Rewriting a Novel

For a while, I've been thinking about my first novel.  Every once in a while, the characters kinda pop into my head and demand I listen to them.  When people ask me what I write, I sometimes say, "I used to write novels and I'd like to get back to that."  Last week, I decided it was time to stop talking and thinking about it and just do it.

I started by opening Snowflake Pro (a story plotting program created by Randy Ingermanson) and working my way through the steps he suggested.  Then I turned it off and went back to playing with the girls.  The characters and plot stuck in my head, though.  On Sunday afternoon, when Lily went down for her nap and Sunshine wanted to watch Sesame Street, my husband asked me what I wanted to do.  "Work on my novel," I answered.

So I did.  I sat down at my computer, pulled up the file and started reading.  I rewrote the prologue a little while back and it still looked good.  But a few pages after that, my excitement faded.  I've worked on this novel for over ten years now.  I practically have some parts of it memorized.  And it's hard to tell anymore what's good and what's bad.

Part of me feels overwhelmed at the thought of going on.  The easy part was writing the novel when I was fourteen; the hard part is to now apply everything that I've learned from attending writer's conferences, taking writing courses, reading books about writing, following writing blogs, talking to other writers, and just plain reading good books so that I can polish this manuscript into something publishable.

My dad used to tell me that I was already ahead of the game because lots of people talk about writing a novel but few people actually sit down and do it.  And yet of the people that actually do it, an even fewer number actually manage to see their books in a bookstore.  I have enough writer friends that I'm well aware of the hard work it takes to get a novel published.  So it's easier just to talk about my novel—to say yep, I've written it, and it's sitting on my computer waiting for me to finish it...

So as I've said... time to quit talking and start writing.

Cherish These Moments

While it's easy to complain about the difficult parts of parenting, there are also lots of little bits that make me smile and thank God for my daughters.  Some of these moments are simple, such as seeing a small pair of shoes laying by themselves after their owner has gone to bed, and thinking about all that those shoes have done. 

Other moments are funnier, such as when Sunshine's grandparents visited us for her third birthday in February and she lined up all of our shoes before we went out:

Or there was the day that I put one of Sunshine's paintings on the fridge to dry (back in the spring when she was having fun doing watercolours), and she decided to decorate it a bit more by putting her LeapFrog letters around it:

And then there was the day I was picking up toys in the evening, after the girls had been playing with their Little People all afternoon, and found this:

These are the moments I tell myself to cherish and remember, because someday, when they are teenagers or have moved away at college, I won't find little shoes laying around on the floor or Little People picnicking on stacking boxes.  Sunshine won't find it fun to line up boots together anymore or to paint pictures for the fridge.  And so, like Mary, I try to hide these moments in my heart (and on my camera).

Book Review: Abundant Rain by Marcia Laycock

Marcia Lee Laycock's new devotional book Abundant Rain is written just for writers.  Drawing on her extensive personal experience, both as a writer and as a mom and pastor's wife, Marcia spins together lessons to draw a writer closer to God.  

Abundant Rain

The title of the ebook comes from Deuteronomy 32:2 (the theme verse for this year's ICWF Fall Conference): "Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants."  The verse is a beautiful reminder to me that God is my inspiration, the giver of my creativity, and that as I turn to Him, He will give me the words to share with others.  Marcia's book provides bite-sized pieces of encouragement to help me focus on God each day as I write.

I enjoyed each of the devotionals.  Marcia has a gift for telling stories which draw you in and then leave you with an "ah-ha!" moment when she applies that story to a Scriptural lesson.  She shows how faith happens in small, ever day moments—how God speaks to us through our family, friends, and circumstances.

Marcia Laycock

Marcia is the author of two other devotional books, The Spur of the Moment (daily "spurts" of faith) and Focused Reflections (devotionals for specific occasions).  She has also written a novel, One Smooth Stone, which won the 2008 Best New Canadian Christian Author Award from Castle Quay Books. For more about Marcia and her books, drop by her website.

