I have the first 3,000 words of my book written so it has begun. 3,000 is the number I need for the submission to the program I want to take this fall so that feels like a first step accomplished. If I don't write another word, I can still apply to the program!
Here are my writing companions doing what they do best:

For those of you without Facebook, the link to my commentary in today's Sunday Herald:

http://thechronicleherald.ca/thenovascotian/753282-ignorance-not-bliss-dealing-with-alzheimer-s-patients-requires-compassion

I am very proud of my husband.
He is in excruciating pain and not sleeping much, if at all, because of it yet he is on the phone every day, calling the people who are supposed to be helping him. He is the squeaky wheel and he does it even though he's not operating with all spokes (in a due-to-pain-and-exhaustion kind of way!).
In January, he was told six to eight weeks.
In early February, he was told end of March.
In late February, he was told end of April.
Are you frikkin' kidding me??
His arm is getting worse; now he's experiencing pain and reduced function in his thumb. He's really worried he's going to lose the use of his right arm. Let me tell you, we need an income from him; we can't live on my part-time community newspaper salary. He knows that so I'm sure that's just another worry for him on top of everything else.
I did sell a commentary to the Halifax newspaper that should be in this Sunday's paper so that was a highlight. Doesn't pay a dollar a word but it does pay.
And even with that, my natural optimism reasserts itself. I must keep at my writing and keep the hope that good news will come to Dwayne shortly. Maybe March will be our magical month.

Who knew working for a small weekly community newspaper would land me a gig as a community correspondent on TV?
My two minutes of fame: Me, this morning talking about two events happening in the Oxford area this weekend.

For my niece and nephews, a funny face on TV:

Three signs: 

Spirituality & Health turned down my pitch for an article on the spirituality of Alzheimer's, which if published would have been very good re: memoir; when I started dusting at Al's house on Thursday, the elephant - the one who got me published in an anthology - was, for the first time in nearly two years, facing the opposite direction in the window sill; and the information about the ex-wife which served to fan up the embers of the novel. 

PLUS: 

More magazine Canada stopped publishing last December and Reader's Digest is declaring bankruptcy for the second time in three and a half years; I'd had stories under consideration at both of those magazines.  

So:

Pretty clear my freelance writing career is drying up. Not all my fault but I've never been stellar at selling articles. Not really the "service article" type. So all those signs, particularly the elephant, were making it very clear: Go in a new direction. 

Write the novel. 

But I've been avoiding that because I've been reluctant to allow the "villain" voice to bloom in my mind. Since she's based on the ex-wife, I worried about what it would do to me to have her in my head. I figured there'd have to be a nightly exorcism. 

That, however, was counter-productive to my plans to fulfill the dream of writing books full-time so my to-do list for the weekend included writing the first "Alice" chapter. At ten o'clock last night, I finally did it. I plunked my butt down at the dining room table, opened up the notebook I've been making copious notes in and did what writers do: I put the pen on the paper and let go. The voice flowed right out of me clear and true.  Not the least bit scary, not the least bit clingy. 

Yet another example of how fear keeps us from moving forward, and that wasn't really a big fear, either. 

When I crawled into bed much later than usual but feeling pleased with myself, I said to Dwayne, "Writing this novel is going to be fun." 

After four years of writing and revising a serious non-fiction novel, I deserve some fun.  Let the revenge fun begin!

I can't put this on my Facebook page because I refuse to give in to the temptation to use it for personal statements no matter how disguised as insight into a writer's mind.
But I don't have that issue here so this is what I'd like to post:

-- The most boring character an author can put in a book is an ex-wife who hasn't moved on. Whether she was the one who was left or she was the one who did the leaving, if she can't get over it, if she still wants that man, that life back, she's a boring character. No way to make her interesting. Now, an ex-wife who is the villain in a book, now that's good because villains are always interesting.--

That is so tempting...but even veiled as writing commentary, it's still too obvious and I won't give them the satisfaction of thinking they are bugging us. What they want is a reaction and so far, for eight months, non-confrontation and non-response has stymied them and I'd like that continue. Never, ever give the narcissists what they want.
What has prompted this is learning that last month, Dwayne's ex-wife phoned his sister out of the blue, after years without contact, to "fill her in" on everything that has been going on (!?). She opened the conversation by asking so many "Have you spoken to your parents?" and "Have they said anything about what's going on?" type of questions that the sister wondered if she was being taped. When Dwayne's sister finally asked, "Why are you calling me?", the ex replied that she wanted advice: "What do I do about Dwayne?"

