Mental Gym Gone Wild

Back in college, my friend Ryan and I formed our own writer's group. Just the two of us.

We each had positions at the student newspaper (me, news, Ryan, sports) but we met every Wednesday for lunch, often at the Cheesecake Factory, to hand out new assignments and critique previous weeks' work.

The rules of our sessions were fairly simple - choose one of three assignments, write up to 2,500 words, and provide gentle, constructive feedback on previous writing. If you missed a deadline, you had to buy lunch - though, I remember Ryan paying for most of my cheesecake, despite rarely missing an assignment.

Somewhere in my file cabinet, I have most of the writing that came from those sessions. Ryan was a fabulous writer - I can't begin to imagine how amazing he might be today (ahem...how's that book coming Ry?). Back then, I thought Ryan's assignments were tough - the He-Man of my weekly brain fitness regime.

In retrospect, I think I got off easy. While flipping through Mental Floss magazine, I found a list of 10 Ridiculous Feats of Literature. The following are examples of Mental Gym assignments gone wild!

Did you know that Gadsby by Earnest Vincent Wright was written without the letter E? Not because his typewriter didn't have one, but because he thought it might be challenging. No kidding. I haven't read the book, but he apparently wrote a wedding scene without using the words "bride" or "ceremony" - and there isn't a single "the" in the manuscript. To limit temptation, he actually tied down the letter E on his keyboard.

Impressive. I remember that being one of Ryan's assignments for me - though not the one I chose. I couldn't write a paragraph without the letter E, never mind an entire novel. Gadsby was 260 pages long.

The infamous NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November and the 48-hour novel writing contest in September, are creative ways to jump start your motivation. But could you write 843 poems - overnight? Indian spiritual master Sri Chimnoy did on November 1, 1975. Transcedence Perfection was written in 24 hours. Sri claims meditation is key for unlocking the creative floodgates. I'll have to try that.

After studying with Steve Berry, "write tight" is pretty much tattooed on my brain. In his workshop sessions, we often took pages of writing and turned them into paragraphs, illustrating how not to pad stories with fluff. Of course, Ernest Hemingway took tight writing to the extreme when he penned a captivating tale, complete with beginning, middle and end - all in six words.

For sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn.

Today, this work has inspired countless 6-word memoir and story competitions.

How about you? Any mental stretches you'd like to share?

For the complete list of literary feats, or for other primarily useless but always fun facts, ridiculous stories or life-changing information, I recommend picking up Mental Floss or visiting www.mentalfloss.com.

The Book In My Bag Today: Horns, Joe Hill

An a"muse"ing way to melt snow

It's snowing in Edmonton. Again.

I should know better than to fully welcome Spring at this time of year, particularly after facing far too many March months that went "out like a lion."

When I finally fell asleep last night, snow was the furthest thing from my mind (demon horns were, but that's a whole different blog post...).

So when I woke up to the snow white carpet outside my window, I decided to throw out all preconceived notions about who might wear this week's muse mask and pulled out the big guns, the hottest of the hot.

Which is why I've cast Cam Gigandet for the role.

I recognize he isn't everyone's cup of tea - and I'm fine with that. The less competition, the better, really (grin). But after watching New Moon this weekend, I considered asking Rob Pat or Taylor to sign up for duty, then realized that's kind of creepy (so young!), and truthfully, I've always been on Team James.

A pity Edward killed him off in Twilight.

The Book In My Bag Today: Horns, Joe Hill

Book 20 - Stolen

Still riding the adrenaline rush of finding a new author to adore, I dove into Stolen, eager to get to know werewolf Elena and her boyfriend Clayton better...especially Clayton. Did I mention he's pretty darn fine?

But I admit, I didn't whip through Stolen with the enthusiasm I tackled Bitten. Not that there was anything wrong with the writing - Kelley Armstrong has phenomenal talent. She's one of those writers that could probably make the phone book compelling.

But there was far less Clayton in this book, eliminating much of the raw sexual tension I loved in Bitten. And...oddly, the introduction of other supernatural beings, like demons and vampires, took away from my new-found admiration of werewolves.

Elena spends most of the story in captivity, a secret compound where some truly bizarre people are researching the...talents...of each inhuman race. Accompanying Elena are a couple of witches, a half-demon, a vampire, a "mutt" and an all powerful sorcerer - and with few exceptions, I couldn't really latch on to them as potential recurring characters.

