I know Amy Dupire through the Compuserve writers' forum, and also from the annual contest at the Surrey International Writers' Conference, where she inevitably places in the top storyteller category as either a winner or runner-up.
Amy has now published a collection of stories called GOD-THING: AND OTHER WEIRD AND WORRISOME TALES and her first novel ALL KINDS OF HELL was published last month.
Her short stories are mysterious and strange and beautifully written, and creepy in a good way. Look what Diana Gabaldon has to say about Amy. She just added Amy's book of short stories to her Methadone List (what Diana calls her book suggestions for those waiting for her Next Book in the Outlander series.)
"The stories here are written with delicacy, humor, and a healthy dose of uneasiness. And they are… well, you know… short. Whether you’re in need of a literary appetizer or dessert,
immersion or distraction— you might just find what you’re looking for in
this collection of "Weird and Worrisome Tales." " Diana Gabaldon
I'm pleased to announce the winner of Diana Gabaldon's anniversary edition of OUTLANDER.
I wrote down everyone's name, one, two or three times if they were a follower or had a note up on Twitter etc., and then assigned each one a number. I used the Random Generator to choose a number and #37 came up.
I consulted my master list and #37 was assigned to....
drumroll please....
DEBBY!!
I know from Debby's blog how much she likes to read and I'm pretty sure she's going to love this book.
So Debby, if you're out there in blog land, please send me your address via email and I'll have your book flying its way to you ASAP. Unless you want to wait until October, in which case I can ask Diana to sign it for you and then I'll send it. Your choice.
Thanks for playing everyone! More contests in the new year as I hit my 500th post.
This is a bit of a departure for Diana (or maybe it's a bit like coming full circle since back in the day, she famously wrote comic scripts for Walt Disney featuring Donald Duck, Uncle Scrooge and Mickey.)
I have had the pleasure of knowing the incomparable Diana Gabaldon for many years. In fact, some of my life's adventures have ended up in her novels, including a skunked dog, a mangled fingernail, and of course, many squirrels both alive and dead (which is the way I prefer them.)
So now, Diana has something new and very exciting to offer. It's called THE EXILE: An Outlander Graphic Novel. If you're a fan of hers, you'll probably know about this already because it's vaulted to #1 and is already in its second printing! If you haven't read Outlander the novel, do yourself a favour and read it first. It's one of my favourite books ever and well worth tracking down. It's truly "unputdownable" and if you read a chapter or two, you'll see what I mean.
Actually Random House is celebrating the 20th anniversary of OUTLANDER with a contest. You could win 10 free copies (one for you, nine for your friends.)
Random House is also giving away free Kindle copies (for a limited time) so check that out HERE. (I don't have a Kindle, but I do own several copies of OUTLANDER. I like to give them out to friends.)
Or go to your local library because they'll have it for sure. Then set aside a good chunk of time to read. You won't want to do anything once you start, so plan accordingly. Just sayin'.
Here's the trailer for the new graphic novel. Me? I'm hoping my copy arrives in time for the Surrey International Writers' Conference next week so Diana can sign it! Hurry up, Indigo. Come ON already. How many clerks do I have to pester/cajole/threaten? (Note: I usually support my local independent book stores whenever possible, and I actually had a copy in my hand two days ago, but I had already ordered my copy online thinking it would arrive more quickly. Ha! Wrong. Do you hear that Indigo? Hurry UP!)
The incomparable Diana Gabaldon has finished book 7 in the OUTLANDER series! Mark the release date on your calendar - Tuesday, September 22nd - and then clear that calendar, because you will not get anything else done until you finish this book. (If you are one of the few who has never read or heard of OUTLANDER, drop what you're doing and go get it. Right now.)
(I'll wait.)
Diana was kind enough to send me the proofs for book 7 a while back and oh, baby, baby, baby. Tighten your seatbelts. You're in for quite a ride!
From Diana's website:
"Jamie Fraser, erstwhile Jacobite and reluctant rebel, knows three things about the American rebellion: The Americans will win, unlikely as that seems in 1777; being on the winning side is no guarantee of survival; and he’d rather die than face his illegitimate son — a young lieutenant in the British army — across the barrel of a gun.
His time-traveling wife, Claire, knows that the Americans will win, but not what the ultimate price may be. That price won’t include Jamie’s life or happiness, though — not if she has anything to say about it.
And in the relative safety of the 20th century, their daughter Brianna and her husband, Roger, watch the unfolding of her parents story in the past — a past that may be sneaking up behind their own family."
Watch for it on the NY Times list. Look up, waaaay up. (Name the source of that quote, all you Canucks!)
We'll soon be getting together once again for workshops, drinks and general jollification at the best writers' conference on the planet, the Surrey International Writers' Conference. For up-and-comers or established pros, whether you'll be pitching, learning or networking, this is the best international writers' conference you'll ever attend. It's fun, inspiring, deep, silly, informative, and I wouldn't miss it for anything.
Edited to add: Just to make it clear, The Divine Diana Herself will be at the Surrey Conference, and will be signing her book(s) there! Come one, come all!
I don't know how to say all this without sounding like a total wingnut, but that's never stopped me before so....
This is a story of a blue sky, a lamp standard, a number, a vapour trail, a snake and a Seal.
Writers see symbols in everything. We can't help ourselves, and for a writer, life is one big metaphor. All we have to do is pay attention.
After attending the amazing Surrey International Writers' Conference, I came home renewed, uplifted, almost manic in my zeal to get the words on the page. Something happened. There was a profound shift, and I don't want to use the word epiphany (although I just did) but it was BIG. Thank you, Vicki Pettersson. Thank you Jack Whyte. Thank you Eric Walters. Thank you Diana Gabaldon. I feel like I've come out of a twenty year coma.
