Check Out My New Book!

In April of this year I quit my job to start working in earnest on Sleeping With The Material World, but it’s hard for a writer to stay focused on just one project at a time. In early May, an email appeared in my inbox advertising a $3,000 prize for a story aimed at underachieving readers. Not entirely convinced, I began whimsically writing about the trash-littered alley I remember behind my childhood home. I used to wander through that alley, wondering what kind of secrets might be hidden in the clutter. Fast forward a few months, and, after much writing, re-writing and editing, those scribbles turned into a 10,000-word story called Running The Point. I submitted Running The Point to the contest and – lo and behold – it won the prize!

Running The Point is about Ennie, a 12-year-old with NBA dreams. Ennie chances on a runaway girl after being embarrassed at basketball camp and their budding friendship soon leads Ennie into trouble. As his stern Aunt Lucia and a black coach named Steve-O try to turn his focus back to basketball, it becomes clear that helping a friend in need might also help Ennie overcome his biggest adversary on the court.

Running The Point makes a great Christmas gift for the kid in your life who loves sports but isn’t sure about reading. It’s available as both an ebook and a paperback on Amazon. I have also created a new personal website at www.simonbroder.com with sections on SWTMW, RTP and various other aspects of my writing career.

If you're interested you can learn more about Story Shares here.

Cheers,

Simon

A Mother's Day Message About Being A Mom

Getting Comfortable In My New Mom Bod

The 6 weeks is over.

For those of you who don’t know, immediately after you have a baby you should have nothing go into your vagina for a while. It’s a time of rest and recovery. At the six week point, your OB does an exam to make sure everything is healing properly and internal organs are returning to their natural size, and you’re good to go.

So I can finally get back to my normal life. What I’m most excited about and I find most important is that now I can have sex again and exercise. I have to say I missed both very much and am happy to get back into it. (I think my partner could say the same!)

Of course, even though some things are returning to normal, I know it’s going to take some time to get my beach bod back and I have to be okay with how my body is now. I’ve tried on my old clothes and they don’t fit. My belly is almost as big as my butt, my legs are fattier than before and my chin is the smallest it’s ever been. Everything jiggles when I walk or run!

This is very different from my modelling days. The nice thing about not doing that anymore is that I don’t have pressure to get back to my old bod super quickly. But I have always maintained my body, always made sure that it was beach ready, and I want to get back to that level. And I will. While I’m working myself up, it’s important that I catch myself when I go to say something scathing to myself and maintain the faith that I will get back to a banging bod!

(I want to say that as long as you’re healthy and you exercise and you eat fairly well than whatever your natural weight is, it’s beautiful. I’m not trying to judge other people’s sizes here. But I’ve been super skinny for my whole life, so this extra weight is a bit of an adjustment.)

When I look in the mirror I try to focus on the things I do like. I’m really enjoying my huge boobs, and I keep telling myself that when I get my stomach back my body will be banging. I also love that my ass got bigger - though it definitely needs to be shaped and toned. I’m very excited about what I will look like after some time spent working out and not eating as much. Also I’ll be breast-feeding and that apparently helps to cut calories.

So I’m going to start going back to my Jeet Kune Do (martial arts) class and going to the gym whenever my baby and man will let me - of course, I can’t do anything anymore without their okay. I just need to keep telling myself I’ll get there. And I don’t know if this is the right way to do it, but I’m not going to set a goal or a date on when my body should be back to what it was. (In all honesty, I don’t think my hips will ever go back to what they were - which I’m happy about because I love my bigger butt). I know the big boobs won’t last forever, but the butt will, and I’m looking forward to working on it.

I’m sure I should enjoy this time in my life where my body is at its worst. And in a real way I can say it’s truly at its best because I did just gave birth, and that’s amazing.

And in the meantime, I’m going to be proud of my Mom Bod - big, small, or just right!

-Sarah

Getting Back On The Horse

Tomorrow will mark one month since my last shift at the restaurant. It’s been a relaxing month, but also a bit of a frustrating one. At first I was happy to have the time to relax, then I came down with a flu, and now I’m starting to feel cabin fever. This whole month has been a lot of lying around the house and not doing a whole lot of anything, and after a while that gets boring. The frustrating thing about being down is that I’m not so unwell that I can’t do anything – but when I do things, I get easily overtired. I can go to the bar, but after one beer I start to feel overstimulated. I can go for a walk, but that doesn’t feel especially productive. I can try to write, but after an hour I feel like I just want to lie down.

Last week, I finally got in to see a physiotherapist and then a psychologist to discuss the best way to go about getting back to normal. The physio in particular said some interesting things about how my brain is working. He described it as a car engine that’s worn down and isn’t getting enough gas. It still gets you where you need, but the performance isn’t optimal – when you slam on the gas pedal, it doesn’t reach top speed. He did some tests on me and concluded that while I’m over the worst of things physically, my brain is still a tick slow when it comes to processing, and the extra energy I’m expending is probably tiring me out.

Although he advised me not to dive back into work, in my boredom I’ve begun to putter around with writing a little bit more once again. I’m still not ready to tell any of my editors I can get back to the grind – or tackle this book project in its entirety – but I’ve at least sent out a few stories again. My thinking is that the best way to ramp up to full speed is to start small, with jobs that don’t have specific deadlines or come with a lot of pressure. When the inevitable rejections come back, I can simply file them away in an email folder and forget about them.

