I've just received my first-ever partial review for A Fairy Tale for Gwyn, due out in January:
"Linda Poitevin creates a story that brings laughter, tears and all the emotions in between and even makes one want to reach out to help at times....an exciting and evocative story." – The Long and the Short of It Romance Reviews
Somehow this just makes everything so real...and so near! Can't believe the release is approaching so fast...and I still have a gazillion things to do. I'll be on virtual book tour starting January 11th (trust me, I'll be posting details here later!). In the meantime, check back in a few days...I'll have my first-ever book trailer video up here and on my Website. Such a lot of firsts...and such a lot of fun!
Warmly,
Linda
Monday, December 14, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Time Warp
They say time flies when you're having fun.
I submit that it flies regardless of your level of entertainment. And the older you get, the faster it goes. Seriously.
Here it is December 10th, more than a month after my last post. I had such good intentions of doing this on a more regular basis, really I did. But one delay led to another and another, and then to...fifteen days before Christmas. And utter panic on my part. (Does anyone remember that song "Stop the world and let me off"? I can't remember all the words, so I'm not even sure it had anything to do with time, but it sure seems to fit right now.)
Fifteen days before Christmas and I haven't bought my cards yet, let alone addressed them or sent them. I've barely started shopping. No decorations, no tree, no lights, no baking. I haven't even put a Christmas CD into the stereo.
Christmas. Heck, I'm not even ready for summer yet, and that's already passed me by. Autumn and Halloween, too. But Christmas? You can't be serious.
Nope, I'm convinced of it. Time doesn't just fly, it transcends warp-speed.
I submit that it flies regardless of your level of entertainment. And the older you get, the faster it goes. Seriously.
Here it is December 10th, more than a month after my last post. I had such good intentions of doing this on a more regular basis, really I did. But one delay led to another and another, and then to...fifteen days before Christmas. And utter panic on my part. (Does anyone remember that song "Stop the world and let me off"? I can't remember all the words, so I'm not even sure it had anything to do with time, but it sure seems to fit right now.)
Fifteen days before Christmas and I haven't bought my cards yet, let alone addressed them or sent them. I've barely started shopping. No decorations, no tree, no lights, no baking. I haven't even put a Christmas CD into the stereo.
Christmas. Heck, I'm not even ready for summer yet, and that's already passed me by. Autumn and Halloween, too. But Christmas? You can't be serious.
Nope, I'm convinced of it. Time doesn't just fly, it transcends warp-speed.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Secret Life of a Writer
Have you ever noticed that reality is sometimes less than thrilling? I mean, really, how many counters can a person be expected to wipe in a lifetime before the novelty kind of wears off? (Feel free to substitute your own least-favourite task in there, by the way!) Sometimes it just feels so...ordinary.
I know it doesn't have to be that way, of course. I've known entire families who have pulled up their roots and gone in search of adventure across the continent and around the world; people who have tossed caution to the wind and changed their entire lives. And I'll admit that part of me envies their adventurous spirit - their sheer audacity. But only part of me.
The truth is, I'm not a very adventurous person. While drawn by the idea of the unknown, I like the safety and security of the known. The well-known. The furthest I've ever been out of Canada is Pennsylvania, and my stomach ties itself in knots over my husband's dream to visit Scotland. So does that mean I should resign myself to a life of endless counter-wiping?
Not a chance.
My reality is only a part of my life, you see, because I have a secret. Many of them. Secret identities, secret lives, secret pasts, secret adventures. I can be anyone, do anything, go anywhere I want...any time I want. Safely. Without risk. For the same reason readers pick up books, I write them. Would anyone really choose to be a cop pursued by a serial killer? Or to fall in love with an angel, knowing you could never be together? Not a chance. But as a writer, I can do just that, because I know I'll survive. I know everything will turn out right in the end.
So even though I may look like I'm just wiping counters, trust me, in my mind, I'm somewhere WAY more exciting. And who knows? Maybe a little of my characters' adventurousness will rub of on me and I'll even make it to Scotland one day...in real life. :)
What about you? How do you appease your inner thrill-seeker?
