Arthur Ellis Shortlist Event / Shrier Family Reunion

I started planning this event back in March - an almost last minute thing, in the way that AE shortlist events go.  It was the first time I went completely solo, too, at least during the planning and organizational phases.

The goal of the night:  to read the shortlisted nominees for the Arthur Ellis Awards, and to host Howard Shrier as he read from three of his current books.

In terms of turnout, it didn't have quite the penetration rate I was hoping for - but the family of one Mr. Howard Shrier is a dedicated bunch, and they turned out in force.  In fact, not only did Howard's mother and father come out to the event, but even his grandmother braved four flights of stairs, and she's turning 101 years old in a couple of days!

We had a lot of food there, too, and all sorts of drink.  I managed to pick up a couple of boxes of coffee before the event too, and my half-exhausted, half-delirious smile managed to charm a free cup of coffee and a 15% discount out of the manager.  Of course, drinking a medium java from Second Cup in under three minutes, not so good for the already-frazzled nerves, but I'm not one to turn down free coffee. 

In fact, there was so much food that I had to tackle those same four flights of stairs, what, five times?  Stairs:  those are good for the nerves.  Jogging up and down all those stairs, especially loaded down with boxes and bags, they're great for burning off nervous energy.

And yeah, I went a little overboard with the goodies.  Listen, when somebody declines an invitation to an event in Toronto - and flies in that day from Boston by way of Toronto - you go all out.

In terms of how the event went:  there was the original plan, there was plan B (cooked up about four hours before the event), and then, five minutes into the event, the plan went completely out the window.  We did a better job off the cuff anyhow.  And funny enough, I had a lot of people approach me after the event, complimenting me on how well organized it was!  I laughed a lot on the inside.

But there's one thing I will say:  I saw Howard Shrier in Toronto as he read from his latest book, Boston Cream, and I was impressed by his composure.  But this time, watching him read from all three of his books, I was really impressed by his ability to read so fluidly, rarely referring to his own books or notes, as if he had memorized whole pages and rehearsed night after night in front of a mirror.  And when he spoke of the research he had done in the past, and the research he's doing this weekend while he's home in Montreal, he spoke with an enthusiasm and passion that was contagious.

He wasn't on the list this year, but that's only because of a matter of timing.  Boston Cream came out this year, not in 2011, so he didn't qualify for this year.

Nancy Kilpatrick was there.  That darling sweetheart of an angel asked me yesterday morning if she could help in anyway, and boy, did she.  She helped me arrange all the food and drink, and she acted as a semi-co-hostess and everything!  I showed her my shaking hand, and she laughed at me, which, ironically, helped to settle me down.  Considering she's been a past guest of Nine Day Wonder and of Fusion Fiction (a mixed-genre event from a couple of years ago), I'm really indebted to her.

Michael Lorenson was there, too - and he played the part of Vanna White when I introduced the raffle.  He won a copy of Boston Cream - and three or four more of his tickets were drawn after that, but we only let him win once. 

Christopher Huang - a former NaNoWriMo participant and a current FB friend - was also there, and he helped me "fix" the microphone by actually reading the instructions taped to the top of the speaker and clicking the "ON" button for me.  I have no brain when I'm under duress.  I've got to fix that.

Michael Blair was in the audience. - he's been a previous guest of mine in events past, and we've had a few chats here or there too.  During my initial spiel, he corrected me about the origins of Arthur Ellis - it was the pseudonym of the last hangman in Canada, not the first.  And that was a ridiculous error to make on my part, considering I'm the one who wrote the Wikipedia article on the Crime Writers of Canada!

Speaking of which, that went over better than expected!  We raised about $135 for the YMCA literacy programs - so all those funds are going directly into the donations I'll bring up to Muskoka in July.

Through the raffle, we gave away sold several copies of Howard's books.  Howard also "donated" a character in his next book, Miss Montreal.  Unfortunately, I missed the winner's full name, but I believe his first name is Hendry.  So congratulations to him.  Howard also "donated" a five page critique - the lucky winner submits the first 5 pages of a work in progress, and he critiques it.  And funny enough, it was Howard's father who won!