It’s productive, but it’s also disorienting. Sometimes hustling as a writer can feel like swimming in the middle of the ocean and searching for land. You know there’s eventually going to be land in almost any direction, but you have no idea where the closest patch of land is – or the best. There might be a tiny island just out of eyesight on one side, but an entire continent a mile in the opposite direction. Firing off stories and pitches for rejection, I’m casting about searching for my identity. Do I make my name in fiction? Sports? Does writing content anonymously for money help get this book published? (Probably not, but it might keep my bank account full until we can.)

None of the doctors I’ve consulted have told me to rush back to work. They say I need to focus on myself and how to get myself in the best place possible to be functional going forward. I agree in theory, but in practice it’s hard. I find myself growing bored and agitated. I don’t have a lot of discipline. I’m not really supposed to be drinking or playing sports, but I want to go out and shoot hoops and muck it up at the bar – just to do something. I’m understanding more and more those scenes in movies where the cancer patient breaks out of the hospital because, damn the doctor, he just wants to have fun again.

But at the same time, I have to find a way to step back and think about how to get better. I want to be able to write and work for a lot of years going forward. I have to figure out a way to throw all my energy into making this book the best book it can possibly be. And I know that actually focusing on things like diet and exercise is what will get me back to normal sooner. But old habits die hard…

On that note, I’m off to see the physio for a follow-up appointment.

-Simon

Living The Single Life vs Settling Down With A Family

Hitting “Play” On Life (And Writing)

Rest is a dangerous thing. Everyone needs it, but how much do they really need it? At what point does “I’m resting” stop being a statement of fact and start being an excuse?

I’ve spent the past week (since my final shift at the burger joint) resting up. That means sleeping in till 1 or 2, rarely leaving the house except to walk around the neighbourhood, and not doing any writing. But it’s not as if I’m spending this time doing nothing. I’m reading some, I’m staying up to date on the latest sports scores, I’m eating. I even went to a baseball game on Tuesday and went out to the bar last night. Is this stuff better or worse for me than working? As I said to a doctor who called me from the concussion clinic earlier this week – “I’m improved and I’m functional – but I’m certainly not normal.” My head still gets a bit foggy if I stare at a screen too long, drink alcohol, or am surrounded by too much action. It’s a subtle thing – something that can be worked around for a while. But it still exhausts me.

The thing is, there are no goalposts. I'm a sports fan, and often over my years of watching sports I've watched as players struggled to return from injury. Someone will sprain a shoulder and the fans will be given a timeline of four-to-six weeks. After six weeks, fans will start clamouring for the player to come back, and then we'll find out that the recovery has stalled, that it's going to be at least another six weeks. And so it goes until the player finally returns months later. People get healthy when they get healthy; there are no hard and fast parameters when it comes to recovery.

So am I ready to start writing again? I certainly don’t feel like I’m able to take on a full slate, but I'm sure I could bang out an article or two if I took it slow. In trying to force myself to rest up, I'm almost compromising my ability to work. I feel like I’m waiting for the day when I’m going to wake up and feel like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, and now I’m realizing that that day may be months away. There’s a delicate balance to be struck between productivity and health. If I do nothing but rest, I feel lazy and unproductive. But if I throw myself into work, I feel unhealthy.

I sent an email to one of my editors today assuring her that I would be getting back to work “within the next couple of weeks.” But that’s, at best, a guess. The main thing at this point is that I don’t know whether putting the time and effort into writing every day has the potential to set me back, or whether engaging my mind will actually help me begin to feel more functional. One thing I have noticed is that sometimes going out and getting out of my head seems to be the best thing for me – as if all I need to do is laugh a little and relax and I’ll be fine. Maybe what I’m feeling is the effects of stress and lack of sleep over the past decade as much as it is a direct impact of the blow to the head.

All of which is to say, I don’t know when I’ll get back on the horse and start pushing this book again. My hope is that this month I can get my sleep cycle into rhythm and get back to writing every morning. Once that happens, I can gradually begin adding things to my plate.

Anyway, those are the goalposts - until they move again.

-Simon

The Beginning Of A New Journey

Well, it’s been a spring full of change and news around these parts, with a new baby for Sarah and health issues for me. Since my injury relapsed, I’ve been working but not writing much – partly on doctor’s orders, partly because it strains my brain to stare at a screen for too long and/or put the time into doing research, and partly because I’ve been generally quite lethargic. It hasn’t been a particularly fun couple of months, so I decided it was time to make a real change. Two weeks ago I put in my notice at my restaurant job. I worked my last day yesterday and am now officially free from my wage-slavery. The notion of total freedom is a pleasant one, but it’s also a little bit scary – especially in light of how unwell I’ve been feeling. Without a steady income, I’m going to need to rely on being able to get back on the horse and start writing before too long, and trying to make some money that way.

As much as I hoped that this would be an exciting time turning a new page in my life, as a worked through my last day yesterday I didn’t feel victorious or excited in the way that maybe I thought I would. I have a recollection of quitting my movie theatre job when I was 19 to go off to university and explore bigger and better things and feeling excited and expectant. Maybe it’s being in my thirties, but my last day yesterday had none of that unfettered joy. It was a day like any other – simply a day where I didn’t have to come back in tomorrow. Certainly I was looser and more relaxed than usual, but more than anything the feeling I have today is relief. I cut my chains, but I still need to find a way to make a living, and that’s no easy feat.