I know it doesn't have to be that way, of course. I've known entire families who have pulled up their roots and gone in search of adventure across the continent and around the world; people who have tossed caution to the wind and changed their entire lives. And I'll admit that part of me envies their adventurous spirit - their sheer audacity. But only part of me.
The truth is, I'm not a very adventurous person. While drawn by the idea of the unknown, I like the safety and security of the known. The well-known. The furthest I've ever been out of Canada is Pennsylvania, and my stomach ties itself in knots over my husband's dream to visit Scotland. So does that mean I should resign myself to a life of endless counter-wiping?
Not a chance.
My reality is only a part of my life, you see, because I have a secret. Many of them. Secret identities, secret lives, secret pasts, secret adventures. I can be anyone, do anything, go anywhere I want...any time I want. Safely. Without risk. For the same reason readers pick up books, I write them. Would anyone really choose to be a cop pursued by a serial killer? Or to fall in love with an angel, knowing you could never be together? Not a chance. But as a writer, I can do just that, because I know I'll survive. I know everything will turn out right in the end.
So even though I may look like I'm just wiping counters, trust me, in my mind, I'm somewhere WAY more exciting. And who knows? Maybe a little of my characters' adventurousness will rub of on me and I'll even make it to Scotland one day...in real life. :)
What about you? How do you appease your inner thrill-seeker?
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Persistence
I love it when a story comes together. That doesn't mean getting it to that point is always easy, but it is SO worth it!
I've just finished the first draft of Sins of an Angel, my urban fantasy, and after much blood, sweat and tears (not to mention some cursing), the story has finally come together the way I hoped it would. And I like it. A lot.
So now it's on to the next step: the beta read, where people get to poke and prod at my baby and provide opinions on whether or not its eye colour suits it or its nose might be too big, all while I wait with bated breath for their judgments. Once the verdicts are in, I'll tackle the revisions, carefully weighing the criticisms and making the changes I think (or know, deep in my heart) are needed.
But for now, I'm done. And I like it. A lot. :)
I've just finished the first draft of Sins of an Angel, my urban fantasy, and after much blood, sweat and tears (not to mention some cursing), the story has finally come together the way I hoped it would. And I like it. A lot.
So now it's on to the next step: the beta read, where people get to poke and prod at my baby and provide opinions on whether or not its eye colour suits it or its nose might be too big, all while I wait with bated breath for their judgments. Once the verdicts are in, I'll tackle the revisions, carefully weighing the criticisms and making the changes I think (or know, deep in my heart) are needed.
But for now, I'm done. And I like it. A lot. :)
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Seasons of Change: Saying goodbye to an old friend
Today I say goodbye to one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Her name is Maya, and she has been my shadow for more than seven years.
She came into our lives a little like a runaway train – and given the size of a Rottweiler, that’s a more accurate description than you might imagine. We’d just lost our dog, another Rottie, after almost eight years, and our girls were devastated. They wanted another dog as soon as possible, a puppy this time (Sadie had been an adult rescue dog), and so we checked out the local humane shelter. Enter Maya. At ten months, she could hardly be called a puppy, but oh, was she beautiful. Just back from having been spayed, she was soft and calm and gentle – it was love at first sight. We adopted her on the spot and took her home with us.
And then the drugs wore off. (I did mention the just-back-from-the-vet part, didn’t I?) And then the problems surfaced. And oh, my, were there problems. For those of you familiar with Marley & Me, yup, that would have pretty much been our Maya at that point.
In the space of a week, one of my daughters was begging me to take her back to the shelter, my husband and I were fighting constantly about the dog, and I was beginning to think we’d made a huge mistake. Emphasis on huge. And yet...and yet. Something incredibly intelligent shone through this great galumphing dog’s eyes, something I wasn’t ready to give up on. And so I persevered.
