The Ghost in the Central Branch

I always walk around really conscious of my past self—is this weird? Do you know what I mean though? Like, Barclay and I went for a walk yesterday, in the east end by the golf course, and we were talking about something and at the same time we both went, hey, we were walking down this EXACT same path the last time we talked about this thing; we were right in this exact spot. And it was like our past selves were ghosts walking along beside us and we were laughing at them, at how little they knew about the future (to be fair, Barclay and I have never claimed to be fortune tellers). 

But I love moments like that, where you can see your past self, totally oblivious to your present self, maybe worrying about something, or planning something, or working on something, and they have no idea how it's going to turn out but you do. 

(Or at least, you know a little bit more than they do. Because someday, your future self is going to laugh at your present self for not knowing now what you will then.)

Anyway.

I had a moment like this today. 

My ghosts are all over this place—that's one of the cool things about living in the same city for such a long time—and one of them lives in the Central Branch of the Regina Public Library. She went to see the Writer in Residence there about a decade ago, clutching a half-baked manuscript that needed two more years of edits before an agent would take it seriously, basically to ask if she was any good at this writing thing or if she should quit. 

I don't know if you remember this, but you might: I wrote this blog post about the moment I pulled the trigger and send off that terrifying email to the WIR, and this blog post about the day I went in and met with her.

Today, I went to that same library for the Saskatchewan Book Awards shortlist announcement, and found out my book was shortlisted in four categories(!). As the SBA members stood at the podium and read the names of the nominees, I watched my shaky little ghost walk behind them, up the stairs and into the WIR office, manuscript in hand, heart pounding so hard I can hear it ten years later. My ghost went into the office worried that she was being silly, that this whole book thing was a bad idea, that the Writer in Residence was going to give her a few pity compliments and then drop kick her heart right out the window onto Smith Street. 

She didn't, by the way. That woman, Dr. Nilofar, was one of the first professional people who told my ghost that she wasn't being silly, and that she should try to publish a book. It's one of those Really Important Moments in my life, which is why my ghost haunts that library still, walking from the sliding doors at the library entrance, through the stacks and up the stairs, trying to be brave because this thing was really, really important to her even though she felt kind of ridiculous saying that out loud to anyone. 

The sad thing about these ghosts is that you can't talk to them. I always wish I could. I wish I could just yell back in time, like, even something vague and encouraging, just give them a glimpse into the future so they could know that what they're doing is working or that such-and-such a thing is going to be okay or, at the very least, just isn't going to matter in a few years. 

But you don't get to. You have to live your life in order and find out how it's going by going there. And you have to be oblivious to the future versions of yourself doing the things you dream about doing someday. And I think maybe this is the key to being a person with big dreams: being aware of all of your ghosts. Knowing that no matter where you are in your journey, there are more versions of you ahead, so excited for you to catch up and see what's going to happen next.

 

An Icon

There's this place here in Regina that does an open mic night every Monday. I've been to a few; it's a very nice time. 

I have to be in the right headspace for them, because they can be a little heavy on the second-hand embarrassment, for which I have a very low threshold. Like, that moment when a person is up there doing stand-up and they deliver this joke you can tell they're really proud of, and the room just collectively stares at them, unblinking...? I can't handle it. 

Even worse is when they wait a beat, like they think, oh, any moment now this joke is going to land; it's just taking a second. They know that if a joke takes a second and then lands, the payoff is sometimes even better, so they look out into the dark room, hopeful, searching so hard for that laugh. But there is no laugh and that pause only serves to amplify the fact that the joke was not something that was ever going to land—and maybe it's just this audience, this night, these vibes, but also: maybe the joke wasn't that good. And you can see these thoughts on their face; it's awful, watching someone recognize their own failure in front of an audience.

And it can get even worse! Because when people are embarrassed they get defensive and angry, and they might say something like, "Well people usually love that joke," or, "Whoa, tough audience." And you know they know, deep down, that it's not the audience's fault. You imagine them going home, walking into their apartment, sitting on the couch, staring at the wall. You imagine their sadness. And then you feel sad, when what you came for in the first place was the exact opposite of sadness. And that seems a little unfair! 

ANYWAY. 

All I really meant to say here was that I went to an open mic night on Monday with my friend Sarah, and it was lovely, and there was cheesecake and a little bit of secondhand sadness, but there was also a lot of secondhand triumph, and genuine laughter, and it was all very beautiful because it was all so human. And! A pleasant little surprise was that I ran into this guy again. I haven't seen him in years, but apparently he's a regular at open mic night now. He did two Bon Jovi songs; he danced, he got the audience to join in, he ran around the room during the instrumentals. 

And when he spotted me in the crowd afterward, he came over. 

He looked at me curiously; I wondered if he recognized me, and maybe he did but maybe he didn't. He said, "Hey, what did you think of my songs?"

