New at the Newsletter Game

What would you like to see in my Newsletter? What questions do you have? Feel free to contact me. As I am technologically challenged, I’m not sure if you can “reply” to the newsletter, but I am sure you can reach me at theresa@theresashea.com and if you haven’t subscribed to the newsletter you can do it here.

Until then, may great books find you. And may you be so caught up in a narrative that you lose track of time, miss your metro stop, skip the dog walk, and forego dinner because you are utterly and entirely engrossed. As I age, I find it harder and harder to experience that dizzying obsession with a book, but oh, when it happens! I wish it for us all.  

Dealing with rejection

And then there are failures . . .

Lest it sound like everything is going my way, I had two rejections while on my “retreat.” I did not get a grant I’d applied for, and I also wasn’t accepted into a month-long writing retreat in the fall. How do I handle rejection? I focus on the FIVE MONTH period of hope and possibility that I enjoyed before the results came in. I think novelists REALLY need this hope as the time between starting a project and receiving any recognition for it is long. Applying for grants and literary opportunities keeps me hopeful. A life in the arts contains more failure than success, so “failing forward” is profoundly optimistic. 

Soon there will be flowers in Edmonton.

I’ll have finished one revision of Dog Days of Planet Earth and will likely be waiting on notes for a second edit, which means I’ll hopefully be mucking about again in The Domestics (and in my garden!). I’ll be sure to share the pain and joys of the process. Wish me luck!

I’m sending this from Edmonton, where snow still covers my backyard, but these images of March crocuses and daffodils in Gibsons are in me. 

 

Celebrating Success

I am a rewards-based person and like to celebrate literary achievements.

I’ve been an admirer of Cindy Riach’s work for some time and, on a visit to her Gibsons studio, was particularly taken with the vibrant colours and movement in her painting titled “White Bones.”

So, to celebrate the sale of Dog Days of Planet Earth, I have added another original artwork to my studio. And while the title of the painting had nothing to do with the purchase (I wanted it before I knew what it was called), I’ll admit to enjoying how White Bones and Dog Days sound together. 

Yes, “The Beachcombers” was filmed in Gibsons

Of course, THE iconic show filmed in Gibsons will always be The Beachcombers. 

For those who do not know, The Beachcombers was the longest-running Canadian tv series. With 387 episodes, the show was hugely popular,  was syndicated around the world, and ran from October 1, 1972, to December 12, 1990.  According to the Canadian Encyclopedia, the half-hour family adventure show was “Widely panned by critics, [but] was nonetheless an audience favourite and was named one of Canada’s all-time best television series in a 2017 poll conducted by the Toronto International Film Festival. Watched by more than 1 million viewers per episode in its prime, the series played a pivotal role in the development of film production in British Columbia and provided an early template for uniquely Canadian content on television.”

The Beachcombers was enjoyed by viewers in the US, UK, Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, South Africa, Ireland, Greece, Italy, Kuwait, Malaysia, Egypt, and more. I like to think of it as the little Canadian tv series (or tugboat) that could.

Molly’s Reach is the landmark location for the show but has seen great turnover in businesses over the years and had been sitting empty for some time. The good news is that The Black Bean, a much-loved local café, recently had to relocate and decided to lease the space. Luckily for me,  the “new” Black Bean at Molly’s Reach opened days before my arrival. Hanging on the walls inside are many photos of The Beachcombers cast and crew at work. It brings back memories to see Relic, Molly, and Bruno sitting at Molly’s enjoying their bottomless drip coffees (no fancy stuff back then!).

Cut aaaaaand ACTION!

Gibsons is the setting for the Canadian crime drama series called Murder in a Small Town.

Season two was being filmed while I was there. In the show, Police Chief Karl Ahlberg (played by Donald Sutherland’s son Rossif) lives in a house at the end of the block where I was staying. In a curiously “meta” moment, I sat inside watching the recorded episodes of Season 1 on tv while Season 2 was being filmed on the street outside.

