Erin's Journals

“Go make money talking!” Those were the last four words as my sister and I hung up the other night; she was heading to bed to get ready for an early morning seminar at her retail job and I had just been summoned to my booth by Rob to please come and do an audition. That’s the thing with freelance work: you leap when the opportunity arises, to be one of the first hopefuls in on a job. And maybe – just maybe – you’ll be the one to get it, out of the 200 who tried. 
 
Sometimes, even when you do get the job – whether it’s a 30 second commercial for a hospital in Oregon or one line for a company video – the work isn’t over when you think it is.
 
For example, when we were away in Ottawa, we set up our makeshift studio in our son-in-law’s basement and, with Rob holding a blanket behind my head and over my shoulders to block out any room resonance, we submitted a four-minute voiceover job that we considered exactly what the client had requested. Yes, it was a pain to do it on the road, but we were glad to have brought our equipment and Rob is more than able to make whatever situation we’re in sound like studio quality.
 
No news being good news, we were pretty sure the job was done, but we just hadn’t been paid for it yet. Well, it turns out there was a good reason: the producer wrote back yesterday to tell us, with plenty of cheery exclamation marks, that the entire script had to be redone (including Rob’s edits, de-breathing, etc.) because the client just told them that each sentence had to fit a pre-existing video. I was basically redoing the job word for word with the exact same cadence and timing as the person they were replacing. Okay…I like a challenge!
 
The icing on the cake, of course, is that there’s no extra money involved. We agree when we bid on a job that there might be revisions. But to us, revisions are a few lines changed or some other alterations that the client or producer have requested, and not the entire job! (My pal Lisa, who – along with her husband Derek – is much more experienced than we are in the world of pay-for-play voice work, says that the producer is either new to this, or playing us.) 
 
Nevertheless, as they say, she persisted. I timed each section of the video and then, with one earbud playing the man on the video, and the other ear covered with one headphone feeding me my own voice as I recorded, I managed to match the content, as per their request. Rob edited it and sent it in late yesterday and we crossed our fingers in the hope it’s what they want. Imagine listening to something in one ear and then saying different words, but in the same pace at that exact moment, and not sounding robotic? There’s a trick to it, I’ll tell you.
 
I learned it when I was doing television: you have an IFB (or interruptible foldback) ear piece and while you’re doing your interview or having a conversation, someone in a booth somewhere is telling you to wrap up your piece, what to throw to next, what question the producers would like you to ask your guest, or the name of the caller on the phone. All of these things are spoken to you, sometimes while you’re in the middle of a sentence. Talk about separating your brain so you can multi-task! I did enjoy doing that, though; I enjoyed most elements of television, except for the “hurry up and wait” part. 
 
These days, we’re finding fun and fulfillment in auditioning (we get about one in fifty jobs we try for – it’s a big world and a lot of people are trying for the same jobs), hopefully getting short-listed and even landing some freelance work. We’re super excited to be signing a contract for a job with Disney that involves books and I’ll fill you in when it’s done, but this is exactly what we hoped this next chapter in our lives would mean for Rob and me. It’s pretty great when you can do what you love together.
 
Oh, and as I was finishing writing this, I just heard a ping: we got five stars from the guy for whom we did the revision. I guess that’s worth it? 
 
Look, I’m not complaining; I’m getting paid to talk. And if the voices in my head have to move over for someone else’s for four minutes, I can handle that, too.
 
Come back tomorrow – I have an enlightening journal for you about a term I never, ever considered offensive, but I sure do now.
 

I started this journal no fewer than three times today and ended up saving the other two ideas – several paragraphs’ worth – for journals down the road. May can leave me looking inwards an awful lot, so I’ll be happy to have a few in my back pocket to share with you that don’t have to do with love, loss, Lauren and Mother’s Day. To the saved file they go!
 
Oh, my heart leapt when I saw that temperatures back in my old stomping grounds in Ontario were into the 20s yesterday. I saw 680 meteorologist Jill Taylor say that the hot spot was Borden at 26.8. And that wasn’t just noteworthy because Borden’s never really been considered a hot spot – ever! I’m so glad that winter finally seems to have gotten the message to get out and STAY out. Doubtless there are a few sunburns today on those who really didn’t quite believe the sun was actually out, or who just didn’t care.
 