Maya had spent her time with her former owner tied to a tree in a backyard. I suspect these were well-meaning people who bought a cute, roly-poly puppy with no idea how big it would get or how much work it would take. Maya had not been housebroken, socialized to either people or dogs, leash-trained, or played with. Judging by the way her backbone protruded, neither had she been adequately fed. She was terrified of parked cars, unpredictable around men, jumped on the kids, snapped if a toy was taken from her, and chewed. Oh, boy, did she chew.
When she had mangled numerous stuffed animals, nibbled a hole in the area rug, and helped herself to several pairs of underwear and socks, I tried having her spend more time in the backyard (fenced, no ropes). The chewing continued. Pool toys, barbecue covers, branches ripped from trees, rocks, porch rails, porch stairs, even a corner off the house (yup, the aluminum siding)...and when she came back in, a corner of the antique piano. Then, going into our fifth month, I found her chewing a rake. In going down the stairs to take it away from her, I fell and badly mangled one foot.
Somehow, the month I spent in an air cast became our turning point. Almost as if she knew she’d been the cause of my pain, Maya began to settle down. She used her chew bones instead of our belongings, began to exhibit actual manners, and before we quite realized it was happening, became part of the family. Her incredibly loyal personality began to shine through, my husband and daughter warmed to her, and she became my shadow. The girls found it hilarious that they could tell where I was in the house by Maya’s presence (dog in the hall? Mom’s in the bathroom), and we began to think we should have renamed her “Velcro.”
Seven years later, we have more stories than we could possibly recount of the most amazing dog we’ve ever had, and it’s hard to tell who gained more by her presence in our lives, her or us. Her habits, her quirks, her endless puppy-clowning – each of us has a favourite tale - or ten. The dog that came into our lives like a runaway train became the little engine that could, and did, steal our hearts. That cancer should steal her from us now is so very wrong. So very unfair.
She will be missed.
She came into our lives a little like a runaway train – and given the size of a Rottweiler, that’s a more accurate description than you might imagine. We’d just lost our dog, another Rottie, after almost eight years, and our girls were devastated. They wanted another dog as soon as possible, a puppy this time (Sadie had been an adult rescue dog), and so we checked out the local humane shelter. Enter Maya. At ten months, she could hardly be called a puppy, but oh, was she beautiful. Just back from having been spayed, she was soft and calm and gentle – it was love at first sight. We adopted her on the spot and took her home with us.
And then the drugs wore off. (I did mention the just-back-from-the-vet part, didn’t I?) And then the problems surfaced. And oh, my, were there problems. For those of you familiar with Marley & Me, yup, that would have pretty much been our Maya at that point.
In the space of a week, one of my daughters was begging me to take her back to the shelter, my husband and I were fighting constantly about the dog, and I was beginning to think we’d made a huge mistake. Emphasis on huge. And yet...and yet. Something incredibly intelligent shone through this great galumphing dog’s eyes, something I wasn’t ready to give up on. And so I persevered.
Maya had spent her time with her former owner tied to a tree in a backyard. I suspect these were well-meaning people who bought a cute, roly-poly puppy with no idea how big it would get or how much work it would take. Maya had not been housebroken, socialized to either people or dogs, leash-trained, or played with. Judging by the way her backbone protruded, neither had she been adequately fed. She was terrified of parked cars, unpredictable around men, jumped on the kids, snapped if a toy was taken from her, and chewed. Oh, boy, did she chew.
When she had mangled numerous stuffed animals, nibbled a hole in the area rug, and helped herself to several pairs of underwear and socks, I tried having her spend more time in the backyard (fenced, no ropes). The chewing continued. Pool toys, barbecue covers, branches ripped from trees, rocks, porch rails, porch stairs, even a corner off the house (yup, the aluminum siding)...and when she came back in, a corner of the antique piano. Then, going into our fifth month, I found her chewing a rake. In going down the stairs to take it away from her, I fell and badly mangled one foot.
Somehow, the month I spent in an air cast became our turning point. Almost as if she knew she’d been the cause of my pain, Maya began to settle down. She used her chew bones instead of our belongings, began to exhibit actual manners, and before we quite realized it was happening, became part of the family. Her incredibly loyal personality began to shine through, my husband and daughter warmed to her, and she became my shadow. The girls found it hilarious that they could tell where I was in the house by Maya’s presence (dog in the hall? Mom’s in the bathroom), and we began to think we should have renamed her “Velcro.”
