Rachelle Delaney

Deadlines loometh. Two of ‘em. End of this month. Needless to say, you won’t be hearing much from me. A hundred and forty characters at a time is about all I can handle these days. So catch me on Twitter, won’t you?

Aside from writing till I’m cross-eyed, I’m busy at my other work too. How does one work full-time and write two books in a single summer, you ask? I’ll tell you once it’s over. If my brain still functions sufficiently to string sentences together.

But anyway, over at my other job, I sometimes blog. So if you’re just pining away for my posts, you can always visit me there. Like today, I wrote about basking sharks. What are basking sharks, you ask? Good question. They’re animals you’ve probably never seen, and quite likely never will. Mainly because there’s, like, two of them left in Canadian waters.

But they’re super cool. In fact, they’re the second largest fish in the world! So make haste over to the David Suzuki Foundation’s Healthy Oceans blog and get to know them, in all their big, slow, chompy, glory. I guarantee you’ll love them too.

If you were starting to wonder whether I was still of this Earth, well, I wouldn’t blame you. But look, I’m back! Different digs, different view from the writing desk, but all is well, I assure you.

Also, I have lots of things on the go, which I will start telling you about now that I’m back online and raring to go.

In the meantime, I leave you with this goodness: my favourite picture book illustrator, Oliver Jeffers, teaching you how to draw a penguin.

Enjoy!

So as I mentioned not long ago, I’ve recently gone back to working full-time in an office. Well, to be perfectly honest, the organization I work for is generous and sensible enough to give its employees four-day work weeks, so my job isn’t quite as time-consuming as it could be. But still. It’s been a huge adjustment. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to my legs aching from sitting at my desk. Or my eyes being paper-dry from staring at my computer. Or not having time to blog or send countless inconsequential Tweets out into the ether.

And yet, I do enjoy it. Very much. And I’ve learned to relish the little things that keep me going. Like reading a good book on the bus to work (right now I’m into Going Bovine by Libba Bray). And morning swims, followed by pre-office lattes. And long walks home along the seawall.

And weekends. Good lord, have I learned to appreciate, and to really make use of, my time off.

This past weekend, I wasn’t terribly productive. But I thoroughly appreciated every minute of it. As you can imagine:

The fabulous YA author Eileen Cook drew my attention to this post today, about a woman whose home measures 90 square feet. Eileen asked her readers if they could do the same.

Right now we live in 550 square feet, which isn’t exactly small, but with all my books and all P’s photo gear, it gets pretty cluttered. We’ve also got a ridiculous amount of shoes for two people.

Still, I’d like to think I could live in 90 square feet. In Paris I lived briefly in a 250 square foot flat. The bed and couch were one in the same, and the table could only accommodate one plate, one book, and one wine glass, but still, it was nice and cozy. Incidentally, the person renting out said flat turned out to be a young children’s writer – basically the Parisian version of me, but with better makeup and cooler clothes, which I imagine I’d have if I lived in Paris. Also, her last name translated to “buckwheat,” which I thought was a good sign, since it’s gluten free.

Anyway. Ninety square feet. I’d have to get rid of a whole lot of books. And P’s work space. Possibly P. himself.

Think I’ll stick with 550.

My apologies for not writing for ages. It’s not much of an excuse but, well, I’ve been working.

We don’t often think about authors “working”. I know I like to envision my favourite scribes spending their days at their sunny desks with steaming cups of tea, looking thoughtful and inspired. Maybe occasionally taking a break to Tweet about something thoughtful and inspiring.

But the sad truth is, most of us work. I haven’t done an official census, but I’m guessing that 90% of writers have other jobs. Possibly more?

Lately I’ve spent a LOT of time pondering how best to keep writing and still manage to pay rent. And I have yet to figure it out. But it has inspired an upcoming blog post. Watch for it. No more hints.

Also, remember way back when I spoke about challenging myself to try something new and scary each year? Well, it came to me today: my new year’s resolution. Or rather, one of them. I’m going to take some art classes. Draw. Paint. Papier mache it up.

Now, this may not sound ground-breaking, but truthfully, I have a slight phobia of art. Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE it. But me? Draw? Nope. Not gonna happen. I distinctly remember having a minor panic attack at age 6 when an art teacher asked me to add the correct shadows to a dinosaur I’d painted. Even at that age I was aware that it looked more like an iguana than a stegosaurus.

It always disturbs me, though, when I hear my young students say that they suck at art. I’d say about half the students in each class I teach say that. And truthfully, it’s almost always girls. I’m sure I used to say it myself.

So the time has come to change all that. 2011 will be the year of the art class.

You can hold me to that.

My two-year-old niece, hard at work. She's my hero.