When My Muse Sings to Me - Barbara Baker

 

Ticket in hand. Check. Suitcase packed. Check. Off to Drumheller, Alberta I go.

If you’ve read the acknowledgements in my books, you know who I’m going to see. And I’m pretty darn excited.

The concert will be in the Badlands Amphitheatre which is a stunning acoustical marvel. The Amphitheatre was established in 1991 specifically for performances of the Passion Play. In 2015 they opened the stage to outdoor concerts as well. 

I’ve sat breathless through many Passion Play performances, but tonight I’m going to rock the night away with my muse. The first time I saw Johnny Reid perform was in 2007. It was a blustery spring day at the Sunshine Village Ski Resort. He sang on a tiny outdoor stage surrounded by snow. A very different venue from today. 

Tonight, the air is warm. The clouds are high. People wiser than me carry in cushions for the rustic wooden seats. The opening performer, Martin Kerr, is awesome and I make a note to add him to my iTunes. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t come back for an encore. After he leaves the stage 2,500 fans hoot and holler for the main act. 

And out comes Johnny Reid. The cheers and his songs echo across the hoodoos. Bodies sway. Mouths move. Hands clap. I am caught up in this perfect place with wonderful friends listening to his familiar tunes. And out of nowhere, a title pops into my head for my next novel. How cool is that?

For those who have never heard him sing, this is how the New York Post describes Johnny Reid - “Take a pinch of Bruce Springsteen, a dash of Bob Seger and enough Rod Stewart to give the mix vocal gravel, and you start to get the vibe of this Scottish-born singer/songwriter.”

After a few songs Johnny Reid walks to the front of the stage and says, “Some of you men look like me father did when me mum dragged him to concerts.” He crosses his arms and puts on a grumpy face. “I hope your night gets a wee bit better.” People glance around (possibly looking for the grumpy old men) and laugh.

 

The songs, the energy from everyone on stage, the spotlight on band members - its captivating. My favourite song plays, and tears roll down my cheeks. Then we follow Johnny's instructions and gestures as he teaches us a chorus to a popular tune. The band starts up again. Johnny starts singing. When it’s our turn, he waves us in, and he stops singing. Our voices are the only ones booming across the landscape. Eerily magical. 

And before I know it, he’s thanking everyone for coming out. He’s thanking Alberta for inviting him to this amazing place. The band and him wave goodbye and walk off stage.

No way.

The crowd stands. Whistles pierce the air. I add to it because, if I do say so myself, I’ve got one hell of a solid two finger whistle. And back they come for one last song. Happy sad sigh. Until next time Johnny Reid. And there will be a next time. 

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

 

 

 

 

Do Something that Scares You - by Barbara Baker

I'm sure you've heard the expression "do one thing every day that scares you." The quotation is often misattributed to Eleanor Roosevelt who said, "you gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face." Although her quote is lengthy, it doesn't sound as flippant as running around doing scary shit every day just because.

A few weeks ago, my adventure on Shuswap Lake became my scary event that will last for months. 

The first night out, I relax and float around. I’m a huge fan of bathtub warm water and lake is ideal. My life jacket is snug. The lake is calm. And I’m with friends who abide by my ‘no splashing’ rule. Life is perfect as the sun sets on Copper Island.

The next day a new water toy to pull behind the boat comes out. The guys watch a few YouTube videos of a teenager doing handstands and spins on the water disc. They grin and say he makes it look easy.

Fastening my life jacket up tighter than usual, I lower myself onto the disc, get on my stomach and grab the two handles in the middle. I rock side to side. Feels stable. I stick an arm straight down into the water to see when it gets cold. It's warm right up to my elbow. Works for me. I’ll just stay on top. 

With my thumbs up gesture, the boat moves forward, and the rope tightens. The guys say the boat shouldn’t go faster than 15 km/hour. Heck, I go faster than that when I’m biking downhill.

Once I’m skipping across the wake, I loosen my grip on the handles. The tension is less than water skiing. Nice. I scootch my legs up and wiggle around until I’m sitting. When I let go of both handles, I still stay on the disc. Easy-peasy. Feeling like a rock star I wave at my friends on the boat.

 Now I just have to stand up. 

I get into a crouching position. Almost there. I lift one leg up and move it forward. My foot steps over the centre line and the front of the disc tips down. Darn it. I know what’s coming but I try to shift my weight back in hopes I can compensate and counterbalance. Not a chance. My rock star status (with me right behind) fly over the front of the disc and I torpedo headfirst through the warm water into the cold. 

 

With lips shut tight (to keep the minnows out) I thrash my arms above my head to find the surface. When I pop out, water gushes out my nostrils. Hair clings to my face. Holding my chin up, I gasp a few good breaths and pat my life jacket. It performed well.