Seven years later, we have more stories than we could possibly recount of the most amazing dog we’ve ever had, and it’s hard to tell who gained more by her presence in our lives, her or us. Her habits, her quirks, her endless puppy-clowning – each of us has a favourite tale - or ten. The dog that came into our lives like a runaway train became the little engine that could, and did, steal our hearts. That cancer should steal her from us now is so very wrong. So very unfair.
She will be missed.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Summer Essay
Remember when you'd go back to school and the first thing your teacher did was make everyone write an essay about what they did over your summer holidays? I hated those things. It always seemed that everyone else had done such cool stuff, while I never really got to go anywhere or do anything. Life, I was certain, was b-o-r-i-n-g.
But oh, what I what I wouldn't give to have one of those lazy, hazy summers now, when I'm old enough to appreciate it. Enjoy it. Savor it down to its very last sundrop. Because, teacher, you wouldn't believe what I've done this summer!
What I Did This Summer, by Linda Poitevin
Bought a mini greenhouse and started all my own plants. Built a new garden bed when I realized I had more plants than space. Textured walls in one bathoom. Packed up dining room, living room, office, and hallway bookcases in preparation for renovations. Moved everything to an outside storage point. Shopped for renovation materials. Painted two bathrooms, one hallway, one living room, one master bedroom, one staircase, and one dining room. Helped one daughter find two different apartments; helped same daughter move back home (long story involving roommates that backed out at the last minute.) Watched home-grown plants in garden disappear under weeds I had no time to pull. Went to farmer's markets and bought way too many things. Canned and froze winter supply of vegetables and fruit for family. Installed approximately 1,000 square feet of hardwood floor (okay, that happened at the beginning of October, but still...). Moved everything back into house. Unpacked all the boxes and rearranged house. Managed to stay married and retain sanity and (most of) sense of humor. Oh, and finished the first draft of my urban fantasy. The end.
It might not qualify as a very exciting life, but I certainly can't complain about being bored. What about you? What would your end-of-summer essay look like? Do you, too, long for those lazy summers of years gone by?
But oh, what I what I wouldn't give to have one of those lazy, hazy summers now, when I'm old enough to appreciate it. Enjoy it. Savor it down to its very last sundrop. Because, teacher, you wouldn't believe what I've done this summer!
What I Did This Summer, by Linda Poitevin
Bought a mini greenhouse and started all my own plants. Built a new garden bed when I realized I had more plants than space. Textured walls in one bathoom. Packed up dining room, living room, office, and hallway bookcases in preparation for renovations. Moved everything to an outside storage point. Shopped for renovation materials. Painted two bathrooms, one hallway, one living room, one master bedroom, one staircase, and one dining room. Helped one daughter find two different apartments; helped same daughter move back home (long story involving roommates that backed out at the last minute.) Watched home-grown plants in garden disappear under weeds I had no time to pull. Went to farmer's markets and bought way too many things. Canned and froze winter supply of vegetables and fruit for family. Installed approximately 1,000 square feet of hardwood floor (okay, that happened at the beginning of October, but still...). Moved everything back into house. Unpacked all the boxes and rearranged house. Managed to stay married and retain sanity and (most of) sense of humor. Oh, and finished the first draft of my urban fantasy. The end.
It might not qualify as a very exciting life, but I certainly can't complain about being bored. What about you? What would your end-of-summer essay look like? Do you, too, long for those lazy summers of years gone by?
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Myth-Busting 101 for Writers
An extremely interesting - and enlightening! - piece about the myths and realities of making bestseller status. If you've ever wondered what's involved in 'making it,' including what to expect dollar-wise, then Lynn Viehl's blog is definitely worth checking out. Let me know what you think of it!
Linda
www.lindapoitevin.com
Linda
www.lindapoitevin.com
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