Magazine Launch (short story) 6/7 by Leanne Dyck

 In 2009, my husband and I left Mayne Island to attend a magazine launch in Victoria so that I, as one of the contributing authors, could read Because She Believed In Me. This is my short story about that adventure. 


Installment 5

Magazine Launch (installment 6)

We walked into the hall; into a sea of people.

            It’s not my first reading, I thought as we hunted for seats. It’s not even the first time I’ve read off-island. Byron found two chairs but rows separated them. I shook my head and mouthed, “no.” But it is the first time I’ve read to this many writers. We claimed two chairs—they were in the middle of the second row. And they’ll all judging me. I grabbed Byron’s hand and held on tight. I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

            One of the women I had talked to earlier spoke into the microphone. “On behalf of the Victoria Writers Society, I’d like to welcome everyone here tonight. And I’m sure all of the writers, who will soon be readers, are glad you came as well. Just a reminder, each reader has five minutes. Five minutes. Please respect the audience and your fellow writers and keep to this time limit. Now without further delay I’d like to invite…” Reader after reader took the stage. I  can’t even hear him. She should look up more. I can do much better than that. When will it be my turn? We’re only supposed to read for five minutes. She’s talking much longer. Someone should say something. I envisioned a large hook and chuckled to myself. It wasn’t nice—and I was a little ashamed of myself, but… I need to read. I n-e-e-d to r-e-a-d.

Mayne Island Fall Fair Parade 2013...

Magazine Launch (short story) 5/7 by Leanne Dyck

In 2009, my husband I left Mayne Island to attend a magazine launch in Victoria so that I, as a contributing author, could read 'Because She Believed In Me'. This is the short story I wrote about that adventure. 

Installment 4

Magazine Launch (installment 5)

            It was chilly night yet the sidewalks were full of people.

            “Why are there so many people out walking?” I asked Byron.

            “How should I know?” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s just what they do here.”

            “This neighbourhood reminds me of Osborne Village,” I said. Winnipeg’s riverside neighbourhood had been the first place we’d lived as a couple. We shared a smile and continued exploring.

            “You going to watch the parade?” one neighbour asked another.

            Byron leaned in close to me. “Parade,” we shared the word, savoured it. And we didn’t have long to wait. Trucks, service vehicles, even two city buses—all decked out in lights. Some even provided Christmas carols. When the last Christmas tree on wheels drove past Byron said, “We should start our way back.”

            My reading. I can’t be late. Which way is back?

            I started down one street but it led us to unfamiliar sights.

            “I don’t think this is the right way,” Byron said.

            “We’re lost. What if they call, ‘Leanne Dyck’—and I’m not there.”

            “Won’t happen,” Byron said.

            Sure he can say that. It’s not his thing. He doesn’t really care. Well, he may not. But I do. And I’m going to find that hall; I’m not going to be late; I’m not going to miss this opportunity. I stormed down one street after another—possessed by my mission.

            I was so relieved when Byron said, “There it is. See we found it. But we better hurry—only five minutes to show time.”

Installment 6

My mother-in-law prepares her entry for 

Mayne Island's fall fair

Saturday, August 17th

Magazine Launch (short story) 4/7 by Leanne Dyck

In 2009, my husband and I left Mayne Island to attend a magazine launch in Victoria so that I could read 'Because She Believed In Me'. This is a short story about that adventure.

Installment 3

Magazine Launch (installment 4)

I read the clock on the dashboard. 7:30. “We’re too early.”

            “Wow. I wonder how that happened?”

            I knew he was mocking me—and I wasn’t amused, but I didn’t want to start a fight. “Maybe we should turn around and—”

            “No, I don’t think so.” I followed him into the building. Plank floor. Pump organ. Stripped banners. The place looked like a Second World War dance-hall  Two twenty-something women stood in the corner by the organ talking. Their clothes had a funky style with accents of vintage. Byron nudged me toward them. They stopped talking; one of them smiled at me.

            “Hello, I’m Leanne Dyck.” I waited for them to recognize my name. When they didn’t, I explained, “I’m one of the authors who’ll be reading their stories tonight.”

            “Oh, it doesn’t start until 8 o’clock.”

            “Yes, I know. Do you mind if we wait here?”

            They shared a look. “No, we don’t mind. But you’d probably be more comfortable waiting at one of the local pubs.” They aimed us in the right direction; and we left.

