These three days

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Today is the still day, the day I hold my breath and try to fathom how seven years could have passed since my mother died. I vividly recall trying to catch my breath after hearing the news at 7:00 am, swinging my legs over the side of my bed and letting myself sob while the call was still active. The poor woman on the other end of the phone was so lovely and she let me cry until I was able to pull myself together. The hours that followed were a blur. They were filled with emotional embraces with my brother and his family, endless phone calls and the inevitable trip to the funeral home. Many days it feels like it happened yesterday. Today is one of those days.

Tomorrow is the bridge day, the day I allow myself the time to rest and let the well of emotion refill before I have to dip into it again. These three days are saturated with a blend of melancholy and tears, but they are also filled with a joy that is hard to describe as my family and I share the stories that will always make us laugh and still feel loved by those we have lost.

The following day is another serene day. It is the calendar day my father passed away fifteen years ago. Regardless of the weather, March always comes in like a lion for me. And although it is the month I came into this world many years ago, the beginning of March will always be stained with a sadness I am unable to remove. Two of the most important people in my life were taken away, and these three days in the month of March always deliver a swift punch to my gut.

As I recover from the annual blow, I will remember how much I was loved. I will fall back on the memories of their laughter and the fun we used to have. And I will take solace in the fact they would be overwhelmingly proud of me for pursuing my dream to have a published novel, with more on the way. Their smiles will be the light in these three days.

It’s time for a good book

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Hey everyone….it’s “I Read Canadian” day today. I’m Canadian and I have a book you can read called The Waking Hours that can be purchased on your Amazon account!! Show your support by purchasing the book and, once you have read it, please leave a review on Amazon.

Self-publishing has been a great experience so far, and now I am balancing the marketing and self-promotion of The Waking Hours while editing One Eleven and writing Dark Room. I may need to make a bit of time to learn how to clone myself!

The hard work has just begun

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If you had told me six months ago, I would be where I am in my life right now, I would have said you were extremely optimistic, misguided but optimistic. But here I am, four weeks after self-publishing my first novel, The Waking Hours, and my life could not be further off the track I thought I was on.

At the beginning of the year, I wrote this post about the signs I had been seeing everywhere, especially the number 111. Since One Eleven is the title of my second book, due to be published on May 2nd, I was very encouraged each time that number popped up in whatever way it chose to present itself.

Before I sent my first book into the world, I had done some investigating to find out what to expect in terms of book sales. The information was discouraging. Research shows the average self-published book sells 250 copies a year, and potentially up to 1,000 copies in its lifetime. I am thrilled by the fact I have already sold more than 250 copies in the first month, but now the real work begins. Don’t get me wrong, writing a book is no easy feat, but being responsible for my own marketing and PR is the new mountain I have to climb, and I am now looking for the proper equipment to start at the bottom and work my way to the top.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have some big boots to fill. Wish me luck!

PS: since I am responsible for marketing myself, please head over to Amazon and purchase a copy of The Waking Hours – available in Kindle or paperback format.

A brief look into my writing world

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The concept of writing a novel is romantic. When I first began to jot down ideas for The Waking Hours, it was more of a whimsical impulse than a promise to construct complex characters who would eventually write the bulk of the story themselves. I soon became nothing more than a conduit for their voices, and my creative process was redefined.

Twenty years after its inception, The Waking Hours is now breathing a life of its own. But that life did not come without several obstacles and a few hard truths. Writing fiction still holds the allure of feeling like Cinderella at the Ball, but self-publishing fiction is the Wicked Stepmother who you know to be problematic, but you do not realize how much of a pain in the ass she can be.

There are many facets to self-publishing that throw themselves into your path, causing you to stumble a few times on the way to the finish line. If I look back at my first attempt, I can truthfully tell you it resembled me starting at the finish line and running backwards, pushing through the stream of runners as I sped towards the starting gun.

I did self-publish my first novel on Amazon a few days ago, and I feel an overwhelming sense of pride in my achievement. I took an idea, I transformed that idea into a book, and I learned how to edit and properly format that book to sell it to the public. That, to me, is a giant checkmark in the win column. The fact that I am receiving great reviews is much more than just icing on a cake, it is the engagement ring after a twenty-year courtship.

My second book will be published on May 2nd and I am honestly looking forward to going through the same process, but this time I will start from the beginning and race towards the finish line like everyone else.

Lao Tzu says, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” At least this time around, I will be going in the right direction.

I have a book on Amazon!

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Once upon a time, I had the dreamy notion I wanted to write a book. Twenty years ago, I had a great idea for a story that was unique, and I knew I wanted to write it. I stumbled through three chapters and then the idea was shelved for well over a decade.

A few years ago, I pulled that file out of the archives of my computer, and my brain, and began writing again. I certainly hit a few bumps along the way, but through dedication, and accepting the fact I was hearing the voices again, I finished it.

Today, I have the pleasure of telling you my book is for sale on Amazon. Typing that previous sentence takes it from surreal to real. Below is the link to Amazon if you want to check it out. I am going to excuse myself now and rock back and forth in the fetal position with a glass of champagne!

The Waking Hours

Pulling the trigger

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There are many days I feel like a child who is distracted by shiny things. Yesterday was one of those days.