I was contacted by a concussion clinic today, so hopefully in the next few weeks I can rest up, learn to manage my symptoms, and begin to write again. I still have a serious article that I was trying to pitch before my symptoms worsened, and I do hope I can finish it up with a second interview of my subject and get it published somewhere notable. And even though I haven’t done any significant writing in at least a month, it’s kind of nice to look back and see how much I feel like I accomplished between November and February. I hope that without a 30-hour-a-week job to slog through, I can soon redouble my efforts on that front without burning myself out again.

I’m hungover and tired today, so my apologies if this post is a little more sombre than the title would suggest. Quitting my job to do what I love is a major step for me, and I’m especially looking forward to enjoying a full, free summer with all the time in the world to enjoy the weather, take in some local baseball games, and tie up all sorts of loose ends that get pushed aside by the daily grind. I look forward to doing some real cooking at home, to dusting off the bike outside and getting the tires fixed. In fact, even without trying, I can already feel a list of dozens of obligations beginning to fill my head. For now, I’m pushing them aside – R and R (and all the other Rs – relaxation, rehabilitation, recuperation) is far more important at this point. I feel like I need to focus on what’s important in life, and think about – and even dream on – the future. And it goes without saying that this book will be a major part of that process once I’m physically and mentally ready to focus my energies on something.

Working is a grind for anyone. But living is more important than working. I looked in the mirror one day and asked if my work-life balance was where I needed it to be – if I was working to live or living to work. And I concluded that I was living to work far too much for someone working at what, fundamentally, is a shitty service job. I had begun to feel trapped in a routine where my workplace had become my personal jail, but I finally realized that there was nothing keeping me cooped in my cell except for a misplaced sense of loyalty and the desire to see my bank account rise at the end of the month. And that simply wasn’t important to me anymore. My hope by freeing myself is that I can learn to live again - whatever that may mean.


-Simon

What To Expect When Expecting

The Mean Things People Say When You’re Nine Months Pregnant

Well, after nine months, it finally happened – I’m a Mom! Our new little boy Teo was born on March 15th and he’s healthy and happy.

The week before I gave birth I think I hit a breaking point. I felt huge. I only gained 45-50 pounds in total during my pregnancy but I have never been that big in my life so it was a huge adjustment. I was already feeling self-conscious about my size. (I would expect that all pregnant women feel that way – not only are you bigger around the waist, but everything else can swell up too, your hormones are out of whack, and just in general you don’t feel like your usual beautiful self.) And when people starting making fun of me for it, I just couldn't handle it.

For the most part I was pretty lucky as far as not being subjected to too much in the way of insults, but as I got bigger I did start to hear things slip out from people I know and love. In the last couple of months I found out that my baby was below average in size and that I would probably need to be induced to let him out early. When my doctor first told me that the baby was undersized, I asked if I needed to eat more or gain some weight, but he said of course not – he said I was healthy and the baby’s vitals were good, and that babies just sometimes come out small. But when I told my friends and family about this, they kept pestering me to eat more. And it really got to me – I felt like I needed to constantly defend myself and my eating habits, which was the last thing I wanted to be doing.

But there were other things people said to me that really bothered me too. Most of these were said in jest, or casually, with the implication that I “could take it” – but it doesn’t mean I liked it. They included things like:

You’re a monster now who just eats all the time. 

The person said that this was a joke and that they only said it because they knew I could take it. I was fine with it at the time, but this was only the first in a cavalcade of insulting jokes and snide comments.

Wow, I’ve never seen you so fat before, this is great! Let me get a picture.

This person took a picture which ended up on Instagram. It bothered me, but again, I tried to brush it off. After all, I was only a few days away from giving birth.

How does it feel to be a whale?

This hurt, but I realized that this person was only re-purposing words that had come out of my own mouth. The way this made me feel was a harsh reminder that if you’re having body issues, you shouldn’t use hurtful words to describe yourself because then that will make other people think that it’s appropriate to throw those words back in your face.

I don’t want another child with you because you didn’t exercise while you were pregnant.

I’m sure you can guess who said this last – and in his defense, he was grumpy and tired when he said it. My partner has been an amazing support system throughout my pregnancy, during labour and after the birth of young Teo. I couldn’t do any of it without him. But anyone who’s been in a serious relationship will understand that sometimes bad things get said in stressful situations, and when this got said it actually made me cry. It just felt like at that point in my pregnancy everything that was being said around me was really mean or hurtful. The thing was, I was going to AquaFit throughout my pregnancy – which is at least some form of exercise. So it also wasn't entirely fair.

In general, I can take a joke better than most. The things said to me in my state were peanuts compared to the things that some pregnant women have to put up with. But in general as a society I think we need to be more mindful of pregnant women everywhere. Every woman is different, but it just makes sense to be nice and respectful to a woman who is going through the process of making a whole new person inside of her. Anyway, I’ve now given birth and it was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced – the hardest thing I have ever done or ever will do. (Maybe that’s a topic for our next blog post?)

SHOW SOME RESPECT!