I said, "You did great. It was so good. The audience loved you."

He said, "Yes, I know. I'm an icon."

A Kind of Nothing Post

The other day, I went into a coffee shop and ordered, "a caffeinated coffee, please." As though caffeine were an extra ingredient that wouldn't otherwise be included. The barista squinted at me, thinking insults at me probably, but didn't say anything. 

I took my caffeinated coffee to the bar by the window, looking out onto Victoria Ave. It had snowed, and warmed up, and cooled down, and snowed again, and warmed up again. The road was full of slush. The cars swerved and slid down the street and I tried to imagine summer. Clear, hot pavement and heat soaking into your back through your t-shirt and feeling the sun in your bones. Inconceivable! My bones were cold and the pavement was cold and even the caffeinated coffee didn't hold its heat for very long.

I got my iPad out, clicked around the internet a little. Tried not to look at the news, because I have a time and a place carved out for that right now, because if you don't have a time and a place carved out for the news right now, you might as well just throw whole weeks into a black hole. There is SO MUCH NEWS. We are going to drown in the news. Has there ever been so much news?

I sent a proposal to a magazine, half-heartedly added 700 words to my novel, and replied to some emails. Two guys came into the shop dressed in business suits. They sat at the table next to me and talked to each other for a few minutes. Then the first guy got out his phone and started watching a video with the volume up. Then the other guy got out his phone and called somebody, had a whole conversation at the top of his lungs, like the person on the other end of the phone had no ears. 

And I was like, cool. 

And I went home.

And watched the news for four hours.

A Breakdown

I’ve just crossed the 50,000 word count mark on book 4/5*! 

This is probably different for everyone, but for me, the 50,000 word count mark is a giant sigh of relief—actually, let me break it down for you, because I have a minute, and you have a minute (I bet), and I like writing about writing:

10,000 words: Barely acknowledgeable, easily doable. Can be achieved in a few days on a wave of caffeine and naïveté and the slightly misplaced confidence that this is your best idea yet and that the last 70k will fall out of you as easily as the first ten. Any old idea has the legs needed to make it to the 10,000 word mark, truly. You don’t mention it to anyone because you know how fragile it is and it would be embarrassing if you told people about every single first 10,000 words you ever wrote. 

20,000 words: Okay, a little better than 10,000 words, but all you’ve really done is raise the stakes and made the idea harder to throw in the trash because now you’ve spent more time on it. Killing your darlings becomes harder the more darlings there are to kill.

30,000 words: Feels like the halfway point but it’s [probably] not. This is where things start to slow down and you start to reexamine not only the project but also your ability to write and sell and talk about books. You start to feel a bit silly as the adrenaline and false sense of confidence you once had wears off all at once. You think to yourself, “Maybe this is a novella?” But you know that no one’s going to want a novella from you, and you know it’s not a novella, and everything feels daunting and you start scrolling social media a lot. Despair, but still somewhat hopeful despair.

40,000 words: The actual halfway point! Just sheer panic, now! You have put a lot of time and effort into this book; you have told your agent and editor that it exists, maybe even sent along the synopsis and first three chapters, even though you don’t really know how you’re going to land the plane yet. What were you thinking? Cry a lot! Less hopeful despair, much less!

50,000 words: This is where you might realize, in a moment of sudden and undeniable clarity that feels, honestly, a little trippy, what your book is actually about. You notice all of the little Easter eggs your subconscious has planted all along the way that point to the larger themes and which kind of make you feel like a genius even though they weren’t intentional, but you also notice all of the red herrings and useless characters and plot points that have wandered into your book and don’t belong there at all and which are now congregating in all the chapters looking lost and awkward. You are going to have to ask them to leave, and it is going to be unpleasant. You think to yourself, that’s a problem for Future Me, and you ignore it. You experience a shot of adrenaline similar to the one you had when you first had this idea. You write faster again. You start daydreaming about the book again. You realize that, at some point, this went from being a thing you should probably quit to being a thing you can’t quit.

60,000 words: This milestone doesn’t even exist. You sail straight past it to 70k without acknowledging it.

70,000 words: This is where you get a little more clarity, maybe one last panic attack, one last shot of self-doubt (important clarification: I don’t mean you get the last shot of self-doubt ever, I just mean…okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘last.’ There will never be a last shot of self-doubt if you are a writer). Maybe the first draft is done at this point, and you realize that when you go back to edit, the book is going to swell. Surprise! Celebration! You get to put it in a drawer for two weeks and reclaim some valuable brain real estate! OR you realize that your first draft is actually going to end up being 120k because you’ve overwritten it and you are not even close to being done. Agony! Anguish! WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO YOURSELF?!

80, 90, 100, 110, 120k: More of the same, repeat until done. 

