of my favorite parts of visiting. I usually adjust to the dialect quickly (only after many years of visits), but here's a snippet of one of the first conversations I had upon arriving.

Scottish dad: "Hae are ye, hen?"
Me: "I'm great."
Scottish dad: "That's smashin. Hae ye seen the cart?"
Me (frowns and glances in the back garden): "The cart?"
Scottish dad: "Aye, the cart."
Me (still looking for said cart): "The cart?"
Scottish dad: "Aye, the cart, she should be around."
Me (finally figures it out): Oh, the cat. (winces when I hear the how horrible the nasal aaaaaaa sound is when I pronounce the word). Yes, I've seen the cat. (winces again)

I was visiting some folks who I always refer to as "my Scottish family." To be technical, this family are not my blood relatives, but for all the love and kinship I share with them, they might as well be.

I first met John and Sandra Davidson when my father did a work exchange in the summer of '92. I was thirteen years old and John and Sandra quickly took our family under their wing, and became my Scottish mum and dad, as they have been ever since.

Over the years I've spent enough time in Irvine that after being there no more than an hour, I find myself slipping into Scottish patterns of speech and even thinking with a Scots accent.

One of the best courses I took in college was "The History of English;" I love learning about words and their origins. Going to Scotland is a wonderful way to learn about the diversity of language. There are Old Scots words that are brilliant. Here are just a few of my favorites:

skint - having no money: "I canna go up the road fer a pint, I'm dead skint."
drich - dreary, rainy day "Och, I'll nae go down the shore, it's an awffa drich day."
greet - cry. "Stop yer greetin, it's nae tha bad."
steamin - very drunk. "How's yer head? You were steamin las night."

And this is a hairy coo (Highland cow)...

and a wee hairy coo (Highland calf): I'm seriously not making these words up. My Scottish family and friends all use them constantly. I love these words, they have such a wonderful onomatopoetic (i.e. their sound evokes their meaning) quality. When I'm in Scotland every conversation becomes something of an adventure.

Unfortunately it wasn't all good news from the North. Ayrshire has recently been shocked by the announcement that Diageo (the corporation that owns the Johnnie Walker label) will be closing their factory in Kilmarnock, cutting 700 jobs.

Scotland has already been hard hit by recession, and this loss will devastate Ayrshire's economy. Local politicians, who were given no warning of the closure, are in talks with the company now to try to find an alternative solution to the job losses. Since Johnnie Walker is a major export, particularly to America, I'd encourage anyone in the U.S. who consumes this whisky or cares about Scotland to let Diageo know that you support any concessions they can make to save jobs in Kilmarnock.

Lang mae yer lum reek.