Judith Warne from Libraire Clio and her husband (who I've met at least twice before and still I can't remember his name) - they were there, and they sold a full box of books, so they declared the event a success.  Considering how many members of the audience already had a copy (or two), that's really saying something.

After the event, Michael Blair approached me and said, "You did a great job, but if I could offer you one piece of advice..."

I laughed and asked, "Introduce myself?"  It was about half way through the event when I'd realized I had introduced the Crime Writers of Canada, the Arthur Ellis Awards, the raffle, the agenda and my guest star, but that no one in the office except my Facebook friends knew who I was!

Michael Blair laughed and said, "Well, that, and next time, print off the Arthur Ellis shortlist."

Before I'd left home, I'd written a two page list of things I had to bring, up to and including a change of clothes "just in case" (ask Tracey Webster or Mady Virgona about my recurring wardrobe failures).  I'd printed off the agenda, all the stuff I had to say about AE and the CWC, everything except for the Arthur Ellis awards.  Gah.  The one thing I had to print and actually read off, and I'd forgotten to print it.

Fortunately, a netbook and a handy USB modem saved the day, but it's really tricky to read a list of names from a screen that's only six inches tall.

Otherwise, no lights went out in the middle of our wrap-up, no fire alarms went off, and no one choked on the cookies.  I still wish more people had come out, but at least there were more people than raffle prizes.  I think there were about forty people, maybe?  I went home with fewer bags and boxes of food than I'd arrived with, and people seemed to enjoy themselves throughout.

So, all in all, I think it was a success. 

But I'm telling you: next year, I'm getting someone else to help me with the planning and organization. Doing it single-handedly, especially in a month like this one, especially when I'm working full-time, it's bloody exhausting!  Fun, but exhausting.

Half-planned whirlwinds

I'd meant to post a new interview on Tuesday.  I have an excellent excuse.  You see, in my world, it's still Monday.  This week has a been one very long Monday, interrupted by an inconvenient series of naps.

But what a Monday!

Sunday:  get up, make bread, pack the car, chase the dog around and around and around and around, pack the bread, get in the car, drive for six hours until landing in Oshawa Ontario, park, get out, unpack the car, chat with Grampa, go for dinner with my mother, go upstairs with dog in tow, lie in bed and pretend to sleep.

End Monday part one.

Monday (the real thing):  Endure 2 hours of fidgety sleep (one before dawn, one immediately after), get up, scurry the dog through ablutions, zoom into the kitchen, set up the laptop and attempt to rush through 5 weekly reports (due Monday), 4 monthly reports (due Tuesday), 1 major 5-year study (due Friday last week), and 1 major new build (due Friday two weeks ago).

Discover that only two data points (out of 65) are functioning correctly.  Yippee!

Spend the next nine hours freaking out.

Pause freaking out long enough to discover that the church (which you left behind in Montreal) is bereft of any music sheets.  They're missing one singer (me), one person for recording the music (me), and one person for the music sheets required by all musicians and singers (that would be me).  FAN-tastic!

Jump in the car; Mother drives, I text, email and Blackberry Messenge' frantically in English, French, jibberish and minced curse words while dealing with simultaneous crises.

Arrive at Durham College and be a cheerful guest lecture in Tobin Elliott's patient and polite Creative Writing class (all the while dealing with a mild case of food poisoning from breakfast earlier in the day).  Tobin says I did all right, but I thought I rattled on pretty much the way I am right now, hardly pausing for breath and not entirely making sense, though from one word to the next I seem to be coherent except until you stop at the very end of the sentence, your eyes whirling in their sockets, as you try to grasp the enormity of the vagueness that is my mind.  Holy run-on sentence, Batman.

Exchange cars with Mother, go home, move more cars around, go to bed and pretend to sleep.

End Monday part two.

Tuesday:  endure about two predawn hours of bizarre and disturbing nightmares, get up, chase the dog through her ablutions, screech over to the kitchen table and commence one-handed typing while jamming fresh-made bread into the side of one mouth.  Muscle through 5 weekly reports (due Monday), 4 monthly reports (due immediately), 1 major 5-year study (overdue), and 1 major new build (grossly overdue).  Parry all (understandable) complaints from upper management at the lack of reporting, riposte with excuses and ETAs.  Freak out some more, just for the cardio exercise.  Compile data for an additional 52 data points, and throw together as much of the reporting as possible.