So, now you have a bit more context for, “I’ve just crossed the 50,000 word count mark on book 4/5!” I’ve just had that moment of clarity (it happened last week at the Mackenzie Art Gallery, in the foyer); I’ve just realized that there are a solid five chapters that need to be cut, and I’ve just understood, for the first time, how this thing needs to end (but I don’t really know how to make it happen just yet. I need to do some research). It feels less like something I’m making up and more like something I’m uncovering, and it has crossed the line from “should I abandon this?” to “it’s too late to turn back now,” which feels like a terrifying relief. 

Okay! Onward! TTYL!

*(I say 4/5 because it’s one of two books I’m working on right now and they’re kind of racing each other to see the light of day. The other book 4/5 is technically a complete first draft but needs a lot of work.)

My Year of Live Music

I made New Year's resolutions this year! Two of them! And I've already forgotten what one of them was! 

BUT, I for sure remember the other one: go to more shows (quantifiably, I'm thinking at least one per month, as a bare minimum). 

I used to go to so many shows—it was at least a weekly thing. I mean, there was a time where it was part of my job to go to shows, and it is much easier to do something when you're paid to do it than it is to do something you have to pay to do. But also, there are the kids I have to look after. You can't just go to shows all the time when there are kids you have to look after. And there is also the matter of getting older and being so tired all the time, which might also have something to do with the kids (but who knows; maybe I'd be tired either way). Then there's COVID, which kind of wrecked the music scene for a while there, and, saddest of all, there's the fact that I'm getting to that age where I have a hard time accepting that there are still new bands coming into existence and I can't keep up with the constant onslaught of NEW BANDS TO KNOW ABOUT AND LISTEN TO and I'm tired and I just want to go to shows where I know all the songs, and the bands dress and look and banter the way I'm used to bands dressing and looking and bantering. 

Like, I kind of look forward to being 60, you know? That magical age where all of the bands of your teen and young adult years start playing yearly shows at the Casino Show Lounge and it doesn't cost an arm and a leg and the crowd size is not overwhelming and there are nice plushy seats to sit in when you get tired. I know this is a thing that is going to happen because I have been to these shows; I have seen Nazareth and Honeymoon Suite and George Thorogood, and I have seen the 60-year-olds up at the front dancing and being so thrilled to be there and I have thought, that is absolutely something to look forward to. I'm ready. Death Cab, Jimmy Eat World, come on. And hey! I'm about as far from 60 as I am from 20! So. This is the meantime, I guess. 

And the meantime is what I'm talking about right now. In the meantime, I want to get reacquainted with the music scene as it is, not as what I remember it to be or what I hope it one day will be, but as it is right now. I want to see the local bands and also the touring ones that may deign to stop in Regina, Saskatchewan if, in the first place, they deign to travel north of the American border. I've missed the venues, and the regulars, and the pleasant ringing in my ears the morning after a night out that means I have hurt my long-term hearing just a little bit. A kind of self-destructive souvenir I'll regret in about twenty years.

So! On Saturday, I went to the Mercury with my friend Ashley to see a lineup of acoustic sets by artists who referred to themselves, collectively, as The Disgruntled Poet's Union. It was lovely, and in a little twist of serendipity, John and Debra were there too, and we got to have a completely unplanned little one-year reunion (almost to the day, but not quite) of this meeting in the exact spot where it had originally happened. 

I also appreciated this man who sat in front of us who brought with him a veritable library of books and a milkshake and read through the whole show by the light of his cell phone. Maybe, along with being a 60-year-old who goes to see my old favorite bands at the casino, I will also be a 60-year-old who brings six books to acoustic sets at the Mercury and reads in a booth with a milkshake. 

The future is bright!

THE ABCS OF 2024

Well there's another year gone. It flew past, a racecar. 

Or am I the racecar? Or maybe time is the car and the year is the track and I'm in the car? No, I think time is the track. The year is the vehicle that carries us through time. Right? Or is time the vehicle that carries us through the year?

This metaphor is not great. I'm spending too much time on it. 

No, that's it, actually: time is the fuel in the vehicle. The track is the year and the time is the fuel and I'm the bobblehead figure on the dashboard. Who's driving? It seems to be one of those autonomous cars. Terrifying concept, but probably safer than having me behind the wheel.

Anyway.

Once again it's time for the annual ABCs of post. I love writing these; I have done it for many years (since 2016, to be exact). You should do it too. They're fun to read at the end of each year—and helpful. I find that the years have started to literally blur together and I can't always remember which important things belong to which years. 

So! Ahem:

A - Arlo! My sister had another adorable baby. It feels like you should get used to babies, the more of them you meet. You should get used to how tiny and perfect they are, to their impractically-sized nostrils and hilariously small toes, to the way they look like all these other people you know but still manage to be a brand new special-edition never-seen-before human being. But somehow they just get more miraculous, the more of them you meet. 

