I feel like I have been an absentee-blogger. A feeling I am pretty much used to. I have really been focusing on this novel, Forgiveness is a Four-Letter Word. I am in Draft 7 and like the direction into which it is heading.
I have also been reading Terry Fallis – The Best Laid Plans and am now reading the sequel, The High Road. His cantankerous Scot hates things like split infinitives and ending a sentence with a proposition. Hence, “the direction into which it is heading” and not “the direction it is heading to.”
The book reminds me how badly I speak English. We say, “Is that her?” But, Terry Fallis reminds us that the proper English is, “Is that she?” Sounds weird! And, I bet if you say it like that, people will look at you funny. I dare you to put it to the test and let me know how it works out for you.
Anyway, that said, I thought I would pass along the beginning of this novel. And, let you know Ellie’s Read on Ottawa, a series I put together for Rogers 22 (Ottawa) is on tonight at 7 p.m. It is a show that highlights local authors. On tonight’s agenda is award-winning author Mark Frutkin. His book, A Message for the Emperor is sooooo good! And, my second guest is Jasmine Aziz, author of Sex and Samosas. Need I say more? If we get bumped tonight for hockey (arg), you can check it out on one of the repeats, Thursday (tomorrow) at 10 a.m., Tuesday at 6 p.m. or Monday at 3:30 p.m.
Here’s a snippet from my own novel, Forgiveness is a Four-Letter word:
Micah walked up the slope toward the National Art Centre. She lifted her hood to see that the rain was letting up. It was now a mist, gently covering her. She let her hood fall back into place, continuing to walk at a pace her mother would have deemed impatience. Slow down. Where’s the fire? She could hear her brother Simon calling to her, running, trying to keep up. Most times she could outrun her younger siblings, leaving them in her dust. But, not Maya. The youngest of the four Johnston’s had a dogged determination.
Maya had spunk. A word their next door neighbor, Mrs. Sampson, used to describe her. She had words to describe every neighbourhood child. Some good. Some not so good. And, some were just plain offensive. Maya had spunk. Simon had a smile that would light up Manhattan. Rosalie had a good heart. Micah had a good head on her shoulders. The Johnston family got off lucky. Other children were labelled as troublemakers, others sluts and some queer.
She reached the Elgin Street entrance and pulled the door open. A lady dressed in white from head to foot, stepped inside as Micah opened the door. She rolled her eyes, saying, “You’re welcome” to the lady who had bothered to say, “Thank you.” She was still trying to get used to the capital. Why didn’t anyone smile in this city?
Micah pulled the hood off of her head and ran her fingers through her hair combing it out. She headed toward the stairs and made her way down. She passed the wall, now empty of its pictures of Canadian celebrities of the art world. The hallway was stripped bare. They must be getting it ready to paint, Micah thought to herself.
She rounded the corner to the noise and chatter of people standing, waiting for friends and/or family to arrive, or chatting with those who had just arrived. She scanned the room, but could find no sign of her sister. She sighed and went to the doors. They were to meet by the stairs. A good solid meeting place. She passed the poster for tonight’s play, Time’s a Killer.
And, remember, no splitting of infinitives! If any of you can tell me what that even is, I’d be forever indebted to you. 🙂