Today I got an email from my publisher, Laurence Steven of Scrivener Press. I quote:
“Shepherd in Residence has just been short-listed for the Ontario Library Services-North Louise de Kiriline Lawrence Award for non-fiction! Congratulations!”
This is way cool! It’s the first time Shepherd has been shortlisted for anything, and I’m really thrilled. Of course it would be thrillinger to win (is “thrillinger” a word? Never mind, for purposes of this post I am decreeing it a nonce-word, one-time use only…), but making the shortlist is wonderful!
Is there anything anyone can do to ensure that Shepherd catapults to the top of the list and takes home the honours? Hmmm – not really. I can’t lobby you all to vote for it, and I don’t know who to bribe. Okay, just kidding about the bribery. But the announcement of the winner will be made sometime in September, and the awards ceremony is September 25th, so I’m keeping the evening free. Wish me luck!
In other news, I’m plugging away on Here be Dragons, and it’s going not too badly. I wrote quite a lot on this novel last year during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month – November), but at the time I was writing a novel aimed at adults. It wasn’t working very well. Nonetheless, I can rewrite episodes into the current incarnation. It’s not cut-and-paste, but it means I’m not wasting some perfectly good writing. I plan to have this one half finished by the time I need to return to
wage slavery gainful employment.
I’m also looking for more blogging work. I like having regular, small assignments to work on, both because I’m quite happy writing in the 500-word range, and also because if you have several clients, losing one isn’t quite as big a blow. I’ve applied for a particular blogging job, and I’ll keep you posted on the results.
On The Swan Harp, things are looking hopeful, and I expect to have news of some kind by October. Fingers crossed. Good vibes welcomed.
I took a break this week and drove down to Listowel with my sister to the Spinrite Tent Sale, where, in a tent approximately the size of Lower Albania, boxes and boxes of discontinued colours and ends-of-line of almost any conceivable kind of yarn were laid out to tempt us. We fell, big time, and now I have sock yarn for the winter and possibly for next winter, too. Then we spent a miserable afternoon in St Jacob’s, forced to look at weaving and pottery and glass and quilting stuff and all of that, and to eat carrot cake and cinnamon buns and coffee. We agreed that we needed a “sister day” more often. I got some writing done, although not my regular quota, and I got some ideas for future projects.
Life is still full of writing and waiting, which I suppose is the writer’s life. Nobody ever tells you how much waiting there is in writing (just like nobody ever tells you how much looking-at-sheep’s-butts is in shepherding). But it’s fine. I have coffee and chocolate, and my dog and the Kittens of Chaos, and the chickens, and David, my Amuse, so life is good.