-Sarah

When Life Intervenes

About four months ago - it was a few days after Halloween - I slipped trying to change the temperature in the shower. I tried to grab onto the curtain as I fell, but it came down with me, and on the way down my head slammed into the bathroom counter. I didn’t hit my head so hard that I blacked out, but I did hit it fully flush. In the moments afterwards, I immediately thought, “Shit. That’s exactly the kind of innocuous injury that could turn out to have major complications.” My brother and two of my aunts have had significant concussions in the last few years, and it seemed like I was destined to be next on the list. 

After I fell, I felt dazed – not pained, but confused enough that when I sat down to start writing a few minutes later I could tell that something wasn’t right. I went to the doctor, and as the week progressed and I continued to feel discombobulated, I went back to the doctor a week later. She acknowledged that I might have suffered a minor concussion.

Concussion symptoms are weird, and hard to describe to someone who hasn’t gone through them. There was no real pain for me (aside from the very occasional pinch). Mainly there was exhaustion and the feeling of a pounding hole in my head – like my thoughts weren’t completely coherent. That’s not to say I couldn’t formulate sentences or understand things, but rather that there was some kind of a gap in my thought process. I was like a computer that still worked fine in spurts but was incredibly laggy and needed a restart every 2 hours. For about nine days I rested up, mostly avoiding the internet and work. When I did go into work, I wore thick clip-on shades to shut out the industrial lighting at my job, and occasionally earplugs to block out the music, conversation, banging doors and utensils – essentially, all the sounds that inevitably come from working in the kitchen. Once I hit my head, it was like my sensory register was turned up to 11 – all the little sights and sounds that I had spent years learning how to block out were coming at me like they were blaring out of movie theatre speakers.

I basically spent a week in bed with the lights out. About nine or ten days after my initial concussion, I got up and tried to take a walk around the neighbourhood at about 9 in the evening. To my surprise, it went well. I wore the shades to shut out car headlights, but other than that I had no real difficulty handling the sights and sounds that come with being in the city at night. It felt good to finally leave my bedroom and experience the world again. Over the following week, I gradually worked myself up to full speed again. By the end of November I felt essentially normal. I still carried the shades to work, but I didn’t wear them. I could watch basketball games without any concern about aggravating my brain. And most of all, I could write again.

Feeling fully recovered, I started to ramp up my workload. I started writing for a Raptors site. I wrote a number of articles in a row for a clickbait site, in order to get a payout reward for writing so many in such a short span. After that, I began hunting around for more writing work. I was focused on building my resume up, all while working four days a week at my restaurant job. I felt newly refreshed, and I put pressure on myself to try to achieve as much as I possibly could as a writer in the shortest possible time frame. And it worked for a while. I learned how to handle multiple assignments a week. I planned my time around writing. I’ve never been a particularly organized person, but my weekly schedule became more regimented.

But then one day about three weeks ago I got to a Thursday morning (which was my first shift of the week – I work in an industry where Thurs-Sun shifts are the norm). I realized that I was feeling more tired than usual. I turned my girlfriend and said, “I’m exhausted. I think I really need to take it easy this weekend.” She pointed out that if I was serious about taking it easy, I shouldn’t be working. I shrugged the comment off, figuring that doing my best to not overly strain myself that weekend would be sufficient. I could rest on Monday. I got through my four days, but by Sunday I was absolutely burnt out. I was asked to stay a couple of hours extra on Sunday to close the store, and I realized I simply couldn’t do it. My head was getting all muddled up. I was too tired to do anything – even the most basic tasks at work. I started making mistakes on the line – little mistakes, like skipping a burger or missing a modification on an order. The other supervisor agreed to close for me and I left early – still thinking that a bit of rest was all I needed.

I rested for three days, but by Wednesday I knew something was wrong – I couldn’t go into work. So it was back to the doctor, and another week spent resting, almost as if the concussion had returned full force. My head began throbbing in exactly the same way it had when I had my initial concussion – just waves of exhaustion and confusion pouring over me. At one point we ordered food for delivery and the trip from the couch to the front door to collect the food was so exhausting that by the time I got back to the living room I needed to lie down. Staring at a computer screen for longer than 5 minutes was overwhelming. After a week, I still felt messed up, so I returned to the doctor and explained my situation. She agreed that I’d been overdoing it, and simply needed to stop working so hard. In short, she told me that I would need to choose between my writing work and the restaurant job that pays the bills, at least in the short term.

Since that doctor visit, I’m feeling a lot better. I’m starting to watch my basketball games instead of listen to them again. I can check the internet when I need to. I’m no longer curled on the couch with my head in my hands. In other words, I’m functional. But I’m still not normal. I still get home from work at 2 AM and sleep till noon. I still need to take fifteen minutes to relax every few hours. I haven’t watched a single movie in probably a month. Going forward, I’ve scaled back my writing commitments – informing two of the sites that I was writing for that I needed to take an indefinite hiatus. Another site I plan to return to tomorrow, but only with a very reduced workload. If there’s anything I’ve learned from the past few months, it’s that head injuries are nothing to take lightly.

