"Hi Bear. What's been happening in your life?" asked Bum.
"Never mind that, Bum. I want to hear about your pedicure."
"Perhaps we should start with the next point in Paul's Report called Characters," said Bum, ignoring him.
"Never mind that, Bum," Bear repeated, "I want to hear about your pedicure."
"Why are you interested in my pedicure, my dear Bear. What possible interest could it have for you?" asked Bum, looking puzzled.
"You're not the type for these beauty aids, Bum. You are fine just the way you are. Your skin is good, your finger nails are short and clean, and what could be wrong with your feet?"
"Nice of you to say so, that I am fine just the way I am, Bear, but my feet were indeed a problem. I've never wanted anyone picking away at my feet, nor indeed at any part of me, but I had a problem with my toe nails because I could not reach my feet for about a year, what with this bloody back problem, and something needed to be done. So, I caved, as Mom used to say, and made an appointment for a pedicure. I was not looking forward to it, but I knew something had to be done."
"I see," said Bear. "That makes sense. So, how was it? I've never seen anyone getting a pedicure but I've heard about them. My master's wife is always regaling us with stories about her various beauty aids, like her facial, her manicure, her pedicure, and worst of all, some kind of waxing all over her body. God knows why anyone needs that."
"The pedicure was much better and easier than I expected," admitted Bum. The Sanctuary is located upstairs at Parkgate Village. You've probably never been there, Bear."
"Why would I have ever been to The Sanctuary, Bum. I'm a dog and when I needed my nails clipped, the Vet did it."
"Anyway, I went upstairs and entered The Sanctuary at the allotted time, identified myself and said I am here for my 12:30 appointment. This tall blonde woman rushed over to me and told me I was so stylish she could hardly bear it. I asked if I could hang up my coat and hat to distract her from her over-the-top pleasure at seeing me. It was too much. She then enthused about my tie around my neck and asked if it was part of my sweater, it was so stylish. I thought she was overdoing it as it is that old black string I've worn for years around the neck of a blouse I usually wear under a sweater. I prayed she was not doing my pedicure as my feet definitely were not stylish by a long shot. I was so relieved when another woman approached, called Sera, and said she was doing my pedicure and escorted me to a back room, very private."
"What was she on about, Bum. Usually all I see you in are old pants and a disreputable sweater. How stylish could that be?" said Bear, looking puzzled.
"I don't know, Bear. As I said, she was over-the-top. Now, do you want to hear about the pedicure or not?"
"You know I do," responded Bear.
"The room was small and contained what looked like a hospital bed against one wall. I hoped that didn't mean anything. She sat me down in the corner, asked me to remove my socks because I must soak my feet in this big tub of hot soapy water. It was lovely. The soaking lasted about 10 minutes before Sera returned and asked if I needed help to get up on the bed. I told her I would give it a try and did, successfully. My feet were propped up at the foot of the bed where Sera sat. She clipped and snipped and talked and it went smoothly, I thought. She didn't seem to have any problem with my nails, although I always found it a strain to clip them because they weren't quite even and were a bit hard. Mind you, I never thought of soaking them first, but then my career didn't lean to pedicures. I was an insurance person."
"So it went well," said Bear. "No big deal, I gather."
"I told Sera I would come again after about a month, just to keep my beautiful feet beautiful. She thought that was a good idea."
"You're a bit of a character, you know that don't you Bum?"
Bum said nothing.
Bear continued with "my master's wife calls the woman next door a bit of a character."
"Why's that?" enquired Bum.
"The woman wears unusual footwear for one thing. She has these high-heeled gold lame boots which personally I don't feel belong on city streets, and when those shoes and boots became popular with a cat's face on the toe, she wore those. I think the master's wife calls her a character, trying to be nice but acknowledge her unusual dress code which is rather flamboyant, because the woman's husband is filthy rich and worth knowing, if you know what I mean."
"I don't think I'm a character like that woman, Bear," said Bum in a disapproving tone.
"No, that's true, Bum. You are more of a character in that you are eccentric, but rather charming with it."
"I like that Bear. You are forgiven for comparing me to that awful woman. So, what you're saying is that there are many kinds of characters."
"Yes, Bum, and since we're talking characters, let's segue on to Paul's latest remarks about Characters in our book."
"Let's do it, Bear, although your segue is pretty obvious, when it shouldn't be, if you know what I mean. In case you don't know, a segue is a smooth transition. When you segue in conversation, you change the topic so smoothly that people might not even notice."
"I know what segue means, Bum, but we don't need that slimy way of changing a topic. We are surely past that. What did he say about Characters?"
"This is what he wrote," said Bum.
"As for clarifying characters, I have said above that I see the three main characters as breaking down this way, using the book Heroes and Heroines as a guide:
. Janey, the Spunky Kid (Working Girl variant)
. Bear, the Bad Boy (From the Wrong Side of the Tracks variant)
. Gordon, the Best Friend (Mr. Nice Guy variant)
If we use this breakdown, then the next draft should work at depicting the characters as being powered by and consistent with these archetypes. The book Heroes and Heroines is actually aimed at romance writers, and discusses how these archetypes interact in a romantic plot. The authors think that an example of the Best Friend and Spunky Kid in a romantic story together is the movie While You Were Sleeping with Bill Pullman and Sandra Bullock. I haven't seen the movie, but it might provide an example of these kinds of characters in action with each other. Their example of a Bad Boy with Spunky Kid story is the movie Grease starring John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John.
All this will make the characters clear and stand on their own two (or four) feet. Part of the task will involve fleshing out the characters, in part by understanding their backstories--the events in their respective pasts that are relevant to the unfolding of the present story."
"I wish Paul would stop referring to me as the Bad Boy, and now, having the effrontery to compare me to that old fart, John Travolta,." said Bear, looking pretty disgusted at the whole Characters assessment.
"He's not that old, Bear. I believe he was born in 1954 so he's younger than I am, but who isn't?" said Bum.
"I didn't call him that, Bum. It was my master's wife's daughter who called him that when her mother was trying to get her to watch Grease with her, a film she had always loved and thought her daughter would too. Her daughter had seen John Travolta interviewed on one of those talk shows recently and that's why she saw him as an old fart."
"Give me strength, Bear. Paul was comparing you to the young John Travolta from Grease. He was a master dancer and singer and actor and played the Bad Boy in that film to great aplomb."
"Oh," said Bear. "That's OK then but I still object to being called a Bad Boy which I am not."
"I don't see you as a bad boy, Bear, and that's really all that matters," said Bum.
"What else did Paul have to say about our characters?" asked Bear.
"That's all he had to say about Characters. He obviously feels our book needs more about our backstories, our history I guess."
"Hmm," said Bear. "Let me think about that for a few minutes."
"While you're thinking, I'll tell you what I think," said Bum. She hasn't time to sit around thinking about this crap. She has an appointment over town, finally, with her radiologist.
"It seems that Paul feels that we should've devoted a few chapters on Janey's life history, and then yours, Bear. I think he's wrong. I hate long chapters about any person or place in a book. I prefer that they get on with the story. Remember, he wanted us to flesh out Deep Cove as he felt people would enjoy knowing more about this locale, since it's a very unique place. Our book isn't about Deep Cove, it's about us. Wouldn't you agree, Bear?"
"Indeed I do agree, Bum. Our backstories emerge from our conversations as we walk, which is what our story is all about; we walk and we talk. That is how friends find out about each other--through conversation."
"That is so true, Bear. I found out that you were born in Calcutta of all places, three pups in a basket being hawked for a tasty supper by your hideous owner who was a woman regrettably. Your master was there, checking out the market on one of his layovers as a pilot, and purchased you for the price of a light meal. He brought you home to Deep Cove and your human family started to emerge. I love that word, emerge. It sounds like something being seen emerging from mist."
"That's a nice image, Bum, emerging from mist," responded Bear. "I like it."
"What did you learn about me, Bear, from our conversations?" asked Bum.
"I learned about your Dad from the newspaper story. Even Steve, your brother-in-law, that you now write to, said that he enjoyed re-reading the newspaper story. Your Dad called you and your sister the two twerps who had no business delivering papers. But, you talked him into it. Steve said that most of the newspaper story was just about what happened as told to him by his wife, Patsy. He said he found it interesting and entertaining and it seemed somewhat personal. He knew the area well and the people in it and agreed that it showed a father's love for his little twerps. Steve said he found it a very heart warming story."
"I love Steve's letters, Bum, when you remember to read them to me. Sometimes you forget," said Bear with a frown.
"I know, Bear, and I'm sorry about that. I'll try, no, I will get better. I hate people who always say I'll try to, blah, blah, blah."
"When did you start writing to Steve and why?" asked Bear.
"It's been awhile, since July 2018, as I recall. His wife, Patsy, my sister, had died four years earlier. I knew he must be lonely without her, as I am. I thought he might enjoy that bit in our book about my little treasure, the blue Mini he painted and gave to me so many years ago. He did, and we have been writing to each other ever since."
"It's nice to get letters, isn't it Bum? I don't think a lot of people out there know how nice it is to get mail, real mail I mean. Children know. They love getting mail addressed to them and delivered to the house."
"That's so true, Bear. My sister and I always send cards to Sophie, William, and Charlie, Chella and Wes's children. They love that."
"So, Bum, what did Steve say in his first letter to you?" asked Bear.
"He said he was happy to hear that I still have the little mini Austin model he sent to me many years ago, and that it's in my book. He went on to say that one day I had given him and Patsy a ride in that little car in Toronto. He felt uneasy because he knew I hadn't had my driver's licence long and also that the driving in Toronto traffic is somewhat suicidal. Well, I took off like a shot, he said, zipping in and out of traffic like a T.O. taxi driver. He was amazed at the confidence and control I showed in that crazy traffic. It was funny to read what he thought of me then, Bear, because I never saw myself like that."
"You don't know yourself very well, Bum, as I've told you before."
