TORONTO - Standing in front of the great machine, Margaret Atwood waves into the camera lens and giggles.

The literary legend is known for her caustic wit and regal bearing, but to market the LongPen, her long-distance book-signing invention, a softer but no less canny Atwood emerges.

She hovers lovingly next to the LongPen console as the snaking line of book-signees wait for Alice Munro to inscribe their copies of The View from Castle Rock, bustles in front of the microphone to instruct Munro on how to more comfortably use the LongPen stylus, and even amplifies compliments of fans that Munro has trouble hearing over the connection.

This is not Atwood the author, this is Atwood the inventor. The artist-turned-innovator, out to display her creation.

How does Atwood feel about her new career? ``Pretty strange,'' she says, rhythmically signing copies of Moral Disorder. Despite the potential distraction, Atwood maintains earnest eye contact.

``The best inventing is done in the bathtub,'' she says, seemingly unsure of how to tie up her answer about the inventor identity.

``Or ironing...'' she adds. ``Try ironing.''

Atwood says it was just one of those everyday moments that gave rise to the LongPen. A simple signing of a FedEx panel was the eureka moment for the device that began as an implement for long-distance book signings, but is already testing with music artists and athletes.

And as artist-turned-inventor dabbling in another genre, Atwood is not alone. Da Vinci dreamed of innovations beyond the realm of his art. Arthur C. Clarke popped out blueprints in his spare time that had little to do with novels: he invented the geostationary satellite in 1945. But we should not be surprised by this sharing of resources, she says.

``Writers are their own little group of people, it's true, but it's not like there isn't any sports and music in their lives. Paul Quarrington writes about hockey, for heaven's sake. Did I go to the entire Ring Cycle? Yes, I did. Am I also familiar with country and western music? Yes, I am.''

Of course, the LongPen isn't the first of Atwood's creations. Atwood's readers know that she created whole worlds in her speculative fiction, like Oryx and Crake. But even further than this, she's dabbled in practical innovation. Earlier this year on Reading Toronto website's Idea Bank, Atwood posted new solutions to city issues.

One such suggested, ``Why not put hospitals and amateur landscape painters together in a project that would supply healing paintings to the hospitals? (No toxic paints of course.)''

And similarly, with the LongPen, Atwood says she provided the idea while the engineers and software writers provided the know-how. But that doesn't mean she doesn't feel motherly toward it.

``When you write, you're pulling enormous gravitational forces. That was why it was so difficult to make this machine, and why nobody had done it before,'' she says proudly, still signing away.

``Because if you think of this pen as a car, as a motor car, going through these gyrations, going like this_'' she says, swooshing the pen with a flourish across the page. ``And then if I go like this, and reverse it...'' she jerks the pen back towards her. `` If a car did that, it would just shake to pieces.''

She goes on, enumerating each prototype with crystal-clear detail.

``The second one burst into flames and flew apart, and that was a pretty nice design_ it looked pretty good, but_'' she blows a raspberry with her tongue, ``Didn't work. When I went to the lab, I literally had things held together with rubber bands and duct tape.''

After the reading, and after the crowds, a short line of LongPen book-signees remain. Atwood drifts from her signing desk to the front row of the now nearly empty audience. Mid-signature, Alice Munro's autograph ceases to be signed from the machine in Toronto. A few people hold their breaths. Others fiddle with the machine. A moment later, the signing resumes. What went wrong with the complicated beast?

``It's just a pen,'' Atwood says.``Of all things, it was out of ink.''

bgoldberg@nationalpost.com

National Post

Highlights from the Margaret Atwood / Alice Munro LongPen exchange

1.
Atwood: Now I'm going to introduce, ladies and gentlemen, the one and only Alice Munro, who shall now magically appear on the screen.
Hi Alice!
Everybody say, ``Hi Alice!''
Everyone: Hiiiii, Alice.
Munro: Hi!
Atwood: You're looking great, Alice, I have to say.
Munro: (Giggles)
Atwood: You see, Alice and I had a conversation before this event in which we wondered whether we should get our fingernails done. And I said, well mine will just snap off as soon as they dry, so I'm not going to bother.

2.
Atwood, stepping in front of the camera: Hi (waving)!
Munro: Hi.
Atwood: That was GREAT, Alice! You're a naughty girl _ you read the part without any people in it, you naughty thing. But I know what you were doing.
Munro: (Laughing)
Atwood: Yeah, you said ``well, let them swallow this,'' you said.

3.
Atwood: Why have you been saying that it's your last book?
Munro: I've been saying it's my last book because I think it probably it is.
Atwood: But you've said that before, and it wasn't.
Munro and Atwood laugh heartily.
Munro: What do you mean I've said that before? Do you actually remember me saying that before?
Atwood: Yes.
Both laugh.
Atwood: But I didn't believe you. I said ``Oh, come on Alice.'' And when you said it this time, I said ``Oh, come on, Alice.'' But you said, ``No, it really is the last time this time.'' So you're going to stick to it?
Munro: I think it's time to take a break... I want to find out what other people do with their lives-- what is the central thing. So, maybe I will.
Atwood: That is a maybe, though, right?! Tell us it's only a maybe!!! (She motions to the audience to applaud)
Audience claps enthusiastically.
Munro and Atwood laugh like schoolgirls.
Atwood: Yes, we're doing the ``clap if you believe in fairies.''
Munro continues tittering.
Atwood: So, clap if you believe that it's only a maybe, and that she's going to write some more!
Audience claps and cheers.
Munro: Well, I might write under another name.
Atwood: Ohhhh! Uh-oh, now we're on notice. Are you gonna write thrillers, Alice? Are you gonna write thrillers with, sort of, guns and stuff in them? No?
Munro: You never know.
Atwood: Well, you have quite a few stories with dead people in them. So you could just expand a bit on the dead-people theme...
Munro: How many stories have I had with dead people in them?!
Both laugh.
Atwood: What about that guy who drowned in the river? Of course, he deserved it...
Audience laughs.
Munro: But he was alive for awhile, you see.
Atwood: ...because he murdered his wife's lover. You had a couple of those.
Munro: I have trouble remembering these things.

4.
Atwood: What was the event in your life that was the most tragic at the time, but now seems the most hilarious?
Munro: What a question. Well, many events seemed tragic at the time, but I don't think any of them have come to seem hilarious.
Atwood: What about the moment with the cadets?
Munro, incredulous: PEGGY!
Atwood laughs devilishly.
Atwood: Okay. You don't want to do the moment with the cadets.
Munro: Well, that will be in my next book if I write it. (She laughs).
Atwood: Ahah! Watch for that psuedonym with the moment with the cadets in it, you'll know it's Alice.