Between Sarah’s baby, and my head injury, the progress on this book certainly isn’t what either of us expected it to be a year ago – or even six months ago. Life comes at you fast. Goals are great, but sometimes real life gets in the way, and between both of our physical situations, I don’t think either of us are in a position to push as hard as we’d like on this book right now. But Sleeping With The Material World is our child and it will persevere even if its parents neglect it. We will get this book finished…eventually.

-Simon

Working The Long Game

I’ve always wanted to write books. At some point in the last few years I came across a scrap paper that I must have filled out when I was about 6 years old. Under the category asking what job I wanted to do, I put something like, “firefighter or author.” I honestly have no idea where I came up with the idea that I wanted to be a firefighter (is that just a universal little kid thing?), but I definitely knew all along that I wanted to be a writer. As a kid, my nose was always buried in a book. Some of them were literary books passed down from my university-educated parents, but a lot of them weren’t. They were Scholastic books, adventurous stories about kids like The Boxcar Children, The Hardy Boys, and later the Animorphs. Basically, it was all serialized fiction which eschewed the literary bent for adventure and simplicity. Later, in university, when I found myself trying to be super-literary, I had to remind myself that my formative years were spent reading a lot of pulp fantasy and mystery, and not the (capital-C) Classics.

My first attempt to write a book came when I was about 10. I wrote about 30 pages of a crime thriller about a little kid and his friend who were somehow tasked with investigating a mysterious accident. It didn’t get very far – at some point I think I realized that I didn’t really have any idea what the kids were going to find, and the story was quickly abandoned. That pattern followed through much of high school, as time and time again I would start a story only to leave it abandoned after a chapter or two. Usually there was some sense that I’d run out of ideas and didn’t know how to drive the story to a sweeping conclusion, but I also had a tendency to agonize over the sections that were already written and either compulsively edit them or just give up, feeling like they exemplified my failure as a writer. I felt incapable of finishing anything. In the end, I would get stuck and move onto a new idea that seemed more tantalizing.

Follow-through is really important in being successful in any aspect of life. One of the first things one of my teachers preached in writing school was to work on finishing things, because history is littered with writers swimming in half-finished manuscripts who never went anywhere. I’ve gotten a bit better at completing projects since university, but not much – I’m still very much a work in progress, and stories without deadlines tend to hang in eternal limbo. It‘s with this history firmly in my mind that in the past few months I’ve been forced to set this project – at least the nitty-gritty work of writing and editing – a little bit to the side. This time, it wasn’t simply out of a loss of interest or feeling stuck. I felt like I was absolutely capable of continuing to work on the book and between Sarah’s original manuscript and my detailed notes, I have a very strong notion on how to complete the book. But I also knew that if we were going to sell this story to editors and publishers, they needed to know that we were capable writers. They needed to know that putting a book in our hands was the responsible thing to do. So I put the manuscript aside and set out to, in so many words, make a name for myself. While I knew that I had to keep my expectations in check and not expect to get big-time gigs immediately, I also knew my portfolio lacked the punch to get noticed in a slush pile and that any decent credentials would be better than what I had. If getting a book published is the end goal, getting a shorter article published in a mid-level magazine is a means to that end. It’s been a moderate success so far. While nothing I’ve written has made me an overnight success, my name is significantly more Googleable than it used to be and I’ve had a few articles that have seen widespread circulation or received some outside praise.

The other day, for the first time in my life, I pitched two major magazines with a story I’ve been independently researching. In response, I received two generally complimentary rejection emails. The first email was from an editor I have worked with before who suggested that the story was interesting, but not newsworthy enough for his publication. The other editor thanked me for the pitch but stated that the story was “not quite right at this time.” In my reading up on how to get published in the magazine industry, I have come under the impression that “not quite right at this time” often means that the story pitched was too big for the writer’s credentials – that it may have been a workable story but not one that an editor was willing to trust in the hands of an unknown. I have no idea if that was the true underpinning of my response note – perhaps there was another reason, or several, why it didn’t fit into their criteria for publication – but it seems like an entirely reasonable read on the situation. The article I was (and still am) hoping to write is a long-form piece, but it’s a long-form piece that might top out at a couple thousand words. Sleeping With The Material World is a long-form piece that will be running 100,000 words – and as such, an editor is going to need that much more faith in the writer handling the project.

Writing is hard. The more research I do, the more articles I come up with that are just disgruntled writers writing about writing, or preachy articles about how to get stuff rejected. More and more, it seems there are more people writing stuff than reading it, which is kind of a sad reality of our modern world. Between writing, working at my full-time job, and having Netflix readily available, I’m almost embarrassed to admit how many books I read these days – and that’s as a writer! I certainly make the effort to always be working on a novel, but there are certainly weeks where I barely read anything offline. But that's not the point. Really, being a productive writer is about pitching and getting work done. Reading is intellectually stimulating and important on various levels, but ultimately unproductive.

Of course, while I’m over here trying to get some smaller work published, the Sleeping With The Material World manuscript sits idly by, not getting nearly as much work or love as it should. Between Sarah’s pregnancy and my writing work elsewhere, along with both of us having full-time jobs to pay the bills, it’s become a little like an older brother who feels neglected because the new baby has everyone’s attention. And honestly, we haven’t had as much time to work on the manuscript in the last few months as we would like. But it’s not abandonment, at least not in the way I used to abandon my stories. It’s about working the long game.