Bum ignored that comment and went on. "This correspondence with Steve keeps my friend and sister, Patsy, in my thoughts and memory. I dearly wish she could know that."
"She knows," said Bear with a smile.
"You always know what to say, Bear, to make me feel good. It's a gift. But, perhaps Paul is correct about fleshing out my background. I never had a story to use in our book about Mom and, like Dad, she was a big part of my history."
"Your mother's personality crept into our conversation, and book, in bits and pieces, Bum. You said she was not demonstrative, for example, although that is hard to comprehend when she had 14 children. The incident I remember most was the time when your mother got old, as people tend to do. You said she was slumped in a chair and you thought she needed and perhaps wanted a hug. You regretted if very much that you did not hug her. She had taught you too well." Bear paused here in remembrance and then said, "It broke my heart, Bum. It broke my heart."
"Someday, Bear, we'll be archetypes someone mentions in a book. Perhaps Paul will read it.
.
,
.
,
Saturday, February 22, 2020
Friday, January 31, 2020
AUDIENCE
"Good morning, Bear. We'd best move on with Paul's Reader's Report. Time's a wastin', and we may never get through the entire report. We need to come on in the stretch as they say when calling a horse race"
"I'm ready, Bum. Are you? How do you feel?" enquired Bear.
"I feel pretty good today, Bear. I've been on my early morning walk and I finished my whole water bottle because there were so many cars going by. Also, I have a drink of water after 20 steps and 5 shoulder lifts. I think it's working. I'm more upright. You may have noticed."
"Yes, I did notice, Bum. You're not bent over as much as before. This is good. I'm glad you took control of your own exercises to help your back. God knows, the medical profession had nothing to offer."
"You know what I think of the medical profession, Bear. I still haven't gotten over that call I got from that Pain Management place. After a year, he tells me he has my appointment for a dermatologist and, would you believe, it's at 8:30 of all times. Am or pm stinks but I'll have to phone and get that clarified because my appointment is coming up in about three weeks."
"I'll be glad when that's over, Bum, for your sake." muttered Bear. He's as sick of the subject of my back as I am, thought Bum.
"Before moving on to the Audience analysis of our book by Paul, let me say that I make a solemn vow not to be one of those people, who, when asked how they are, tell you, ad nauseum."
"I concur, Bum. When my master's wife had her gall bladder operation many years ago, I heard the details of that so many times when she was asked by her friends how that went, that I felt quite bilious."
"OK, then, Bear, this is what Paul had to say about Audience. He said and I quote, Next: the audience for the story. I expect that the ideal reader will be one who can identify with Janey's world and interests, and will be tickled by a retiree consorting with a talking dog. So I see an adult audience, especially one of older adults--fellow retirees. There are more and more of these as the Baby Boomers retire, so it's a large and ever-growing demographic, and maybe also one that is not really served that well in fiction writing. It needs to be an audience who can take a genuine interest in a retiree romance, and not see that as something merely cute and funny, as younger people might be ought to do."
Bear thought a moment and then said "What about dog lovers? Now, there's a big audience."
"I agree, Bear. I think dog lovers will love our book. They know when their dog is irritated with them and turns away from them to show their displeasure. The dog shows them in every possible way what they are thinking and feeling and loving. My mother told me once that her dog, Buck, was very angry with her and wouldn't come to her when she called and wouldn't have anything to do with her until she apologized. I found that a bit weird at the time but Mom was adamant that Buck took great exception to something she did, I cannot remember what it was now, and it took days for him to forgive her and become her loving companion once more. My friend Ellen said her cat gave her the cold shoulder once when another animal was visiting and getting a lot of praise and petting. I always thought people like this were imagining things but now I know different. Look at some of the incidents we've had when you were ticked off and I had to talk you round."
"Maybe you're on to something, Bum," acknowledged Bear, before proceeding with his remarks on Audience. "What about those Harlequin readers. There must be thousands of them out there."
"At least," said Bum, wryly, "but the two little Harlequins in our book are pretty short."
"What's size got to do with anything?" came Bear right back.
"I'll mention our two thoughts on possible readers to Paul when I see him next and see what he has to say."
"OK, then," said Bear.
"I have to go now, Bear. I have a 12:30 appointment up at Parkgate at The Sanctuary."
"The Sanctuary?" repeated Bear. "Is that a religious outfit?"
"No, it's a place of beauty. They do manicures, pedicures, and facials, and perhaps other things I cannot envisage," said Bum. "I'm having a mini pedicure, if you must know, and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow when we meet."
Bear looked at Bum in absolute astonishment before speaking.
"A pedicure!! You?"
..
.
"I'm ready, Bum. Are you? How do you feel?" enquired Bear.
"I feel pretty good today, Bear. I've been on my early morning walk and I finished my whole water bottle because there were so many cars going by. Also, I have a drink of water after 20 steps and 5 shoulder lifts. I think it's working. I'm more upright. You may have noticed."
"Yes, I did notice, Bum. You're not bent over as much as before. This is good. I'm glad you took control of your own exercises to help your back. God knows, the medical profession had nothing to offer."
"You know what I think of the medical profession, Bear. I still haven't gotten over that call I got from that Pain Management place. After a year, he tells me he has my appointment for a dermatologist and, would you believe, it's at 8:30 of all times. Am or pm stinks but I'll have to phone and get that clarified because my appointment is coming up in about three weeks."
"I'll be glad when that's over, Bum, for your sake." muttered Bear. He's as sick of the subject of my back as I am, thought Bum.
"Before moving on to the Audience analysis of our book by Paul, let me say that I make a solemn vow not to be one of those people, who, when asked how they are, tell you, ad nauseum."
"I concur, Bum. When my master's wife had her gall bladder operation many years ago, I heard the details of that so many times when she was asked by her friends how that went, that I felt quite bilious."
"OK, then, Bear, this is what Paul had to say about Audience. He said and I quote, Next: the audience for the story. I expect that the ideal reader will be one who can identify with Janey's world and interests, and will be tickled by a retiree consorting with a talking dog. So I see an adult audience, especially one of older adults--fellow retirees. There are more and more of these as the Baby Boomers retire, so it's a large and ever-growing demographic, and maybe also one that is not really served that well in fiction writing. It needs to be an audience who can take a genuine interest in a retiree romance, and not see that as something merely cute and funny, as younger people might be ought to do."
Bear thought a moment and then said "What about dog lovers? Now, there's a big audience."
"I agree, Bear. I think dog lovers will love our book. They know when their dog is irritated with them and turns away from them to show their displeasure. The dog shows them in every possible way what they are thinking and feeling and loving. My mother told me once that her dog, Buck, was very angry with her and wouldn't come to her when she called and wouldn't have anything to do with her until she apologized. I found that a bit weird at the time but Mom was adamant that Buck took great exception to something she did, I cannot remember what it was now, and it took days for him to forgive her and become her loving companion once more. My friend Ellen said her cat gave her the cold shoulder once when another animal was visiting and getting a lot of praise and petting. I always thought people like this were imagining things but now I know different. Look at some of the incidents we've had when you were ticked off and I had to talk you round."
"Maybe you're on to something, Bum," acknowledged Bear, before proceeding with his remarks on Audience. "What about those Harlequin readers. There must be thousands of them out there."
"At least," said Bum, wryly, "but the two little Harlequins in our book are pretty short."
"What's size got to do with anything?" came Bear right back.
"I'll mention our two thoughts on possible readers to Paul when I see him next and see what he has to say."
"OK, then," said Bear.
"I have to go now, Bear. I have a 12:30 appointment up at Parkgate at The Sanctuary."
"The Sanctuary?" repeated Bear. "Is that a religious outfit?"
"No, it's a place of beauty. They do manicures, pedicures, and facials, and perhaps other things I cannot envisage," said Bum. "I'm having a mini pedicure, if you must know, and I'll tell you all about it tomorrow when we meet."
Bear looked at Bum in absolute astonishment before speaking.
"A pedicure!! You?"
..
.
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
2012
was the year of my favourite Triple Crown horse races. I included my story in my book My Imaginary Dog and thought you, dear reader if you're out there, would enjoy it. This story was brought to mind recently when I heard one of my favourite handicappers, Brian Zipse, say on one of his weekly videos, that The Preakness that year was his very favourite Triple Crown race. So, here it is.
I and my sister have been going to the races for many years. It is our one shared love. One of the most exciting races I ever saw was the Kentucky Derby in 2012. The winner, I'll Have Another, was ridden by a local jockey, Mario Guttierez, which made it special for me and all the other racegoers at Hastings Park where we watched the big race on a big TV. The horse was 13 to 1 on the odds.
Mario was a bit of a celebrity for a while, and deservedly so. The race and the jockey were mentioned on the CBC. This was Mario's first mount in the Kentucky Derby and then he won it. There were twenty horses entered for the big race. I'll Have Another had the 19 spot which had never won the Derby, until then that is. Trinniberg, a known sprinter, took the lead. Many people had objected to Trinniberg being entered because he was a sprinter and the race is 1 and 1/4 miles, but he gave a good accounting of himself, I thought. Bodemeister, the favourite, took the lead from him and they battled along for a bit. I'll Have Another, a horse who has good speed from the gate too, took the sixth position on the outside. A few of the very good horses in the race were in the middle and on the rail and suffered accordingly. They were bashed and squeezed and bumped. It was a madhouse, as it usually is. Bodemeister entered the stretch with a five length lead and he looked like a winner. Out of the pack came I'll Have Another and he kept coming and coming and coming and caught Bodemeister at the wire by a length and a half. It was so great, one of the best races I'd ever seen, until the Preakness.