The expressions of the people at the back of the boat indicate I performed an awesome wipeout. If getting up and standing on the disc had to be unsuccessful, it’s good to know I can amuse people.

I wait for the boat to circle around and pick me up. After drying off, I assume a more relaxing position on the deck and watch the scenery pass by. So much for doing scary shit just because. 

 

With only a few weeks of summer left, have a few adventures everyone. If you try something scary, stay safe, and don’t be afraid to look fear in the face - even if you end up getting wet.

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

Summer Vibes by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

Summer is always a busy time for me. Book wise, there is just a ton going on. This summer, I have already had several book signings and a few conventions. But now that the season is winding down, I have a writing retreat, which if you have been following my blog, know that I attended last summer! 

I. AM. SO. EXCITED. 

But on top of that, I have been invited to host a workshop for Wordsfall, which is an annual writing event in my hometown province. I'm pretty excited about it, as I get to talk about writing fantasy with a group of aspiring writers. I have also been invited to read that night. Then there is horror fest, and an upcoming release of a new novel, and finishing up the draft to Twice Hung, which is part of the Canadian Historical Mystery series. 

I'm pretty pumped. But also going crazy with all the writing projects that I have going on. Three novels, an upcoming project to be announced, as well as a workshop, reading, and keeping up with life in general. 

I guess... whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger? 

Writing for Me or for Thee? Fun Versus Funds by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    So lately a few writing opportunities have sprung up, and though I'm not complaining, it made me think of the differences between writing creatively for one's own enjoyment and writing to make bank. 

Starting out, when I would write, I would do so for my own entertainment. Voices in my head would come alive on paper, and I could get them to do all sorts of things. I could build worlds and construct cheesy dialogue, or kill off whoever I wanted when I wanted and all for the sheer joy of doing so... something that would likely earn you a prison sentence if you tried to act it out in real life.

Like Nancy Brophy who wrote an essay on how to kill your husband then was convicted of killing her husband... 

Don't take her advice. 

Anyway, the point is that things changed when I started wanting to publish my book. Now your talking audience and appealing to readers. This really switched up the game for me because when I started publishing and writing with the hope TO publish, I didn't just have to think about myself. I had to think about what publishers wanted---if I were to go the traditional route---and what other people who enjoy the genre would want to read.

Which shifted the focus a bit, but was still fun. But then came the submission calls, and inquiries to write in a specific genre or about a specific story and things changed. 

Now it was a matter of, do I do this even though it's a bit out of my comfort zone? There is a ton of benefit if I do. Not only will it be lucrative, but it would showcase my work to a broader audience. 

Also money might happen... money... 

Money. It matters...

AND its a challenge! Which I enjoy, because I see it as a chance to develop my writing and explore other themes. And there are so many submission calls to suit your fancy. But that denotes its own set of problems because there's nothing more discouraging than writing up a piece for a submission, submitting it, waiting forever and then being rejected after months of expectation. 

So what do you do? At the moment I have a few projects on the go, and though I'm finding myself so busy that I don't have as much time for my own written entertainment---so to speak---the sense of excitement overpowers the challenge. I suppose it really comes down to whether or not I want to make writing my job. If so, I gotta expect to write outside of my comfort zone and cater to readers. I'd love to be a King or a Rowling someday, but unless I hit the proverbial "author lottery" most likely I'll only make a living---a small one---

---by writing and submitting and repeat. But maybe that's a bit too bleak, now that I think about it. Because I don't really think about it in that way. I like that certain people believe in me enough to ask if I'd be interested in writing a piece for them. That means they read my "mind babies" and enjoyed them enough to ask if I'd be able to create a "mind baby" with them too. So... what's the point of this blog? 

I don't know. Write for yourself, until you feel comfortable writing for others too? And if you never feel that way, then just write for yourself. BUT! Don't write for others and then never release the last two installments of your series! 

GEORGE! 

#stillwaitingforwindsofwinter

Also money...

   

 

 

Hockey Night in Canada Somewhere – by Barbara Baker

 

My seven-year-old grandson, Wyatt, loves to play hockey. As a gramma, who played on the Banff girl’s team fifty years ago, I got up the courage to play shinny with him and his dad. I felt naked without the hockey padding but tightened my helmet and stepped onto the ice.

The puck ricocheted off the boards and the slap of the sticks echoed off the mountains.

“Gramma scored,” my son-in-law shouted.

“Off course she did.” Wyatt tapped his stick on the ice. “She was on a hockey team a long time ago.”

Out of the mouths of babes. My heart melted.

Memories of playing hockey as a teenager flooded back. In the mid 70s two of my high school teachers started a girl’s team and enrolled us in the Minor Hockey League.