The facility is funded by a millionaire who enjoys hunting the supernaturals when they've stayed their welcome - a well-done antagonist. His interest in Elena allows the reader to get a stronger sense of her backstory, and of course, fall more in like with her. I do like her, very much - so I'm a bit reluctant to start book three, which I understand is more about Paige, an apprentice witch rather than Elena, and, uh, Clayton.

Though the pacing is slower, Stolen is still a great read and Kelley is fast becoming one of my favourite authors.

Achy breaky heart

Everything happens for a reason.

My brain knows that. It's my heart that sometimes doesn't want to listen.

The logical side of me understands the rush of meeting a new friend and connecting with them on a level you would never have believed possible until that person. But the far more vocal emotional side of me can't reconcile the heart ache that comes when that person is no longer part of your every day world.

In my novel Heartless, Jagger isn't the best judge of character - it's part of the reason she sucks at her job, at least in the beginning. I can relate - in the shady-character judgement category, I'm a definite #fail. But even after shedding those *toxins* I can't seem to fill the void they've left, despite some pretty amazing people in my life.

Truthfully, it isn't the bad eggs I miss the most - not when I'm being rational.

I recently reconnected with my high school best friend after more than a decade of stubborn non-communication. Our friendship ended over teenage drama, fairly typical, I suppose. We had some good times back then - we bonded over music, concerts, rockstar crushes. In some ways, it's what we still have in common today. Not enough of a thread to rekindle the intensity of our high school bond, but enough to put the past behind us and start over. A new friendship. Different, but no less important.

The reconnection has been fun - but it's also forced me to reminisce about other relationships that have slipped away over the years. Some, I can accept. Many of those friendships were formed in haste, or on unstable common ground, or perhaps, more likely, due to my personal poor judgement.

But some weren't. And those are the people that make me wish for a time machine, to go back and stop the proverbial last straw. Sometimes the ache for that "lost kinship" is so strong, I feel my heart crack. Cliche, I suppose.

And yet, as someone once said, nothing is random. Not even those losses.

My brain knows that. But please don't tell my heart. I just don't think it understands.

I miss you, D.

The Book In my Bag Today: Stolen, Kelley Armstrong

Diary of a maiden voyage

My boss would kill me for saying this, but in addition to the overall health benefits of cycling to work, a two-hour voyage provides numerous opportunities for multi-tasking. Before you join in her rant about safety and focus, please consider the following:

Biking provides a close-up perspective of Edmonton's streets. Now, when I hear people complain about the pot holes, uneven roads, or speed bumps, I'll speak up instead of blinking in naivety.

Navigating the city's streets-and-avenues grid system on two wheels helps to hone my long-forgotten geography skills. It pays to know east and west, north and south. A compass might also be beneficial, but why take away ALL of the challenge?

There's no study that I'm aware of, but cyclists must be better mathematicians. Eighty second avenue, minus 28th avenue, equals 54 blocks remaining...and at about 56 revolutions per block, that's just over 3,000 leg pumps until I stop - or fall over.

Cyclists are also great driver's ed instructors. Yes, crazy lady in the jeep, I know your vehicle goes four wheeling, but inner city curb hopping isn't cool. And Mr. Smart, I know you're just "yittle" but I have no desire to be your speed bump.

I can also practice my gratitude wave for those gracious enough not to run me off the road (you know who you are) - and mutter threats to the jerks in Tonka Trucks who think they own the road. Yes, I do see by the proclamation on your bumper that your balls ARE bigger, but they won't help you suffer the wrath of my handsome husband if you knock me off my bike. Just saying.

Biking, particularly long distances, allows you the opportunity to listen to those songs you skip when the "forward" button is not buried under a layer of moisture-wick clothing. Who knew I liked BrokenCYDE?

And, cycling provides a compelling reason for me to don that Nike sports wear and assess whether I really can "Just do it."

I'm also strength training. Not only in the traditional sense, but also by demonstrating my pack rat nature. In the bag strapped to my back, I learned I can carry: a hair straightener, styling products, make-up, a change of clothes and shoes, my lunch, a generous water bottle, a paperback, my moleskin notebook, pens and pencils, my wallet, a hat, house keys, my bike lock and four elastics.

Street biking is excellent prep for Spin class. Except when you have the psycho instructor whose idea of a good time is "waterfalls" - a long trek to the peak of a steep hill, and then out-of-control speed on the downhill. Twice.