The Preakness is the second jewel in the Triple Crown. It's a shorter race, 1 mile and 3/16ths, and the field is about half of the Kentucky Derby. That is why Bodemeister remained favoured because of his speed and staying power. Both horses broke well with Bodemeister in front by about 1 and 1/2 lengths as expected, and I'll Have Another in 4th I believe. The pace wasn't as fast as the Derby which boded well for Bodemeister. They entered the stretch and I'll Have Another had moved to 3rd, and then the race was on. Bodemeister was not slowing but I'll Have Another on the outside kept grinding away and in the final yards, caught Bodemeister.
The crowed was pretty jubilant at Hastings Race Track. The place erupted when Mario won. I've never heard a crowd calling for the jockey rather than the horse. Mario, Mario, Mario, they shouted. Come on Mario, bring him home they said over and over during the stretch run, and he did. I'll never forget that thrilling moment.
I'll Have Another did not win the Triple Crown because he was not entered in the last leg, the Belmont, the longest race at 1 mile and a half. The insinuation was that he could not run, and everyone assumed an injury. Nothing specific was ever said and he was sold for big bucks soon after to someone foreign. I always figured it came down to money, as it usually does, but I had no proof, only bitter disillusionment that he did not run and win his rightful Crown.
In 2015, American Pharoah won the Triple Crown, but for me he did not have the thrill of I'll Have Another, nor the talent. His times for the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness were mediocre at best, as were the horses he beat. There was no way American Pharoah could've outrun the great Bodemeister.
I and my sister have been going to the races for many years. It is our one shared love. One of the most exciting races I ever saw was the Kentucky Derby in 2012. The winner, I'll Have Another, was ridden by a local jockey, Mario Guttierez, which made it special for me and all the other racegoers at Hastings Park where we watched the big race on a big TV. The horse was 13 to 1 on the odds.
Mario was a bit of a celebrity for a while, and deservedly so. The race and the jockey were mentioned on the CBC. This was Mario's first mount in the Kentucky Derby and then he won it. There were twenty horses entered for the big race. I'll Have Another had the 19 spot which had never won the Derby, until then that is. Trinniberg, a known sprinter, took the lead. Many people had objected to Trinniberg being entered because he was a sprinter and the race is 1 and 1/4 miles, but he gave a good accounting of himself, I thought. Bodemeister, the favourite, took the lead from him and they battled along for a bit. I'll Have Another, a horse who has good speed from the gate too, took the sixth position on the outside. A few of the very good horses in the race were in the middle and on the rail and suffered accordingly. They were bashed and squeezed and bumped. It was a madhouse, as it usually is. Bodemeister entered the stretch with a five length lead and he looked like a winner. Out of the pack came I'll Have Another and he kept coming and coming and coming and caught Bodemeister at the wire by a length and a half. It was so great, one of the best races I'd ever seen, until the Preakness.
The Preakness is the second jewel in the Triple Crown. It's a shorter race, 1 mile and 3/16ths, and the field is about half of the Kentucky Derby. That is why Bodemeister remained favoured because of his speed and staying power. Both horses broke well with Bodemeister in front by about 1 and 1/2 lengths as expected, and I'll Have Another in 4th I believe. The pace wasn't as fast as the Derby which boded well for Bodemeister. They entered the stretch and I'll Have Another had moved to 3rd, and then the race was on. Bodemeister was not slowing but I'll Have Another on the outside kept grinding away and in the final yards, caught Bodemeister.
The crowed was pretty jubilant at Hastings Race Track. The place erupted when Mario won. I've never heard a crowd calling for the jockey rather than the horse. Mario, Mario, Mario, they shouted. Come on Mario, bring him home they said over and over during the stretch run, and he did. I'll never forget that thrilling moment.
I'll Have Another did not win the Triple Crown because he was not entered in the last leg, the Belmont, the longest race at 1 mile and a half. The insinuation was that he could not run, and everyone assumed an injury. Nothing specific was ever said and he was sold for big bucks soon after to someone foreign. I always figured it came down to money, as it usually does, but I had no proof, only bitter disillusionment that he did not run and win his rightful Crown.
In 2015, American Pharoah won the Triple Crown, but for me he did not have the thrill of I'll Have Another, nor the talent. His times for the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness were mediocre at best, as were the horses he beat. There was no way American Pharoah could've outrun the great Bodemeister.
Monday, January 20, 2020
POSSIBLE STRATEGIES
"Where have you been?" asked Bear the next time I saw him.
"I got the dreaded flu and I've been off my feet for more than a week. I had a terrible cough and I even stopped smoking, that's how bad it was. My vodka martinis were tasteless as well. That's when I knew I was sick."
"Good grief, it's not like you to get sick Bum," said Bear.
"I know. It took me by surprise too," said Bum. "I'm better, but I tire easily. I was watching my favourite show on my laptop the other day, HorseCenter, and I fell asleep sitting up and missed most of the show."
"What's HorseCenter? I've never heard of it," said Bear.
"It's a weekly video presented by my two favourite handicappers, Brian Zipse and Matt Shifman, and I have watched them for years.|
"Are they good handicappers?" asked Bear.
"Like all handicappers, sometimes they're good and sometimes they're not."
"Hmph," said Bear.
"A couple of videos back, Mr. Zipse endeared himself to me forever when he said that the most thrilling of all the Triple Crown races he has seen, was the Preakness, between I'll Have Another and Bodemeister."
"That's the Triple Crown races you talked about in our book, isn't it? I believe you told our friend Gordon all about it."
"That is correct, Bear. You have a good memory," said Bum with some admiration.
"Why don't you copy some of that story into our blog, Bum? Some people who read our blog may find it interesting," said Bear.
"Bear, I don't think anyone is reading our blog much and it would take a bit of work for me to find that story and insert it," said Bum.
"What else have you got to do, Bum? You're not up to scratch yet, what with that rotten flu, so typing is probably all you're good for."
"That's so true, Bear, my energy level is pretty low. I have a hard copy of my book which my sister is reading, so she can do a critique she said. I'll use that to find that horse racing stuff. My sister suggested I do a summary for each chapter, which I did, and that will make it easier for me to find that stuff about the Preakness. She has some good ideas."
"That she does, Bum. Did you find it?" asked Bear.
"Yes, I did, I found it in the summary for Chapter 41."
"41 chapters! That's a lot, isn't it Bum. We must talk too much.," said Bear.
"I don't know about that, Bear, I guess our book is as long as it has to be," said Bum. "It's certainly longer than those Harlequins; they are mostly 10 chapters as I recall."
"Maybe you only need 10 chapters for romance," said Bear. "What would I know, I'm a dog."
Bum pondered her problem for a bit and then said, "I'm going to need some quality time to minimize that Triple Crown story for my next blog, Bear. I think we should proceed with Paul's Possible Strategies while I'm thinking about it. What do you say?"
"I say that's a good plan, Bum. What did Paul say in his Reader's Report?"
"He said the way forward depends on how much work you want to put into the story. If you want to find a conventional publisher for it, I would say that it needs quite a lot of work. And even then, you may never find one; it depends in part on how much faith and determination you have."
"He can be a bit of a downer sometimes, can't he Bum?"
"I think you said that before, Bear. Look, he's trying to be honest, so we won't have any surprises. He went on to say and I quote, But if you're looking to self-publish it as an e-book, then the level of polish and quality is up to you, the publisher. Publishing an e-book is still not completely easy; the author has to do all of the publisher's jobs, such as getting the book edited and formatted, and then actually published--made available to readers where they find e-books. There is also the issue of promotion, which is perhaps the biggest and hardest job of all. Not that publishers do much of that anyway for new or obscure authors; it's really up to the author to provide his own promotion even in that case."
"Is there a nice way of saying, I think we're screwed, Bum?" asked Bear.
"Not that I know, Bear. I think that says it all."
"So, what else did Paul have to say about Possible Strategies?" asked Bear, looking quite dubious.
"He said he sees three broad strategies for taking the book to publication. The first one he calls the minimal path. This would be mostly a copyedit of the existing draft, cleaning it up, fixing typos and grammatical mistakes, and making a few easy tweaks to make it more presentable and readable. Then it could be formatted for publication as an e-book."
"I like that one," said Bear.
"I knew you would," said Bum.
"Let's face it, Bum, this would be the one where it could be published before I'm dead, or more importantly, before you're dead because you told me once when you die, I die with you."
"Enough talk about death, Bear, Paul's second strategy is the middle path. This would be to make a serious effort to address the issues raised in "Things to Work On". The result, Paul believes, would be a much more polished and complete-feeling story. But it would not happen in one draft, or in two, or in three. We'd be looking at several drafts, possibly one for each of the bullet points listed. Even then, Paul doesn't think we'd be talking about conventional publication; we would still be talking about a self-published e-book. But it would be in a better position to hold its own against all competition, quality-wise, and should find a bigger audience."
"I bet you chose this path, Bum, because you are a middle path kind of person," said Bear with a smirk.
"I do not know what you mean by that remark, my dear Bear, but you are right I did choose the middle path and it is the one that Paul recommended. My draft 2 includes those "Things to Work On" he mentioned so I'm good to go, I think."
"Dare I be so bold as to ask what the maximum path is?" asked Bear with some trepidation.
"Paul said this would be an effort to make the story all that it can be, to realize its full potential. The idea would be to try to make My Imaginary Dog appear to be the work of a fully qualified published author--a good one. This would mean putting strong effort into making the story work, and doing all we can to make the finished product tight, original, and engaging. He said he could recommend more books to help me study up on the craft, so I can understand what's involved and what to do."
"He already gave you two books, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Bum, and said no more. She'd read the books of course but she'd already finished most of her book so they weren't very helpful. Maybe she could use some of that stuff they talked about for her next book, ha ha.
"Bear, our book is what I would call a fun read. Here we are, the two of us, who love each other, and
best of all, are friends. We like to have a few laughs, and talk about our funny stories, and some sad ones too. We argue, we make up, we enjoy each other's company, and we have plenty to say about a lot of subjects. I think people would enjoy reading about our antics and would remember they too had such antics in their lives. It's all about memories and you and everyone else can make of them as you like. They can be good, they can be bad, but they are yours."