B - Birthday filling. I went to the dentist on my birthday for a filling. I asked him, before he froze my mouth, if I'd be able to eat right after and he said, "Yes, why?" And I said, "Because I'm a dummy and I made plans for a birthday lunch right after this." And he was like, "It's your birthday?!" And I was like, "Yup!" The hygienist said she thought it was ridiculous that anyone would schedule a filling for their birthday, and I was like, "Well, I was just hoping this place had one of those deals like at Starbucks or Dairy Queen where you get a free filling on your birthday. And she laughed and I laughed but then when I went to pay at the end I found that the dentist had discounted me $300 off the price of the bill (I do not have dental insurance) and the receptionist said, "He said to tell you it's your free birthday filling." And the hygienist said, "Well good, because no one ever comes in here on their birthday." And I said, "Well from now on I am ONLY coming in here on my birthday."

C - Conferences: I got to take part in the Saskatchewan Writers' Guild's annual conference, on a panel with my friends Iryn Tushabe, Rhea McFarlane, and Peace Akintade-Oluwagbeye. I also went to a literary conference at the RPL and Talking Fresh in the spring. 

D - Did a lot of interviews—podcasts, TV, radio, internet, in person, and newspaper. I tried to count them up, and I can think of almost 20 but feel like I'm missing some. 

E - Enjoyed my summer. For the most part, this year, I was able to just hang out with the kids and have a real summer (with a few stolen hours here and there to get work done). The summer of 2023, my edits schedules destroyed any semblance of relaxation, so this was loooovely. 

F - First Reads. I Think We've Been Here Before was selected for Amazon's First Reads program in the States, which means that it was available one month early, as an ebook, for anyone who subscribes to Amazon Prime. This was my third time in the program, and it's always such an honor (and a rush).

G - Grant! I got my first ever arts grant from SK Arts to take a book-related trip in 2025—to Denver, Colorado! More on that in next year's ABCs Of post, hopefully.

H - Hiking. People from mountainy places would maybe take issue with this one and say I should move it down to W and just call it walking. But I already have one for W and we did find a few places to "hike" in Saskatchewan this year. Our hills may be tiny but shut up; they count.

I - I Think We've Been Here Before was published, first in Canada in September, and then in the rest of the places in December. I had a party in November and so many wonderful people came out. 

J - Just taught one writing workshop. The people I met that day were so lovely. I don't think teaching is for me, but I'm glad I did it.

K - Kept on doodling on sticky notes to try to keep my brain fresh.

L - Live music: This year, the only live music I saw was at festivals! Cathedral Village Arts Festival (Marissa Burwell, Andy Shauf, Natural Sympathies, lots of other sweet bands), Regina Jazz Festival (my mom's cousin's husband's jazz quartet played a set in a park on a rainy day and that was lovely), Shake the Lake (Steven Page, George Thorogood and the Destroyers). I continue to be sad about how scarce live music has been in my life since about 2020. This year! This is the one! Bring back the music!

M - Met so many author friends IRL—such a treat, for a person who lives in the actual middle of nowhere. Amber Cowie came to Regina in the spring, and then when I went to Toronto I met Samantha Bailey, Marissa Stapley, Kerry Clare, Sherri Vanderveen, and Vikki VanSickle. Robert Penner flew in from Winnipeg to go on tour with me, and I know she's from Weyburn, which isn't very far away, but I met Victoria Koops this year too! 

N - News! My most exciting news in 2024 was probably the thing about my book being optioned. It was very fun to announce that and be excited with everyone. I reeeeealllly hope to have more exciting news on that front in next year's post.

O - On TV! Was pleasantly surprised a few times to hear that my book went on TV without me. This is my preference—not being the one on the screen, but still getting the publicity.

P - Public speaking. Dare I say that this is the year I finally conquered my fear of talking in front of people? This has been on every single ABCs list I've written since V&V first came out and I recognized both my intense fear of public speaking and also the frequency with which I would have to do it if I were to hang out in the author sphere. I had, for a while, begun to believe that my lot in life was just to be perpetually in panic attack mode, but I had an event just the other night and at one point I picked up my book to read from it and realized, with shock and awe and excitement, that it wasn't shaking in my hands. Like, at all. This is a huge deal for me! 

Q - Quantum Entanglement! This was the year of it. And hopefully every year from here on in also is.

R - Read lots of books. I don't know how many. Lots! Not lots compared to some people, but so many compared to others.

Or!

R - Russian copies of Valencia and Valentine landed in my mailbox.

S - Started working, EXTREMELY part time, for Barclay's landscaping company. 

T - Toronto! I still need to do a whole blog post about that trip. What a daydream come true. 

U - UM! The lovely people at Indigo put my books at the front of the store by the cash register. Thrilling, truly.