Pause freaking out long enough to jump in a Dodge Charger with Tobin (leaving the poor bewildered dog behind), zoom down major highways into the heart of Toronto, jump out, and commence hobnobbing!  Tobin and I were delighted to attend the book launch of Howard Shrier's Boston Cream!  With Linwood Barclay as MC!  I met up with other such wonderful authors as Rick Blechta, Dorothy McIntosh and Jill Edmonson.

Hang around a little while longer, networking, blabbing, and generally making a fool of myself while Tobin wittily and coolly sits back, having a grand old time.  (I, in the meantime, couldn't stop thinking about a) interviews, b) reporting, c) churches missing music sheets, d) how gauche I must sound to "real authors", and e) how wonderful it would be to have a book launch of my own.)

Return home by way of a gut-busting laugh-fest with Tobin, spend a little time with my mother and grandfather, shuttle cars around, go upstairs, lie down, and pretend to sleep.

End Monday part three.

(Deep breath...and now we carry on.)

Wednesday:  Suffer 3 predawn hours of nightmare-infested sleep (did you know the emails you get in your dreams can be darned realistic?), get up, run barking after the dog as she performs her ablutions, jump in the car, drive to Scarborough by way of drive thru breakfast, work for an hour and a half, jitter around the office building with members of my old team (and accidentally end up sitting right beside Tobin), jump back in the car, drive back to Oshawa, run around Staples trying to arrange a data transfer sometime in the next 24 hours, run back home, work for an additional ten hours (completing 4 overdue weekly reports, 3 monthly reports, no new builds and a pathetically overdue 5-year study), decline an invite to coffee with my mother and some of her friends (COFFEE?  Did you say COFFEE?!), shut down one computer, run upstairs and turn on another, and watch the dog drowse and wag her tail.

I wonder if there could ever be such a thing as a designated sleeper.

Did I mention the food poisoning, round two?

Now, I could spend another hour and a half working up one of the interviews, or I could stretch out with a decent book, probably one by Howard Shrier or Ed Kurtz, or I could play a re-run of The Incredible Hulk, Season Three, then pretend to sleep, nightmares or otherwise.

I'm going home tomorrow night.  I need to slow down, and I desperately need to sleep.

As much as I love it out here, if I'm going to do any more freaking out, I'd rather at least be where I can access data through something a little more robust than a steaming USB modem, where I can blast music by U2, ZZ Top, Artie Shaw and Caravan Palace, and where I can walk around my apartment wearing nothing but underpants and a smile.

And that, dear reader, is why you'll be getting two interviews back-to-back this week - one tomorrow, and one on Friday.  It's because I like my interviewees too much to give them a slap-dash presentation.

Seriously, though, I picked the worst (and best) possible week to be out here.  Murphy's Law was waiting here for me.  And boy, did the week flash by.  The last thing I clearly remember was climbing out of the bath tub with Tobin's book (Vanishing Hope) in hand, and going to bed on Saturday night.

Oh waiiiiit a second...that might explain the strange dreams and the lack of sleep...hm...

Meh - I can't  stay mad at him.  He drove me to Howard's event.

But a lot of good came out of this week, too.  Tobin let me speak to his class, I got to meet up with Howard Shrier and umpteen different authors - including some I'd never met before - and I managed to complete most of my reports, despite the arduous and frustrating delays.

And I really don't expect any more than 4 or 5 hours of conscious downtime between now and Tuesday next week. On top of everything else, we're starting up practices for the Easter concert at church (guess who's directing...), I sing on Sunday, I have four more interviews now lined up, and I'm trying to launch a new business.

I live in exciting times.

Is it June yet?

Heck - is it Tuesday yet?

Here's hoping some SleepyTime Tea will keep me tranquil for an hour or two.

Sweet dreams, dear reader.  You are now my designated sleeper.  At least until Tuesday.  Whenever that may be.