Abundant Rain is available for purchase in a variety of ebook formats from Smashwords.  While you're there, check out Marcia's other titles (listed in the left sidebar)—several short stories are available for free.  I recently discovered Adobe Digital Editions and downloaded Abundant Rain in PDF format to read on my computer.  Adobe Digital Editions (free download) bookmarks your place and makes it easy to read—a perfect way to start my writing day after I turn on my computer.

Celebrating Five Years as The Koala Bear Writer

Five years ago yesterday, I opened Blogger and wrote my very first blog post as the Koala Bear Writer.  At the time, I was newly engaged and working my first "real" job after graduating from university.  I was looking for a way to encourage myself to get back to my writing and a blog seemed like a great idea.

Since then, I've learned a ton about blogging, met a lot of great people, and had a lot of fun.  I've written 675 posts, reviewed over 75 books, and started a blog carnival.  This year, I'll also be attending a conference for free because of my blog.  I hope I've improved as a writer and a blogger on this journey.

I would like to thank all of you, my readers—everyone who has told me they read my blog, left comments here, followed me through Google Reader or Facebook, or even just lurked around without letting me know you were there (hey, I do have a SiteMeter!).  All of you have inspired me to keep writing and to share what I do write (instead of just hiding it on my computer).

To celebrate this blogoversary, I thought I'd host a contest.  If you don't follow me through Google, leave a comment here or on Facebook.  Next Wednesday, I'll do a draw of all my followers and commenters for one lucky winner of a prize of some of my favourite things—books, chocolate and coffee!

My blogoversary giveaway!

On Buying a Betta Fish

When we visited my twin brother back in July, Lily was absolutely enthralled with his fish; she kept asking me to hold her up so she could watch the fish.  When we visited friends of our recently for a BBQ, Lily danced and shrieked and pointed at the betta fish sitting on the counter.  This weekend when we stopped at my cousin's place for supper, Sunshine got to help my cousin's roommate feed the fish and Lily again pointed at the fish and stamped her feet in excitement.

I thought, "Why not get them a fish?"  We aren't allowed dogs or cats in our current home (and don't want one until we're not renting—it's hard enough at times finding places that are child-friendly, much less pet-friendly) but a fish should be okay.  We could just get a little one in a little bowl, so it wouldn't be too much work, and they could find out what's its like to have a pet.

As soon as I voiced this idea to my husband, we were off to the pet store.  The first store had a great sale on fish tanks, but hardly any fish.  Sunshine bawled as we left the store without a fish, despite our assurances that we'd get one tomorrow.  The next day, my husband spent some time researching online before we went to another store.  This store had tanks full of fish, but as I read the care notes, my heart began to sink.  Goldfish need 10+ gallons.  Other fish needed 20+ gallons.  None of the fish, in fact, seemed suited for the simple little "goldfish starter kit" that promised "Just add fish and water!"

I steered us toward the betta bowls again.  One fish.  One little decorative bowl.  My husband didn't like that idea.  It can't be used for anything else.  What if, in a few years, the girls wanted more fish?  And didn't betta fish just sit there?  Couldn't we find a fish that would swim around?  Or get them three little fish in a little tank?

No, said the fish expert.  She gestured to all of the nice small tanks we'd been looking at and said they were betta bowls.  If we wanted anything else—even guppies—we'd need a bigger tank.  So we looked at the betta fish again and at their tanks.  Lily jumped up and down.  Sunshine agreed that she wanted a "Sushi fish" (the name given to our friends' betta fish).  We picked out a tank, the prettiest betta fish in the bunch, an extra plant, and headed for the checkout.

On the way home, we talked about names for our new fish.  Sunshine was adamant that the fish should be called Sushi (just like our friends') or Nemo (we just watched the movie).  We suggested Captain Nemo or Moby Dick or Queequag, but Sunshine refused all those.  Then we suggested Anchovy or Sardine or C-O-D (spell it out and say it fast—it sounds neat).  Again, Sunshine vetoed those suggestions.  My husband suggested The King, after Anna and the King of Siam, since betta fish come from Thailand.  I suggested Siam-I-Am, a play on Siam and Green Eggs and Ham.  Sunshine agreed.  My husband laughed.  The name stuck.

