If no one has ever mentioned it to you, let me be the first: asking for money is hard. It helps when you believe in the reason for asking (in this case, my fantastic new novel The Ember and the Knife) but still, it takes a lot of moxie to ask folks to give up their hard earned cash to support your goals.

And I can’t keep from thinking about my friends who are scraping by as it is. Life is expensive, and I certainly know that (If I was flush with cash, I wouldn’t be out here dancing for nickels). So I want to take a moment and say something to everyone who’s feeling guilty because they’re torn between supporting me and paying their own bills. To my friends about to embark on the joyous, terrifying and expensive parenthood journey. To my entrepeneur friends fighting every day to build their businesses and keep the doors open. To my fellow writers who are trying to figure out how art and money can ever co-exist. To my older friends working to live within a tight fixed income. To anyone facing hard choices:

It’s okay. I understand. More than anything else, I want you to be healthy and happy.

But for the rest of the crowd who have a few extra bucks at the end of the week for a new boardgame or a fancy hat, here’s the link to the fundraising campaign: The Ember and the Knife fundraiser. Maybe chip in a little extra in honour of the folks who can’t. We’re all in this together, after all.

 

My Kickstarter campaign (here is the LINK) for my brand new book (The Ember and the Knife, book 4 of the Spellbound Railway Series) has…BEGUN!

What is Kickstarter, you ask? Online fundraising, simply put.

It allows creators (like me) to ask their supporters and fans (like you) to raise enough money to meet a specific goal (like buying an inventory of print copies of my fantastic new book and pay for some advertising to get new readers hooked on the series).

We have 30 days to hit the goal of raising $1000. I know that we can do it, because you are all fantastically supportive and wonderful human beings.

And for those in the crowd with empty pockets and straining budgets, I know how you feel. But never fear! You can do just as much good by spreading the word. Share on Facebook, tweet about it on Twitter, or write your own stirring blog post about the general awesomeness of crowdfunding and independent local publishing (with a link back to the Kickstarter, naturally).

Whatever you do, please know that I am grateful to have all of you cheering me on and giving me a helping hand on this strange creative journey. Thank you.

GO TEAM GO!

First, the official book stuff update:

The kickstarter fundraising campaign for book 4 “The Ember and the Knife” will launch next Monday. So clear off a little room on the ol’ credit card, stretch your retweeting/facebook sharing muscles, and get ready to cheer the project on. Go go go! I’ll post updates here as the thing rolls along, and hopefully we hit the goal well before the end date (beginning of October).

And now for something completely unrelated: my boy is growing up and I’m trying to handle that.

Yesterday was day one of Grade Three. Grade three is the point where my own childhood memories start to become cohesive. Instead of just flashes of random moments, I can recall full situations and the people within. Should I compare my experiences to my child’s? I’ll give that a complicated ‘yes’ as an answer, with a long list of provisos (provisos available upon request).

And to be honest, my sense of time passing and his growing older hit me the day before school started. I was out for a walk around Springbank Park, and as I passed Storybook Gardens, I realized it had been at least a year since Max and I went there. It used to be our weekly destination, back when he was wee. Now he’s too tall for a lot of the activities, and too old to enjoy others.

To top it all off, I let him walk to school on his own this morning. This is a trip that is exactly 2 and a half blocks in length, with one 3-way stop to cross, so we’re not talking about the world’s most dangerous excursion. But there’s still something scary about not confirming with my own eyes, for sure, that he has set foot on school property. I know the school would call me if he didn’t turn up. I know he’s a smart kid. And I know this is part of growing up. I have to get used to trusting him to handle the unknown world and all of the surprises and obstacles it throws at him. I can’t helicopter parent him forever (though lord knows I want to).