"Well said, Bum, you do have a way with words."
"Paul's a bit of a perfectionist about his own writing and perhaps he sees our book as Nobel Prize material if we do the work."
"You're no Alice Munro, Bum," said Bear.
"I got the dreaded flu and I've been off my feet for more than a week. I had a terrible cough and I even stopped smoking, that's how bad it was. My vodka martinis were tasteless as well. That's when I knew I was sick."
"Good grief, it's not like you to get sick Bum," said Bear.
"I know. It took me by surprise too," said Bum. "I'm better, but I tire easily. I was watching my favourite show on my laptop the other day, HorseCenter, and I fell asleep sitting up and missed most of the show."
"What's HorseCenter? I've never heard of it," said Bear.
"It's a weekly video presented by my two favourite handicappers, Brian Zipse and Matt Shifman, and I have watched them for years.|
"Are they good handicappers?" asked Bear.
"Like all handicappers, sometimes they're good and sometimes they're not."
"Hmph," said Bear.
"A couple of videos back, Mr. Zipse endeared himself to me forever when he said that the most thrilling of all the Triple Crown races he has seen, was the Preakness, between I'll Have Another and Bodemeister."
"That's the Triple Crown races you talked about in our book, isn't it? I believe you told our friend Gordon all about it."
"That is correct, Bear. You have a good memory," said Bum with some admiration.
"Why don't you copy some of that story into our blog, Bum? Some people who read our blog may find it interesting," said Bear.
"Bear, I don't think anyone is reading our blog much and it would take a bit of work for me to find that story and insert it," said Bum.
"What else have you got to do, Bum? You're not up to scratch yet, what with that rotten flu, so typing is probably all you're good for."
"That's so true, Bear, my energy level is pretty low. I have a hard copy of my book which my sister is reading, so she can do a critique she said. I'll use that to find that horse racing stuff. My sister suggested I do a summary for each chapter, which I did, and that will make it easier for me to find that stuff about the Preakness. She has some good ideas."
"That she does, Bum. Did you find it?" asked Bear.
"Yes, I did, I found it in the summary for Chapter 41."
"41 chapters! That's a lot, isn't it Bum. We must talk too much.," said Bear.
"I don't know about that, Bear, I guess our book is as long as it has to be," said Bum. "It's certainly longer than those Harlequins; they are mostly 10 chapters as I recall."
"Maybe you only need 10 chapters for romance," said Bear. "What would I know, I'm a dog."
Bum pondered her problem for a bit and then said, "I'm going to need some quality time to minimize that Triple Crown story for my next blog, Bear. I think we should proceed with Paul's Possible Strategies while I'm thinking about it. What do you say?"
"I say that's a good plan, Bum. What did Paul say in his Reader's Report?"
"He said the way forward depends on how much work you want to put into the story. If you want to find a conventional publisher for it, I would say that it needs quite a lot of work. And even then, you may never find one; it depends in part on how much faith and determination you have."
"He can be a bit of a downer sometimes, can't he Bum?"
"I think you said that before, Bear. Look, he's trying to be honest, so we won't have any surprises. He went on to say and I quote, But if you're looking to self-publish it as an e-book, then the level of polish and quality is up to you, the publisher. Publishing an e-book is still not completely easy; the author has to do all of the publisher's jobs, such as getting the book edited and formatted, and then actually published--made available to readers where they find e-books. There is also the issue of promotion, which is perhaps the biggest and hardest job of all. Not that publishers do much of that anyway for new or obscure authors; it's really up to the author to provide his own promotion even in that case."
"Is there a nice way of saying, I think we're screwed, Bum?" asked Bear.
"Not that I know, Bear. I think that says it all."
"So, what else did Paul have to say about Possible Strategies?" asked Bear, looking quite dubious.
"He said he sees three broad strategies for taking the book to publication. The first one he calls the minimal path. This would be mostly a copyedit of the existing draft, cleaning it up, fixing typos and grammatical mistakes, and making a few easy tweaks to make it more presentable and readable. Then it could be formatted for publication as an e-book."
"I like that one," said Bear.
"I knew you would," said Bum.
"Let's face it, Bum, this would be the one where it could be published before I'm dead, or more importantly, before you're dead because you told me once when you die, I die with you."
"Enough talk about death, Bear, Paul's second strategy is the middle path. This would be to make a serious effort to address the issues raised in "Things to Work On". The result, Paul believes, would be a much more polished and complete-feeling story. But it would not happen in one draft, or in two, or in three. We'd be looking at several drafts, possibly one for each of the bullet points listed. Even then, Paul doesn't think we'd be talking about conventional publication; we would still be talking about a self-published e-book. But it would be in a better position to hold its own against all competition, quality-wise, and should find a bigger audience."
"I bet you chose this path, Bum, because you are a middle path kind of person," said Bear with a smirk.
"I do not know what you mean by that remark, my dear Bear, but you are right I did choose the middle path and it is the one that Paul recommended. My draft 2 includes those "Things to Work On" he mentioned so I'm good to go, I think."
"Dare I be so bold as to ask what the maximum path is?" asked Bear with some trepidation.
"Paul said this would be an effort to make the story all that it can be, to realize its full potential. The idea would be to try to make My Imaginary Dog appear to be the work of a fully qualified published author--a good one. This would mean putting strong effort into making the story work, and doing all we can to make the finished product tight, original, and engaging. He said he could recommend more books to help me study up on the craft, so I can understand what's involved and what to do."
"He already gave you two books, didn't he?"
"Yes," said Bum, and said no more. She'd read the books of course but she'd already finished most of her book so they weren't very helpful. Maybe she could use some of that stuff they talked about for her next book, ha ha.
"Bear, our book is what I would call a fun read. Here we are, the two of us, who love each other, and
best of all, are friends. We like to have a few laughs, and talk about our funny stories, and some sad ones too. We argue, we make up, we enjoy each other's company, and we have plenty to say about a lot of subjects. I think people would enjoy reading about our antics and would remember they too had such antics in their lives. It's all about memories and you and everyone else can make of them as you like. They can be good, they can be bad, but they are yours."
"Well said, Bum, you do have a way with words."
"Paul's a bit of a perfectionist about his own writing and perhaps he sees our book as Nobel Prize material if we do the work."
"You're no Alice Munro, Bum," said Bear.
Friday, January 17, 2020
2020
Hi blog. Relax, I am not going to bore you with my vision failings. As my eye specialist said to me once, when I questioned my failing far vision, your vision is good enough. Good enough for him, I'm thinking, but I have my problems, with seeing I mean. Oh well, on to more interesting topics.
This is the New Year and I decided to make a couple of resolutions. l 've never bothered before but I've changed in this past year so I thought, what the hell, I'll make a couple of resolutions. No, I am not going to quite smoking, or drinking, or cursing. Those things are keepers at.my age.
First, to recap last year, I finished draft 2 of a book I wrote called My Imaginary Dog. My nephew, Paul, who is editing my book, suggested I get myself a blog and record my comments about editing with my imaginary dog, which I had told him I wanted to do.. Paul read my book and gave me a 13 page analysis of it. I am using this document to fine tune my book with the help of Bear, my imaginary dog. It has been a lot of fun and I have posted several of our conversations, and suggestions he has made, on my blog. You may have read them, or not, because accessing my blog is impossible for some unknown reason. Sometimes, I, or my sister, forward a link of my blog to those who have shown interest, i.e. friends and relatives.
Other than writing my book and blog all year, I have entertained myself, usually in the early morning while I have my coffee and cigarettes in my room, by re-designing a piece of clothing usually obtained from the Thrift. The main thing I worked on last year was a long camel coat which fitted me perfectly but the sleeves were a bit short. This I found weird because I have rather short arms. I thought I could add some cuffs to the coat which would give it the length I needed but I couldn't think of what I could use from the stuff lying around my room. I even thought of crocheting some cuffs as I learned to crochet duvets years ago from an old, cranky neighbour in Upper Lonsdale where we lived for a long time. That seemed too difficult as I would have to find my old bag of crochet stuff and re-learn that weird stitch she taught me.
On one of my visits to the Church Thrift at Parkgate, I found a pair of white slippers for $1.00. They had high sock like tops to them and I discovered that inside these slippers, there was this white, curly fur-like lining. Perfect. I cut the tops off the socks, turned them inside out, and fashioned them into very cute cuffs. My biggest challenge was threading a needle to sew the cuffs on. My sight isn't what it used to be and I swear those needles were placed in my care as a punishment. The long and short of this creative tale is that the coat with its new cuffs looked pretty darn good, cute even. I added a white matching scarf, long, and hanging down the front of the coat, and it's ready to wear. I hung this masterpiece in my outside closet and waited for a cooler day.
Tragedy struck soon after. I tried to open the outside closet door and a screw flew out of one of the hinges, the top one, and I never did find it. The other screw was loose and the door slumped alarmingly into my arms. Luckily, my gorilla ladder was leaning nearby and I used it to prop the door closed. A couple of days later, Molly Maid, our expensive house cleaners, came by and one of the maids is a man. I asked him about the hinge and he confirmed it needs a thicker screw and longer because there is good strong wood behind and that would do the trick. Now, I need to find a hardware store and get those screws. As if I don't have enough to do, I'm thinking.
Weeks went by and no chance to find a hardware store. The gorilla ladder propping the door shut did not add to the decor in the entry hall. I needed something better, something tasteful. I tried several books but they did not fit until finally I found the perfect one, by a writer not so yappy. W. Somerset Maugham and his little book, Cakes And Ale, was just right. It held that closet door closed with assurance and taste, just like the writer. It's just too bad the book's title didn't have the word closet in it, then that would be more fitting in more ways than one..
Back to my New Year's resolutions, I have two.
Across from my bedroom door, which fronts on the entrance hall, is a white wall made of very hard wood that will not take a nail. I resolve to gather up old drawings done by children I have known, have them laminated, and stick them to that wall in an artistic cluster. I have lots of pictures done by Paul and Mara over the years we all lived together, and they have been laminated to preserve them.
