New Author Photo for Tim Reynolds

Covers included here are Podthology: The Pod Complex, Stand Up &  Succeed, the Cynglish Beat, Canadian Rockies (a photo book), and 20001: A Steampunk Odyssey.

The background image was taken at FUK Comedy in Calgary during my days of stand-up comedy.

Writers and Editors

The hardest part about being a writer isn’t the writing (or it shouldn’t be), but rather the waiting for an editor to say “I LOVE IT!” or “Thank you sir/madam for your submission but your story/novel/haiku is not the right fit for us.”
To hell with instant gratification, I prefer instant REJECTION. Waiting to be rejected?! That’s nuts!

Yes, editors are busy, and yes, all submissions must be received before decisions are made so that the best COLLECTION can be created. I understand all that. I was an editor, too. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

***

What I hope all the submission editors I contact understand is that a story may be my baby, but I’m not adverse to editor-suggested surgery to make my baby a better fit.

Literary Liposuction for the drawn-out ending? DONE!

Bookish Botox to fill in the historical flavouring? DONE and DONE!

Adjective Implants to lift the prose above average? Hell yah!

A Motivation Manicure to give the tale a more refined touch? Just tell me where and when!

Point of View Nip & Tuck? What are we waiting for?!

Writers not willing to make refinements might just have an overinflated view of the value of their work. Of course editors wanting to take a Flowers For Algernon-type tale and make it a space opera with Einstein-the-ape and a world-eating turtle who gains and loses intelligence need to be… well… use your imagination.

Just my collected and typed thoughts for the day before I actually pretend to get down to the task of writing.

That’s it, that’s all.

Ciao for now,

Tim.

Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise taken from Fairview Lookout.

This is my photo of Chateau Lake Louise at the shore of glacial Lake Louise in Banff National Park.I sold the original to the hotel back in the 90s and this link is from their website where they are still using the image.

Yes, the Lake really is that colour. This was taken in the fall after the first snowfall (late Sept or early Oct) but before the lake freezes. The lake doesn’t thaw again until June so to get clear skies, fresh snow and no ice is a real treat for a photographer up there, even one who lives in the buildings behind the hotel.

Damn, I miss the place. But cold? It hit -60C with windchill there once and -40 isn’t uncommon. And winter is outrageously long. No wonder we drank a lot.

Once the lake freezes nearby Brewster Stables runs horse-drawn sleigh rides down one shore of the lake. Cuddle with your sweetie under the blankets and see one of the most stunning winter views in North America.

Time to go make some tea, because just thinking about winter up there makes me cold. I used to work ON the frozen lake in winter, standing next to an ice castle, offering people hot chocolate. Hey, someone had to do it.

 

Ciao for now.

Tim.

Photo by Timothy G.M. Reynolds. Image is the property of Fairmont Hotels and Resorts.

Cross-Pollination in Writing…

In the last six months I’ve sold three short stories, written three more and have two more and two novels on various spinning plates and have taken a break this evening to watch I AM COMIC on Netflix.

I spent six years playing in the open mic night amateur scene in Calgary and with one or two exceptions I wrote all my own material. I’m watching this documentary about the writing of jokes and the business of comedy and the pain the comics go through when they put themselves out there for the audience to love or hate, and I’m having flashbacks of the best and worse kind.

As a comic I would watch the entire world just beyond my finger tips, looking for weird shit and finding a way to comment on it and make people laugh. I’d hear a conversation between two teens that his mother is spreading rumors that her father got the mother pregnant. The boy said “I know, sorry about that.” It would have been simply interesting eavesdropping except that the two teens were boyfriend/girlfriend. The kids were dating and their parents were screwing!

I saw a sign on a subway car advertising the benefits of seeing the local philharmonic live. The poster was a bunch of middle-aged philharmonic fans posing like rock concert fans with ‘Rock-on’ hand signs (looks like the sign for ‘bullshit’ with the thumb sticking out) and screaming faces. The word on the top was “LIVE”. It was a cool ad until I shifted my position and saw it reflected behind a woman sitting on the train. Because it was backward in the reflection, the word “LIVE” became the word “EVIL” and the rock-on hand sign became finger-shaped horns behind this woman’s head. Was the universe telling me she was evil? Maybe. Will I use it in a story? Read on.

My point is, the joke that came out of it didn’t get a lot of laughs (most of my audiences preferred jokes about dicks) but the incident became integral to the concept behind my short story “Shut Up and Drive“, about a man driving a bus full of relief aid workers who turn out to be demons when he sees them in the rear-view mirror.