We spent the evening setting up Siam-I-Am's new fish tank, watching him swim around, and then finding a spot in the house for him (on the girls' dresser, where they can sit on their bed and watch him).  They fed Siam-I-Am before they went to bed (though I think he was still a bit shell-shocked over all the changes) and when they woke up this morning (he ate three pellets).  Lily has been climbing onto a box beside the dresser to watch him.  So far, so good with having a pet.

Siam-I-Am, our new betta fish

Book Review: J. R. R. Tolkien

When I saw Mark Horne's new biography of J. R. R. Tolkien, I asked myself what I knew about this author who has long been a favourite of mine.  I didn't come up with much, other than the fact that he was Catholic and had a few kids.  So I decided to read the book.  Part of Thomas Nelson's Christian Encounters series, it's a slender volume that was a quick, easy, and interesting read.

A few things that I didn't know about Tolkien (and found surprising) include:
—he was homeschooled by his mom for a year while trying to get into an exclusive boys' school
—he lost both his parents at a young age
—he partied during university (including going for a joy ride on a bus)
—he married a woman three years older than him (and had four kids with her)
—he bucked the current trends at Oxford by being interested in Germanic languages and Norwegian tales rather than in the Greeks and Romans

While Tolkien enjoyed writing, he found it hard to finish any of his stories.  (Hmmm, sounds familiar...)  He had a perfectionist tendency that caused him to keep rewriting and changing anything he'd written.  Often, his critique partners would get frustrated because they'd suggest a few changes to a story or poem that Tolkien had showed him and expect to see a more polished manuscript a few weeks later; instead, Tolkien would completely rework the piece and show them an almost entirely new story or poem.  Even his publishers got frustrated with his constant revisions to his manuscripts.

While Tolkien was a serious Catholic, many people have pointed out that his books aren't overtly "Christian."  There is no mention of God anywhere in The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.  Horne explains, "Tolkien believed that all truth was from God and that it even pushed itself into human culture through myths and legends... Just because myths did not happen does not mean they don't relate truths.  Thus, in writing a myth for the modern world, Tolkien was rather confident that he was somehow reflecting God's truth, even without explicitly mentioning him."

Horne displays a keen insight into Tolkien's life and works.  He includes quotes from other Tolkien scholars and biographers, but provides an intensely interesting and readable look at the author of "the best book of the twentieth century" (according to British bookstore chain Waterstone's poll in 1997).

A Multi-Tasking Writing Style

I met Julianne Harvey about a year and a half ago when she offered a writing class at a local library. It was a chance to get together with other writers and talk about writing, at a time when my writing was again in a slump because I was working full-time at Starbucks, and I jumped on it. Since then, I've watched her career grow as she teaches more classes, starts more writing projects, and recently launched her website. I asked Julianne to share a little bit about how she manages so many projects.

Julianne Harvey

I've come to accept that I'm a bit of a hyperactive writer. I used to listen to other writers talk about beginning and then finishing a single project at a time, and refusing to entertain any new ideas so they wouldn't be distracted. I would usually feel bad about myself when I ended up in one of these conversations, but one day I was cleaning my house in my usual haphazard manner, abandoning the toy clean-up in my family room to focus on my dishes, and then leaving that to start cleaning my bathroom, when I realized something.

It's okay to multi-task, if it suits your personality better.

Ever since that lightning bolt moment, I've stopped cowering into my dark personal corner when I hear other writers say what works for them, and I've learned to embrace what my scattered focus does for me. It keeps me busy and entertained. It means I am never bored. It most definitely takes me longer to finish a project than those with a single-minded focus, but as one project finishes, I have others in various states of completion, so I'm not starting from scratch each time.

We all work differently. It's wonderfully freeing to realize that there is no one right way to do anything. As I grow into a deeper understanding of who I am and how I function, it's fabulous to accept my hyperactive methods and not expect myself to conform to some non-existent standard of how a writer should write. I get a bit squirrelly when I only have one or two items on my to-do list. I like to have a lot of items and feel that sense of satisfaction when I cross them off my list.

The trick is to have reasonable goals. Too many for one day and I feel overwhelmed and discouraged. Too few and I get lazy and have motivation problems. Finding that sweet spot in the middle is only achieved through a lot of trial and error. Mistakes are made, and then avoided in the future. I like to think that I am getting marginally better every day at giving myself the right amount of writing tasks.

