Part of writing professionally is sending out work to prospective magazines, and that results in receiving rejection notices. This isn't a bad thing -- sometimes what you've written just isn't right for the publication. That's cool. I try my best to send appropriate material to journals, but sometimes my spidey senses are off. S'no problem.

A few years ago, I wrote an article called "Stand Your Ground: The Female Art of Urination", which was accepted by Herizons Magazine. It was published nationally and went on to all sorts of places, ending up on reading lists for feminist literature at a couple of universities here & there. I got quite a bit of feedback from women who didn't know that girls can learn to pee standing -- it isn't easy to learn, but it's possible, and it's a REALLY handy trick for a girl to have!

So, knowing it's been a few years since the article came out, I pared it down and re-wrote it for an online how-to magazine and sent it off to them. I didn't know if they'd want it or not, and from the rejection letter, they don't. Again, that's okay. But one part of the rejection note really irked me, and I've been out in my garden, trimming back the geraniums, and trying to figure out why it bugged me as much as it has. Like I said, getting rejection notices is not anything new -- I know it's just a part of the business.

Then I realized, it was one little line in the note. The editor wrote, "This information is not "article-worthy", given that everyone knows how to do it."

Do they?

Really?

Because, from the feedback I've received over the last few years, that's not the impression I've been given.

So I figured, if they don't want it for their magazine, that's okay by me, but I don't think all women DO know how to 'do it' -- nice euphamism, by the way -- and summertime is the season when women camp, hike, travel, and portage into the most bathroom-unfriendly locations. So in the interest of helping out those women who DON'T know that (with a little practice) they can avoid trickling down their own legs, I am putting my short how-to article up here. Maybe 99.9% of women already know how to pee standing up, and they just never talk about it, but for that last lone woman who thinks that she's chained to a life of squatting over crusty toilets, trying to disinfect her thighs afterwards with a crumpled wet-nap fished out of the bottom of her purse... sister, this is for you.

How to Pee Standing Up: A Guide for Adventurous Women

From the earliest days of childhood, we're separated into two camps: those who sit and those who stand. Yet as recently as 150 years ago, women stood as often as men to relieve themselves, and in many countries -- India and the Philippines, for example -- it is still a widespread and acceptable practice. In his book The Histories, Herodotus wrote "Women [in Egypt] urinate standing up, men sitting down," a revelation that shocked his Greek sensibilities, and amongst the matrilineal Tualag people of the Sahara , this method of division has continued into the present day. Girls in Western countries have been hoodwinked into believing that the efficiency of standing to urinate is the sole capacity of boys. When presented with a non-Western toilet, most women born in Western countries are confounded -- and unaware of their own abilities.

But standing to urinate does have its advantages when you're camping, traveling, or trapped in a filthy public restroom. And with a little practice, you can learn to do it, too. Here's a few tricks to master the art of standing to pee:

1. Like any new skill, it takes practice! You may want to start practicing in the shower.

2. Stand with your feet about a shoulder's width apart.

3. The easiest method is to make a "V" with two fingers to hold the outer labia aside.

4. Then, using as much pressure as possible, release.

With each attempt, you'll get better. The key to success is to figure out exactly where to put your fingers, and in what direction to apply pressure. Don't compare your success or failure to the boys -- they've had a head start and a lifetime of practice. And most importantly, don't give up! With practice, you'll master the art of standing to pee, and the next time you're camping, you'll be glad you did.

The day threatened rain, with a 60% chance of showers. Steel-grey clouds, thick as sopping lambswool, hung heavy over the park.

The generous organizers of the Comox Valley Community Market provided us with a tent -- this gave me some solace, but not much. The amount of solace I felt was directly in proportion to the size of the tent: small. What do we do, should the heavens open and sheets of rain descend? Most of Shawn's gear is electrical equipment -- I had visions of crowds zipping, popping, jerking, electrocuted to the soundtrack of screaming electric guitars and roiling thunder. *shudder*

We set up the guitars and the keyboard and the amps. Every few minutes, we'd look up to the sky and wonder.

The first set started at 11:00am. The market was not busy, and Shawn began to play. Almost immediately, two other vendors rushed over to us, a tall man dressed in black from the Pirate Toys tent and a prim woman in a cardigan from a stall full of knitted shawls. Two more dissimilar people would be hard to find.

But they both said the exact same thing. "Turn it up! Please turn it up! He's much too quiet!"

Well! That's a good sign.

