Canadian Author & Memoir Writing Coach
I asked readers to send a better story than “I got up, passed out and fell down”, to explain my broken ankle. The entries are in. Please vote for the best story.
The person who gets the most votes will receive a signed copy of either “A Good Home” or “An Honest House”.
Please vote now.
Two years ago, Andrea Torrey Balsara and her husband Nav bought a grand Victorian home surrounded by lawn, woods, and big old barns.
“To me, the greatest wealth is to have nature around me. To now be on a property where there are old trees, squirrels, wildlife…it is such a blessing that I had given up on ever having.
“This place came out of the blue for us, as we had resigned ourselves to subdivision living. Initially, the property was what attracted me, but I have since grown to love the old house, too; there is a spirit and charm to it that really touches me. For the first time since I was a child I feel I am truly home.”
Andrea is a storyteller – she writes and illustrates books for children. Characters include Greenbeard the Pirate Pig and Happy the Pocket Mouse.
She fell in love with pictures early.
“One of my first clear memories is at 6 years-old, reading a picture book. I say ‘reading’, but really I followed the story by the exquisite art. I remember a feeling of yearning come over me to make pictures that were so beautiful. I also grew up on Donald Duck comics. I didn’t realize until many years later that I never usually read the comics, just followed the pictures. The visual sense of humour that I have in my drawings is totally influenced by the cartoonist Carl Bark’s Donald Duck comics.”
“With my picture book, Greenbeard the Pirate Pig, I was finally able to write and illustrate a book. Since then I have also illustrated the Happy the Pocket Mouse series, written by Philip Roy, through Ronsdale Press. Book 4, Mouse Vacation, came out in October 2016. Illustrating without writing the book is a whole new experience, and one which has taught me a lot about collaboration.”
Andrea calls her work space her ‘art loft’. “Really, it’s the former servants’ quarters. The stairs going up are grooved from the generations of servants going up and down the stairs. I love feeling connected to the history.”
From the window, she sees an expanse of trees, yard and old barns.
“I can’t believe I have barns!”
~~
Knowing her passion for art, you may be surprised to learn that Andrea once dropped art altogether after getting a C in Grade 8.
“It was so devastating to me that I vowed never to share my art again. A drastic reaction! At that age, my sense of confidence was non-existent, so the grade felt like a defining moment to me. I avoided art classes after that, as I didn’t want to have my love of art taken from me. Odd kid-logic, I know.
“Now I feel I have so much catching up to do with people who have gone through art school; it’s made it a much longer learning curve for me to learn how to illustrate a book.”
Writing and illustrating children’s books — here, in her beloved home — is a blessing. Andrea doesn’t only produce them — she loves reading children’s books.
“I guess because in many ways I still feel like a kid myself. I went through a traumatic experience as a small child, and a part of me is still that age. I don’t relate to many of the books meant for adults as I often find them cynical, incredibly violent, and gratuitously sexual. I love the innocence and openness of children’s books. There is a joy to it that writing for adults doesn’t have.
“In children’s books it’s not only okay to have hope, and to believe that the world is a place of beauty and love, it is essential. Even the books for adults that I love come from a place of childlike innocence and the belief in the nobility of the human spirit.”
As with her art, care for her home has been a labour of love. She loves the living room because it now feels homey. But the house is old and required a lot of work.
“It took me time to love the house, as initially it smelled musty and the windows were decrepit, with bugs living between them and the storm windows. It was sweltering in the summer and infested with cluster flies. I bought a vacuum I could strap on my back, with an extension wand to reach the high ceilings, and wielded it like Luke Skywalker fighting the Evil Empire. Then, in our first winter (last year), we froze. I now own several sets of long underwear (thank-you, old house!)
“Thankfully this winter, with the new radiators we had installed, it has been snug. Now that we’ve sorted out some of its issues I love our old Victorian home’s uniqueness.”
Here in this unique home, Andrea is also completing a young adult novel called The Great and the Small.
