In case you haven't heard, the novel I'm writing right now, Brooms, book 2 in the Uncanny Icons Series, is about curling (and witches and lake monsters). Like virtually every other kid from small town Saskatchewan, I grew up curling, both informally and as part of a school team. However, I haven't played for decades, and even when I did play, I didn't have much insight into the game beyond draws and takeouts. So, as part of my writing process for this book, I've spent a lot of time schooling myself on basic curling strategy and tactics. It's been so fun that it's given me a hunger to get back into the game.

To help me visual certain sequences in the book, I found it helpful to create my own curling "rocks" and "ice." The above photo gives you a sense of what that looks like--Lego studs on a crudely drawn curling ring (the page subsequently covered with my scribbled notes from watching curling tutorials on YouTube). It doesn't look like much, but it's been immensely helpful in trying to solve certain story problems. As always, writing is a messy process, and I can't think of a better example of that than my artistic skills--except perhaps for my handwriting. 

In addition to visualizing the game and certain shots or configurations of rocks on the ice, I also had to organize a bonspiel consisting of ten teams divided into two pools of five, each pool playing in a round-robin format. That took a bit of figuring, but I created a bonspiel schedule on a spreadsheet to help keep everything straight, and I'm so glad I did! These curling teams have some strange names, such as the Black Mammoth Front, so they would have been too difficult to keep track of otherwise.

​The key takeaway is that there's never a right and a wrong way to do this. All that matters is doing what works, and this method certainly did.

Onward!

I just killed someone. For the first time ever. And it was horrifying. At least I hope it was. 

​Oh, did I forget to include a little detail? I didn't do it for real. I did it in the novel that I'm currently writing, Brooms, book 2 in the Uncanny Icons Serie. However, the deeper I delve into this manuscript (nearly 43,000 words and counting so far), the more real this fictional world and the characters (and creatures) that inhabit it are beginning to feel. 

In fact, when I broke for lunch after writing that scene today, I actually had to take a bit of time away from the manuscript just to process what had happened, seeing as I had no idea when I started writing that sequence this morning that that's how things would end up. 

Now that the story has taken this turn, I'm super excited to find out where things will go from here, but I'm also a little bit frightened. If I didn't see this death coming, who knows who might be next?

The other day I wrote a post about how the often unusual type of research required to write a novel. On that day I was focused on lake monsters and such. Today it's been all about the occultic properties of different types of rocks and metals, a surprisingly interesting history of the evolution of curling rocks, pages that explain how to work with granite and attach things to it, and this page from Lee Valley (you'll have to read the book to find out how this item factors into Brooms). Plus, I also stumbled across the following painting that depicts people curling in 1635, which is close to when my story begins.

No matter what I'm writing, whether fiction or non-fiction, it always requires a lot of research. Some of this research I do beforehand, but other research happens on the fly as I'm trying to figure out how to crack a scene or if I need some key facts to make a character sound like an expert on a particular subject. Right now I'm in the midst of the first draft of Brooms, book 2 in the Uncanny Icons Series. As I've mentioned before, the book ties together witches, lake monsters, and curling. It also takes place on Deep Bay, which is at the south end of Reindeer Lake, Saskatchewan.

The scene I'm writing currently takes place in a school library, where the resident cryptozoologist is trying to make a case for why people who categorically reject the existence of lake monsters are wrong. Hence, right now some of the browser tabs I have open include a link to spurious correlations, a Skeptical Inquirer article on lake monster lookalikes, a satellite map of Reindeer Lake, and the official Loch Ness Monster Sightings Register.  Yesterday, my tabs included a description of the book Peter Puck: Love That Hockey Game, a map that shows the mythical monsters that haunt the US, and an image search for aquatic dinosaurs.

This is one of the funnest aspects of writing. I never know where the story is going to take me next. It also makes me tremendously thankful for the Internet because virtually anything I need to know is at my fingertips. 

And for you budding writers out there, I can't tell you how many times research has spurred a story idea or helped me solve a problem that I've been stuck on. Case in point: Brooms also involves the five elements, both western (earth, water, fire, air, spirit) and eastern versions (water, wood, fire, earth, metal). The most difficult element to incorporate into this story has been fire. However, while researching the type of wood typically used to create the handle for a witch's broom (it's ash, by the way), I happened to stumble across an article that noted that ash trees are among the most likely trees to be struck by lightning (due to their high water content). Bingo! Suddenly, I had a way to incorporate a version of fire (electricity) into my story in a way that's 100% logical (something I always try to do). Keep an eye out for how that enters the story close to the book's climax!

I'm probably more attuned to this sort of thing than normal seeing as I'm currently writing a novel about a lake monster (book 2 in the Uncanny Icons Series, but it seems like suddenly this subject is showing up way more than normal. First there was a couple who posted new footage that supposedly shows the Loch Ness Monster--or at least a wake created by a large creature in the loch. Then I just read this morning about a new TV series called The Essex Serpent, based on the 2018 novel of the same name by Sarah Perry, which is about a "water horse." 

I just blocked off the next few weeks to complete my first draft of Brooms, book 2 in the Uncanny Icons Series. Seeing as it involves witchcraft, I've done all sorts of research on this subject as well as so-called "sacred geometry." In the process, I came across the painting below, "The Magic Circle" by John William Waterhouse (1886). The novel's opening scene involves just such a circle, though it's created for entirely different reasons . . .

A while back, I mentioned that I was editing a book by William B. Davis, perhaps best known as the Cigarette Smoking Man on the X-Files, but who has also acted in dozens of other TV shows, films, and plays. With a career spanning 70 years, during which he not only acted but also directed, working with the likes of Maggie Smith, Brian Cox, Donald Sutherland, and a host of other greats, William has learned a lot about the craft, and he has distilled those key lessions--as well as a brief autobiography--into a new book called On Actiong . . . and Life. If you're an aspiring actor or director, I highly recommend you give it a read. Available wherever books are sold. 

I'm seven days away from launching into a three-week writing marathon to complete the first draft of Brooms, book 2 in the Uncanny Icons series. Seeing as the story centers on witches, curling, and lake monsters, my antenna is up in regard to all three subjects. So, I was delighted this morning to see brand-new footage of something strange in Loch Ness, home to one of the most fabled (and likely mythical) lake monsters, Nessie. This footage captures a strange wake made by something moving underwater in the lake. I'm curious to see what kind of explanation is offered. You can watch the vidoe here.