            We stood on the sidewalk, looked across the street at a pub. It was the first one we’d found. A long line of people blocked the door.

            “Let’s try somewhere else,” Byron said.

            Pub after pub, it was the same story—door blocked by too many waiting people.

            “We could just push our way in,” I said.

            Byron looked at me like I’d suddenly grown two heads. “Let’s check out the shops,” he said and led me into a music store. Black walls. Red lights. Devil heads. Everyone dressed in leather. Byron was drawn to crates of L.P.s in the middle of the store. In a corner, I found a small display of clothing. Hey, those look like the black leather high tops I used to own. I wonder how much they—I knelt to inspect them more closely. Someone touched me. I jumped, turned—Byron.

            “It’s all heavy metal,” he whispered. We left.

            We couldn’t drink; we could shop; we were running out of options.

            “Let’s check out the neighbourhood,” Byron said.

Installment 5

This Summer my husband and I are transforming our front and back yard from an abandoned jungle to...a...well...I'll show you instead of tell you. Today here's my back yard.

I spent three days weeding this section of my back yard.

Then my husband, Byron, used a tapper to level out the yard. 

When we're done, I'll use this section of the back yard to do Tai Chi. After several years I'm still very much a beginner. But I really enjoy this mindful exercise. (And for a dyslexic, the sequencing is especially challenging.) In the meantime, in between time, we continue to work...

Magazine Launch (short story) 3/7 by Leanne Dyck

I've been offering you my serialized story Magazine Launch

Here's installment two...

And here's installment three...

Magazine Launch 3/7

Byron sat in a reading chair flipping the pages of his paperback. He must have gotten to a really good part. I set my suitcase on the bed, dug out my clothes and laid out my outfit—dress, blazer, earrings. I’m going to look so professional. I ran my hand over the sleeve of my blazer. Just like an author. I’d even remembered a small purse to stow my author reading. And the herbal remedy for my anxiety… And the herbal remedy… I searched my purse. I don’t have… I don’t have… Breathe. I emptied the entire contents of the suitcase. It’s not here. My heart jumped from my chest to my head and tired to pound its way out. My entire body became one, big sweat stain. I can’t… I can’t…

            “What’s the matter?” Byron’s words attempted to detach me from the wall.

            “I don’t have my rescue remedy and I can’t… not without…”

            “Oh, we’ve come all this way. We're here and...”

            I knew what he was going to say. 'you're going to read.' He’s so heartless. 

            “And besides, you’ll be fine.”

            “Fine? Do you really think so?” Will I be? Yes. No. Maybe. How can I be? I’ve read to audience  before. But… but… My mind was so full that I barely heard his question.

            “Of course. How long is your reading?”

            “Five minutes.” Five minutes! I can’t read for five minutes. I’ll trip over my words. I’ll say the wrong word. Then they’ll know. They’ll know. “They’ll all know that I’m dyslexic.”

            “What’s you’re reading about?”

            “Being dyslexic.”

            “And you’re worried that they’ll learn you’re dyslexic.”

            “Yes.” Brief pause. “That doesn’t make sense. Does it?”

            “No.” He held me. “The audience will have read your story. Everyone will know how hard reading is for you. They’ll all be pulling for you.”

            “Do you really think so?”

            “Yes, of course. And besides, if you make a mistake no one will even notice.”

            If I make a mistake? There’s no if; there’s only when. When I make a mistake everyone will laugh. They’ll all laugh and they’ll know that I’ll never be one of them. I’ll never be a writer. They didn’t choose my story because it’s good. They choose it because they feel sorry for me. Well, I don’t need their pity. I’m just as good as everyone else. And I have to prove it. I have to be prefect. I can’t make any mistakes. None. Negative thoughts haunted me as the hours slipped away. I tried to eat but I just wasn’t hungry. I tried to practice my reading but it just sounded so dumb. So, instead, I raced around like a crazy person—had a shower, dressed, brushed my hair, put on make-up. Ignoring the tornado, Byron’s nose remained in his book.

            “Are you ready?” I asked.

            “What? Already? It’s only 7 o’clock,” he told me. “We still have an hour.”

            “Yes, but what if we get lost? And… And…” I can’t be late.

            “We won’t get lost.”