“It’s about a colony of rats, led by a charismatic chairman, who are waging a war to exterminate humanity using the bubonic plague. The only thing between annihilation and life is the chairman’s nephew Fin who is rescued from certain death and nursed back to health by a teenage girl. Fin grows to love the girl, and realizes that what his uncle has told him about ‘two-legs’ is wrong. Now he has to choose: follow his uncle whom he adores, or turn against him and rebel.”
Home, family, art — Andrea appears to be in a very good place. Her husband Nav and daughters are her greatest supporters. And there’s other joyful news: her older daughter will be married at the beautiful family home this fall.
Thank you, Toronto Public Library, for including me in your ongoing feature about the people who frequent the library. I am ‘a bit’ late to post this on my blog, but as you know from the many late fines I’ve paid over the years, I’m always ‘a bit late’!
Meet Sarah and Cynthia…
“I’m a bookworm and I’ve loved public libraries since I was a child. Steeles branch has a special place in my heart. Why? Because of the kindness of the librarians there over the years when I struggled to recover from injuries caused by a car accident.
“Sarah and I bonded over a book. It was a PD James book and I really wanted to read it. But I was shocked at the long waiting list. I was #1341 on the list! I showed up at the library every two or three weeks to ask a version of the same question:
“What’s my number now?”
“After a while, I didn’t have to ask any more. Sarah would see me arrive and hurry to her computer to start checking.
“We’d share a laugh and sometimes I’d pretend to be outraged that I was nowhere near getting that book.**
“When my book was published, my librarians were among the first people to receive their own signed copies.
I think they were both happy and proud – after all, they had seen me on days when I could barely use a computer.”
**And yes – I did also get the PD James book! It was “Death Comes to Pemberley”, a perfect blend of Jane Austen sensibilities and PD James’ wonderful murder mystery skills.
It’s November, the month when many writers write.
Not me.
I’m not working on the next book, not writing my blog, not even journal-ing every day.
~~
In typical Cynthia fashion, I had a good stretch of days some weeks ago and was so thankful for it, I tried to do too much.
Ignored the warning signs. Committed other rampant acts of mindless-ness.
The bad pain came, then the flu. And throughout it all, the bloody nightmares whenever I slept long enough.
But pushing myself, as my therapist and journals remind me, is how I’ve come this far.
And I’m pushing again.
~~
Twice a week now, I lead very small groups of individuals who are writing their memoirs.
None is a professional or even an experienced writer. But they are bright, interesting, mature people.
Some of their stories are painful to write, I know. But what a joy for me to help them develop as writers.
They’re changing in front of my eyes — and theirs. Blooming.
~~
At first, I wondered how they’d see me.
It’s obvious I have difficulty walking – sometimes it’s very bad. But I decided to reveal — on the very first day — some of the stuff others don’t immediately see. That I sometimes stutter or speak strangely. That I might struggle to cross-reference or absorb new information and that if voices/sounds come at me from more than one source, it affects me.
Just as well I did.
I’ve come up against my limits repeatedly – and so markedly, twice, that I later went to the washroom and cried.
Then there’s the tiny paycheque. I earned more money in my early 20’s!
So why am I smiling?
This activity has given me a purpose outside the home. I spend 2 hours, twice a week, with a group of individuals whom I like, respect and marvel at. I can see their progress each week and it delights me. The stories they tell — even the painful ones –are a balm to my soul.
~~
Blessed am I to have such students.
And blessed am I to have readers who notice when my blogging patterns are ‘off’, and ask why.
Thank you.
I say “I got up, passed out and fell down” is the best. Makes me hoot!
You could say, “I suffer from orthostatic hypotension.” That sounds sexier but is not technically lying.
Errmmm…. what is orthostatic hypotension, Victo?
Low blood pressure that occurs with a sudden change in position. You could also call what you had a syncopal episode or syncope which means passing out. That also sounds kind of sexy.
OR you could say, “The doctor called to tell me the pregnancy test was positive and I just passed clean out!”
One night while asleep, I had a dream that I was at the gym training for a slot on the Canadian Winter Olympics ice skating team for the 2018 games. I tried to balance myself but fell out of my bed and broke my ankle.
