E.A. Briginshaw's Blog, page 5
November 23, 2017
Tips on Starting a Book - Part 1
I gave a presentation to our local writers' group on November 22nd that was titled "Tips on Starting a Book". I thought I would share some of those tips here on my blog. I now realize I tried to fit too much information into the time I had and I apologize for that. Today I'm going to post the first part of the presentation and will follow up with additional tips from the presentation over the next few days and weeks. So lets get started...
There are lots of people who like to write, but some struggle coming up with new things to write about. Other people have lots of good ideas for books, but can’t seem to get out of the starting blocks. My seminar was targeted at both types of people.
I’d like to start off with a bit of a disclaimer. I don’t really believe in books/seminars with titles like “Ten Things to Do to Write a Best Selling Novel” because I think everyone is unique in their creativity. Having said that, there are some tricks of the trade that may help you improve in the craft of writing. Take all of the following tips with a grain of salt. If they work for you, use them. If they don’t make sense to you, ignore them.
Where do story ideas come from? For many people in our writing group, their ideas for stories come from dreams. Sometimes a writing prompt from one of our meetings will trigger an idea for a story. For myself, my best ideas seem to come early in the morning when I’m not fully awake, but not in a dead sleep either.
A few others want to write non-fiction. They, or their family, have led interesting lives and they want to write it down so it can be shared with future generations. They don’t know if anyone outside of their family members will be interested in their stories or not, but sometimes those stories are more compelling than the latest episode of a TV drama.
For myself, many of my stories come from real life situations, or contain a mixture of real life and fiction. For example, my first book Goliath is a story about a man who has a brother who is bipolar. One day, the brother, in one of his manic states, says that Goliath didn’t really die as told in the Biblical story, and that he is Goliath. That actually happened to me in real life. When one of my brothers was in a manic state, he would make up these incredible stories about things he’d seen or done. In real life, the doctor adjusted my brother’s medication and life went back to normal. But in the fictional novel, it turned out that one of these stories was actually true.
When do these story ideas come? They rarely seem to come when you’re sitting at the keyboard facing writer’s block. If that happens, I suggest going for a walk. I find the ideas come when I’m in a relaxed state and not really thinking about anything. Suddenly, an idea just magically appears.
Tip: Make notes about these ideas or you will forget them. Sometimes, it will just be an idea for a scene or a bit of dialog. Don’t throw those notes away. Sometimes it will take years for them to gel into something useful.
Making and Keeping a Promise: When someone decides to read your book, they are committing to give you several hours of their time. They are doing this based on the title of your book, the cover design and the blurb on the back cover saying what the book is about. In essence, you have made them a promise that you will keep them engaged and entertained during that time period.
If you have written a mystery, you had better deliver a plot twist that they don’t see coming, but which makes perfect sense when it is revealed. If you’re writing a self-help/inspirational book, the reader should feel better about themselves after they’ve read it. If you’re writing your memoir, you better provide some new information or insight into you or your family that they didn’t already know.
For example, I recently read Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography called Born to Run. I have seen him perform live in concert, perform multiple times on television, and even seen him interviewed a few times. But to make his book worth reading, he would have to tell me something about himself that I didn’t already know. He delivered. He reveals what was going on behind the scenes and more importantly, what was going on in his head during all those years.
In addition to making a promise to the reader, you are also making a promise to yourself. There is a reason you’re writing the book. There is something you want to tell the world, something you want to get off your chest.
One thing that I’ve discovered is that you might not know yourself why you’re writing the book when you start, or that reason will change as you write it. I discovered this when I wrote my fourth novel titled The Back Nine. Yes, it’s about golf, but it’s mostly about life after fifty. I created a bunch of fictional characters who live in a fifty-plus golf community. But as I wrote the book, I realized it was really about my own fears of growing old. I now refer to it as my mid-life crisis book.
Writing the First Chapter (or the first sentence): Okay, you’ve now got a great idea for a book and you’re committed to writing it. How do you actually get started?
