Laughing My Head Off

All the women in my family have huge laughs. We don't giggle like ladies. We literally laugh our heads off, bend our necks backwards, and guffaw.

Once, when my sisters and I attended a Second City improv, the comedian on stage used us in his routine as "cackling hens". That's really what we sound like.

Recently we attended a taping of Zoink'd, a children's show that my grandchildren love. My daughter and I sat further back, while the kids were placed up front for the cameras (all the kids were). Kristen and I fell in love with the warm-up guy, Josh Hellyer (watch him on his website and you'll see what I mean: The Josh Show). We laughed so loudly that we ended up making friends with him.

Any family party is suffused in such loud hilarity that we often disturb the neighbours. My friends are funny, too. There is nothing we love more than a joke or witty comment that sends us into gales of laughter. Sometimes the humour is fueled with alcohol, but still hilarious nonetheless. I love reading funny books too, such as my friend Melodie Campbell writes (Funny Girl Melodie).

So you would think that I would write comedy too. Instead, my books are filled with dark themes, complex characters, evil versus good, and that sort of thing. People look at me and wonder if I am a secret psychopath or something. They often can't believe that this benign, fun-loving middle-aged (OK, maybe 3/4 aged) woman writes such horror.

The Bridgeman

What they miss is the dichotomy. I pit violence against peaceful community, hatred with love, despair with hope. The good guys always win. The bad guys always get punished, even if that means some loss of innocence (or innocents) in the process. The world is always a changed landscape, but a better place in the end.

That's why I used the Ojibway philosophy of the Seventh Fire in my fourth book. The prediction states that the world will go through a terrible time that will change everything, but that people will emerge into a better place. Hell to heaven, if you will. Redemption perhaps. The Great Flood, the new start.

Really, when I think about my novels, they are demonstrative of my optimistic nature. They might not be LOL, but they are filled with hope, love, and strength of community. That surely befits a benign, fun-loving 3/4 aged woman.  Catherine Astolfo

May 31, 2012

 

On Thursday, May 31, Crime Writing Month came to a close with a HUGE day of excitement for me. A quadruple day!!

My article was in the National Post’s Afterword, entitled “It’s A Mystery”. Afterword: It's A Mystery 

My Tips for Writers appeared in CBC Canada Writes. CBC: CanadaWrites

The Instant Cash episode with my daughter and me appeared on television. Instant Cash, Episode 18

I was so busy organizing the Arthur Ellis Dinner for Crime Writers of Canada that I couldn’t find a second to go and look. But then came the best moments of all.

Mary Jane Maffini, one of my idols, read out my name as the winner of the Best Short Story.  I immediately began to cry. Completely undignified.

I had given all the finalists instructions about having a 2 minute speech ready, so I had to follow my own rules. This is the speech I read/squeezed out between tears.

“Thank-you to NorthWord Magazine for giving my story a home. To the Arthur Ellis judges for picking mine from all the fabulous stories on the final list. I’m sure it was an out-of-the-hat kind of choice. To my family, friends, and Crime Writers of Canada colleagues, I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you, especially my husband Vince. This story is about a teacher and a child, so I dedicate my award to all teachers and to the children who have made my life spectacular.”

Later, the President of Crime Writers of Canada presented me with the Derrick Murdoch Award, for outstanding contribution to the organization. Once again, I read the speech, since I didn’t trust myself to be able to remember it.

“Thank-you from the bottom of my heart, especially to Garry Ryan. I feel like an interior decorator who gets credit for the beautiful house. Meanwhile there are so many people in this room who built the foundations that are unseen but which hold everything together. Next were the electricians and the plumbers who had to weather sparks and floods to ensure that everything worked. I came along and added some furniture, paint and accessories, and this year, I’m getting the credit for that. Luckily, this house that Crime Writers of Canada built has no roof. We can continue to climb skyward and I have no doubt that we will. Melodie and Alison, I would go out and engrave your names next to mine, but I have a feeling that you’ll get your own some day.”

Oh what a night!!! Next to the birth of my children, one of the best ever.

Team Daught.mom

 

Kristen calls me and asks if I’d like to try out for a TV game show. No idea what the game is or what’s expected, but my daughter and I figure there is no bad publicity. Why not go on television if we can? Then, of course, there’s the possibility of a $10,000 prize…

We wear a sign saying "Team Daught.mom". It's Kristen's idea and it's brilliant. Vince adds the "dot" because it reminds him of a url. The assistants love the sign. No one else has one.

We arrive a tad late and I am pressured to fill out the form. They ask what I fear and I say spiders, hoping it’s not a “face your worse fear” game. The form also wants me to list what “party tricks” I can do, what my strengths are, and my weaknesses. I can only think of writing and singing for the party tricks, do okay with the strengths, and fall apart on the weaknesses. I don’t want to tell the truth – like “I suck at trivia” – just in case it’s a jeopardy game. So I say my weaknesses are red wine and Brad Pitt.

This starts the conversation about the time I ran after Brad at The Toronto International Film Festival. The girls beside us want to know, but we’re called to attention.

They hand out a one-pager of multiple-choice questions, trivia they call it. Reads more like general knowledge to me. I guess at most of the answers, only really know one or two for certain. I hope this won’t be a make-or-break toward that ten thousand dollar prize.

Next we’re called into the audition room. They tell us we’re going to participate in a couple of fun games. We line up across from our partners in two lines, then face the front. The young good-looking assistant gives each team a tennis ball. The instructions are to pass it to one another without the use of our hands. He reminds us that this is where they want to see us shine. “Show us your big personalities,” he says. So we do.

The ball starts off being passed chin to chin. Lucky for me I am beside a tall good-looking young guy, whose beard tickles my neck. I take a little longer than necessary to pass the ball. We laugh and encourage each other with shouts and high-fives. The next game is called suck and blow. I kid you not.

This elicits a lot of guffaws. But we listen politely to the instructions on how do it. You suck on the paper to hold it in your mouth, then blow out to attach it to the next mouth. What if you’d admitted your worst fear was germs?

The last thing we have to do is walk a carpet as though it’s a catwalk. We call out and clap for the others as they dance, wiggle, or even cartwheel down the room. When it’s Kristen’s turn, she gives them the D-Cup shimmy and I figure it’s pretty much sewn up for us. So I seal the deal with a song and dance and a show of ass as I sing, “I like big butts”. They seem to like them, too.

We’re sent to the waiting room to see who will be picked. Kristen and I are among the six selected to go to the next stage: an interview with the…I dunno, directors, producers, writers? Anyhow, they ask us questions about our backgrounds and what we do for a living. I’m a bit nervous but manage to tell them some coherent things. Then sadly, we are asked to demonstrate our “party tricks”. Kristen does really well – she sells one of the interview team his own pen. I could write something, I say, I mean I’m a writer, but I guess that’s no good for television…after that, I have no choice but to sing.

“Blue moon, you saw me standing alone…”

Don’t call us, we’ll call you, they say as we leave.

 http://www.amazon.com/Bridgeman-Emily-Taylor-Mystery-ebook/dp/B005Z5IM28

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/98348

http://www.youtube.com/user/imajinbooks