V - Voted! It felt like there were a lot of elections this year. Three, I guess? We voted in the ones we could vote in and tuned in to hear the results. 

W - Worked on three books. Finished none of them. That's okay! I was busy doing other things.

X - XXXVII (I turned 37) 

and 

 

X - XV (Barclay and I celebrated our 15th anniversary!)

Y - Yes! We started doing Fart Walks with the kids. I saw a lady on Tik-Tok talking about the benefits of a post-supper walk, including steady blood sugar, better mood, increased circulation, and smoother digestion. She and her husband go every night and they call them Fart Walks, because of the digestion thing, I guess. I don't know about noticeable benefits, but I'm sure they're good for us. And like, one time, it was raining when we left and Sully said, "Well. I guess tonight we're going for a wet fart walk," and that was gross and funny and we all laughed and I've heard that laughter is the best medicine. 

Therefore, fart walks are the best medicine.

Z - Zapped my friends in lazer tag, competed against them at that live video game place (the name of which escapes me right now), did an escape room, went to a dance party, and went to the arcade SEVERAL times. Apparently this was the year of acting like a preteen? Wonderful.

Okay! I'm sure there were other notable things about this year, but those are the ones that I thought of today. Tag, you're IT.

Talk About People Behind Their Backs!

I had a dream the other night that I went to a library that sold books. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, Suzy, that's called a bookstore. But it wasn't, though. It was absolutely a library, but you had to pay for the books and then you got to keep them after. How did I know, in the dream, that it was a library, not a bookstore? Because there were librarians working there. They were absolutely librarians. You could just tell. 

I know you think that's stupid. Okay, fine, bring me a librarian and a person who works at a bookstore. Just bring them to me and have them stand in front of me. 100% I'll know which is which. 

So.

Anyway.

The library in my dream was named Indigo—no, I know, I know, that's the name of a major Canadian bookstore chain in real life. But in my dream, it was a library. It wasn't at all the same as the real life Indigo, because there wasn't a Starbucks attached to it. And, like I said, the librarians! They were all over the place. 

So in this dream, I'm walking around this library, and I see this display with Valencia and Valentine (my first book) on it. Someone has made the cover artwork into a calendar, and it's very pretty and I call Barclay over and go, "Hey, look! They've made my book into a calendar!" 

I know. I know libraries don't generally have calendars, and that Indigo bookstores generally do. Your beef is not with me; this is a dream. So I guess your beef is with my unconscious self, which is not here at the moment, because I'm awake. So chill.

Anyway.

In this dream, I'm standing there looking at the calendar and someone passes by and says, "Huh, I wonder why they chose that book to make into a calendar? It's her worst one."

And that person walks away and I just stand there, looking at my sweet little debut and thinking, Is this not a good book? 

This, of course, is not the first time my brain has ever turned this question over. When I was querying that book and it got rejected, that was the first time I asked that question. And again when it was on subs and got rejected. And again when it was released into the world and people wrote mean reviews about it and, probably most of all, when people I knew in real life read it and then gave extremely half-hearted, "Oh, good for you for writing a book!" comments (or no comments at all!) (so well-meaning! I hold no grudges! I just internalize the self-doubt and move right along!). 

But there's this saying, "Frontlist sells backlist," which means that when you come out with a new book, and people like it, they might be inclined to go off and find your older books and read those too. And this has been a small source of anxiety for me (there are those reading this who are rolling their eyes and saying to themselves, "Good grief! Is everything a source of anxiety for you, Suzy?" Yep!). 

Because Valencia and Valentine was my very first attempt at fiction, and it was the most fun I've ever had writing a book, and it was a very vulnerable book to write, and one that sits very close to my heart, so when people shoot arrows at it, I get hit. And, also? It was probably my least well-received book—because it's a book about mental illness, and aging, and it's kind of sad and people found it fairly depressing, and again, I hold no grudges, but still! Ouch! 

So I'm not really surprised about this dream I had, is what I'm saying, with the Valencia and Valentine calendar and the stranger doubting the validity or the goodness or whatever of that book. Because the stranger, really, was my own brain. 

And because that book is now a full five years old, it's kind of faded away into the background—people aren't seeking it out, people aren't leaving reviews on it as much, people don't ask me about it in interviews. And I've been kind of okay to just let it float around out there, much more quietly—but now people might find it again and that's a little scary.

So I woke up from that dream and felt a little gross, the way you feel when someone sees you do something stupid and you can't take it back or make them unsee it. But then I logged onto TikTok and the very first thing that came up was...a video wherein someone was talking about how much they loved V&V. 

I love, love, love when things like this happen. It feels good, of course, but it also reminds me that it's always a good idea to say good things about other people (or other people's books) behind their backs. You never know when it might find its way to them right when they could really use it. 