We had many obstacles to overcome before our first game:

-    learning the rules (important)

-    learning to skate on hockey skates instead of figure skates (challenging)

-    the art of stick handling, passing without losing the puck, and skating fast (equally challenging)

-    there were no funds to buy team jackets (minor detail – we knit toques for everyone)

There was a wide range of athletic abilities amongst us, but we were determined. Not even the 6 AM Sunday morning ice times deterred us.

(top row 3^rd from the left)

We surpassed all our obstacles and our first game was against Jasper.

The game started. They skated fast. They deeked and passed and zipped up and down the ice like super stars. But we kept up. And then there was a bam. Our centre got slammed into the boards.

I stood in the box with my mouth open. My teammates wore similar expressions. Our coaches - speechless.

What the hell? We all looked at the ref. Nothing. He did nothing.

I watched our player lean against the boards and pull herself up. When my line went out I took my spot – left forward. Skate fast. Pass. Stay out of their way. That was my strategy.

I flew down the ice (it’s my memory, I can go as fast as I want). Just as I went to pass to a teammate, I felt a thunk. The next instant I was on my back looking at the overhead lighting.

I rolled over, got up on my knees and blinked. That hurt. A lot.

“It’s a long way from the heart,” Coach shouted. “Get up.” They were the exact words I needed to hear to stop the tears.

We lost 13 – 0. We should have been devastated but we weren’t. We were just thankful we could all still walk.

From then on, our practices involved: how to check, how to take a check, how to avoid a check.

Fast forward to our next game against Jasper. We lost 4-0 but we were all proud of our defeat. We hadn’t been thumped.

Our final game against Jasper was the Easter Tournament in Banff. In the first period there was a battle of sticks in front of their net. And then the red light went on. The red light!

We scored a goal.

It felt like the whole team scored that goal. And it was the only goal of the game. A shutout our coaches talked about for years. We were victorious.

           Now back to the goal I scored while playing hockey with my sweet grandson and my son-in-law.

  

Who am I to tell Wyatt the goal I scored was not intentional? I’d merely leaned on my stick to stop from toppling over after turning too fast. My stick hit the ice just in time for the puck to deflect off it and into the net. Almost like I planned it. But I didn't tell him any of that. I'll let him think I'm a super star for a bit longer. 

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

 

The Do's and Don'ts of Querying Publishers by CHATGPT and Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

Soo, everyone has talking about AI, and unless you haven't heard, there are now programs that can deliver art, essays, and stories at the press of a button. Students, office workers and anyone who doesn't want to pay an artist for their work, rejoice! It's admittedly pretty darn neat. 

But!

Butt.

A lot of people--artists especially--are worried. Why? Because most of us already make peanuts. Imagine if some dumb AI can do everything we can, but only with a line of instruction. There are a lot of folks on the fence about it, and I suppose I am one of them, but I can certainly understand the concern and/or fascination. 

So I decided to try it out. I told ChatGPT to write my blog post for me! Let's see what it can--currently--do! 

Okay CHATGPT! Write a funny, how to blog post about querying publishers!

CHATGPT: Hello and welcome to this hilarious guide on how to query publishers!

Isn't that a little on the nose, ChatGPT? Ever hear of show don't tell?

CHATGPT: If you're a writer, you know that querying publishers can be a daunting task. But fear not, I'm here to provide you with some tips and tricks to make the process a little less painful and a lot more entertaining!

This must be ChatGPT's attempt at being witty... 10 Points for trying! CHATGPT: Step 1: Pick the right publisher The first step in querying publishers is to pick the right one. Do your research and find publishers who are interested in your genre. Don't waste your time querying a publisher who only publishes cookbooks when you've written a sci-fi novel about aliens who invade Earth to steal all our pizza.

This... is pretty good information, actually. I agree with you ChatGPT. Keep up the good work! CHATGPT: Step 2: Use a catchy subject line When you're sending your query email, make sure your subject line is attention-grabbing. Instead of "Query Letter", try something like "Please publish my book so I can afford to buy more ramen noodles."

Okay, well... as cute as this may be, it's poor advice. In my experience, publishers would rather you be on point. They've heard it all. They get hundreds if not thousands of submissions a day. Spare them your "attempt" at being witty and just get to the point. Example: Submission for Blah Blah Press. Some publishers will actually tell you what to put on the subject line, and if they do, follow it to the letter.

-10 points ChatGPT CHATGPT: Step 3: Be creative in your introduction The introduction is where you really want to shine. Start with a joke or a funny anecdote. For example, "I'm a writer, which means I spend most of my time talking to imaginary people. But don't worry, they're all very friendly."

Ugh, no ChatGPT. Bad. -20 points.

The first line of any query letter should be something along the lines of: My name is Author McAuthorson and I would like to introduce my novel, ChatGPT Is Trying Too Hard To Be Funny. It is a 70,000 word paranormal fantasy that takes place in Internet Space.