For the record, I did go back to see what Wiarton Willie had to say three months ago today: he predicted six more weeks of winter. SIX WEEKS? That would have been a picnic compared to the rotten cold and endless snow and ice that beset Southern Ontario right up until this past Sunday, when I saw City TV’s Melanie Ng had posted a picture of her patio furniture covered in more than a light dusting of snow. This rodent prognostication stuff has just got to stop. I mean, seriously!
 
Okay, I’m half kidding. People do what they have to do to get through winter and that may include pretending to care what some cranky, sleep-deprived groundhog has to say. But the important thing is that spring has actually sprung. Carpe Diem, my friends. And don’t forget the sunscreen.
 

You have heard of the Six Degrees of Separation that we all have among us – or even from Kevin Bacon – but on Friday night we learned that one man linked Rob and our dinner guest, and had changed both of their lives for the better. You probably won’t be surprised to learn it was a teacher.
 
As we enjoyed the vistas at Oak Bay Marina’s restaurant with our friend, the broadcaster/writing/marketing mind Terry O’Reilly, the conversation drifted towards something he and my husband Rob have in common: a Sudbury upbringing. (Born in Brantford, Rob moved as a young teen to the nickel mining town and went to high school there.) It was soon evident that Rob and Terry, who’s five years his junior, went to the same high school and, although their paths never crossed, they both had the pleasure of being affected in an incredible way by one man at the high school they both attended.
 
The man’s name is Sterling Campbell. He is responsible, it would seem, for setting up a Television component to the Art program at what’s now known as Sudbury Secondary School and, for Rob, it was a lifesaver. Not a particularly avid student (although he had earlier thought of going on to become a math teacher), Rob was drifting by the time he was choosing courses for Grade 13. That was when he discovered that the school had this new program, wherein he could experience the basics of TV production.
 
For Terry, it was somewhat of a lark: he signed up for the requisite courses – math, English, science, history – and then saw that there was this new course being offered. How lucky he was to be able to take five years of the course, starting it in Grade 9 as he did. 
 
As Terry and Rob spoke, they marveled at the forward thinking of Mr. Campbell and the great fortune they had to have taken his course. Not only was the equipment as state-of-the-art as one could hope to get their hands on in high school, but it was such a rarity in the 1970s that when both Rob and Terry applied at Ryerson to take Radio and Television Arts, the mere fact that they had a “reel” – a tape to prove that they had, not only a propensity towards television arts, but actually had experience with the equipment and how to use it – instantly got them accepted into college. 
 
To say that the post-secondary program was life-changing for both Terry and Rob is a bit of a Captain Obvious observation. Rob fell in love with radio at Ryerson, while Terry heard a guest speaker talk about marketing and advertising and knew at that moment that his future was being laid out for him.
 
And so, as the lights on masts in the yacht club illuminated and the sun disappeared behind clouds that had, as it turned out, moved in for the weekend, the two men reminisced about a teacher who had changed their lives by showing them what was possible. By working to establish a broadcasting course for high school students that could be envied by colleges. And by being a teacher who nurtured and encouraged students to experiment in a medium new to them.
 
Look how it all ended up: Rob had a career in radio as a producer and in management (where he met me) and Terry went on to found Pirate Radio, and to become a best-selling author and prominent voice of marketing and advertising in North America. 
 
After Friday’s dinner conversation, Rob reached out to Mr. Campbell, who now resides (appropriately) in Campbell River, about a three-hour drive from where we are now. In case you’re curious, Rob found him by Googling him and learning that he’s with the BC Retired Teachers’ Association. Although he wasn’t sure he remembered Rob (whom he taught for just one year), Mr. Campbell did remember Terry fondly; he added how happy he was to hear from former students and was truly thankful to Rob for reaching out.
 
Every day should be Teachers’ Day. And how grateful Rob was to make the day of Sterling Campbell, simply by letting him know what a difference his efforts and his encouragement had made in two men’s lives, and doubtless those of many others (and women, too). It’s a noble calling, teaching is. Have a great day and Happy May.
 

Here we are, final day of April. The last few days have been filled with a familiar bit of dread in our house, as Rob has had the dining room table covered with bits and pieces of paper. Yes, the tax deadline is here.
 
The spread-out papers aren’t really familiar to me; Rob used to get all of this done while I was across the street in our radio studios from 5 am to 9 am. Money in, money out, you might say! But last year we found ourselves in a different province from the one in which we’d always filed taxes, a lower income bracket from the one we’d been in for so long, and facing all kinds of changes as we stepped from one life into this new one.
 