😎
Sorry Cynthia, I have no good story, but how about a run-in with big foot? I can relate. I fell (3″) off a ladder years ago as a 25-year-old and broke my arm! I like Victo’s story.
You could use the same story about your fractures that actually happened to my cousin. On her way out that evening, when she went to get her coat, she accidentally stepped into the cat’s litter box. The box went slip sliding away, taking my surprised cousin along with it. She found herself on the floor with a fractured leg, checking out the paint on the ceiling.
I was playing tennis and as I jumped in the air to serve I landed wrong and broke my ankle, but that serve won the game for me. ☺
You can borrow my story. (Substitute foot for hand.)
I was going in to make an offer presentation on a house in the west end. We were #11 or 16. It was the night of the last snowstorm of the year. There was one step up on the sidewalk leading to the house. It was icy and I had leather shoes. I was losing my balance but trying not to fall. The more I tried, the more I accelerated falling headfirst. As my head and face hurled towards the brick steps, I reached out and my middle finger on my right hand took the brunt of the force. One look at my hand and I knew my finger was broken….
The good news is my finger was not broken. The bad news is that it was badly dislocated. The really, really good news is while waiting in the emergency room I found a house for our buyers on Instagram. They went to see that house and subsequently offered and they were the successful buyers.
“I snagged my foot on a root while getting up off my knees from praying to the gardening gods to make my wisteria bloom.”
Embellishments are much more interesting than factual details. It may be a stretch to add someone “tall, dark, and handsome” in the night… but maybe Hamlin would fit the bill. -Oscar
Picking Mangoes in Jamaica and fell off the ladder. Exotic, and believable.
I have just broken the record for the longest ever baseball hit, but I twisted too far round.
13.
You were stuck in a ravine under falling boulders and had to break your own ankle to crawl to safety….
14.
“I thought I was 20, my body rebelled.” No other explanation needed.
15.
You had volunteered for Habitat for Humanity and when President Jimmy Carter started to waiver from the heat, you rushed over to help him and tripped on a two-by-four board.
16.
You got tangled up in the dog strangling vine when you were weeding the garden and it tripped you?
17.
In utter frustration, you hauled off and kicked a certain high-level US elected official who shall not be named. You broke your ankle but earned the admiration of many Americans.
18.
You rushed onto the road to save a puppy that was about to get run over by an armoured limousine driven by Donald Trump. Your leg got broken but the puppy is fine.
19.
” I was about to go on stage when a friend told me to ‘Break a leg’, the thought of it was so frightening that I fainted, and wouldn’t ya know…” 🙂
20.
I saw a “pink elephant” on my way home from the local gin mill and tripped on the sidewalk and broke my ankle.
21.
You were clearing bats out of the belfry. 😀
22.
You were the last person in the human chain saving swimmers from the riptide a few weeks ago. And your brave efforts resulted in success! 🙂
23.
“I slipped while rushing to a yoga class, which proved my husband’s favorite theory that exercise is bad for you.”
OK – 2 possibilities. 1 – the Truth. “I was in a car accident a few years ago. It’s taken years to recover and I’m still not there. Sometimes my body is not where I think it is, and does not do what I think it will. Like this time – I stood up, passed out and fell down.”
2 – “My husband stretched his hand out to me, and when I stood up to put mine in his … well, I looked in his eyes, and he was just so damned handsome that I passed out and fell down.”
25.
I took a short cut home and jumped over a low wall. Trouble was it was ten feet down the other side.
I was helping decorate the church and I fell backwards off the font.
I tripped up the stairs with my hands in my pockets and landed face first.
I fell over a cat.
These are all real.
26.
A teenie weenie mouse did it! As I opened the door, she came in. I tripped on the door sill trying to escape….!!
Entries From Facebook:
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Rex Deverell You were walking down the street, perfectly innocently, on a lovely day, but a crane operator had been drinking on the job and lost control of his machine. Right behind you a great hook swung like a pendulum and caught the strap of your handbag. You refused to let go – what was in that handbag? Finally, by the time you and the bag were extricated you were practically in the next county. The landing was a bit rough given the inebriation of the crane operator – hence the damage to the ankles.