I'm downsizing and going through old correspondence to get rid of it, or whatever, and found several old pictures drawn by an 8 year old Damon Shareski, the son of my brother-in-law Steve who I am corresponding with now that his wife, my sister Patsy, died. Damon, as an adult, is an artist now but I have his beginnings, which I will hang on my wall. There are five of them, a sailboat, a horse of course, a car, a dog named Briar Rose Bottens, and a young boy's version of a woman, always endowed with a fairly big bust. They will make a nice display, not the breasts but the pictures.. They look a bit ratty after about thirty years so I decided to freshen them up before lamination.
Damon's pictures were drawn on a white pad of paper, you know the kind with three holes on the bottom. You can remove the pages nicely or just rip them out of the pad. I managed to preserve the holes in two of the pictures because the drawings were so close to the bottom of the page. I've always liked the look of the holes after lamination, or any marks to show they'd hung on your wall for years because you loved them. Anyway, the pages needed something. They were white, the wall was white, and the drawings were not that dark.
After some thought, I decided to frame Damon's pictures in black for contrast against the white wall. I got out my trusty black felt pen, a big one I've had for years, and a ruler borrowed from my sister,
and voila, the job was done. They looked better when I held one of them against that white wall, but still not quite right. My sister, Frances, studied them and said she has an old book of heavy coloured thick paper she let the kids use when they used to visit. Perhaps some of those coloured pages backing Damon's pictures would do the trick. They did. I chose a deep, deep pink colour for all of them and will attach them before lamination.
I found an old folded up piece of paper in the back of my desk drawer in my room. What a lovely surprise it was. Paul, my nephew, had drawn these caricatures, dated April 2, 1983, which is unusual because most people don't date anything, of himself, a couple of me, and one of his friend Warren which is undeniably him. The only problem was that each set of caricatures was on one side of the same single page. There's a stationary shop up at Parkgate so I got the fellow there to photo copy both sides of the caricatures and, because there was a space on one side, I had him copy a picture of Paul, the artist, on the high right side of the one page. I took the pages home and pasted them into one sheet, ringed it in black liked I'd done Damon's and I'm done. Now, I just have to find the time to get the pictures over to Lonsdale where I found a print shop that does laminating. I hope it's not too expensive, because I have about 6 pictures. If it is, so be it, it is my lst New Year's resolution.
My second resolution is painting my room and bathroom. Now, this will be a challenge, a big one. I have the colours I want, that's a start. I bought a decorative border many years ago. It says it is prepasted, washable, easy to apply, and is about 6 inches wide. My plan at the time was to ring it round the mustard coloured wall surrounding my bath tub with the claw feet . The person who applied the mustard tiles behind the tub smeared some mustard streaks on the white wall above and it could not be removed. That is why I thought the decorative border would cover it nicely. Of course, I never got around to it. However, the decorative border has the colours I want for my room, off white for the walls and a gray blue for the ceilings. All I have to do now is find a good paint store.
It's a good thing I've got all year to complete these resolutions because I think I'll need every day and every hour of that time. I am not the fastest person in the world, but I am steady and resolute in my way.
The idea of New Year's resolutions makes me want to puke, and always has, so I don't know why I am doing this now. Maybe I'm losing it.
In my entire life, I only heard of one good New Year's resolution. Many, many, many years ago, when my sister and I were still working. a woman in her office told her she was making a New Year's resolution, for the first time. She resolved to start smoking.
.
.
,
This is the New Year and I decided to make a couple of resolutions. l 've never bothered before but I've changed in this past year so I thought, what the hell, I'll make a couple of resolutions. No, I am not going to quite smoking, or drinking, or cursing. Those things are keepers at.my age.
First, to recap last year, I finished draft 2 of a book I wrote called My Imaginary Dog. My nephew, Paul, who is editing my book, suggested I get myself a blog and record my comments about editing with my imaginary dog, which I had told him I wanted to do.. Paul read my book and gave me a 13 page analysis of it. I am using this document to fine tune my book with the help of Bear, my imaginary dog. It has been a lot of fun and I have posted several of our conversations, and suggestions he has made, on my blog. You may have read them, or not, because accessing my blog is impossible for some unknown reason. Sometimes, I, or my sister, forward a link of my blog to those who have shown interest, i.e. friends and relatives.
Other than writing my book and blog all year, I have entertained myself, usually in the early morning while I have my coffee and cigarettes in my room, by re-designing a piece of clothing usually obtained from the Thrift. The main thing I worked on last year was a long camel coat which fitted me perfectly but the sleeves were a bit short. This I found weird because I have rather short arms. I thought I could add some cuffs to the coat which would give it the length I needed but I couldn't think of what I could use from the stuff lying around my room. I even thought of crocheting some cuffs as I learned to crochet duvets years ago from an old, cranky neighbour in Upper Lonsdale where we lived for a long time. That seemed too difficult as I would have to find my old bag of crochet stuff and re-learn that weird stitch she taught me.
On one of my visits to the Church Thrift at Parkgate, I found a pair of white slippers for $1.00. They had high sock like tops to them and I discovered that inside these slippers, there was this white, curly fur-like lining. Perfect. I cut the tops off the socks, turned them inside out, and fashioned them into very cute cuffs. My biggest challenge was threading a needle to sew the cuffs on. My sight isn't what it used to be and I swear those needles were placed in my care as a punishment. The long and short of this creative tale is that the coat with its new cuffs looked pretty darn good, cute even. I added a white matching scarf, long, and hanging down the front of the coat, and it's ready to wear. I hung this masterpiece in my outside closet and waited for a cooler day.
Tragedy struck soon after. I tried to open the outside closet door and a screw flew out of one of the hinges, the top one, and I never did find it. The other screw was loose and the door slumped alarmingly into my arms. Luckily, my gorilla ladder was leaning nearby and I used it to prop the door closed. A couple of days later, Molly Maid, our expensive house cleaners, came by and one of the maids is a man. I asked him about the hinge and he confirmed it needs a thicker screw and longer because there is good strong wood behind and that would do the trick. Now, I need to find a hardware store and get those screws. As if I don't have enough to do, I'm thinking.
Weeks went by and no chance to find a hardware store. The gorilla ladder propping the door shut did not add to the decor in the entry hall. I needed something better, something tasteful. I tried several books but they did not fit until finally I found the perfect one, by a writer not so yappy. W. Somerset Maugham and his little book, Cakes And Ale, was just right. It held that closet door closed with assurance and taste, just like the writer. It's just too bad the book's title didn't have the word closet in it, then that would be more fitting in more ways than one..
Back to my New Year's resolutions, I have two.
Across from my bedroom door, which fronts on the entrance hall, is a white wall made of very hard wood that will not take a nail. I resolve to gather up old drawings done by children I have known, have them laminated, and stick them to that wall in an artistic cluster. I have lots of pictures done by Paul and Mara over the years we all lived together, and they have been laminated to preserve them.
I'm downsizing and going through old correspondence to get rid of it, or whatever, and found several old pictures drawn by an 8 year old Damon Shareski, the son of my brother-in-law Steve who I am corresponding with now that his wife, my sister Patsy, died. Damon, as an adult, is an artist now but I have his beginnings, which I will hang on my wall. There are five of them, a sailboat, a horse of course, a car, a dog named Briar Rose Bottens, and a young boy's version of a woman, always endowed with a fairly big bust. They will make a nice display, not the breasts but the pictures.. They look a bit ratty after about thirty years so I decided to freshen them up before lamination.
Damon's pictures were drawn on a white pad of paper, you know the kind with three holes on the bottom. You can remove the pages nicely or just rip them out of the pad. I managed to preserve the holes in two of the pictures because the drawings were so close to the bottom of the page. I've always liked the look of the holes after lamination, or any marks to show they'd hung on your wall for years because you loved them. Anyway, the pages needed something. They were white, the wall was white, and the drawings were not that dark.
After some thought, I decided to frame Damon's pictures in black for contrast against the white wall. I got out my trusty black felt pen, a big one I've had for years, and a ruler borrowed from my sister,
and voila, the job was done. They looked better when I held one of them against that white wall, but still not quite right. My sister, Frances, studied them and said she has an old book of heavy coloured thick paper she let the kids use when they used to visit. Perhaps some of those coloured pages backing Damon's pictures would do the trick. They did. I chose a deep, deep pink colour for all of them and will attach them before lamination.
I found an old folded up piece of paper in the back of my desk drawer in my room. What a lovely surprise it was. Paul, my nephew, had drawn these caricatures, dated April 2, 1983, which is unusual because most people don't date anything, of himself, a couple of me, and one of his friend Warren which is undeniably him. The only problem was that each set of caricatures was on one side of the same single page. There's a stationary shop up at Parkgate so I got the fellow there to photo copy both sides of the caricatures and, because there was a space on one side, I had him copy a picture of Paul, the artist, on the high right side of the one page. I took the pages home and pasted them into one sheet, ringed it in black liked I'd done Damon's and I'm done. Now, I just have to find the time to get the pictures over to Lonsdale where I found a print shop that does laminating. I hope it's not too expensive, because I have about 6 pictures. If it is, so be it, it is my lst New Year's resolution.
My second resolution is painting my room and bathroom. Now, this will be a challenge, a big one. I have the colours I want, that's a start. I bought a decorative border many years ago. It says it is prepasted, washable, easy to apply, and is about 6 inches wide. My plan at the time was to ring it round the mustard coloured wall surrounding my bath tub with the claw feet . The person who applied the mustard tiles behind the tub smeared some mustard streaks on the white wall above and it could not be removed. That is why I thought the decorative border would cover it nicely. Of course, I never got around to it. However, the decorative border has the colours I want for my room, off white for the walls and a gray blue for the ceilings. All I have to do now is find a good paint store.