It was very fun watching all the cast and crew at work filming the show, and I was amazed by the level of collaboration that goes into tv and film. I take my laptop and write an entire world all by myself, but to re-create that world for tv and film? That takes a village. The arts industry employs a LOT of people. Watching that village at work had me looking forward to being on set when one of my own books is being filmed. A gal can dream, right? 

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Behind the Scenes

Almost every writer has more than one novel in progress

My fourth novel-in-progress, The Domestics, examines the experience of young Irish women arriving in New York to work as domestic servants in the late 19th century.

The above image perfectly captures what writing a draft can look and feel like. Is the boat half sunk or half floating? What happened to my oars?

What’s so Special About Gibsons?

The decision to move to Gibsons from Edmonton in 2004, when our kids were 6, 4, and 2, and the 18 months we lived there, has had a lasting impact on our family. That time was chaotic and wonderful and stressful and fun and memorable. When some money we’d expected and been promised didn’t arrive (long story), we found ourselves in a difficult financial situation, otherwise known as being broke. Returning to Edmonton seemed the sensible thing to do. We knew we had work there. We had family and friends there too. But it was hard to leave the mountains and the sea.

Gibsons remains the most beautiful place I have ever lived. In the summer of 2005, we swam in the sea every day for SIX straight weeks because the weather was that wonderful.  

Twenty years later, I enjoy continued friendships and a strong connection to and love for the physical place. Dinners and walks with friends deepen important relationships, and being introduced to new people there extends my social network. It truly feels like a second home.

This trip, I arrived on February 22nd, the day after the earthquake that measured 4.8 on the Richter scale. I was a bit bummed that I had missed it. Ten days later, however, on March 3rd, I was awakened by a smaller quake that measured 4.1. If the 10 day pattern continued,  I mused, then March 14th, with the full moon, would bring another quake. A neighbour across the street attended an earthquake preparedness workshop and told me some of the items she’d place inside her emergency kit: books for her grandchildren; a game or two; a gratitude journal because if you lived though “the big one,” you’d want to find something for which to be grateful. 

March 14th arrived. The day was mainly sunny with a cool wind. Later, the full moon was obscured by clouds. I wasn’t able to see the lunar eclipse or catch sight of the blood moon. No quake interrupted my sleep.  

Happy Spring Everyone!

Huzzah! We made it through the dark days of winter. Happy vernal equinox. News from the studio is that I haven’t been in it much lately, but for good reason. I spent the past three weeks in Gibsons, BC, on the Sunshine Coast, dog-sitting and forging ahead on a draft of my next novel (tentatively titled The Domestics) while waiting to get “notes” back for my forthcoming book, Dog Days of Planet Earth, due for a fall 2026 publication.

Working on a new novel while waiting to edit the forthcoming one? Sounds messy, doesn’t it? 

For those not in the know, getting a book from the signed contract stage to bookstore shelves involves many steps. Included in that process are significant gap-times when the book is with the editor, and there’s nothing to be done on it but wait to hear about future edits. Tempting as it is to do nothing while waiting, a working writer writes. If I waited until Dog Days was entirely edited and ready for publication to start something new, not only would I lose valuable writing time, but I would also lose valuable writing muscles. Whatever writing skills I have would slowly atrophy. To use a sports analogy, an athlete trains in-between competitions to ensure peak performance. Similarly a writer writes between publications. So, in the ten-week window between sending the revised manuscript of Dog Days to my editor, I motored along on The Domestics.

I had big plans for my dog-sitting / writing retreat in Gibsons.

Three weeks on my own to write? I was both excited and afraid, motivated and anxious. Often, I set goals that I don’t meet and then beat myself up about being undisciplined, but I’m elated to report I wrote 20,000 words on my draft. In fact, I enjoyed the best spell of writing I’ve had in a long time, and when I’m writing well I feel great.