My novel, The Broken Shield, in part came from a moment I shared with a complete stranger while I was driving a bus (the day job). She was waiting to cross the street and she looked up at me the moment I looked down at her. Then we both smiled, not because we were flirting, but because we somehow knew each other and had known each other for centuries. It was a “Oh hi. There you are” moment.  And then she was gone, never to be seen by me again. I can’t explain the reality behind it, but because I was so used to grabbing at moments for my comedy, I remembered the feeling and the moment and gave it to my characters to play with. I asked “What if”.

I was at a meeting of the Imaginative Fiction Writers’ Association (IFWA) last week and the guest speaker for the first hour was poet Bob Stallworthy. He was fun and entertaining and talented and then my epiphany moment occurred. Even though my book of poetry, The Cynglish Beat sold only two copies, the work that went into the writing of an entire tome of cynical, beat poetry has coloured my fiction writing as I break the prose rules and write for the emotions and not for the brain.

I have writing friends who have been working on the same short story for two years or more. Yes, I have stories that sit unfinished or unpolished, including a fantasy novel I started in 1981, but I have written novels and screenplays and short stories and self-help guides and poems by the pound since that first novel. At any given time I can find three things in the world around me and at least find a premise for a short story in there. Sometimes an entire novel springs forth, or a twist to a project already under way. I can’t wrap myself up in my own little world and expect to produce anything without lifting my head up from the keyboard and actually seeing what’s out there and then thinking about it like a comic, a poet or even as a photographer, which I am.

Great writing does not happen in isolation. Writers of every ilk must be sponges, absorbing whatever the universe throws in our path at that moment. Like all writers I get asked “Where do you get your ideas?” The simple answer? They find me. And I’m waiting with open arms.

That’s it for this evening. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

 

Ciao for now,

Tim.

A New Steampunk Anthology!

20001 A Steampunk Odyssey

Very quickly, my first Steampunk story, “Hawkwood’s Folly” is available in KindlingPress’ 20001: A Steampunk Odyssey, which is now available as an eBook from Amazon.com and Smashwords.

“From gunshots in the streets of Paris to brass-and-glass automatons on the sea floor off the coast of North Africa, “Hawkwood’s Folly” draws an English lord, a French doctor and a young Russian bo’s'n’s mate into the deadly ocean depths on their quest to build a Utopia where no man has ventured before.

“Hawkwood’s Folly” blends together equal portions of science, philosophy, and adventure in a Jules Verne homage that asks ‘how far is too far?’.”

Remains found in the wreckage of Hawkwood's Haven

That’s it, that’s all.

Ciao for now.

Tim.

Jack Layton’s Letter to Canadians

I reprint this here in its entirety so that maybe one or two people who haven’t read it yet, can. For non-Canadians, Jack Layton was the leader of Canada’s federal New Democrat Party. He died this week of cancer.

~Tim.

**************************

(REPRINTED FROM Yahoo News)

TORONTO – Jack Layton’s family has released a letter the federal NDP leader wrote just two days prior to his death today at the age of 61. The text of that letter follows.

August 20, 2011

Toronto, Ontario

Dear Friends,

Tens of thousands of Canadians have written to me in recent weeks to wish me well. I want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful, inspiring and often beautiful notes, cards and gifts. Your spirit and love have lit up my home, my spirit, and my determination.

Unfortunately my treatment has not worked out as I hoped. So I am giving this letter to my partner Olivia to share with you in the circumstance in which I cannot continue.

I recommend that Hull-Aylmer MP Nycole Turmel continue her work as our interim leader until a permanent successor is elected.

I recommend the party hold a leadership vote as early as possible in the New Year, on approximately the same timelines as in 2003, so that our new leader has ample time to reconsolidate our team, renew our party and our program, and move forward towards the next election.

A few additional thoughts:

To other Canadians who are on journeys to defeat cancer and to live their lives, I say this: please don’t be discouraged that my own journey hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped. You must not lose your own hope. Treatments and therapies have never been better in the face of this disease. You have every reason to be optimistic, determined, and focused on the future. My only other advice is to cherish every moment with those you love at every stage of your journey, as I have done this summer.

To the members of my party: we’ve done remarkable things together in the past eight years. It has been a privilege to lead the New Democratic Party and I am most grateful for your confidence, your support, and the endless hours of volunteer commitment you have devoted to our cause. There will be those who will try to persuade you to give up our cause. But that cause is much bigger than any one leader. Answer them by recommitting with energy and determination to our work. Remember our proud history of social justice, universal health care, public pensions and making sure no one is left behind. Let’s continue to move forward. Let’s demonstrate in everything we do in the four years before us that we are ready to serve our beloved Canada as its next government.