It's a good thing I've got all year to complete these resolutions because I think I'll need every day and every hour of that time. I am not the fastest person in the world, but I am steady and resolute in my way.
The idea of New Year's resolutions makes me want to puke, and always has, so I don't know why I am doing this now. Maybe I'm losing it.
In my entire life, I only heard of one good New Year's resolution. Many, many, many years ago, when my sister and I were still working. a woman in her office told her she was making a New Year's resolution, for the first time. She resolved to start smoking.
.
.
,
Saturday, January 4, 2020
THINGS TO WORK ON
"Bear, Paul said there are some issues and things to be worked on in future drafts. Note he has pluralized the word, draft, which is somewhat disturbing to me. I thought draft 2 would do it and hope he's not thinking 3 or 4 or 8 more," said Bum, looking somewhat downhearted.
"Don't think the worst, Bum. He was probably just saying, you know like an old gangster."
"I hope you are right, Bear. He said the fantasy premise needs to be clarified. The title is My Imaginary Dog, but Bear seems real enough: he has a real master who pays Janey, our heroine, real money; he goes to a real vet and interacts with real people there; he is fed real leftovers. In the story as now written, the main point about Bear is not that he is imaginary, but that he talks--but only to Janey. He's like Francis the Talking Mule. The rules of this fantasy world need to be made clear--always a key task when writing fantasy."
Bear sat silent, giving her that look he gives her when he is annoyed and thinking of something to say.
Before Bear could speak, Bum jumped in. "Remember I told you that Paul has only read draft 1 and before you go off half-cocked again about Francis the Talking Mule, I already told you I fixed that problem in draft 2. Also, with my sister's help, I clarified the fantasy part by relating it to Alice down the rabbit hole, and I further clarified the talking part by again relating it to Alice in Wonderland and how she first meets the talking white rabbit. Everyone got it and I think they'll get ours."
"OK," said Bear, "at least we've got all that straight, and to Paul's satisfaction, I hope. I only have one question before we move on to Paul's next point, is that word half-cocked a disparaging sexual term or does it have something to do with a gun?"
Bum sighed and said, "Half-cocked means you are not ready to shoot your load, but you might. Take it how you like."
"OK," said Bear. "What's the next point?"
"Paul asks who is the audience for this story?" said Bum. "Right now it's too salty for kids, but it might be perceived as too twee for adults. Deciding who is the ideal reader might help to focus the story more."
"I think dog lovers will love our story, Bum," said Bear. "Of course it is too salty for kids if Paul's thinking children who can hardly read or have a book read to them at bedtime. That's a no go. Older kids like teens, who are very likely dog lovers, might find it amusing. They might even find it funny about two old people falling in love, who knows. He said it may be too twee for adults but I don't know what he means by that."
"I too was confused by that term so I googled it and found out it means affectedly or excessively dainty, delicate, cute, or quaint, even corny was mentioned. The same meaning in Hindi but one word stuck out, niminy piminy."
"Well, Bum, I think he's got that wrong. I think adults, with any brains or senses of humour, will enjoy our story. We live, we laugh, we fight, we love, what more can an adult want out of life. He's wrong, and I stand by that."
"I agree, Bear, let's move on to his next point."
"The characters should be clarified and differentiated, so that they become more distinct."
"What's he been drinking?" said Bear in bewilderment. "We, you and I, are clarified and differentiated. I'm a dog and you're a person. Maybe he's talking about your boyfriend. Ask him for clarification.""
"First, Bear, let me make it clear that Paul is not a drinker, so far as I know. I probably drink more than he does, especially now that I have that pinched nerve and useless medical attention."
"Are you a problem drinker now, Bum?" asked Bear.
"No," said Bum, " and as I told you before on one of our walks, I have no problem if I get my drinks every night. Now, let's move on to the next point."
"OK," said Bear. "Hit me with it, I'm ready."
"Paul said the story needs structure. We have a story, but not really a plot, that is, a story whose elements are all connected by cause and effect. This should happen naturally as the story gains more of a sense of purpose, what it's trying to say. It should really have a clearly thought-out act structure."
"So, Bum, what do you know about story structure?" asked Bear.
"I read somewhere, Bear, that structure is to story what the skeleton is to the human body."
"That's clear enough, Bum, but what about his comment that we need a clearly thought-out act structure?"
"Paul gave me a book sometime ago, which I did read. I remember it said Act 1 should introduce your main characters and establish the setting. We've done that. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, I think we got that right, Paul will be pleased to know. We met each other on one of your walks after you retired. You described yourself and did those quirky things you do while walking and I appeared as Artos who lives with his master where Strathcona Road starts its climb, and you met my master and we were off, walking and talking as we traversed the hilly streets near your home and mine, and we settled down at the blue church up on Dollar Road which is on the way to Deep Cove village. Our setting was established, as we were." said Bear quite pompously."
"This next point is the one I particularly like," said Bum.
"What's that?" asked Bear.
"Paul said there are some confusing shifts of viewpoint, as during the telling of Janey's romance-novel ideas. It's not clear here whose story this is or exactly how it relates to the main story."
Bear thought about this statement for a bit and then said, "He's probably never read a Harlequin, has he?"
"It seems unlikely, Bear, unless there was one written Before Christ."
"Harlequins are fantasies, Bum, and perhaps Paul doesn't appreciate that fact, or maybe he's not romantic. As I told you before when you thought you should perhaps drop the Harlequins out of our book, why should you discard a dream you had to write one. Hold on to your dreams, Bum, they are not that common."
"This is true, Bear, and that is why I left them in the book. It gave me great pleasure to do so."
"You said, Bum, that Paul uses his Facebook site to analyze books he has read. Have you read some of his posts to ensure he's a good analyst of books?"
"As a matter of fact, Bear, I checked that out the other day and found one of his posts comparing A Man called Ome by a Swedish writer, Fredrik Backman. published in 2012, to a book called Wilheim Meister's Apprenticeship by a German writer, published in 1795-96. Paul said that despite their seemingly great differences, there are commonalities between these books. Ove is a grumpy 59 year old and the other is a young man with a romantic, philosophical nature and a passion for theatre. The books, in very different ways, are comedies, at least in the most basic sense of having (mostly) happy endings. .Oddly enough, Bear, I enjoyed reading his post on this book comparison."
"What was the name of the German writer, Bum, you didn't mention it."
"It was that Gerta guy," said Bum.!!
"Gerta guy!! " Bear exploded with disbelief "I simply cannot believe this of you, Bum. You dishonour Johann Wolfgang von Goethe by using that term."
"Calm down, Bear. I'm sure I've said worse, but I apologize because you, and Mr. von Goethe if he heard it, found it so upsetting."
"I'm sorry too, Bum. I may have overreacted. My master's wife had a run-in last week with my master. He is a great fan of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and he wife persisted in going on an on and on that she cannot understand why he, or indeed anyone, would read that crap . She went too far, I thought, but you know she is an idiot about intellectuals and literature, as I told you before. Remember when she dismissed Malcolm Lowry's great masterpiece, Under the Volcano, because in her opinion who would want to read about a drunken sot, or words to that effect. My master though, had the last word, although it probably went over her head. He quoted the great Goethe's line, --There is nothing more frightful than IGNORANCE in action.".
"That is such a great quote, Bear. I'll never be able to come up with something that good," said Bum despondently.
""You have time, Bum. You're not dead yet. Let's move on to the rest of Paul's Things to Work On. I have to get home soon."
"He said the episodes of Janey's life away from Bear sometimes feel disconnected and out of place. In order to earn their keep, they need to be related to the main story."
"Leave that for him to fix in the edit, Bum. I don't know what he's talking about. I don't see you in your real world. What's next?"
"Paul said these characters like swapping stories, which is fun, but there can be a sense of aimlessness to it. It would be best if all the stories, as Steve Martin tells John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, had a point. This can be done by finding ways to connect them with the main story."
"He keeps going on about the main story but seems to have missed the point that we are the story. We walk and we talk and we share our lives with each other. Is there a point? I don't know. I just know I love hearing your stories that happened in your life, sort of like your memoir. I hope you feel the same about mine. That's all I've got to say about that. What's next?"
"Paul said the story could use more description to anchor it in the world and give it a sense of place. Dialogue is the important thing in it, but some description will help make it more vivid to the reader's mind. Deep Cover is an unique and atmospheric place; readers will appreciate being brought there in their imaginations."
"There's plenty about Deep Cover in our book, Bum. We use Strathcona Road where we both live, the blue church which was a landmark before they tore it down, the Village which we can approach along Dollar Road or cut through near the school and down those long steps which end about a block and a half from the Village. And, pardon my French, that bullshit about readers will appreciate being brought here in their imaginations, they are already here. There's so many tourists here they had to put a sign up saying that buses need a permit to enter. Also, they've had to limit the number of people allowed to climb that special trail. Give me a break, I say," said Bear.
"I agree, Bear, and, as a precocious small relative of mine said years ago when he had an incident at his pre-school because he didn't want to eat there, people should stay home. My sister agrees as she is sick of all the people in the Village now that we cannot enjoy our old ways now of walks to get an ice cream cone on a sunny day, or anything, because it is teeming with people, and there is no parking to get some Honey's donuts. It's a mess."
"I blame the influx of tourists to our Village on that actress who was visiting here a few years ago," said Bear. "I believe she was staying in a house to the right of your house up our Strathcona Road hill. Anyway, she walked over to Honey's one day and got herself a donut, probably one of those chocolate-covered ones you like. Her accolades about the place went online, because of her fame I guess, and our Village became a destination spot for tourists."
"My sister considered this information about Deep Cove and came to the conclusion that our story could be set anywhere. You and I live in Deep Cove but we could take our lives elsewhere and it could still work, according to her."
"She is absolutely right, Bum, as usual," said Bear.
"Yes," said Bum succinctly, getting back to her beloved word.
"So, Bum, what location do you think would work for our story.?"