-Simon

Life Changes

2016 was probably one of the worst years I ever had. I moved in with a boyfriend and it turned out to be one of the worst decisions I ever made. Before moving in with him, I was in a nice condo downtown with a job where I made decent money and lived with my dog that I loved. I loved living downtown as a single female because it allowed me to be social and I felt extremely healthy. My ex lived very far out of the city and I had to quit my job to move in with him. Once I got there, he stopped talking to me for two days and told me I couldn’t drive his car like he had promised I could. He had asked me to move in, but once I did he transformed into a completely different person. He became very controlling and a complete douchebag. The stress of the relationship brought back my smoking habit, which I had kicked 6 years before, and I almost completely stopped sleeping. I was only there for about two months before I moved out one day while he was out at work - I just couldn’t handle him at all. 

I moved back in with my mother. I knew I had to make some changes. My whole life was upside down. I ended up joining a martial arts class. I had recently started therapy and I knew that I needed some physical exercise - a nice place to release things and learn something new.

It was at that class that I met my current boyfriend. At the time he was secretly going through a separation with his wife. When I met him I figured he was married and therefore did not make any effort in pursuing him (not that I make that much effort at pursuing anyone). But I was so attracted to him. If I’d known, I probably would have chased after him from the jump. He was pretty closed off in class, but any time that I got to spar with him I was happy to do so and slowly I began to learn a tiny bit about him. As time went on, I began to have feelings, but his separation was still a secret and no one in the class knew that he wasn’t happy in his old relationship. So for a while I kept my mouth shut.

Fast-forward to now. Things have changed! I have a (semi-)new relationship with a wonderful person whom I love very much. He truly is what I’ve been looking for all these years - with some added, let’s say, quirks (that are for the most part tolerable). I know he thinks the same about me. Our relationship has been pretty much a whirlwind since it started. As soon as we both realized that we liked each other we basically started dating immediately. We quickly found out that we have a lot in common and we have a lot of fun together. I feel like he teaches me something every day.

We had only been dating for a few months when - surprise! - I got pregnant. I have never been pregnant nor have I ever even had a scare with pregnancy. And I have not always used birth control. In all honesty, I thought I might not be able to have children. But I guess when things are meant to be, they’re meant to be.

When we first found out we were pregnant, we both freaked out. We were both in severe shock. He was still going through a divorce and I was still trying to get my life back together. But I didn’t for one second think I didn’t want the baby. I did, however, have the thought: how the fuck are we going to do this? I told my boyfriend if he wasn’t ready to have a child or spend his life with me then that was okay and I would do this alone because I understood it was my choice to keep the child. Although he was unsure at the beginning the more we both thought about it the more exciting it became. Within the first year of our relationship we had to discuss massive future plans, like how many children we wanted. The least fun of all the talks was finances. We had to talk about if we were going to live together, where we would raise a child, did we want to get married, and all the fun things that come along with a long-term relationship. The only difference was we had only been together for a few months. I had only met his parents once! It almost seemed similar to a arranged marriage (but who am kidding? I have no idea what that would be like). In the end, we decided to be together for what we hope is life, and raise this little bundle of joy as a family.

Am I scared? Yes! These are all huge life changes and they’re kind of coming on a whim. As for being a Mom, I have to say I’m excited and a little nervous but I feel like I’ll be good at it. Don’t get me wrong - my mother did the best she could and so did my father. But I learned a lot about what not to do from them. I am generally a pretty down-to-earth, fun, responsible person - at least right now (keyword: now. We’ll see if that changes once the baby arrives.) I’m also, like my boyfriend, a jack-of-all-trades. We both know a lot about many different things and are talented in many different ways. So I hope that we can raise a child well.

I do have to say I’m afraid of giving birth, though. That scares me the most - the pregnancy not so much, the being a mother not so much. But the splitting open and everything coming out including the baby is scary. I just hope it goes by fast and it’s quick. I also hope my boyfriend is there for it because he travels for work and I would like him to witness it.

As for my career or going back to school, I’m not too sure. I know I want this book to be published and that’s all I’ll be working on for myself for this next year pretty intensely. School I would still love to do but I have to see if that’s an option in a couple years, or if I even want to go that route again.

I’m holding on with faith and love, and I can only hope it all works out. I know this will be the thing I work hardest on and not ever give up on.

What Editors Want

As we continue to push towards getting Sleeping With The Material World published, it’s worth exploring what publishers are looking for. I recently stumbled across this interesting piece from Room editor Rachel Thompson about what an editor is looking for when she’s sifting through a slush pile of submissions. While the article specifically pertains to Room and short story submissions as opposed to long-form, I think it’s worth exploring some of her points, because, ultimately, writing is writing, and catching an editor’s eye is the name of the game.

“Writing that doesn’t begin at a critical moment upon which everything else hinges, or with an opening line that raises more questions than answers, is unlikely to hold my attention for long. You never quite appreciate in media res until you’ve read hundreds of submissions that languish in the beginning. If you’re writing narrative work, and you don’t open with an action or decision point, you’re going to lose me.”