Again, publishers want the facts up front. They want to read the first line and be able to tell right away if your book is something they are interested in. After that, sure, you can hook them with a fun, witty, thought-out blurb, but again... Facts first, fun later.

CHATGPT: Step 4: Include a hilarious synopsis Your book's synopsis should be both informative and hilarious. For example, "In my novel, a young woman must navigate the treacherous world of online dating while also battling a horde of zombie llamas. Will she find love, or will she become llama chow?"

Technically, this is kinda true. Though a synopsis shouldn't leave someone guessing, it should be informative. There should be no questions of what happens at the end. A synopsis is a semi-thorough summary of events that happen in the book. I HATE WRITING THESE! Because to me, everything is important: read the book, butthead! But in a lot of cases I find synopsis' come out rather dry... If you can make yours hiliarious, go for it. CHATGPT: Step 5: Finish with a funny sign-off Finally, don't forget to end your query letter with a bang. Instead of a boring "Sincerely", try something like "Yours in pizza and puns" or "Cheers, and may the force be with you (unless you're a Sith Lord, in which case, never mind)."

Sure, you can do this if you want. I find it pretty cheesy, and personally cringe-worthy, but if the publisher got to the end of your query without throwing it in the trash, maybe they will enjoy it.

Ehh... no points taken off, but no points given ChatGPT.  

CHATGPT: And there you have it, folks! With these tips, querying publishers will be a hilarious and unforgettable experience. Who knows, your query letter may be so funny that the publisher will offer you a book deal just for making them laugh! 

Unlikely ChatGPT. Unlikely. 

So there. The do's and don'ts of querying publishers by ChatGPT and yours truly. What do you think? Personally, I think this particular AI has a way to go before it produces something I want to take credit for, though if it means getting Winds of Winter out, maybe George should give it a try. 

And you thought I was through with bringing him up, didn't you? Didn't you? Hahaha!

But seriously, I'd love to know what you all think of AI. Let me know! :)  

He’s Determined to Ski Again – Barbara Baker

 

In 1937, when Dad was five-years-old, he learned to ski in his hometown, Partenkirchen, Germany. His first pair of skis were handmade. 

Years later when he started racing, he crashed while training and broke his femur. He said it was hours before ski patrollers found him because he’d flown off the course and into the trees.

While he was in the hospital, with his leg in traction and strapped to a sky hook, bombs shook the building. Nurses ran through the ward shouting for patients to get under their beds. Dad laughs when he tells the story and says all he could do was put a pillow over his head.

Dad has skied all his life but took a two-year hiatus when he was 88 years old so he could have a long-over-due knee replacement. After the surgery, he exercised. He walked. He exercised some more. He was determined to ski again.

On January 10, 2023, we arrived at the Mt. Norquay ski resort, outside of Banff, well before the lifts opened. I forced myself to slow down - my walking, my talking (I can be a chatterbox). I wanted to focus on Dad and be helpful without him asking.

Boots on, skis on, poles in hand, we headed to the beginner hill. I stayed beside him as he tested out sliding and then climbing up the slope. Each time he climbed a bit higher.

Snow plow turns first. Then the stem christie maneuver. The parallel turns proved to be trickier. Dad’s new knee worked just fine and the leg slid nicely into place. But the old knee, which was used to being in charge for decades, was pushy and uncooperative. It rushed ahead of the uphill ski and Dad would have to stop to reposition himself.

After a few equipment adjustments and more practice, Dad was ready to go up the lift.

“Can you ask the liftie to slow it down?” he said as we got our tickets scanned at the Cascade chairlift.

I took a breath and gave a silent prayer to whomever was listening.

“Can you please slow it down,” I said to the lift operator. “He’s ninety. Testing out his new knee.”

“No problem,” the Aussie accented girl replied. “Just wave to the operator at the top and he’ll slow it down again for you to get off.”

“Perfect.”

The chair swung around and scooped us up. Dad scanned the run. He was quiet. So was I. As we got to the last tower I waved at the guy in the hut. He flagged a thumbs up. I nodded.

“I don’t know if I can stand,” Dad said.

I moved right next to him and squeezed his bicep. “I’ll just shuck you off if you can’t get up.”

He laughed. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

 After an uneventful exit we stood at the top and looked down the run. Dad nodded and slid his skis back and forth. Away he went. Again, I held my breath and followed but not too close. I didn’t want to rush him.

It took a few runs but soon his perfect parallel turns, quiet body and graceful carving cut across and down the slope.

The smile on his face, the sweat dripping down his cheeks and the twinkle in his eyes made all my fears and angst melt away.

He did it. Dad skied again.

Watch Dad ski again:  Dad Skiing Again - 90 years young - YouTube

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books