I had a great chat with my friend, and mentor, Neil. He has been instrumental in keeping me motivated and inspired to follow this crazy journey of writing novels. I knew I had a monumental day ahead, as the 238 pages of my first novel needed to be screened for one final edit before I self-publish on January 11th. But during my conversation with Neil about book number three, my mind took the next exit into creativity and the editing sat on the side of the road with a flat tire.

He had given me a few tasks, and asked that they be hand-written. My pen could not keep up with the ideas my brain was sending. I quickly realized how long it had been since I had actually written anything with a pen, and I struggled to remember how to hold the pen properly. After a few trial runs, it all came flooding back.

Since I spent my Monday afternoon being an author, I had to spend all of today being an editor. I dragged myself out of bed at 6:30 am and spent nine consecutive, grueling hours going through my first novel with a fine-toothed comb. By mid-afternoon, I was ready to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. BUT, The Waking Hours has been submitted to Amazon for approval and I am now drinking wine, and shitting my pants. They really should make pills for this!

The signs are everywhere

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I have been so absent from this blog because I have been so present in my novel writing and editing that I have not been able to process any other words, until now.

I am a big believer in signs. If you are willing to see them, they are everywhere. As many of you already know, my first novel, The Waking Hours, will be self-published on January 11th, 2021. (1/11) My second novel, titled One Eleven, is scheduled to be published 111 days later on May 2nd, 2021. For the past few months, I have noticed the number 111 at many different times and in many different ways.

Almost every day, I happen to glance at a clock or look at my phone at precisely 1:11 pm. And no, I am not glancing repeatedly until the seconds pass. It happened again today, and when my best friend in Calgary received the email I sent to her earlier today, the delivery time was 11:11 am, her time. The last time I ran to the grocery store, my Odometer was happy to show me I had driven 11.1 kilometers. And as I played a Turbo table of online Texas Hold ‘Em, the person to the right of me was called Shady1111, and the person to the left of me made a bad bet and was left with 1,111 dollars in chips. I was flanked by 1111.

To say I think these things are a good omen for me in 2021 is an egregious understatement. Although self-publishing a book is a frankly nauseating experience, my nerves are not as electrically charged as they had been. The acid that now percolates in my stomach is much more of a simmer as opposed to the rolling boil it had been at the end of the horrific year formally known as 2020.

I entered 2021 with a great sense of hope and a new confidence in myself. I took a short respite from my books to create an author website where I can post updates, and readers can learn more about the future books in the series. I do not know what the universe has planned for me this year, but I am happy to climb on board to see where the ride takes me.

You can find my new site at http://www.susanmnairn.ca

Oh, how the words have flowed

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Back in July, my world changed for the better. I know that may seem unbelievable since 2020 has been so devastating in so many ways, but a chance conversation overheard by a keen set of ears has changed the trajectory of my belief in my writing and its potential in the fiction market.

That keen set of ears has since become my mentor, and my friend. We scheduled weekly Zoom meetings so he could get updates on the progress of my writing in book number two, and he held me accountable to a proper schedule I may not have kept otherwise. We had agreed on the date of November 30th as the day I would finish the book. As much as I wanted to hold up my end of the agreement, my characters chose to have a temper tantrum and November 30th came and went with no end in sight for my story. I could hear the quote by Douglas Adams in my head – “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by.”

I was determined to finish my second novel and promised my friend the book would be done by December 5th. My characters must have been motivated by my uncompromising determination and the words began to flow again. On the day the story was meant to be finished, I wrote 5,700 words between the hours of 11:00 am and 6:00 pm, an average of 815 words an hour! My reward for being a conduit for the voices in my head was being able to write the two words authors love – THE END.

After giving my brain a much-needed rest, I am now in the editing phase, which is also known as the pull-your-hair-out phase. My goal is to have book number two sent to Beta readers to bring them some holiday serial-killing cheer, and to have book number one ready to be introduced to the Amazon world on January 11th. I am hoping Santa will fill my stocking with a heaping dose of courage (and some new underwear). Wish me luck!!

Ho Ho Holy Shopping Wars Batman!!

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After a conversation with a friend about shopping for the holidays, I was reminded of this post from several years ago. The thought of Christmas shopping in a large and extremely busy mall still fills me with dread and makes my skin turn into something resembling a pale, plucked chicken.

Since my nephews are much older and we have scaled down on our gift giving, my shopping is done in a geographical location not far from my home or online, saving me the probability of looking into many months of therapy.

I hope you’ll give it a read. I’m sure my Dad is up their smiling, still wishing he could stroll the hallways of the Yorkdale Mall a day or two before Christmas.

polysyllabic profundities

My father used to love to Christmas shop.  There was a certain spark in his eye, a unique scintillation that was only ignited when he was donning his overcoat and preparing to get lost in the churning vortex of people at the busiest mall in Toronto. His exuberance always makes me think of the childlike excitement of Darren McGavin’s character in A Christmas Story when he opens his prized “leg lamp”.   Blood would rush to his cheeks, there was a noticeable spring in his step and his baritone voice softly began to echo the songs of the season.  His melodic tone would lure us into his Christmas trance and we were transported into the beauty of all things festive and giving – until we got to the mall.

clothes fight

Taking a child to that mall during the Christmas rush is like taking a lone goldfish from its tranquil bowl and…

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