A brief lunch at high noon brought us to his second set at 12:30, and it was marvelous. All the bugs and ideosyncracies had been fixed during the first set, and Shawn turned the volume up to 11. He played flawlessly. People were clapping along with the beat, CDs aplenty were sold, and the afternoon flew by. Friends dropped in (including one who had a booth of her own in the market), and we all sat on the grass and sang along. At one point, he even had a bevy of us waving our arms in the air to the rhythm. He laughed, sang louder, took requests.

He's such a rock star. :D

The market organizers asked him to play again, once on July 25 and again on August 15. Oh yes, we will be back. By the end of the day, we were both EXHAUSTED, but thanks to the aforementioned friends who stayed to help us pack the car (you guys are awesome!), we were home earlier than anticipated.

And just as we got home, the rain began to pour. I was relieved, but really, I wasn't surprised....

He's a musician, you know, and musicians have impeccable timing.

(one) The car is packed.
(two) I'm so nervous, I can't eat breakfast.
(three) The sun is shining and it looks like it's going to be a glorious day. YES!

We're on our way to Shawn's performance at Simm's Millennium. I'll try to take pictures, but it's going to be insanely busy. Wish him luck!

Or, if you're superstitious like me, to break a leg. I guess that's more traditional. Violent, but traditional.

1. S sent me the trailer for "New Moon", and frankly, I'm really sick of the "vampires vs werewolves" story line. I'm tempted to write a book in which vampires and werewolves meet, and they discover that actually have a lot in common, and they all go down to the beach for a picnic and have some nice conversations. Then they 'friend' each other on Facebook and never really speak to each other again. The end.

2. Tightrope Books is going to release "She's Shameless: Women Write About Growing Up, Rocking Out, & Fighting Back", in which you'll find my short essay, 'A Little Lesson in Lust'. Book launch to take place at the Gladstone Hotel Ballroom, 1214 Queen St West, Toronto on Tuesday June 23 at 8pm. Doors open at 7:30pm, and admission is $5, or free with book purchase.

3. We went to see 'Up' last weekend, and took Little Z, who crawled into my lap halfway through the movie because the big screen, big sound, big chase scene was perhaps a bit much for her to stomach. It was a good movie - heck, it's Pixar, which is now considered synonymous with 'good' in the New Oxford Dictionary - but the first ten minutes were perhaps the most bittersweet, depressing character introduction I've ever seen in a film designed for the under-5 set. I basically started crying at 3 minutes in, and didn't stop until we were halfway home.

And because we had to drive a hour to get to a theatre showing 'Up', "half-way home" equals 50kms. I like living in this place, but the two things I miss the most are (a) choice of restaurants and (b) choice of theatres. Yeah, I know, I can hear you from here, GOML... I have nothing to complain about.

4. I woke up at 5-freaking-thirty in the morning, and couldn't go back to sleep, so I dragged myself out of bed and began my next novel. I've had this idea prowling around my skull since last November, but hadn't actually put pen to paper (or, more precisely, fingertips to keyboard) until today. It feels good, to be writing a big chunk of fiction. It's like embarking on a grand voyage, and I'm not sure where it will take me, but I'm ready for the journey. It's better than waiting for feedback from publishers for the current novel, the mystery novel, which is now sitting on a few slush piles, gathering dust in distant offices. I'm collaborating on a children's book, too, but working with another person is a very different sort of process to writing alone -- enjoyable in its own way, but not the same.

And at 5:30am, typing vigorously as I made stuff up, with not another soul awake for miles around, I could almost believe that everything is perfect in the universe. That's a lovely way to start a day.


moar funny pictures

Hey, cherished friends of mine!

If you're in the Comox Valley on June 20th, drop by Simms Millennium Park and the Comox Valley Community Market to hear Shawn play songs from his newest CD, "Are You Waiting?"... tell your neighbours, bring your friends, invite that strange guy in front of you in the grocery line.

Okay, maybe not him... he looks shifty and he's talking to himself, and he's buying a heck of a lot of toilet paper.

But everyone else! Spread the word! The event starts at 10:30 am, and Shawn will be playing a number of sets throughout the day, ending at 3:30 pm. Plus, there's a beautiful market to browse, arts and crafts aplenty, food and drink, and a refreshing riverside breeze to keep the day cool. Bring sunscreen, a large hat, and I'll save a seat on the grass for you! ;)



As a side note, with all this promotional work, I totally feel like Mel from Flight of the Conchords. If I wasn't already married to Shawn, I think I would be utterly indistinguishable from her: round face, socially awkward, large collections of eclectic books, passionately in loooooove with our chosen musician(s). I have not yet started to stalk Shawn in an SUV, however, nor am I a Junior Professor of Psychology, so there's hope for me yet.

