First Post: "Jesus, It's Hot."

Welcome to Forever October, my new blog. 

I'm Michael Rowe, a novelist in Toronto, Canada. I hope you visit it again soon, and often. You'll find a variety of information here about works in progress, the writing process, horror movies, the occasional book and/or film review, and a schizophrenic collection of glimpses into my life on and off the page, all broadcast from my office on the top floor of the old Victorian farmhouse in Toronto that the Ball and Chain, Beckett the Black Labrador,and I call home.

The world needs another "writer's blog" like it needs a hole in the head, so here's your hole in the head, dear reader.

Earlier this week, I received the news that Enter, Night is a finalist for the Sunburst Award, Canada's premier spec-fic book prize. Coming, as this news does, on the heels of the news, earlier this spring, that the novel is also a finalist for the Aurora Award, I'm feeling more than a little gobsmacked, and also quite humbled, especially considering the cut of the company of co-finalists in both prestigious awards.

The best part of these award nominations: my co-finalists. Hands down the best part.

On Wednesday of this week, I went to the ChiZine Reading Series at the Augusta House "resto-bar" on Augusta Avenue in Kensington Market, to hear my friend David Nickle (also up for both awards for awards for his novel, Eutopia) do a reading from his new novel, Rasputin's Bastards. And a week ago tonight, I had a party for my visiting American friend, Scott Bramble, the Cowboy, which was attended by Caitlin Sweet, whose novel, The Pattern Scars, is also up for both awards. Both Dave and Caitlin are ChiZine authors too,

In related news, Jesus Christ it's hot!

I'm just in from running some errands downtown, and I wanted to take Beckett out for a walk. I don't think the heat is good for a year-old black Labrador puppy out on a day like this. Picture the temperature of blacktop, then add a couple of bright eyes, a foolish smile complete with a lolling pink tongue the colour of an English rose, then wrap it in a black mink coat, and you have Beckett.

Poor Beckett, I think he's going to be in lying on my office floor for a bit longer with his chew-toys until the temperature cools a bit. At least he doesn't eat horror novels, though I could toss him a couple of "paranormal romances" and see if he has too much good taste to sample them.

I'm betting he does. Labs are classy that way.