Slowly, I progress in my memoir, and my novel, while preparing to self publish my first children's book this fall. I blog every day, and freelance a few articles and short stories, and stay active in social media to build my platform. I try to re-write my screenplay in the faint hope that it will attract an agent someday, and I'll finally achieve my dream of sitting on a film set watching my words come to life. All of these things take time, and with a five-year-old and an-eight-year-old, I don't always have the kind of time I want for writing. I'm learning that the ideas will keep until later, but my kids won't stay at these ages, and I don't want to miss out on this time with them.

And so, like every person, I juggle multiple things on the go. There are days I'm aware I'm doing too much and not well at anything, and then other days when the balance is better and I go to sleep feeling that all is right in my world. I'm trying to build a writing career that will last, which takes careful planning and strategy. I've forced myself to stop looking to my left and to my right to see how I compare to other writers. We are all on different paths, and there is no one right path. For now, I'm grateful that I have more ideas than time, and every day is another chance to embrace my multi-tasking style, and live and write to the best of my ability.

Julianne Harvey just launched her new author website and blogs there every day about personal growth, motherhood and the big questions of life. You can keep up with her writing updates on Facebook or get her writing tips on Twitter. In early 2011, Julianne created Saturday Write-Ins as a way to flee her busy house and get some focused writing done. For more info on Write-Ins, please see her website.

Sunshine Starts Swim Lessons

Sunshine started swim lessons today—Red Cross Sea Otter, half an hour a day for two weeks.  I've debated for a while about signing her up.  Both she and Lily have been in the pool since they were about four months old and both love swimming.  My mom is a swim instructor, so I grew up playing in the water and I can easily teach them how to swim. 

While we lived in northern Alberta, I took Sunshine to a twice-weekly moms 'n' tots aquafit class.  I got to do aquafit with an instructor and several other moms while our kids played with another instructor in the kiddies' pool.  When we moved back to central Alberta, I started working full-time and didn't take Sunshine swimming for about six months.  By that time, she'd forgotten everything she knew—she wouldn't jump in or put her face in or do a back float anymore.

Since then, I've tried to take her swimming every week or two, except for a few months just after Lily was born.  I worried that, by the time Lily was old enough to go in the pool, Sunshine would have forgotten her swim skills again, but this time they stuck a bit longer.  Maybe it helped that we went swimming with my mom whenever we visited her.  Sunshine adores Grandma D and will do anything for her in the pool—especially since Grandma D knows all sorts of fun games.

On our last visit to my mom, in late July, we met her at the pool one day as she was finishing her shift there.  Sunshine saw the big water slide and wanted to go down, but I couldn't take both her and Lily, so I told her she'd have to wait for Grandma.  Then she saw the big pool and wanted to go there, and once again I had to tell her to wait because I couldn't hold two kids up in the deep water.  Finally, my mom was off work and jumped in with us.  We went down the slide several times and then Grandma D took Sunshine to the big pool.

While Lily and I watched from the edge, they swam around with a pool noodle.  My mom is a strong enough swimmer that she could swim with Sunshine on her back, like a momma otter.  Until Sunshine saw the diving board and wanted to try that.  Okay, Mom said.  Up they went.  They had done this once before, but that time, Sunshine was wearing a life jacket and my mom caught her when she jumped in.  This time, Mom jumped off with her—sans life jacket.  When Sunshine popped back up out of the water and asked to go again, I figured it was okay.  If going under water hadn't freaked her out, then that was great.  She went off twice more with Grandma before we called it a day.

So I knew Sunshine's swim skills were pretty good.  But we don't live close enough that I can take her swimming regularly with my mom.  It's hard to take two kids swimming (heck, it's hard just getting two kids in and out of the pool!).  Lily now wants to explore more in the pool, while Sunshine has absolutely no fear of the water.  Swim lessons provided one solution; the instructor can play with Sunshine (and get her putting her face in and floating on her back again) while I play with Lily.