What made this retreat productive? Was it because I was alone, with only a dog to schedule me? Was it because I was inspired by the incredible beauty of Howe Sound outside my window? Was it the different visual distractions of water and mountains and ducks and herons and eagles and seals? Was it noticing the levels at which the boats in the marina sat at high and low tides, or seeing handsome tugboat man tugboating vehicles and equipment to Keats Island? Or could it be that I’ve finally figured out how to be a writer? 

I wish I could say it was the latter and that I’ve finally figured out how to live this writing life because that would mean a happily-ever-after book-writing future. In truth, the conditions to write in Gibsons were perfect. The gap-time added urgency. Knowing I’ll have to put The Domestics away when my edits for Dog Days hit my inbox motivated me enough that I was able to focus, because the more of a draft I have to return to, with characters I want to spend time with, the more likely it is that I’ll finish what I’ve started.

I also better understand now the superstitions I have around my writing. Break a good run, and it might not return. Change a schedule that works, and the words might disappear. I’ve learned to accept that the good writing times will end just as the bad writing times will too. It feels like a great gift when the words come easily. It is a great gift. Like the weather, would I appreciate the good writing days if they weren’t interspersed with stormy days?  So while I already believe I’ll never enjoy as good of a writing spell again, I’m open to the possibility that I’m wrong.

Editing

Editing. That’s what’s next. And a lot of it.

How quickly I moved from “if only someone would offer to publish the novel,” to, “oh no! it’s not ready!”

And so begins the second guessing and the apprehension. The fear that I have missed something significant in my research. The early stirrings of shame in my core. That old feeling of, if you really knew me, you wouldn’t like me. People will read  what I’ve spent years creating. What if it’s not enough?

Since signing another publishing contract, the fear has returned. This time, however, I know it’s part of the process. Dog Days of Planet Earth has the potential to be a a really good book, but what if I can’t get it to where I want it to be? What if I fail my characters by not getting to know them enough to explain them fully to readers? 

So, I hope for inspiration. I remind myself that I’ve been through this process twice before. I suffered significant doubt and a LOT of fear when publishing my previous novels.

The characters in The Unfinished Child and The Shade Tree exist in the world because I wrote them into being, and now they have a life of their own.

I can’t wait to introduce you to Trevor Westmore and Laura Fenway and the other characters who live in the pages of Dog Days of Planet Earth.  If all goes well, I will do them justice. 

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To Studio or Not to Studio

2018

And now for a little backstory.

In 2018, I sent the universe a plea: I wanted a work space outside of my home from which to create. One sunny afternoon, I pulled into the parking pad beside the old dilapidated shed that was at the back edge of our property. I had parked beside it for a dozen years, but on this particular day, I looked at it with fresh eyes. Was there potential there? Might it be transformed into a studio?

I asked my friend Bruce’s opinion. We had to cut the padlock because I didn’t have the key. The shed had been storage for the various tenants who had lived in the house over the years. Inside was a host of cast off things: a roll of pink fibreglass insulation, an old lawnmower, a pair of women’s ice skates, old paint cans, rusted tools, an empty gas can, and the skeletal forms of birds that had gotten in but somehow hadn’t been able to find their way out. Needless to say, I was dubious that the space could be transformed, but I trusted Bruce when he said he could transform it. 

The bigger stumbling block was wondering if I trusted myself. Did I need a writing studio? I had written The Unfinished Child in cafés and libraries. Surely the renovation money would be better spent on my children. Was it worth investing in a small space at the edge of an alley?

Despite my fears, I took the leap. I felt like the universe had answered my plea; how else to explain my fresh vision? I told Bruce the studio needed two things: light and warmth. I asked for a set of garden doors to face the garden that I had covered over with a black tarp the previous summer because I didn’t want to tend it and the weeds were prolific.

To give me light, Bruce and his son Griffin also installed a window facing west; to give me warmth, they added a lot of insulation and an electric base heater to make the studio usable year round.