The Dishwasher Post

I've been about as active as a tree these past couple of weeks. Swaying a little in the wind, but mostly staying rooted in one spot. You want me over there? You'll have to literally chop my legs out from under me and haul me over in a wheelbarrow.

To be fair to me, because it's important that we're fair to me, it's been kind of a busy fall. Barclay went to Louisville, I went to Toronto, we all went to Saskatoon and Frontier. I had my book launch events and parties, I did interviews. The book was published in Canada in September, then hit First Reads in November, and will publish everywhere it hasn't already been in less than two weeks (this is by far the most prolonged publishing experience I have ever had). Behind the scenes, I've been working on other things, pitching other things, hanging out with my family, and trying to keep the house clean. 

But I've also been thinking about how much I would like to write about the things that have happened this fall. It's been special, stressful, weird, fun, terrifying, miraculous, challenging, exciting, etc. Good. It's been very good. And I've learned a lot and grown a lot, and after 16 years of using this blog as a place to process life events, it feels like I haven't fully learned something or experienced something until I've written it down. But every time I sit down to write it out, I think, what first? Where do I even start?

Maybe it's like cleaning a house. You don't (or at least, I don't) start at the beginning of the house and clean it in order. I pick the most manageable thing and do that first. I load the dishwasher. An easy, small task that has a big impact and clears the counter off and helps me to see what needs to be done next. 

Okay, so this is my loading the dishwasher post. It's not the first thing that happened this fall, or the most important, or the biggest. It's just the first thing I'm going to write about because, oddly, it's the first thing that comes to mind when I think about Fall 2024. Ahem:

When I travel to a different city, my brain short-circuits with enthusiasm. It screams, LOOK AT ALL THIS NEW STUFF. IT'S SO SUPERIOR TO ANYTHING YOU HAVE BACK HOME. I just love everything so much. I think, Why don't I live here? Look how beautiful these people are! The buildings! The trees! Their strangers are so kind, their sunsets are so pretty. Even their squirrels are better than our squirrels! 

Rose-colored glasses, they call it. I always pack my rose-colored glasses.

So, okay,

I was landing the plane in Toronto—like, I wasn't landing the plane; I don't know why I wrote it like that but I'm leaving it because it's fun to imagine that I was landing the plane—but anyway, the pilot was landing the plane, and I was looking out the window. I saw the CN Tower and all of the lovely skyscrapers, and some tiny baseball diamonds and sweet little trucks doodling along that I could imagine plucking up off the roads and throwing right into Lake Ontario. As we got closer still, I saw rows and rows of what looked like lawn chairs, just perfectly lined up, a whole field of them, and I thought, what's this? It looks like an outdoor music festival! An outdoor music festival, on a Wednesday? In October? Amazing! I was so proud of Toronto for that. In Saskatchewan, we keep our outdoor music festivals to the summer months, because as soon as September 15 hits, everyone goes into their houses and starts complaining about the weather on Facebook. Oh,Toronto! I gazed down at it with my rose-colored glasses.

So I was sitting there in the sky, just thrilled that Toronto was holding some kind of outdoor music festival, and I was wondering who was playing and what I was missing and I was kind of marveling at how neatly the people had lined up their lawn chairs—maybe the festival planners had spray-painted lines on the ground so people would know exactly where to sit—when the plane dipped just a tiny bit lower and I noticed that all of the people seemed to be holding bouquets of flowers and I thought, wow! Everyone has flowers! That's just so lovel—and then I realized all at once that what I was seeing was not a music festival, not shiny happy people sitting in perfect rows holding bouquets of flowers and enjoying a concert on a Wednesday afternoon in October but actually...a graveyard. Neat rows of headstones with wreaths and funeral sprays on them. 

And if that doesn't perfectly showcase my rose-colored glasses travel situation, I don't know what does. 

Anyway. That's the dishwasher post. Tomorrow, I'll vacuum the floor. And I don't really know what that means just yet.

Ulp!

In my second novel, Sorry I Missed You, there's an aging punk named Larry, who can't quite get over the fact that the scene as he once knew it has changed. He misses shows in friends' basements and non-orthopedic shoes and he's quite gatekeepy about the whole thing (but only because he cares so much and feels so adrift). Over the course of the book, he develops this dream of writing for Razorcake, a respected punk zine, and it becomes kind of a lifeline to him, a way to stay connected to the music of his youth in and come to terms with where he is—and what it is—now. 

Razorcake actually is, in real life, a respected punk zine, published bi-monthly out of Los Angeles, California. However, the Razorcake in my book looks very different from the IRL one—it's more of an amalgamation of a few different sites and zines, and I had originally been planning on changing the name altogether, lest anyone familiar with the Real Razorcake read my little book and take issue with the things I changed to serve my plot. But then I was like, "Nah. I like this name, 

and 

I like that this is a real zine, 

and 

I like this zine, 

and 

no one from the real Razorcake is ever going to read this book."