Book Review: The Canary List

My Sigmund Brouwer collection

Back in July, I told myself that I would take a break from reviewing books for a bit.  I'd just gotten through a big stack and thought it might be fun to read without a deadline hanging over my head.  Then I saw a new Sigmund Brouwer book and, well, you know me.  He's one of my favourite authors and so The Canary List landed in my book pile.

Jaimie Piper is a twelve-year-old foster child who can sense Evil.  When Evil shows up at her foster home one evening, she runs to the only person she can trust—her teacher, Crockett Grey.  However, this isn't a good night for Crockett; it's the anniversary of his daughter's death and he just wants to get drunk to forget that.  Things get even worse the next morning when Social Services arrives with questions about why Jaimie spent the night at his house—and who caused the fire that burned Jaimie's foster home to the ground.  Crockett's only alibi, his neighbour Nanna, is missing.

As Crockett tries to defend himself against charges of pedophilia, he finds himself caught in the middle of events that make no sense.  Who is framing him for things he didn't do?  Why?  And what does it have to do with Jaimie?  His attempts to find answers—from his lawyer (hired by a mysterious benefactor), a savvy computer hacker, and even Jaimie's psychiatrist—only leave him with more questions.  When he's kidnapped and hauled to Rome, he becomes a man on a mission: to clear his good name and get back to normal life with his son, Mickey.

As usual, Brouwer writes an intriguing, spell-binding novel.  Even though every chapter was short (point of view changed frequently, keeping suspense high), it was hard to read for just a few minutes.  I found myself devouring it chunks at a time, wanting to know what happened.  Part of that was because the "conspiracy" is set within the Vatican and the Catholic Church.  Was this just another Dan Brown novel, full of inaccuracies painted as facts?

Sigmund Brouwer (© TitleTrakk)

Pedophilia and child abuse is a huge issue within the Catholic Church.  Brouwer raises the issue without flinching, looking at the ways that many priests are never charged with abuse while teachers like Crockett can have their careers ruined over false accusations.  Yet Brouwer also points out, through psychiatrist Madelyne Mackenzie, that the Catholic Church is "an institution that does so much good all across the world.  It's like a beautiful mansion, with one horrible, dark closet.  But the closet draws all the attention, and the fact that the mansion is beautiful too often gets lost because of that."

For anyone with further questions about the issues Brouwer raises in the novel, he provides a list of sources at the end (I don't remember Dan Brown proving he did any research for his thriller).  Christian readers will likely be familiar with the idea of demons from books by Frank Peretti, and here Brouwer looks at different views about demons through the history of the Church.  I liked the weave of information he spun through the story and found myself amazed at his research.  If I ever meet Brouwer again, I 'll ask him where he got the idea for The Canary List.

"There is only one goal for any piece of writing: push an emotional button." ~ Sigmund Brouwer

(for more writing advice from Sigmund, check out an interview with him on TitleTrakk.com)

This book was provided for review courtesy of the publisher.

Women of Faith in Seattle, WA

As homeschoolers, my brothers and I frequently got asked one question when we were out with our mom during school hours.  At the grocery store or gas station or Tim Horton's, someone might look at us and say, "Why aren't you in school?"  One of my favourite answers was the week in March when we could say, "We're on spring break!"  We took our break about a month earlier than any local school board, but most people didn't know that and it stopped any further questions.

The reason we took spring break early was that we were helping at a pastor's conference hosted by our church.  My mom was the chief cook for the week and my brothers and I were her assistants.  We each pushed a buggy for her when she went grocery shopping for the week.  We baked cookies for the pastor's snacks.  We made salads and buttered bread and stirred soups and chopped vegetables.  We served the pastors breakfast, lunch and supper for the week.  At the end of the week, we all got to attend the weekend conference that was open to the general public.

Throughout my teen years, my family attended two or three conferences a year.  Often, one or more of us was behind the scenes, helping out—mailing flyers before the conference, ushering at the conference, helping in the mom's cry room during the sessions, selling snacks at the concession stand.  By the time I was sixteen and getting serious about my writing, it only made sense to start going to writer's conferences, as I'd already been to so many church conferences.