Aaaaargh.
If this was a soap opera, I'd be calling her and reminding her that he's not her husband, that the kids are grown up and if she'd been a good mother, they would sort out their own problems without her interference, and he's bloody well not the problem, she is and because of that, her daughter is, so it's more than time to let go and get on with your own damn life since you left this one for another man ten years ago.
But this is real life so my pen is mightier than a phone call (and despite what the daughter thinks, mightier than Facebook too).

A letter I wrote about how a news show investigating violence in dementia units -- attacks causing injuries, in some cases very serious -- is published in today's Halifax paper. This makes me happy because I was very angry about this show, not because it highlighted the crisis but because it makes it appear that every person with dementia is violent.  That is such an injustice to every person living with dementia.

http://www.thechronicleherald.ca/letters/688534-reader-s-corner-devastating-stereotypes

I wrote about my anger on Facebook as well in a different, more detailed way, if you want to check that out.

This quote both excites and frustrates me:

"The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."
-- Frederick Buechner

I know what my gladness is and which of the world's hunger it will gravitate to. I want to help, I want to make a difference. Still waiting for that call.
God needs a new damn phone.
Another poem I have had for years calls this an unfolding of one's life in God's time.
God needs a new damn clock.
I'm ready, G. Can't you hear the hunger?

The bird lady in the blizzard.

Blizzard warning!
There's a Nor'easter heading our way so we're stocking up on wine, chocolate and books.
Okay, Mum and I are. Dwayne apparently thinks wood, water and gas for the generator are essentials too. Oh, and chocolate. He agrees with the chocolate. And the wine.
So we're good.
Let it snow. We're ready.

Jane went to Florida last Wednesday for a week - to Disney! - then the typesetter, Mickie, was called away for a family illness. So all of a sudden, I was the It Girl.
As in, that's it, that's all. The only person doing the paper. To explain: the publisher and the editor place ads, some stories and photos but Jane and I create the ads, fill the classifieds, update church notices, check insertion orders, edit of what's actually on a page - sometimes the biggest job - PDF the paper to the printer, and upload to the website. Not to mention Jane and I are the only ones who know how to build ads so basically, without Jane AND me, the paper wouldn't go out.
That's an awesome responsibility and I love it. It's a slow time of year so the best time for two people to be away. Charlie and I split Mickie's work: He took care of the community news (some of it comes in handwritten) and I did the obits. Monday was never rushed or crazy; just a steady day of good work.
"I try not to put all my eggs in one basket," the boss said to me. That's why he keeps Mickie on two half-days a week. "But it looks like you're the only egg."
"Just as long as I'm the good egg," I said.

A moment of peaceful co-existence in the jungle...

My mother arrived home at 8:30 Wednesday night.
This morning, I attempted a self-lobotomy.
Need I say more?

Actually, in all fairness, Mum has arrived home at the very best time. After the agent rejected my book, I contacted Melva, the editor who helped me with my manuscript in the fall of 2011. I wanted her to look at my query letter and book proposal. We spoke last night.
Awe-some. She suggested a re-focus, making my query and proposal about the good things that came out of my caregiving time, not merely a story about how awful Alzheimer is ("This is not another horror story about Alzheimer disease"). She listed three points my query/proposal should highlight:
1) how I discovered things about both of my parents that I would not otherwise have  learned
2) that my book, with its focus on the spirituality of Alz. and my honesty about the mistakes I made, will help to de-stigmatize the disease, help calm the "dread" and fear with which people react to the word,
and 3) how current and pertinent my book is, especially given the home vs. facility challenge that we faced, an issue that is going to become increasingly significant as our population ages, as the diagnoses of AD increase, and the number of nursing home beds and nursing facilities remain the same, or worse, decrease.
Basically, make it positive, not dreadful; make it hopeful, not full of fear and pain.
Mum's benefit in all this is to be my sounding board. I lie on her bed while she sits in her chair and I run all these ideas by her. By talking it out, I figure it out.
"I hope you're writing all this down," is the running joke. Because neither of us do.
Dwayne is a good listener but he can't do the back-and-forth discussions; Mum knows the story and she's well-read so when it comes to reworking the query letter and proposal, she becomes an integral part of that.
Melva also told me to never give up. "The market goes in cycles," she said. "It make take four or five or ten years, but your book will sell."
The best thing she told me? The mother of a friend of hers was diagnosed with AD and she was in denial, scared of the dreaded word "Alzheimer" and what happens to someone with it. Melva told her about me and my belief that the person still exists no matter how the disease affects them. Because she had read my book, she was able to share my story and help someone.
That is exactly the kind of book I wanted to write.