(gratuitous shot of Buddy to illustrate my point and break up text)
At the conference there was one low moment for me, and one beautiful moment of grace I felt honoured to witness. Sometimes you need the one to help you see the other.
So, I've been working like a madwoman all week, borne aloft by a warm current of love from good friends and mentors alike, which is unusual for me because I'm often a sloth when it comes to hard work (see photo above.) I now feel joyous and hopeful and charged with energy and inspiration. That's the power of the SIWC. I got so fired up today that when Buddy and I stepped out for our daily walk, I found myself skipping along the road. Sideways. While singing out loud to my iPod. (As if my neighbours needed more examples of my lunacy.)
I always flip on my iPod to the first song and just run through the same list. I didn't even download the list, my husband got it off his playlist. I didn't even know what the song was called. I've just always liked it because the upbeat tempo is perfect for walking.
It's Seal's CRAZY. "We're never going to survive unless we are a little crazy," he sings. Yes. YES! I noticed the cloudless blue sky, and felt the sun on my face and I felt crazy happy.
"in a sky full of people only some want to fly isn't that crazy in a world full of people only some want to fly isn't that crazy in a heaven of people there's only some want to fly isn't that crazy?"
I looked up and I happened to be standing directly under a light standard (because I felt tears welling and that's what women do - they tilt their heads back and roll their eyes up and blink.) These are the same lights that have lined the street for the twenty years I've lived here, but I noticed that the one directly above me was the only one turned on. At high noon. And there was a large, black "7" on it, which you can only see if you stand directly under it and look up which I'd never done before.
The number seven was something my first boyfriend and I used as code. We'd say "seven" to each other, or squeeze each other's hand seven times. It drove our friends nuts, because we wouldn't tell them what it meant. (Come on, give me a break. I was a kid.)
"I love you, and you love me." Seven words.
I thought about the weekend, everything I'd seen and heard, the bad and the good, and I noticed a vapour trail in the cloudless sky, only one, and it divided the sky neatly in half, the earthly and the divine. (Please, if you're a scientist, do not tell why this is incorrect. Play along with me.) I continued on, up the loop over the highway, around the senior's residence where I like to imagine the residents smiling as they watch Buddy leap around like a dolphin in the grass. I thought briefly about the only low moment of the weekend, then looked down as I almost stepped on this tiny snake, writhing in discomfort on the sidewalk between the railroad tracks I had just crossed. I could have kept going, but it was hot and dry in the sun so I tied Buddy to a post and placed the snake in the grass. I don't know if it survived, but at least I did my part. (I know a lot of you are thinking "what would she have done if it was an injured squirrel?" but let's not go there. It'll take the story in a whole new direction.)
I decided, right then and there that, to paraphrase Seal, in a world full of people, I choose to fly.
I came home and googled Seal so that I could check the lyrics for this post. And what pops up? His new CD, due to be released on Monday. The title?
A Change is Gonna Come
HAVE A WONDERFUL WEEKEND EVERYONE!
(a little addendum: I was recapping this story for my husband, and when I got to the part about the street lamp I used the actual street name. It's a street we use every single day so I used it without giving it a second thought until he started laughing. I said, "It was on Angell Street, just above Church." I mean, come on. Seriously.)
Because no blog is complete without a penis poem...
This all started on the Compuserve forum during an animated discussion on how graphic one should be when describing a man's naughty bits. I posted a poem about the aforementioned manly bits, because I think the poor things are woefully under-represented in most novels.
Next thing you know, my friend and writer extraordinaire Diana Gabaldon asked to include Ode To A Penis in her SIWC workshop: Writing About Sex Without Blushing, where she read the poem aloud (without blushing.) Then, much like the organ in question, it suddenly took on a life of its own. Check out Diana's wonderful blog for the workshop notes.
My poem follows below:
How does a writer describe the aroused male member in a romance novel without tarnishing the family jewels?
Despite thousands of words used to describe Wee Willy Winkie (Mark Morton lists 1,300in his book The Lover’s Tongue: A Merry Romp Through The Language Of Love And Sex) none seem to adequately convey the language of love, with its most obvious method of delivery, without giggles. One might argue the biggest organ of love is the brain, but a man’s brain is not the organ which makes its presence most boldly known in the throes of passion.
But how does a writer of romance describe ‘It’ without ruining the moment? There’s no denying ‘It’ is there - its presence is as keenly felt as the relentless prodding of a Labrador’s nose against an outstretched hand.
One might wish to use a soft touch and describe a poet’s Dart of Love. A knight shields his Lance of Love, his Excalibur seeks its sheath. A fighting man thrusts his Hooded Warrier, or if angered, his Bald Avenger. The CEO fires his Executive Staff Member, the chef heats up his Meat ‘n Potatoes, the outdoorsman handles his Rod and Tackle, and the butcher unwraps his 100% All Beef Thermometer.
No, I think for romance to work, allusion is everything. I humbly offer up the following poem:
A Novel Woman, AKA Pamela Patchet, was unwittingly born and raised in Toronto instead of Paris. She worked her way from A&W carhop to political advisor to advertising executive where, on any given day, she was called upon to soothe disgruntled clients, cajole temperamental artists, juggle multi-million dollar budgets or locate trained penguins for television commercials. She married a handsome dentist for love and a lifetime of free dental care, raised three kids, and established a freelance writing career, not unlike her earlier jobs, minus the penguins.