This is an interesting point that I think I inherently understood – I love nothing more than a story that smacks me in the face. Old, dusty books that open with three paragraphs describing a tree in the front yard and the general weather patterns of the region tend to lose my interest pretty quick. Part of this is due to the shift in our culture toward instant gratification as we become an internet-driven culture and shift away from books altogether, but part of it is just that that stuff is…boring. I think that no matter what era I’d been raised in, I wouldn’t have had all that much time for that type of navel-gazing. We read stories to find out what happens. If nothing’s happening, it’s boring.

But while I inherently tend to gravitate towards action, that doesn’t mean that I always succeed in grabbing the reader. Specifically, Thompson highlights the five Ws (who/what/when/where/why). Reading that was like a light bulb going off in my head – because, duh. If the reader starts out by asking those questions, they’re going to keep reading until you’ve got them good and hooked. Once I read that point, I found myself going back over my short fiction pieces that are struggling through that gruelling submission process right now. Did my opening lines do enough to grab the reader and get them asking fundamental questions? Just for fun, here are the openers for four of those short stories:

1. The young boy pulls in fifty bucks during the first week of harvest but there’s more to life than money.
2. I always judge by how they hold their coffees.
3. A couple of days after the party, I spotted Jinay buying smokes at the gas station beside Long and McQuade.
4. The drugstore had a sign out front that bragged it had been open for 57 years but the windows were dusted over and no one had been in the store portion since forever.

Looking back, whether intentionally or not, I think I’ve done a reasonably good job of raising questions off the bat here. My favourite is probably the first one, because it raises a couple of big ones: just how young is this boy, where is he harvesting and exactly what more is there to life than money? The middle two hint at something and make you ask “who” or “what,” but they don’t necessarily raise multiple world-building questions the way that first one does. And the last one is probably the weakest of the lot because it essentially just does the boring description thing that I bashed a couple of paragraphs ago. (Note: I’m trying to analyze my own writing here, so it’s entirely possible that I’m way off base. This is more a moment of self-reflection than real analysis.)

Sleeping With The Material World isn’t a short story, so the parameters are a little bit different – we might have a few pages or a chapter to pull in an editor who has prepared him/herself to read a full-length book. But a grabby opening line certainly wouldn’t hurt. Our current opening line (which is not at all finalized) is as follows:

5. “6000 yen,” the lady behind the counter said. I thought the shirt cost six bucks.

I’d say that line is okay, but not great. We’re definitely wondering why she’s buying a shirt. We have a sense of the what, the where and who (shirt, Tokyo and Sarah). The when is unclear but doesn’t seem vitally important. So on the whole, I think this opening could be improved - if we could really get the reader invested in what’s happening and who Sarah is from the jump, that would be ideal.

While discussing why stories get rejected, Rachel later touches on something that got hammered into us in writing school, but that I still have trouble entirely wrapping my head around:

New writers just don’t have the experience to know how many drafts professional writers go through before publishing. (It’s more than most think, likely by a factor of ten.)

Ten drafts? That’s crazy! I still feel that way – but maybe that offers some insight into why I’ve struggled to get much fiction published. As I’ve grown as a writer, I’ve certainly begun to learn the value of extensive editing and revision, but I can definitively say that I’ve never rewritten the same story ten times from scratch. But when I scratch the surface, I realize there is truth to the notion that a story improves the more you rewrite it. If we take Sarah’s original manuscript as draft 1 and my long-form outline and rewrite as draft 2 and 3, then the revisions quickly begin to pile up. I don’t think there’s any doubt that there will be another full rewrite before the final polished copy reaches the public at large. But whatever the expected final revision number, the most important point to take from this is that there will be a revision number.

Thompson also makes one last point I think is worth considering:

I’m totally over the idea that if my writing doesn’t make it into an issue of a magazine, it means they think my work is no good.

This is both good and bad – good because it means that all oft-rejected writers like me shouldn’t hang their heads too much, but bad because it drives home how hard it can be to really get some great work published. Even if we think Sleeping With the Material World is eminently publishable, finding a publisher that has the exact need for this type of book and the time to work on it is certain to present a major challenge. Fighting through the submission process is half the battle, it seems.

-Simon

So What Is SWTMW Anyway?

Some people who click onto this blog might be confused about what exactly Sleeping With The Material World is. Especially if you don’t know us and you’re simply clicking over from the Facebook or Twitter page, you may not be familiar with the story of the book or what we’re trying to do with it. I mean, it’s pretty clear from the introduction up top that it is a book, but since there’s no widget on the website offering you a copy for sale or linking to it on Amazon, some might find themselves asking how they could obtain said book. And it’s an understandable question.

To be clear: Sleeping With the Material World is an unpublished book. Technically speaking, the final draft is not even completed yet. This page exists to raise awareness about our book project in anticipation of selling it to a publisher. Because as Sarah found out the hard way when she submitted her first draft to several publishers, turning your raw manuscript into a published masterpiece that can be found on Indigo’s shelves is actually pretty damn hard.

I know in the past while exploring the internet I’ve come across certain author webpages that refer to a book that doesn’t appear to actually exist, and it’s frustrating. You feel like if the book was published and all you had to do was click on a link, you would be more than willing to support the artist. But how are you supposed to go about supporting an unpublished author?

