Still thinking about it

In true vacation form, I was felled by a miserable cold. And then it started raining, and who knows when it will stop? So, it’s been like that.

We’ve been a busy couple of vacationers. Kev‘s been working as hard as he can getting his record finalized. Album art, check. Looks great. Got it mastered by the guy he wanted, check, listening to it right now, sounds great. Get it all off to the duplicators, well, that’s been a bit complicated, but we’re getting there.

Last night he took the mastered disc out to the car to listen to it. I couldn’t sleep, despite a liberal dose of cold medication (or maybe because of) and so I slipped on a dress and flip flops and padded out in the pouring rain to join him in the car and listen drowsily. Great way to hear it. Highly recommended. I hope you find at least oneĀ  great rain storm after you get your copy of Son of a Rudderless Boat, coming soon to a folk festival stage near you (provided Lunenburg is near you).

As for me, I have yet to set hands to keyboard for the purpose of writing the treatment. This is so my MO. I write at the very last minute, and then only if my life depends on it. I can see it all so clearly in my head. I see Leah in scenes that aren’t in the book, but are nonetheless her scenes, scenes that came so naturally, I must have always known I’d need them for some other purpose. And Henry, my god, he couldn’t be more alive to me if he actually lived next door. Don’t tell the others, but Henry’s my favourite.

Anyhow, as with every single vacation here in the Sheridan Homelands, it doesn’t matter how much time we spend, it’s never, ever enough. We have a week left here, and there are still so many people to see, three decks to build (today was supposed to be the day, but see under: rain. Actually, Tuesday was supposed to be the day but see under: ridiculous cold), a CD to pick up and a treatment to write.

If we ever took the kind of vacation that involved flying over a body of water larger than the Saint Lawrence Seaway, how would we ever get anything done? I imagine if I ever had a real vacation, I’d be dangerous.

And how’s your July?

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Thinking about the big Fade In

So I’ve been off work for two weeks exactly, and on holiday for a week and a day. And I feel pretty relaxed, I have to say. Today there will be high tea, and then a ukulele jam, so we’re managing to have a range of experiences. And every night I read a few pages of Story by Robert Mckee in preparation for writing a treatment for Homing. I figured out an awful lot on the drive from Halifax to Mississauga, so now I know where to start. And that’s really all I need. A starting place and a good strong push forward.

My other main job this month is to build a deck for my mom. So that’ll give me the time and physical labour needed to figure out the rest of the treatment.

Working holiday indeed.


Working holiday (wait, is there another kind?)

If there is, I don’t think I’ve ever had one.

It’s been an incredible push the last few weeks to get here, to this auberge in Montreal, by an open window, Kev on the bed behind me reading Steve Earle’s autoiography. We are busy people, but the level of busy-ness the last few weeks/months has been unprecendented.

We delayed our road trip by a day so Kev could spend one last afternoon in the studio, tweaking Son of a Rudderless Boat in order to be fully, completely happy with it. And it was so super worth it. It’s a really great record, and I can’t wait for you to hear it. Release date, god willing, August 6th.

As for me, I finished the final copyedit on Migration Songs and sent it off to be typeset. I’m really happy with where it ended up, and I hope Anna is too. She did great work on that book, and I can’t wait for you to read it. Release date October 15th if I’m not mistaken.

And I had a couple of meetings about Homing: the movie. And then I had a minor freakout about whether I can actually figure out how to adapt the book for the screen. And then we got in the car and started driving and I let my mind unfurl and before I knew it, I’d figured out at least one way to start it. I have notes for the first probably ten or fifteen pages. So that feels pretty good.

But before we could even get on the road, there were errands, and house cleaning and food prep and last minute details to take care of, and a wedding to go to. And it all got done, somehow, miraculously, except for planting the last two tomato plants. That did not get done, and they likely won’t survive. I may ask one of our garden sitters to just put them in the ground for us without much ceremony. They were supposed to go into a container, but it needs holes drilled and at the end of the day, you know, something always has to give. And this time, it was the heritage yellow cherry tomatoes. It kind of breaks my heart as I type that, but oh well.

So at last here we are, in Montreal. Big free rock steady reggae show last night in the street, and then we sat outside the auberge with our friends and ate cheese and crackers and apples and cheese.

And it was great.

And then this morning we were awakened by a fire alarm that stopped the second we were on our feet.

So, thus pulled from sleep, I finished reading Lawrence Hill‘s beyond-excellent Book of Negroes. The most perfect and affecting book I have ever read. As soon as I finished I felt both utterly satisfied and tragically let down. I have brought other books along to read, but none will be as great as The Book of Negroes, and so I am a little bereft.

I guess I’ll cleanse my palate with Robert McKee‘s book, Story. Reading for screenwriting purposes. Treatment is expected by the end of July, so that’s my work during this holiday. Meanwhile, Kev will be arranging the artwork for his record, finding a place to have it mastered, looking after all the last minute details of layout et cetera.

But at least we’ll be doing it all by the pool.