Outdoor cycling is also wonderful for facing your fears. Attempting to cross a bridge with no bike lane, in rush hour, is only marginally more frightening than staring down the steep decline at 103 street and questioning if your squeaking brakes need oil or are simply ready to give out.

And of course, time spent on the bike is wonderful for mental paperwork - like plotting a scene, creating a to-do list, or coming up with blog posts.

Next outing, I plan to catch up on my reading (downloading an audio book onto my iPod right now), practice my photo skills (I did not take the featured pic, but COULD have if I'd had my camera) and, if I'm feeling ambitious, I'll attempt to chew gum at the same time.

The Book In My Bag Today: Stolen, Kelley Armstrong

The strong, hopefully silent muse

Shhh.

I'm concentrating.

What do you think's going on behind Colin Farrel's smoldering dark eyes? Is that a shark's tooth around his neck, nestled against his, um, firm chest? And that tattoo...what do you think he would say about it if I asked him?

I wouldn't. Ask him about it, that is. Because while Colin Farrel is easy on the eyes, he's best when he doesn't speak. It's not that I don't appreciate his accent, but the Hollywood bad boy has a history of sticking his foot in that sexy mouth.

Which of course makes him the perfect muse avatar.

It's all about focus this week. Taking advantage of the time I've got to write. Making sure my crit partners get their pages, ensuring I hold up my end of the bargain. No more whining about lack of inspiration. No more letting "life" get in the way. Solid writing time. Every day.

The last thing I need is for Colin to start debating with me, allowing some potential doubt to seep in. Not while I'm in Genius Mode, that's for sure.

But if he wants to pop into my dreams, or my peripheral vision, to give me a silent pep talk, who am I to stop him?

The Book In My Bag Today: Stolen, Kelley Armstrong

Book 19 - Bitten

My BF has never given me reason to doubt - Karen has impeccable taste in literature. And while we've followed each other's recommendations with little hesitation, I found myself resisting before reading Kelley Armstrong's Bitten, despite Karen's enthusiastic assurances that I would "love" it, along with everything else Armstrong has written.

Perhaps it was the idea of werewolves. Before Bitten, my knowledge of them extended to Twilight's Jacob and the delicious work of my friend Tielle St. Clare. Despite having little trouble with the thought of romance between vampires and humans, I've struggled with...wolves.

Silly, silly Dawn.

Bitten has sat untouched on my shelf for months, partially because I was afraid of cracking the spine on one of Karen's precious paperbacks. But then my handsome husband came home bearing gifts one afternoon - three books, all by Kelley Armstrong. He claims to have chosen them after "reading the backs" and figuring they'd be something I like. So with two of the people I trust most in the world urging me to give Kelley a chance, I relented.

Oh. My. God.

I whipped through Bitten, captivated by the author's voice. Somehow, Kelley made "werewolves in Toronto" seem like the most natural thing in the world. I believed Elena's desperate attempt for life away from the Pack, her desire to cultivate human relationships, maintain a normal job. I could even picture her painfully changing from beautiful girl to beast, taking cover in the city's ravines in her quest to feed the inevitable hunger.

And when Elena is called back by the Pack leader to solve a horrifying mystery, I felt her conflict. Stonehaven represents everything she has tried to escape, including the magnetic pull of her werewolf lover, Clayton.

And oh what a pull he has. Despite feeling sorry for Elena's Canadian boyfriend, wild dogs (ahem) couldn't have kept me from Clay. He possesses that necessary mix of gentleman and rogue, a charming bad boy with a killer physique and animalistic lust.

Werewolf lust.

So not what I expected to enjoy - and yet, I've barely closed the book and am already reaching for the second, Stolen.

The reader in me is excited. But my writer side is having a total geek-out moment. Kelley's "voice" is distinct to be sure, but she does everything else so right I'm slightly slack-jawed at the accomplishment. The sensory description is beautiful and so detailed I can almost feel Elena go through the change. Crisp, fun dialogue moves the plot forward, and while there are fewer swoon-worthy moments between the love interests than other books in this genre, the chemistry, the brotherhood, and the sense of family provides enough emotional angst you don't need false promises of "forever."

In Bitten, Kelley has allowed the reader to suspend disbelief. To think, that just maybe, your next-door neighbour might be slipping into the ravine at night to hunt rabbits and bay at the moon.

That's amazing fiction, folks.

The Book In My Bag Today: Stolen, Kelley Armstrong