... is where I go when I want to hide from the party upstairs. (I do not like social gatherings, but I was willing to swallow my fears and attend the fundraiser for the Cumberland Museum, because museums are very important places -- support your local museum!) I offered my faceless miner buddy a glass of wine, but he said, if it wasn't Lucky, he didn't want it.



Fair enough. All the more for me.

In January of 1912, the No. 8 Mine was opened. The tunnels reached 295 meters down and promised a great wealth of coal, but almost as quickly as it was opened, it was closed in August of 1914. The equipment was removed, the tunnels allowed to fill with water, and the mine's nickname, "Million Dollar Mystery", began to circulate. In truth, there was little mystery; the mine's development had stretched the financial limits of the colliery and it didn't make good fiscal sense to keep it running. However, some names are hard to shake, especially if they promise an enigma.

No. 8 reopened for production in 1937, and closed for good in 1953. The forest was left to reclaim the ruins, and this is what exists today.



When we were in high school, this place had garnered the nickname of "Drac's Castle". There were all sorts of stories about it being haunted, and the place had a creepy feel about it, to be sure. I remember hearing that a television would inexplicably work if it was turned on here, (cue scary music) without being plugged in!!!!! I don't know who in their right mind would drag a TV out to Drac's Castle to see if it would turn on or not -- I suppose the story itself dissuaded people from actually putting it to the test.

And honestly, what's so scary about a ghost making your T.V. work? It doesn't HURT you. It doesn't put you in IMMINENT PERIL. It just means you can catch an episode of "House" while sitting in the middle of the woods. Thanks, Denizens of the Netherrealm, for the free cable!



Anyway, for a mystery and a haunted ruin, it's become a very soothing, serene spot to spend a bit of time with family and friends and dog. It's lost its creepiness and become more contemplative. Or maybe I've become more contemplative, and less likely to jump at the first hint of creepiness... yes, I think this must be true. The ferns have grown up around the concrete foundations, and maple trees have woven their branches amongst stately, cathedral-like arches. The only sound to break the stillness are the ravens cawing in the trees. Even your footfalls are muffled by the moss.

'Round about this time of year, I find it progressively more difficult to be a writer.

It isn't that I don't love writing -- I do! I really, really do! It's just that, well... the sun is shining and the apple blossoms are unfurling on the branches and the breeze holds that wonderful sweet fragrance of running sap and breathing trees. In the morning, the world seems fresh and new, and in the evening, the sun is reluctant to set, and when night finally arrives, it brings with it a vibrant chorus of frogsong illuminated by starlight. The sparrows are twittering in the hedge, the wolves are howling in the mountains, and the bears have begun their annual ritual of snuffling around my vegetable gardens.

Frankly, sitting at a computer stinks. My body yearns to move.

My novel is at a point where there's nothing more to be done (except wait for replies from the publishers). I could start a new project, but frankly, I don't want to; I need a little holiday from fiction. So the only thing that demands my extra-curricular literary attention is the blog, and because I'd rather be outside, it will invariably suffer. You're all lovely people, but I want to get my hands dirty. I want to walk in the hills and wade in the tidal pools. I want to bike, and hike, and swim, and explore. I want to get outside my head and play.

For the next few weeks, I predict that my posts will be sporadic at best. I'm really going to phone it in. You'll be able to tell -- both the quality and quantity are going to go waaaaaay down. But please keep in mind: for every spelling error, lame topic, and re-post ripped from years past, you'll know I'm out having a merry time in the woods, skipping through sunny glades and catching butterflies. And when I finally come to my senses and realize that nature is brutish and filthy and lacks a place to get a decent cup of cappuccino, I'll be back.

Hopefully with stories to tell.

Website Updated

Well, I think the subtitle might be self-explanatory..... S & I have updated my website, which was previously full of broken links and missing a lot of current data. Please, do pop by and have a visit and let me know what you think.

Emily Dickinson


"Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves
And Immortality."

Three cheers for Emily Dickinson who, on May 15th, 1886, joined Death in his Carriage and boldly rode away. She was one of those poets I adored when I was a teenage -- Dickinson, Poe, Baudelaire, Lovecraft. Not exactly a sunny quartet, to be sure, but I still love reading their words.