Welp, fast forward to two days ago: I got an email from a guy named Todd who had finished reading Sorry I Missed You the night before. Oh, and...Todd just so happens to be the editor of Razorcake.

ULP.

It reminded me of the time I got an email from Ken Casey of the Dropkick Murphys, who also made an appearance in Sorry I Missed You. I didn't give him a very hard time in the book, but I also didn't take great care to speak effusively of him—because, like, again, as if the Dropkick Murphys are out there reading book club fiction about women working through relational issues in a coffee shop in Regina, Saskatchewan.

But again, I misjudged! 

Luckily, both Ken and Todd are gracious and very nice people, and they didn't give me a very hard time (though they each did give me a little hard time) (but Todd also gave me some great music recs, so I feel like it was worth it). 

But I've learned a valuable lesson—so valuable I guess I had to learn it twice, and I hereby solemnly swear that from now on, if I use the name of a real person or thing in any of my books, I will be so much more careful and conscious of the fact that one day their name could pop up in my email inbox. 

(Also, thank you, Jennifer Whiteford, for tipping off your editor to Razorcake's presence in my book. It has made for a lovely email correspondence and several new bands on rotation over here. :))

(Also also, speaking of Jennifer Whiteford, she is also a novelist who has a book coming out THIS TUESDAY and it looks so good.)

Book Tour!

Years ago, when I sold my first book, I made a list of writer goals. At the time, I didn't know very much about the actual life of a modern-day author. My ideals were informed by movies about fictitious authors, novels about fictitious authors, and magazine interviews with only very, very famous and successful real-life authors. I think this is why, when I made that list, it had on it all kinds of ridiculous, out-of-touch, nonsense goals. I really thought, there, I've done the hard part. Now it's all downhill; now I get to write down all my wildest daydreams and check them off as they come true, one by one.

LOL.

One of these goals? Go on a book tour! That was a feature in every single one of those movies and books, the debut author being sent by her publisher to various cool cities, picked up at the airport in a limo by a nervous publicist, somehow having amassed a large and loyal following in the three days since their book was acquired, edited, and published, despite not spending any time (on screen, anyway) doing any kind of social media marketing. 

I was like, yes, that! Me! Want. Need, even!

But movies about writers are rarely accurate or realistic (despite the fact that they would, one would think, sometimes be written by writers) and one of the first things I learned as an author newbie was that most publishers don't really send most authors on books tours anymore. Yes, you might see authors going on book tours, but often those are paid for by the authors themselves, not the publishers (the exception seems to be that if you are already a very famous, very important author, then, as with everything in this business, you get to live that dream movie version of the author life—which is why my magazine exposure to only the most important writers of our time didn't give me such an accurate glimpse into the life of the...less important authors, which in reality is most of us).

I've released two books now. For my debut my friends threw me a party at The Paper Umbrella, which I never really posted about on here because I was so overwhelmed that entire summer, but it was beautiful and amazing and I was spoiled with a massive crowd of good friends and cookies decorated like the cover of Valencia and Valentine and twinkle lights in the back alley for when people got too warm in the shop and needed to get fresh air. It was so perfect that I didn't even mind that no one was sending me on a tour. 

For my second book, I was meant to do a little signing at a book store in Saskatoon, as well as a launch party here in the city, and that was going to be the extent of my self-funded book tour, but everything got cancelled because it was June 2020 and there were, you know, other things going on in the world at the time. 

So when I wrote my third book, the idea of a book tour was like a helium balloon I'd let go of long ago and completely forgotten about. 

However.

When my agent sent me the deal memo from Radiant, who bought the Canadian rights to I Think We've Been Here Before, I was pleasantly surprised to see included in their offer that they would "support at least a three city tour" and that particular daydream came floating back into my brain. 

It's fun when you let go of a dream and then it sneaks up on you again out of nowhere like that.

So anyway, all that to say, above is an early draft of my little book tour announcement graphic thing. There should be another date added soon, but the ones on there already are fairly finalized. If you're in any of these places at any of these times, you should come hang out. If you own a bookstore or are a librarian or have a book club and you want to hang, I'd be very happy to chat about adding your bookstore or library or whatever to the little book tour announcement graphic thing. If you're in Saskatchewan, you can book me through this form, and if you're not, email me at suzy@suzykrause.com and we can at least talk about it. :)

Book Soundtrack: I Think We've Been Here Before

 It is September 6, 2024, exactly two weeks and four days until pub day. 

Or, so I thought. 

I went into this month thinking to myself, okay, that is happening this month, but not until the END of this month. But then a couple of indie book stores put the book out, almost a full month early, and people started messaging me saying they were buying it. And then today, I woke up to more messages from people saying that Indigo sent out their preorders.