So when I saw that a Women of Faith conference was coming to Seattle, Washington, this fall, I grew excited.  Seattle is close enough that I could actually attend the Over the Top conference.  Watching the preview video reminded me how often I've found inspiration and encouragement at conferences in the past.  A friend of mine once said that a conference is like getting a drink from a fire hose—but once in a while, that's just what we need.  So I'm marking Over the Top on my calendar and booking my hotel, and if you're anywhere close to Seattle (or another city where there's a Women of Faith event), it would be awesome to see you there too.

Communicating with Baby

Shortly after we moved here, a friend asked if she could come over to observe Lily (then about 4 months old) play, for a paper she was working on for her university class.  Delighted to have a visitor, and always happy to show off my baby, I agreed.  Lily acted shy at first, but slowly began to play as she usually did.  I talked about what she liked to do and the toys she liked to play with until my friend asked, "How do you know she likes that?"

The question stopped me for a few seconds.  How did I know what Lily liked?  I began to say that if she wasn't crying or howling, then I assumed she liked something.  If she played in her Exersaucer for ten or twenty or thirty minutes, she must like it.  If she smiled at me when I played peek-a-boo, then she liked it.

I realize that we tend to associate communication with verbal words.  Lily is just learning such communication (she can say "mine," "no," "daddy," "shoes," "juice," "out," "boat," "down" and more) but, even before she learned to put words to her desires, she could communicate.  It might be arms wrapped around my knees to indicate that she wanted up.  Pointing at something to say she wanted to play with it.  A tug at my shirt to show she wanted to nurse.  Giving me her shoes to say she wanted to go outside (just as Sunshine did at the same age).

Even without words, Lily has been communicating since she was born.  In the early days, that was mostly in the form of crying (or lack of it).  As I explained to Sunshine one day when Lily was fussy, crying was her way of telling us that she needed something.  We just had to learn what it was she needed—food or a hug or a nap.  I liked Ingrid Bauer's teaching about "elimination communication," that baby could even give mommy cues that she needed to go pee (though I haven't done that with either of the girls).

As Lily and Sunshine have grown, it has been fun to see their advances in communication.  I still remember the day that Lily learned to wave "bye bye" to Daddy (and telling myself that I should try teaching her other baby sign language).  Her new word from last weekend was "boat," as we stayed with my aunt and uncle at their condo on Lake Okanagan and Lily saw the boats going up and down the lake and rode in my uncle's boat.  Communication is definitely a skill, but even small people have ways of doing it.

Book Review: Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult

Before I left for my recent two-and-a-half week trip to Alberta, I browsed the audio book section at our library.  A couple books by Jodi Picoult caught my eye, as I'd read her novel My Sister's Keeper last year and enjoyed it (except for the ending).  I picked out Handle With Care (fifteen CDs, eighteen hours of listening) and, as soon as the Jeep was on the highway and the girls were asleep, I popped the first CD in.

Charlotte O'Keefe is twenty-seven weeks pregnant when she discovers her baby—whom she'd tried for over a year to concieve—has osteogenesis imperfecta (OI), or brittle bone disease.  Willow is born by C-section with seven broken bones and, before she is even hours old, suffers more broken bones and nearly dies.  Charlotte quickly becomes an expert in caring for Willow's breaks; before Willow is five years old, she's had over fifty broken bones.

Willow's health and the family finances rule out most family vacations, but when Willow is five, the O'Keefes decide to go to Disneyworld.  Disaster strikes on the very first day.  Willow ends up in a spika cast with a broken femur and her parents are arrested because the doctors think Willow's condition looks like physical abuse.  At home after the ordeal, an angry Sean goes to a lawyer, wanting to sue for the way they were treated in Florida.  The lawyer says they can't sue people for doing their jobs—but they could sue Charlotte's ob-gyn for wrongful birth.

As Willow's medical costs push the O'Keefe's further into debt, Charlotte siezes on the wrongful birth suit as her chance to provide better care for Willow.  The ends justify the means, she argues, as she sues her ob-gyn (and best friend) and tells a jury and judge she would have aborted Willow if she had known earlier that Willow had OI.  As the lawsuit progresses, Sean refuses to participate and moves out of the house.  Amelia turns to cutting and puking to deal with the pain of her parents' fighting.  And even Willow tries not to break any more bones, hoping that if she's good enough, her parents won't want to get rid of her.