But we got the taxes done and they’re ready to efile today. (I say “we” as if I had anything more to do with the weekend’s efforts than simply keeping tea made and sitting quietly reading my Michelle McNamara true crime book about the Golden State Killer.)
 
Moving into this new life, we did two things on Saturday night that you might find interesting: I secured the URL MourningHasBroken.ca (as well as MorningHasBroken.ca, in case it’s misspelled, which is possible) and the Twitter account @mourninghasbroken, so that when the book comes out in February, there will be more ways, more platforms on which to reach potential readers.
 
It’s all very exciting and was sparked by a dinner Rob and I had on Friday night with a man you may well know: marketing and ad guru Terry O’Reilly, host of Under the Influence on CBC (and via podcast, a great travel companion when you’re in the mountains and can’t get any radio at all) and author of the fascinating best-sellers The Age of Persuasion and This I Know. Terry was in Victoria to speak to a group about marketing their message, which is exactly how we met him last year: I was emcee for three events for the Canadian Real Estate Association and Terry was one of the guest speakers.
 
When I was foundering a bit and missing the media business, we had conversations that sent my brain into sparking overload. A radio veteran and marketing legend, Terry had written books that had already been published, while I was in the midst of just getting my feet wet. He was generous in sharing his experience with me, just as he was with Rob and me on Friday night over dinner. 
 
He shared some ideas and tips (such as the websites and Twitter handle) that will hopefully help me to get the book out to more potential readers come next year, and he also offered some insider perspective on what I might expect from the publisher in terms of marketing. He offered encouragement too: while many authors would rather stay in the shadows once a book is out there, I’ll be the one who’s got my hand up, offering to join a lineup of speakers, or to sit for a book signing at a neighbourhood store. So, get out there and sign, speak and meet readers!
 
Rob and I have a lot of time, we love to travel this great country of ours and we have every intention of sharing the message of this book – and our lives – with anyone who’ll listen. If they happen to spend a few dollars on a ticket for a speech or on the book itself, so much the better, right? We’re so grateful to Terry for his enthusiasm and encouragement throughout this process; when you’re sticking your neck out and hoping for the best, it really does a soul good to hear that this is the right path. And by “this,” I mean keynote speaking.
 
So that’s where we are now: planning for what will be a busy 2019 and paving the way for the future. Even if that means more receipts and pieces of paper spread over the dining room table. I’ll just keep making tea. Appropriately, these days it’s the CBC Radio blend from Murchies. Cheers, Terry!
 
Have a gentle Monday and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
 

 
Today, I’m going to end this week on the same note on which it began. On Monday, as word of what was happening in Toronto was beginning to sink in, Rob and I were taking Molly on a peaceful walk along what is known as Lochside Trail Park, which stretches beside the ocean not too far from our home. It’s what we overlook from our house and the temptation to get closer is sometimes too much, so we leash up the pup and head down for a walk along the water.
 

 
Our outing took us to one of my new favourite spots: a little park that is off the beaten path and away from the ocean just a bit and has a place for children to play on swings (although I never pass up a good adult-sized one, just for a few minutes) and for people to sit at picnic tables in the sun. 
 
Monday, though, it was just us and a fellow planting a tree near the pond’s edge. Oh, and there were ducks, too (as you’ll see in this short video, which is actually quite action-packed and includes a cameo by Miss Molly herself). Just click on the photo below.
 

 
Our friend Nancy brought me to this tiny park on a Molly walk last year and it’s held a special place in my heart ever since: it reminds me of Monet’s lovely gardens in Giverny, France, and when I go there, I am with Lauren. The ducks go about their day, the planes from nearby Victoria International ascend overhead and life is just peaceful and beautiful in this tiny corner of Sidney, BC, even more pastoral than in other parts of our lovely, tiny town.
 

 
I posted a little video on Instagram sending wishes for peace to my former home city the day we visited Iroquois Park. And yesterday I took my love of this spot one step further: I have made an inquiry with the town’s Parks department to see if I can have a bench placed somewhere near the pond, so people like Rob and me can sit quietly and just be with our thoughts and our loved ones.
 
In Ontario, there is a tree planted in Lauren’s name with a tiny plaque and a brick in a wall that remembers her with the words ‘Pure Joy’ but I am hoping there will soon be a spot where we can be with her and just sit. If they say no (and it has not escaped our attention that, in a town that is dotted with benches and their plaques everywhere, there is none in this particular spot) we’ll enjoy this place and its lovely pastoral feel just the same.
 

 
May your weekend be one of peace as well. And thank you for coming by to share some time here with me, too.