"We could try Moose Jaw," said Bum.
"Where the hell is Moose Jaw?" asked Bear, in that puzzled way he uses.
"Exactly my point." said Bum with a bit of a smirk.
"So, Bum, you've been to Moose Jaw?" asked Bear.
"Yes, only once, and once was enough. My sister and I were on one of our road trips across Canada to visit our relatives in Orillia, Ontario. We pulled in to a handy cafe just off the Trans-Canada Highway to eat something before proceeding on our way, hoping to get out of Saskatchewan that day. And, there it was, Moose Jaw, just the outskirts I believe. I promised myself and my sister, who agreed, that I would never stop in Moose Jaw again. I can still smell tumeric in my imagination. It inundated the food, even the dessert, and I cannot tolerate that spice to this day." Bum frowned in memory.
"I think we should stick with Deep Cove as our locale, Bum."
"Me too, Bear. At least it doesn't stink," said Bum. ."Let's walk."
.
.
,
,
. .
"Don't think the worst, Bum. He was probably just saying, you know like an old gangster."
"I hope you are right, Bear. He said the fantasy premise needs to be clarified. The title is My Imaginary Dog, but Bear seems real enough: he has a real master who pays Janey, our heroine, real money; he goes to a real vet and interacts with real people there; he is fed real leftovers. In the story as now written, the main point about Bear is not that he is imaginary, but that he talks--but only to Janey. He's like Francis the Talking Mule. The rules of this fantasy world need to be made clear--always a key task when writing fantasy."
Bear sat silent, giving her that look he gives her when he is annoyed and thinking of something to say.
Before Bear could speak, Bum jumped in. "Remember I told you that Paul has only read draft 1 and before you go off half-cocked again about Francis the Talking Mule, I already told you I fixed that problem in draft 2. Also, with my sister's help, I clarified the fantasy part by relating it to Alice down the rabbit hole, and I further clarified the talking part by again relating it to Alice in Wonderland and how she first meets the talking white rabbit. Everyone got it and I think they'll get ours."
"OK," said Bear, "at least we've got all that straight, and to Paul's satisfaction, I hope. I only have one question before we move on to Paul's next point, is that word half-cocked a disparaging sexual term or does it have something to do with a gun?"
Bum sighed and said, "Half-cocked means you are not ready to shoot your load, but you might. Take it how you like."
"OK," said Bear. "What's the next point?"
"Paul asks who is the audience for this story?" said Bum. "Right now it's too salty for kids, but it might be perceived as too twee for adults. Deciding who is the ideal reader might help to focus the story more."
"I think dog lovers will love our story, Bum," said Bear. "Of course it is too salty for kids if Paul's thinking children who can hardly read or have a book read to them at bedtime. That's a no go. Older kids like teens, who are very likely dog lovers, might find it amusing. They might even find it funny about two old people falling in love, who knows. He said it may be too twee for adults but I don't know what he means by that."
"I too was confused by that term so I googled it and found out it means affectedly or excessively dainty, delicate, cute, or quaint, even corny was mentioned. The same meaning in Hindi but one word stuck out, niminy piminy."
"Well, Bum, I think he's got that wrong. I think adults, with any brains or senses of humour, will enjoy our story. We live, we laugh, we fight, we love, what more can an adult want out of life. He's wrong, and I stand by that."
"I agree, Bear, let's move on to his next point."
"The characters should be clarified and differentiated, so that they become more distinct."
"What's he been drinking?" said Bear in bewilderment. "We, you and I, are clarified and differentiated. I'm a dog and you're a person. Maybe he's talking about your boyfriend. Ask him for clarification.""
"First, Bear, let me make it clear that Paul is not a drinker, so far as I know. I probably drink more than he does, especially now that I have that pinched nerve and useless medical attention."
"Are you a problem drinker now, Bum?" asked Bear.
"No," said Bum, " and as I told you before on one of our walks, I have no problem if I get my drinks every night. Now, let's move on to the next point."
"OK," said Bear. "Hit me with it, I'm ready."
"Paul said the story needs structure. We have a story, but not really a plot, that is, a story whose elements are all connected by cause and effect. This should happen naturally as the story gains more of a sense of purpose, what it's trying to say. It should really have a clearly thought-out act structure."
"So, Bum, what do you know about story structure?" asked Bear.
"I read somewhere, Bear, that structure is to story what the skeleton is to the human body."
"That's clear enough, Bum, but what about his comment that we need a clearly thought-out act structure?"
"Paul gave me a book sometime ago, which I did read. I remember it said Act 1 should introduce your main characters and establish the setting. We've done that. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, I think we got that right, Paul will be pleased to know. We met each other on one of your walks after you retired. You described yourself and did those quirky things you do while walking and I appeared as Artos who lives with his master where Strathcona Road starts its climb, and you met my master and we were off, walking and talking as we traversed the hilly streets near your home and mine, and we settled down at the blue church up on Dollar Road which is on the way to Deep Cove village. Our setting was established, as we were." said Bear quite pompously."
"This next point is the one I particularly like," said Bum.
"What's that?" asked Bear.
"Paul said there are some confusing shifts of viewpoint, as during the telling of Janey's romance-novel ideas. It's not clear here whose story this is or exactly how it relates to the main story."
Bear thought about this statement for a bit and then said, "He's probably never read a Harlequin, has he?"
"It seems unlikely, Bear, unless there was one written Before Christ."
"Harlequins are fantasies, Bum, and perhaps Paul doesn't appreciate that fact, or maybe he's not romantic. As I told you before when you thought you should perhaps drop the Harlequins out of our book, why should you discard a dream you had to write one. Hold on to your dreams, Bum, they are not that common."
"This is true, Bear, and that is why I left them in the book. It gave me great pleasure to do so."
"You said, Bum, that Paul uses his Facebook site to analyze books he has read. Have you read some of his posts to ensure he's a good analyst of books?"
"As a matter of fact, Bear, I checked that out the other day and found one of his posts comparing A Man called Ome by a Swedish writer, Fredrik Backman. published in 2012, to a book called Wilheim Meister's Apprenticeship by a German writer, published in 1795-96. Paul said that despite their seemingly great differences, there are commonalities between these books. Ove is a grumpy 59 year old and the other is a young man with a romantic, philosophical nature and a passion for theatre. The books, in very different ways, are comedies, at least in the most basic sense of having (mostly) happy endings. .Oddly enough, Bear, I enjoyed reading his post on this book comparison."
"What was the name of the German writer, Bum, you didn't mention it."
"It was that Gerta guy," said Bum.!!
"Gerta guy!! " Bear exploded with disbelief "I simply cannot believe this of you, Bum. You dishonour Johann Wolfgang von Goethe by using that term."
"Calm down, Bear. I'm sure I've said worse, but I apologize because you, and Mr. von Goethe if he heard it, found it so upsetting."
"I'm sorry too, Bum. I may have overreacted. My master's wife had a run-in last week with my master. He is a great fan of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and he wife persisted in going on an on and on that she cannot understand why he, or indeed anyone, would read that crap . She went too far, I thought, but you know she is an idiot about intellectuals and literature, as I told you before. Remember when she dismissed Malcolm Lowry's great masterpiece, Under the Volcano, because in her opinion who would want to read about a drunken sot, or words to that effect. My master though, had the last word, although it probably went over her head. He quoted the great Goethe's line, --There is nothing more frightful than IGNORANCE in action.".
"That is such a great quote, Bear. I'll never be able to come up with something that good," said Bum despondently.
""You have time, Bum. You're not dead yet. Let's move on to the rest of Paul's Things to Work On. I have to get home soon."
"He said the episodes of Janey's life away from Bear sometimes feel disconnected and out of place. In order to earn their keep, they need to be related to the main story."
"Leave that for him to fix in the edit, Bum. I don't know what he's talking about. I don't see you in your real world. What's next?"
"Paul said these characters like swapping stories, which is fun, but there can be a sense of aimlessness to it. It would be best if all the stories, as Steve Martin tells John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles, had a point. This can be done by finding ways to connect them with the main story."
"He keeps going on about the main story but seems to have missed the point that we are the story. We walk and we talk and we share our lives with each other. Is there a point? I don't know. I just know I love hearing your stories that happened in your life, sort of like your memoir. I hope you feel the same about mine. That's all I've got to say about that. What's next?"
"Paul said the story could use more description to anchor it in the world and give it a sense of place. Dialogue is the important thing in it, but some description will help make it more vivid to the reader's mind. Deep Cover is an unique and atmospheric place; readers will appreciate being brought there in their imaginations."
"There's plenty about Deep Cover in our book, Bum. We use Strathcona Road where we both live, the blue church which was a landmark before they tore it down, the Village which we can approach along Dollar Road or cut through near the school and down those long steps which end about a block and a half from the Village. And, pardon my French, that bullshit about readers will appreciate being brought here in their imaginations, they are already here. There's so many tourists here they had to put a sign up saying that buses need a permit to enter. Also, they've had to limit the number of people allowed to climb that special trail. Give me a break, I say," said Bear.
"I agree, Bear, and, as a precocious small relative of mine said years ago when he had an incident at his pre-school because he didn't want to eat there, people should stay home. My sister agrees as she is sick of all the people in the Village now that we cannot enjoy our old ways now of walks to get an ice cream cone on a sunny day, or anything, because it is teeming with people, and there is no parking to get some Honey's donuts. It's a mess."
"I blame the influx of tourists to our Village on that actress who was visiting here a few years ago," said Bear. "I believe she was staying in a house to the right of your house up our Strathcona Road hill. Anyway, she walked over to Honey's one day and got herself a donut, probably one of those chocolate-covered ones you like. Her accolades about the place went online, because of her fame I guess, and our Village became a destination spot for tourists."
"My sister considered this information about Deep Cove and came to the conclusion that our story could be set anywhere. You and I live in Deep Cove but we could take our lives elsewhere and it could still work, according to her."