Jodi Picoult

Jodi Picoult doesn't shy away from tough issues, and Handle With Care raises a lot of tough issues.  The novel is told from each character's first-person point of view, and in the audio book that I listened to, each character was read by a different actor.  I liked the way that Picould explored each person's feelings, delving deep into their emotions and motivations.  For example, the thought of cutting myself to deal with outside pain seems bizarre—but Amelia's descriptions of why she did it made complete sense.  At times, I was angry with Charlotte for failing to see how much she was hurting her family; at other times, I could completely understand her mother's drive to do whatever she could to help her daughter.

While I enjoy Picoult's insight as a writer (and tried to analyze just how she was able to get into her character's heads so well), I don't like the way she ended  Handle With Care.  In fact, I wished that I had turned off the CD after the lawsuit ended.  In an interview on her website, Picoult says of the ending, "I do know the ending before I write a single word, and I did here too. I will tell you that I think Handle With Care is the saddest book I’ve written – and coming from me, that’s pretty dire! I never wavered on the ending, however, because there’s a bit of a morality lesson in there as well – it’s a real 'Be careful what you wish for' moment."

If you haven't read the books and want to, I won't spoil the ending for you, but I will say that a main character dies at the end of each book (and after reading My Sister's Keeper, I was expecting it to happen in Handle With Care).  I don't need a happily-ever-after ending to every book I read, but I do want a realistic ending.  Knocking off a major character seems random and unnecessary.  Because of those endings, I'm not sure I'll read another Picoult book—but I do hope that I can learn how to understand my characters as well as she does.

The Eighth Annual Girlfriends Getaway

The second last weekend in July found me in Drumheller with several of my college girlfriends.  This spring is five years since we graduated, and we've scattered around the province; all of us have significant others, two of us have kids, most of us have jobs.  While we try to keep up with each other via Facebook and email, that's just not the same as a good face-to-face chat to catch up on everything that's happened since we saw each other last year at one friend's wedding.

In the spring of 2003, two friends and I started the tradition of an annual hurrah-exams-are-done spring trip to Jasper.  For the next several years, various members of our group would pack up and head out to Jasper to stay in a B&B and tour the trails and town for the weekend.  Last year, because two of us had babies and two of us got married, we couldn't find a weekend that worked for our annual trip.  This year, as soon as I knew that my husband had a job here in Victoria for the summer (rather than Iqualit or someplace else), I emailed the group to say we desperately needed to get together and catch up.

Our weekend cottage in East Coulee

And that's how we found ourselves in a cozy little cottage in East Coulee (a small town twenty minutes east of Drumheller).  On Saturday, we had no plans beyond spending time together.  Piling into my friend's seven-passenger van, we just started driving and pulled over whenever we saw something worth seeing: the Hoodoos, the Suspension Bridge, the giant T-Rex in town, Horsethief Canyon, the Bleriot Ferry.  Some of those stops brought back memories for me, as my family had holidayed in Drumheller when I was twelve.

On one of our first trips to Jasper, we sat around the campfire one night talking about what we all wanted to be doing.  We should have written those dreams down to see how they compared with real life.  I probably said I wanted to be married and have kids, but I didn't expect to be living in a new province.  Other friends have faced job changes and health problems, but also found the man of their dreams or a job they love.

The Drumheller Hoodoos

As I looked around our group this year, I thought of everything that has changed since those first years of university.  I had Lily with me (Sunshine was staying with her grandparents and didn't even miss us) and my friend had her five-month-old son; having two children along on the trip changed the way we did things--and what we could do, as we discovered when we visited the Atlas Coal Mine on Sunday and decided that most of the tours weren't suitable for the babies.  I found myself wondering about next year; whether we'll find time to get together again and what changes will have occurred by then.

There's a saying that many people will walk in and out of your lives, but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart.  These friends have definitely done that, and I'm richer for having their footprints in my life.  I'm grateful for these weekends we've had together and hope that, whatever the years ahead bring to each of us, we will find a way to continue sharing with each other.

Koala Bear at Horsethief Canyon