WEREDUCK NEWS (and a new website)

Oh, hey! Are you here because of my book? Copies should be arriving in stores and in mailboxes any day now.

Yay, right?

If you're looking for more information about Wereduck, please go to my new website. It's daveatkinson.ca. I have updates there about my Maritime book tour and the big old launch party on October 8.


Alice cleared out a cupboard in the kitchen the other day to make a clubhouse. She likes to sit in there with a flashlight and a stack of books. She installed a mailbox in case we have anything important to tell her. Jane wrote her the following letter:

Dear Alice,

On the night that I go back in time, you will be shot by terrorists. Please take whatever precautions you feel necessary to prevent this terrible disaster.

Your friend,

Unrelated: we watched a certain movie recently.

Pre-order Wereduck! DO IT!

Listen, we're friends, right? Y'know how friends do things for each other? Can you do something for me, real quick? Can you pre-order my book? Great. That's great. Thanks.

You can order it direct from my publisher, Nimbus, or from Amazon. So many convenient ways to pre-order my book! It's easy! Wheee!

Here's how Nimbus describes it in their Fall 2014 Catalogue:

Kate’s family has told her that on her thirteenth birthday she’ll hear the “Whooooo” call of the moon, and howl back, and become a werewolf just like them. But she doesn’t want to be a werewolf. She’s always felt more like a duck.

On the night of her thirteenth birthday, Kate stands near her family’s cabin in the backwoods of New Brunswick and hears the moon calling—but it sounds like more of a “Whoooo?” as in “Who are you?” and Kate does what she’s always wanted to do—she quacks. Quack, quack, quacks.

Her family tries to understand Kat’es new full-moon form, but they are busy integrating themselves with some new, edgy werewolves in town. Engaging, hilarious, and utterly believable, Wereduck is a thrilling addition to the were-canon.

Pretty neat, right? You can OWN this book. I can't even believe it.

Broken glass

Thursday evening. In the kitchen.

I turn when I hear breaking glass. Erin stands at the sink holding half a drinking cup in her hand. She smirks.

"I just got really mad."

"You know a piece of this is going to end up in my foot, right?" I say, picking up chunks of glass from the counter.

"It broke cleanly in about four pieces," she says. "Maybe this time you'll be fine."


I sweep.

She sweeps.


Next morning. 6:17. I stride across the dark kitchen to flip the light switch.

Sharp intake of breath.

Saturday morning story

Saturday morning. Alice is helping me hang a shelf in the bedroom.

"Okay," I say, lining the drill up to the dot we penciled on the wall. "Don't pull the trigger until I say."

"Okay," she says. Her expression is serious.

I hold the drill in place. "Alright," I say. "Go for it."

The motor whirrs. Alice keeps the trigger depressed until I've pushed the bit into the wall and pulled it out again. She's done this before.

She brings her mouth to within two inches of the hole, purses her lips, and releases a sharp breath of air. A puff of dust escapes. All clean.

"You do that, Daddy," she says. "That's a Daddy thing."

"That's funny," I say. "That's exactly what I think every time I do that. Just like my daddy."