So what I'm saying is, this book is launched. This book is eager and sneaky and jailbreaky and it is OUT THERE where just any old person can get it and read it, and I can no longer smile smugly at everyone and say, "Sorry, you'll just have to wait until September 24," while secretly freaking out inside my brain trying to figure out how to flee the country before I have to start having awkward in-person conversations with people about my book. 

It's here. We're there. Have mercy.

But in honor of this turn of events, I'm going share with you the Official I Think We've Been Here Before Playlist (pretend there are tooting horns now). If you've been here long enough, you know that I love making playlists and that I always make playlists for each of my books. 

This time though, I'm going to share with you the lyrics from the songs that go with the book. You can do one of several things:

1. Listen to each song after you've read the corresponding chapter.

2. Listen to each song while you're reading the corresponding chapter.

3. Listen to each song before you read the corresponding chapter.

4. Listen to the whole playlist before and after you read the book and see if you feel any feelings either way.

I'd probably do a combo of #1 and #4. But you do you.

Okay. That's the preamble. Here's the playlist!

Chapter 1 (Nora): Last Christmas by Wham! (The Jimmy Eat World version)

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, you gave it away 
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special


Chapter 4 (Hilda & Family): THE ONE MOMENT by OK Go

You're right
There's nothing more lovely
There's nothing more profound
Than the certainty
Than the certainty that all of this will end
That all of this will end


Chapter 5 (Nora and Sonja): WE WON'T LAST THROUGH DECEMBER by LJ Mercer

We won't last through December

My stomache's in my shoes

Chapter 9 (Petra): WE WILL BECOME SILHOUETTES by The Postal Service

I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet
But all the news reports recommended that I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make
Our cells divide at an alarming rate
Until our shells simply cannot hold
All our insides in and that's when we'll explode
And it won't be a pretty sight

And we'll become
Silhouettes when our bodies finally go


Chapter 32 (Marlen & Hilda): SUBURBAN TREES by Jump, Little Children

(Note: This is a song I stumbled across on a Spotify playlist while I was doing my final edits. The scene where Marlen turns on the radio and the song The End of the World by Skeeter Davis is playing was already in there by then, so this felt like such a lucky find.)

Credits on the wall 

scrolling ultra vision 

static on the call 

applauding the decision 

End of the World 

is playing on the radio


Chapter 36 (Hank & Irene): IN THE VALLEY BELOW by Dove Season

The season's coming
There's room for both of us
You can't choose your love
You can't choose your love
I could use your love
Can't lose your love
If this is the end
Let's start all over
Start all over again
I believe we can
Start all over
On earth as it is in heaven

Chapter 37 (Nora & Jacob): LOVER by Taylor Swift

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January
This is our place, we make the rules
And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear
Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?


Chapter 55 (Marlen & Hilda): SONG OF GOOD HOPE by Glen Hansard

Watch the signs now
You'll know what they mean
You'll be fine now
Just stay close to me
And may good hope, walk with you through everything

CHAPTER 59 (Nora & Jacob): APOCALYPSE NOW (& LATER) by Laura Jane Grace and the Devouring Mothers

The bliss of your kiss in the apocalypse
On top of the world, at the end of the world, with you


Chapter 62 (Nora & Jacob): IN THE AEROPLANE OVER THE SEA by Neutral Milk Hotel

What a beautiful dream
That could flash on the screen
In a blink of an eye and be gone from me
Soft and sweet
Let me hold it close and keep it here with me
And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see


Chapter 68 (Everyone): STARS AND MOONS by Dizzy

I am starting to see stars and moons
(It's an awful sham, but I follow suit)
This is how it ends, a courageous boom
(Neighbours wave their hands, as we're passing through)
And it's awful sad how two lovers bloom
(Come and watch them dance, dance into their doom)
I am starting to see stars and moons
(Come and watch them dance)


Chapter 69 (Everyone): DON’T BE AFRAID, YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD by Akron/Family

Don't be afraid, you're already dead
Don't be afraid, you're already dead
Don't be afraid, you're already dead
Don't be afraid, you're already dead


Chapter 70 (Everyone): THE LAST CHRISTMAS (WE EVER SPEND APART) by The Arkells
(Note: I put this song on the playlist before I read all of the lyrics. Then when I went to write this blog post, I laughed at how perfect they ended up being...)

I'm sitting by the windowsill
I got nothing but time to kill
I took this all for granted, but I won't do that again
That'll be the last Christmas

BONUS TRACK: 

TIME MACHINE by Daisy the Great

The sky is burning
No more need to hurry
We were right to worry
We were right to worry
The birds are gone now
The time has come now
Just close your eyes now
Just close your eyes now
The sea is crying
The moon is sighing
It's terrifying
It's terrifying
It's all around us
The end is ground us
The star has found us
I once read about a time machine
They learned to teach electrons
To go back to where they started
Should we go back to where we started?