            “How can you be so sure? We’ve never gone there before. We don’t know Victoria. We could get lost. Just because it’s not your thing you think it’s not important but it is important to me.”

            “Fine. Fine.”

            It didn’t take him long to get ready and we were out the door. Victoria was no match for Byron. He easily navigated the streets and soon we’d arrived at the Orange Hall on 1620 Fernwood.

Installment 4

Last weekend I went to the Mayne Island car show and saw...

Magazine Launch (short story) 2/7 by Leanne Dyck

Here's installment one of my serialized short story 'Magazine Launch'.

And here's installment two...

Magazine Launch (continued)

The inn was just as I’d pictured it—hidden away on a quiet street. The gold handled door was flanked on both sides by fragrant rose bushes. The interior was a blend of burgundy and gold. I flowed past an oval table that was covered by a white lace tablecloth and held a vase of pink teacup roses.

The well-groomed man behind the counter smiled at us. “Good evening,” he said. “Welcome to the Rosewood Inn. How may I be of service?”

I stepped behind Byron; Byron stepped behind me. Our waltz ended with me in front.

“Good evening.” I flipped open the folder and the contents fell to the floor. I squatted down to collect the pages. “Somewhere in all this mess is a…a…” I giggled nervously.

Byron found the reservation, handed it to me and took the folder.

I looked up. The man was leaning on the counter and peering down at me. He was trying to hide a grin—but not doing a very good job.

I stood up; the man leaned away from the counter and went to his computer. After clicking a few keys, he led us to our room. It was so beautiful—delicate print wallpaper, wainscoting, French doors opening to a small balcony, King sized bed draped by a duvet that matched the wallpaper. I wanted to live there forever.

Installment 3

About writing creative non-fiction...

Magazine Launch (short story) 1/7 by Leanne Dyck

My creative non-fiction story 'Because She Believed In Me' was published in the Island Writer Magazine:  The literary journal of Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands in Winter 2009. 

Magazine Launch

It was an ordinary day. Then I turned on my computer. Then I read an email from the Victoria Writers Society. My short story will be published in the Island Writer, I thought and my head exploded. Along with the acceptance letter was an invitation to the magazine launch. Would I attend? I didn’t have to think about that question for long. Of course I would.

            “My story’s been accepted,” I told my husband. “And we’re going to the magazine launch.”

            “Have you checked the ferry schedule?”

            I hadn't. I just thought things would work out.

            He followed the maze of numbers. “The last ferry leaves Vancouver Island for Mayne Island at 8:30 p.m.”

            I glanced at the invitation. “The event starts at 8:00 p.m.” What did that mean? Did that mean—No, we have to. “Maybe the launch won’t take that long?”

            “Come on, Leanne. Think. We can’t even drive from the ferry to Victoria and back in half an hour.”

            “But I have to go. I have to. It’s my story… I’ve been chosen.”

            He heaved a heavy sigh. “We’ll find accommodations.”

            I wrapped my arms around my hero. I knew Byron would have a solution. He’s so smart. What will I wear? I had an outfit to plan, a reading to practice and mere weeks to get it all done. I have to start today.

            “You’ll have to find us a place to stay,” Byron said.

            Me? But I have so much to do… Still by the way he was looking at me I knew booking accommodations had just become my responsibility. I studied the invitation. “Out of city guests may enjoy staying at the Rosewood Inn.” Inn? Sounds expensive. “You’ll have to check—”

            “No, you’ll have to,” he told me. “This is your thing. I’m going with you.”

            Oh, Byron, you always make things much harder than they have to be.

            Weeks passed; the day arrived. Byron and I sailed from Mayne Island headed for Vancouver Island. I flipped open my paperback; starred out to sea; read a few paragraphs; stared out to sea; read a sentence; stared out to sea.

            “Byron?”

            “Yes?” He looked up from his book.

            “What time is it?”

            “Five minutes after the last time you asked.”

            Byron drove the truck out of the ferry terminal. “How do we get to the Rosewood Inn?”

            Honestly, do I have to everything? I opened the file folder that held my author reading, the reservations for our accommodations and… “I printed off a map.”

            “You did?” He sounded surprised.

            I read the street names; Byron followed my directions and I got us all the way there.

Magazine Launch 2/7

My husband snapped this photo of me while we were at the Church fair this past weekend. 

I may look a little lost but there are books in my arms so you know I'm happy. : )