An Evening With Neil Gaiman

Last Night I got to hang out with Neil Gaiman, with my daughter and 1098 other fans. Tickets were free (part of the University of Calgary Distinguished Writers Program), but everyone had to have a ticket so the event wasn’t mobbed. I scored two, in an on-line registration that sold out in 16 seconds.

Gaiman is a wonderful writer, a wonderful reader of his work (with a beautiful reading voice), and funny on-stage. His voice and words washed over us, as he wove spells with his stories. He read short stories and poems, but nothing from his newest books.

He also spoke, in his understated but very funny way. “So the lovely thing about being me is that they let you do whatever you want. And it’s brilliant.” He was referring to what kind of stories he writes – he said his agent wouldn’t tell him how much a British editor offered for him to keep writing stories like American Gods, because his agent knew he likes to write whatever he wants, not what someone else wants.

And I think he nailed the value of story, especially for children who are learning about the world: “You go away and come back knowing things you didn’t know before.”

Now to work, back into my own stories, newly inspired.

Maureen

The Treadmill Saga

It shouldn’t be this much work to get a treadmill. It has become an expedition, in the Winnie The Pooh sense. It’s coming from the States, delayed by storms. For a while there, I’m not sure UPS knew where it was. I have to build a table­ for the exact measurements that will fit (once the table saw at Home Depot is repaired).

I need to move all the stuff stored in that corner, and find new homes for things – boxes of books, boxes of research material, weird little frogs I’ve been given because I write fantasy. This has triggered an excavation of other parts of the office, and the discovery that the totally overloaded IKEA shelves have bent the brackets holding them to the wall, so they could slump and sag.

We’re hauling loads of papers to the recycling bin, finding new corners to store things, sorting and tossing and finding dust balls.

What I’m loving is having less stuff in the office. There’s something about clutter that weighs on me. Less frees me, lets me create more, and encourages me to find more stuff to get rid of. Is this a temporary urge, or will I dig deeper into corners, searching more more to toss and recycle and give away and repurpose and … hmmm – this is kind of fun.

I’m not sure my husband agrees, as he hauls boxes of trombone music and sorts it into a filing cabinet in another room, or digs through the ever-growing collection of computer bits, figuring out what we need and what we don’t (like the 2006 hard drive backup.)

Next step: how good are our carpentry skills, as we attempt to build a desk that will 1. be the right size, 2. not fall over if I fall and land on it, and 3. not look like something I should fall on and destroy.

Maureen

I am becoming a treadhead

After years of longing and envy, I have finally figured out how to put a treadmill in my office. A long winter, with too many days too cold or too icy for walking in the park, inspired me to actually look into it. Could I find a small enough treadmill to fit in my small, crowded office?

Well, no. They’re big suckers. Except I found one, without arms (just a remote control console), that’s intended for desks, not running. It’s in the states, so delivery is a little complicated, but I’m hoping to have it in a couple of weeks.

I’ll need to build a small desk (Home Depot, here I come) to fit in the very tight spot allocated for it. And I can’t build it until the treadmill is here, so we can confirm exactly how it fits (just barely, I suspect).

Then comes the big questions: will I love it, or will it become a dreadmill, taunting me from the corner? Will my klutz factor kick in, and throw me off the treadmill, into the adjacent window or the corner of my desk? Will I be able to write on it?

Stay tuned…

Maureen