To the members of our parliamentary caucus: I have been privileged to work with each and every one of you. Our caucus meetings were always the highlight of my week. It has been my role to ask a great deal from you. And now I am going to do so again. Canadians will be closely watching you in the months to come. Colleagues, I know you will make the tens of thousands of members of our party proud of you by demonstrating the same seamless teamwork and solidarity that has earned us the confidence of millions of Canadians in the recent election.

To my fellow Quebecers: On May 2nd, you made an historic decision. You decided that the way to replace Canada’s Conservative federal government with something better was by working together in partnership with progressive-minded Canadians across the country. You made the right decision then; it is still the right decision today; and it will be the right decision right through to the next election, when we will succeed, together. You have elected a superb team of New Democrats to Parliament. They are going to be doing remarkable things in the years to come to make this country better for us all.

To young Canadians: All my life I have worked to make things better. Hope and optimism have defined my political career, and I continue to be hopeful and optimistic about Canada. Young people have been a great source of inspiration for me. I have met and talked with so many of you about your dreams, your frustrations, and your ideas for change. More and more, you are engaging in politics because you want to change things for the better. Many of you have placed your trust in our party. As my time in political life draws to a close I want to share with you my belief in your power to change this country and this world. There are great challenges before you, from the overwhelming nature of climate change to the unfairness of an economy that excludes so many from our collective wealth, and the changes necessary to build a more inclusive and generous Canada. I believe in you. Your energy, your vision, your passion for justice are exactly what this country needs today. You need to be at the heart of our economy, our political life, and our plans for the present and the future.

And finally, to all Canadians: Canada is a great country, one of the hopes of the world. We can be a better one – a country of greater equality, justice, and opportunity. We can build a prosperous economy and a society that shares its benefits more fairly. We can look after our seniors. We can offer better futures for our children. We can do our part to save the world’s environment. We can restore our good name in the world. We can do all of these things because we finally have a party system at the national level where there are real choices; where your vote matters; where working for change can actually bring about change. In the months and years to come, New Democrats will put a compelling new alternative to you. My colleagues in our party are an impressive, committed team. Give them a careful hearing; consider the alternatives; and consider that we can be a better, fairer, more equal country by working together. Don’t let them tell you it can’t be done.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

All my very best,

Jack Layton

There…they’re…their…thar…the hair…the rare air…

Admittedly the English Language is a bitch to learn with all of our contrary rules, but the people who make the most mistakes with there-they’re-their are ones who were born and raised in it. Sometimes they’re double-digit-generational English-speakers.

It’s laziness, pure and simple. Lazy spellers, lazy educational system more interested in getting them in one end and out the other (I was a grade 3 teacher, I know) and lazy people who won’t mock and ridicule and ostracize the their-they’re-there abusers enough to make them see the light.

Let’s all take a stand a defriend anyone who uses them incorrectly on Facebook. They get one warning shot and then it’s “Sorry, Mom, your language skills are insufficient for me to warrant keeping you as a friend. Good-bye. See you for supper on Sunday?” .

Ciao for now.

Timbo.

Just an Excuse to Buy More Useless Crap!

Hey there.

Welcome to 2011! I hope the remainder of your 2010 was upbeat, positive and full of promise for the new year. That said, here`s the latest bit of news from the Tao of Tim front lines.

Back in August I had an epiphany and started writing a new novel at an alarming pace (for me). To date I have 65,000 words of the 100,000-word project done and although I’m mostly happy with the results, the focus of this blog is the fact that the story revolves around items (real and fictional) from throughout human history.

Because I like to do mock-ups of my covers I like to use my own props from the stories. Because I’m a rabid collection of ‘stuff’, I have a wealth of items around the house. Well, apparently I didn’t have enough items for this story and just had to start collecting more, making up little stories for each of these items.

I don’t want to give away any of the story, but here are a bunch of photos of the items which appear in this new story, The Broken Shield.

I`m still looking for the Holy Grail, so if any of you have seen it, please let me know.  But… don`t tell me if you found a replica of the prop used in the movie Indiana Jones & the Last Crusade — I don`t believe that the Grail was made of wood.

Ciao for now,

Tim.

The Royal Wedding Bracers of Atlantis

A Fragment of Freya’s Midsummer Spar

Mingmei`s Glass Dragon

The Bihari Frog

Chahaya’s Monkey

The Indrajatra Bells

Kokopellis Flute & Sweetgrass Braid

The Guardian of Lake Tanganyika: a Black Rhinoceros

la Verita de la Vida (The Wand of Life)

The Sword of Carolus Magnus (Charlemagne)

We’re too young… we’ll always be too young.