"She is absolutely right, Bum, as usual," said Bear.
"Yes," said Bum succinctly, getting back to her beloved word.
"So, Bum, what location do you think would work for our story.?"
"We could try Moose Jaw," said Bum.
"Where the hell is Moose Jaw?" asked Bear, in that puzzled way he uses.
"Exactly my point." said Bum with a bit of a smirk.
"So, Bum, you've been to Moose Jaw?" asked Bear.
"Yes, only once, and once was enough. My sister and I were on one of our road trips across Canada to visit our relatives in Orillia, Ontario. We pulled in to a handy cafe just off the Trans-Canada Highway to eat something before proceeding on our way, hoping to get out of Saskatchewan that day. And, there it was, Moose Jaw, just the outskirts I believe. I promised myself and my sister, who agreed, that I would never stop in Moose Jaw again. I can still smell tumeric in my imagination. It inundated the food, even the dessert, and I cannot tolerate that spice to this day." Bum frowned in memory.
"I think we should stick with Deep Cove as our locale, Bum."
"Me too, Bear. At least it doesn't stink," said Bum. ."Let's walk."
.
.
,
,
. .
Friday, December 27, 2019
SNOW
"Good afternoon, Bear. Where were you this morning? I thought we had a date for early morning
when I do my walk, such as it is."
"It's the bloody snow," said Bear, looking very disgruntled,
"But Bear, we don't have any snow," said Bum, looking puzzled.
"I know, Bum, you know, and my master's wife knows, but my master has gotten it into his head that snow is coming and he must be prepared, on behalf of his wife, because he'll be away doing that course he gives in the U.S.A. When the snow storm hits, she'll be defenseless because he cannot find his snow shovel. It must've been stolen, he said. His wife didn't mention that she gave it to the Thrift as they haven't had snow in the Cove for years."
"Wait a minute, Bear. Your master's wife doesn't look strong enough to shovel snow so what will she do with a shovel?"
"That's what she said," said Bear,"but the master came right back that the young fellow next door can do the shoveling, for money of course, but he'll need a shovel. When the snow hits, there won't be a shovel to be found."
"Where did he get the idea that snow is coming, Bear. There's been nothing about it as a forecast on the radio," said Bum. Much ado about nothing, she thought.
Bear sighed and then said, "My master drove a friend of his up Seymour Mountain because his friend's girlfriend works there, has her car with her, but wanted the boyfriend to join her for dinner because she's getting a cut price because she works there."
"Your master surely realizes that they get snow at higher elevations, like on top of mountains, but it doesn't mean we'll get any snow at sea level," said Bum.
"He knows that, Bum, but he was more than half way back down the mountain when a small flurry of snow hit his windshield and he freaked He had visions of snow coming and he would be out of town and the rest you know about his paranoi about having a snow shovel at the ready.."
"Anyway, he took me with him to find a snow shovel and we visited many hardware stores before we found what he wanted. He thought perhaps two shovels would be best but the cost put him off. The salesman at the one place tried to talk him into a very expensive snow blower but even he wasn't that stupid. I thought we would never get out of there and I knew we had missed our walk. I started to have a real hatred for snow, I can tell you, Bum."
"That reminds me of an old joke about a snow shoveler that was making the rounds many years ago, Bear."
"It''hard to believe there could be much of a joke about shoveling snow," said Bear suspiciously.
"From memory, and it was a long time ago I read it somewhere, there was a man and his wife, (at the wife's insistence as I recall) who moved outside the City to a small place near a forest, a stream, and some looming mountains. It was like the place my niece, Mara, and her husband, Mike, found in Squamish, about an hour's drive from North Vancouver.
Their first night there, a few weeks before Christmas, was thrilling for both of them. They were sitting, drinks in hand, gazing out the window at the softly falling snow flakes. They felt blessed.
Over the next week, it kept snowing and snowing and snowing and snowing. The man's belief that all that snow shoveling would keep him fit, began to pale. He slipped on the icy driveway and hurt his back quite badly.
Things started to deteriorate and there were several incidents with the snow plough operator who drove this route on a regular basis. Every time the man shoveled his driveway and the sidewalk fronting his property, the snow plough would come along and obliterate the end of his driveway and the sidewalk, with huge mounds of dirty snow.
Things got so bad, his wife left him and went to stay with her mother over Christmas and the New Year. The man was glad. This was all her fault and he hated her and he hated the f'ing snow and he particularly hated the f'ing snow plough driver. The last incident with the snow plough operator got ugly. The snow shoveler hit the snow plough driver with his shovel after the driver had the nerve to ask for a donation because of Christmas, and then threatened unmentionable things he was going to do to the driver with the broken shovel handle.
The police came, of course. The snow shoveler was incarcerated, and not in a regular hospital. He loves the little white pills he is prescribed but wonders why he is tied to the bed."
"As a snow joke, Bum, that stinks," said Bear.
"Maybe it's because you're a dog and never had to shovel snow," responded Bum. Bear said nothing.
"I hate to leave you on such a sour note so perhaps this message about snow I received recently from my niece, Mara, will please you. She enclosed a picture of the scene outside her window but, of course, I don't know how to include it here. A high tech person, I'm not. She wrote,"
......
I awoke to the beginnings of a Winter Wonderland. I could already tell as I lay in the dark....by the muted, muffled sense of sound. The landscape in layers of darks and whites....like an old photograph, and the stream's towering deciduous trees look like a filigree. The only colours are the brick red shoots off the lilac tree, and the little Christmas lights, barely peaking from the coloured snow-laden Apple tree.
.....
"Very poetic, isn't she?: said Bear.
"
"
.
when I do my walk, such as it is."
"It's the bloody snow," said Bear, looking very disgruntled,
"But Bear, we don't have any snow," said Bum, looking puzzled.
"I know, Bum, you know, and my master's wife knows, but my master has gotten it into his head that snow is coming and he must be prepared, on behalf of his wife, because he'll be away doing that course he gives in the U.S.A. When the snow storm hits, she'll be defenseless because he cannot find his snow shovel. It must've been stolen, he said. His wife didn't mention that she gave it to the Thrift as they haven't had snow in the Cove for years."
"Wait a minute, Bear. Your master's wife doesn't look strong enough to shovel snow so what will she do with a shovel?"
"That's what she said," said Bear,"but the master came right back that the young fellow next door can do the shoveling, for money of course, but he'll need a shovel. When the snow hits, there won't be a shovel to be found."
"Where did he get the idea that snow is coming, Bear. There's been nothing about it as a forecast on the radio," said Bum. Much ado about nothing, she thought.
Bear sighed and then said, "My master drove a friend of his up Seymour Mountain because his friend's girlfriend works there, has her car with her, but wanted the boyfriend to join her for dinner because she's getting a cut price because she works there."
"Your master surely realizes that they get snow at higher elevations, like on top of mountains, but it doesn't mean we'll get any snow at sea level," said Bum.
"He knows that, Bum, but he was more than half way back down the mountain when a small flurry of snow hit his windshield and he freaked He had visions of snow coming and he would be out of town and the rest you know about his paranoi about having a snow shovel at the ready.."
"Anyway, he took me with him to find a snow shovel and we visited many hardware stores before we found what he wanted. He thought perhaps two shovels would be best but the cost put him off. The salesman at the one place tried to talk him into a very expensive snow blower but even he wasn't that stupid. I thought we would never get out of there and I knew we had missed our walk. I started to have a real hatred for snow, I can tell you, Bum."
"That reminds me of an old joke about a snow shoveler that was making the rounds many years ago, Bear."
"It''hard to believe there could be much of a joke about shoveling snow," said Bear suspiciously.
"From memory, and it was a long time ago I read it somewhere, there was a man and his wife, (at the wife's insistence as I recall) who moved outside the City to a small place near a forest, a stream, and some looming mountains. It was like the place my niece, Mara, and her husband, Mike, found in Squamish, about an hour's drive from North Vancouver.
Their first night there, a few weeks before Christmas, was thrilling for both of them. They were sitting, drinks in hand, gazing out the window at the softly falling snow flakes. They felt blessed.
Over the next week, it kept snowing and snowing and snowing and snowing. The man's belief that all that snow shoveling would keep him fit, began to pale. He slipped on the icy driveway and hurt his back quite badly.
Things started to deteriorate and there were several incidents with the snow plough operator who drove this route on a regular basis. Every time the man shoveled his driveway and the sidewalk fronting his property, the snow plough would come along and obliterate the end of his driveway and the sidewalk, with huge mounds of dirty snow.
Things got so bad, his wife left him and went to stay with her mother over Christmas and the New Year. The man was glad. This was all her fault and he hated her and he hated the f'ing snow and he particularly hated the f'ing snow plough driver. The last incident with the snow plough operator got ugly. The snow shoveler hit the snow plough driver with his shovel after the driver had the nerve to ask for a donation because of Christmas, and then threatened unmentionable things he was going to do to the driver with the broken shovel handle.
The police came, of course. The snow shoveler was incarcerated, and not in a regular hospital. He loves the little white pills he is prescribed but wonders why he is tied to the bed."
"As a snow joke, Bum, that stinks," said Bear.
"Maybe it's because you're a dog and never had to shovel snow," responded Bum. Bear said nothing.
"I hate to leave you on such a sour note so perhaps this message about snow I received recently from my niece, Mara, will please you. She enclosed a picture of the scene outside her window but, of course, I don't know how to include it here. A high tech person, I'm not. She wrote,"
......
I awoke to the beginnings of a Winter Wonderland. I could already tell as I lay in the dark....by the muted, muffled sense of sound. The landscape in layers of darks and whites....like an old photograph, and the stream's towering deciduous trees look like a filigree. The only colours are the brick red shoots off the lilac tree, and the little Christmas lights, barely peaking from the coloured snow-laden Apple tree.
.....
"Very poetic, isn't she?: said Bear.
"
"
.
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