Sarah has been working on this book for multiple years and in its first iteration it was mostly just a jumble of stories. Since I came in, I’ve radically restructured the narrative. We now see SWTMW as a creative non-fiction "bildingroman," which is a fancy word for a coming-of-age story. It’s a story about growing up, and while the characters may be zany and all over the place, it’s really about a girl who travelled the world to find herself. SWTMW is laid out into 15 chapters, with each chapter taking place in a different city than the previous one. Many locations pop up multiple times, but some don’t – this is just a tour of Sarah’s world in her years in the modelling industry.

As such, on some level it’s a combination of a travel book and a modelling book, which is a little bit unique. There are a few first-person modelling narratives out there – notably Model: A Memoir by Cheryl Diamond, which I read and quite enjoyed, although I didn’t find that it had much of a narrative resolution – but few have really explored the experience of being a model, being flown in and out of different countries and immersing yourself in a new culture for a few months before being plopped down somewhere else. Our whole book is an adventure, as new opportunities pop up and disappear before Sarah’s eyes.

Sarah brought me in because I went to school for creative writing and I have a much better understanding of the process of writing an engaging, readable book with a story arc, but that doesn’t mean I have an in to the industry itself. The key right now is finding a baseline for our pitch that will make what we think can be an excellent book into something that is worth investing in for a significant publisher. So in a way, our goal right now is to brand the book as something that is worth reading. Part of that is demonstrating what’s enticing about this particular story, part of it is showing that we have the ability to write for a large audience, and part of it is finding that audience ahead of time.

Because of the way the industry is today, with the rise of the internet and Kindle and the focus on bestsellers and literary fiction, it’s very important for us to find our audience before we even sell the book itself. When I came into this process over a year ago, as I mentioned, I had the know-how, but I didn’t have much in the way of actual credentials aside from a few isolated articles. Since then, I’ve had my first short fiction piece accepted for publication in a literary journal (scheduled for March of next year) and landed regular gigs writing for TheRichest.com and RaptorsRapture.com. That’s a start, but it’s certainly not going to wow any publishers. Neither of us are going to get in the door because of our resumes alone, so in order to get this book finished and produced, we need to find out who is going to read it. This blog is a part of that process.

In addition, we’d love to explore any other networking opportunities that the internet has to offer – be it guest posts, podcasts, or the like. Most of all, we would love for you to subscribe to this blog (there's a big box on the right-hand side!), and then give our Twitter and our Facebook a follow. And then, maybe even more importantly, share it with all of your closest friends! This might seem like shameless advertising, and to be honest, it totally is.

But we hope you want to see this book get made as much as we do.

-Simon

The Writing Process

This is Sarah’s book, and Sarah’s story, but as her co-writer I would like to pull back the curtain a little bit on our book and into the writing process. Turning a book from a dream into a reality is a long, hard process. When Sarah came to me, she had a completed first draft of her story, but it lacked structure. The characters and plotlines were all over the place, coming and going haphazardly, and while that fit in with the chaotic nature of the life reflected in those pages, it didn’t make for a compelling book yet. Whether we know it or not, we’ve all been raised on narrative structure – whether you’re reading a book, watching an Oscar-nominated movie, or binge-watching a sitcom on Netflix, there are certain expectations that a story needs to fulfill in order to feel complete.

Take Mean Girls as an example. Essentially, we expect an inciting incident (Cady gets put into regular school), rising action (Cady going from being an associate of the Plastics to gradually becoming entrenched in their club), conflict and climax (Regina finding out about Cady’s treachery and trying to bring her down, leading to the gymnasium scene where Regina gets ridiculed by the whole school and getting hit by a bus) and resolution (Cady coming to terms with herself). These tropes can take many different forms in many different films or books, but usually if you scratch beneath the surface of a well-told story you will uncover them.

In our story [SPOILER ALERT], Sarah’s inciting incident is going overseas to model for the first time – a change which opens all sorts of possibilities. The rising action occurs as she spends more and more time in Asia, losing touch a little bit with her life back home as she falls into a world of boys and jobs and tries to make it in the industry. The conflict comes as she oscillates between two men in different countries and her career begins to sputter, climaxing as she finally moves on from the man of her dreams and runs out on her agency to go join a car rally. The resolution is when she comes back to Canada to find herself again.

Even though we plan to market this book as creative non-fiction, it was important to me not to manufacture any of the above pieces of the puzzle. A true-to-life story will almost by nature not adhere as rigorously to the classic narrative structure, but it’s important to find these narratives as they exist in our lives. Sarah’s book appealed to me because I felt that the story that was hiding out in her original manuscript was one that could work beautifully if told right. All the ingredients to an exciting story were already in place – we had the ever-changing landscape of a story that takes place in at least five different countries. Just in boyfriends alone we had a wide cast of characters – from Japanese surfer dudes to sweet-talkers to sketchy club-owners to gay pretty-boys. We had a world which not many people have seen in close-up – a modelling scene outside of the hubs of Milan, New York and London. And we had the spectre of Sarah’s modelling career looming over the whole thing, a pipe dream which transformed into a reality that was everything she had hoped it would be, until it wasn’t.

I put these structures into place for our second draft, which was really more like a really long outline, and our third draft is where the pieces really begin to click into a fully realized story. Each chapter takes place in a different city from the previous one, and each chapter builds up the story in a slightly different way so that the action is always moving forward and never stalling. Currently, this third draft is incomplete, but it is our plan to complete it once we have found a platform for this story.  

Thanks for reading!

-Simon