Paul Richardson is gone.

Almost none of you will know who I’m talking about, but that’s okay, because no one can know everyone so there are bound to be people who Paul didn’t touch. I haven’t seen him in years. I don’t even remember if I saw him at our high school reunion last year because there were just so many people there. But when I think of the kid I knew when he was five and in love with my kid sister, I smile. When I think of the man who died alone with his dog and was found at the bottom of the stairs, I want to weep and not stop.

In the last few years I’ve been dealing with my own mortality and not doing very well. I’ve had a couple health scares that were just false alarms, been fighting an unexpected depression which keeps coming back and been teetering on an edge that scares the hell out of me. None of this reflects on Paul’s untimely death, but his death does break my heart just that little bit more.

I’m going to try and deal with it as best as I can, try not to think about other young lives I’ve known that have ended too soon, by accident or sickness or despair. I suppose I should get back to reading one of my many books by Dr. Deepak Chopra. He helped me see a bit clearer when I had a chance to speak with him the evening before attending the funeral for a toddler, so maybe it’s time again to seek his words out.

Anyway, it’s late, Sue is snoring on the couch and we both need to go to bed. The animals are passed out and I’m feeling maudlin. To finish off, I’ve put Paul’s obit at the end.

Be well and hug the ones you love. If you don’t have anyone, send me a note. I can be an insensitive bastard at times, but once in a blue moon I actually understand where another person is coming from and can find it in me to share words of comfort or encouragement. Hey, and maybe, just maybe, you can help me find my way out of the dark.

Ciao for now.

Tim.

PAUL RICHARDSON:

Suddenly, at home following a brief illness, at age 48. Beloved son of Donna Richardson and the late John Makin Richardson. Dearly loved brother of Kim and Gerrit Buitenhuis, Mark and An Richardson, and Karen Anne Richardson. Admiring uncle of Leslie, Martha and Jenny …Richardson, Amy and Graham Buitenhuis, and Kayla and Benjamin Richardson-Piché. Paul’s sense of humour, kindness, zest for life and many talents inspired us. His love of animals, nature, gardening, photography, the guitar and his devoted friends sustained him. Paul’s sudden loss is profoundly felt by his family, many friends and his beloved dog Ozzy. A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. on Sunday, November 7, 2010 at Lawrence Park Community Church, 2180 Bayview Avenue (at Dawlish), Toronto. A reception to follow at the church. Donations in Paul’s name may be made to Evergreen at http://my.evergreen.ca/paul. Flowers are gratefully declined.

Paul Richardson & Ozzy

That World Wide Web thingy

Once again I am grateful for the resource that is the World Wide Web, the Internet.

I’m currently writing a novel which will eventually cover all corners of the globe a dozen or so mythologies,  and over two thousand years of history. At any given time I can be in need of the name of the ferry from Dover to Calais across the English channel, or the time difference between London and Santiago, Chile, or the location of an apartment complex in Devonport in Tasmania.

I need to know what kind of coal was pulled out of a certain mine, the location of a gay badminton club on another continent, what is the view from a condo balcony in Utah and the name of an all-father-type God in the aboriginal pantheon in Australia.

I need to know if a certain IH Youth Hostel I’ve never been to has private rooms or just dorm-style. I need to now the weather of a place all the way around on the other side/end of this big blue marble. I need to know exactly when Fidel Castro took back Cuba.

And it’s all at my finger tips. It’s all within the reach of my keyboard.

Even when it comes to the title of the book, I can search Amazon.com or Google, to see how many other works have an identical or even similar title.

I can use Google Streetview to ‘walk’ the same path that my character does, seeing the Toy Library on the corner just as he does. See that the door is on the left and the window is on the right, or vice versa, because sometimes that’s important, and I love getting details right.

I wish my father had been alive long enough to enjoy the benefits of the Internet. Over the phone (not Skype!) I walked my mother through her discovery of Streetview and she was able to show me the balcony of her new condo… two thousand miles away from where I was sitting at my keyboard, in my pajamas (don’t tell her!).

I suppose when I dedicate this book it will have to include something to Google and Yahoo and the inventors of the whole thing-a-ma-bob.

Oddly enough, though, the book isn’t about the Internet or the web. I leave that to writers like Robert J. Sawyer and his WWW trilogy, starting with WAKE and WATCH. For me, it’s simply a tool to help me add factual  & semi-factual depth to stories about people and places and times I will never meet, visit or live in.

That’s it. That’s all.

Ciao for now,

TR.