Many so-called experts have said readers will decide if they’re going to like your book by reading the blurb and the first few pages of your book. Many will do that while they’re still in the book store or library. For those who are into eBooks, they’ll use Amazon’s “Look Inside” feature to scan the first few pages. If you don’t capture their interest immediately, they’ll simply pass it on by. The same is true of editors trying to decide which books they’re going to publish each year.
Talk about pressure!!! There’s no way you’re going to be able to get started if you think the first few lines of your book have to be absolutely perfect.
Tip: Although the first chapter (or sentence) is the first one they’re going to read, it does not have to be the first one you write.
Just start writing. You may write quite a bit until you’re really “into” the story. That happened to me with my book, The Legacy. The early beta readers said they really didn’t get into the story until about the fifth chapter. Guess what. Now I knew where my story really started. I didn’t throw away everything I’d written in those first four chapters. I just moved them until later in the book and they became the supporting material explaining how my main characters got themselves into this mess.
Sometimes a great opening line will magically appear. For example, one person in our local writers’ group read something at one of our meetings that had us immediately hooked. It was “Christmas didn’t come every year at our house.” What a great opening line. I’m jealous. I usually have to write quite a bit until I discover where my story really starts.
In part 2 of this series, I'll be addressing the following topics:
Research: How much is enough?
Outlining: Is it right for you and your story?
Point of View
Thanks for reading.
There are lots of people who like to write, but some struggle coming up with new things to write about. Other people have lots of good ideas for books, but can’t seem to get out of the starting blocks. My seminar was targeted at both types of people.
I’d like to start off with a bit of a disclaimer. I don’t really believe in books/seminars with titles like “Ten Things to Do to Write a Best Selling Novel” because I think everyone is unique in their creativity. Having said that, there are some tricks of the trade that may help you improve in the craft of writing. Take all of the following tips with a grain of salt. If they work for you, use them. If they don’t make sense to you, ignore them.
Where do story ideas come from? For many people in our writing group, their ideas for stories come from dreams. Sometimes a writing prompt from one of our meetings will trigger an idea for a story. For myself, my best ideas seem to come early in the morning when I’m not fully awake, but not in a dead sleep either.
A few others want to write non-fiction. They, or their family, have led interesting lives and they want to write it down so it can be shared with future generations. They don’t know if anyone outside of their family members will be interested in their stories or not, but sometimes those stories are more compelling than the latest episode of a TV drama.
For myself, many of my stories come from real life situations, or contain a mixture of real life and fiction. For example, my first book Goliath is a story about a man who has a brother who is bipolar. One day, the brother, in one of his manic states, says that Goliath didn’t really die as told in the Biblical story, and that he is Goliath. That actually happened to me in real life. When one of my brothers was in a manic state, he would make up these incredible stories about things he’d seen or done. In real life, the doctor adjusted my brother’s medication and life went back to normal. But in the fictional novel, it turned out that one of these stories was actually true.
When do these story ideas come? They rarely seem to come when you’re sitting at the keyboard facing writer’s block. If that happens, I suggest going for a walk. I find the ideas come when I’m in a relaxed state and not really thinking about anything. Suddenly, an idea just magically appears.
Tip: Make notes about these ideas or you will forget them. Sometimes, it will just be an idea for a scene or a bit of dialog. Don’t throw those notes away. Sometimes it will take years for them to gel into something useful.
Making and Keeping a Promise: When someone decides to read your book, they are committing to give you several hours of their time. They are doing this based on the title of your book, the cover design and the blurb on the back cover saying what the book is about. In essence, you have made them a promise that you will keep them engaged and entertained during that time period.
If you have written a mystery, you had better deliver a plot twist that they don’t see coming, but which makes perfect sense when it is revealed. If you’re writing a self-help/inspirational book, the reader should feel better about themselves after they’ve read it. If you’re writing your memoir, you better provide some new information or insight into you or your family that they didn’t already know.
For example, I recently read Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography called Born to Run. I have seen him perform live in concert, perform multiple times on television, and even seen him interviewed a few times. But to make his book worth reading, he would have to tell me something about himself that I didn’t already know. He delivered. He reveals what was going on behind the scenes and more importantly, what was going on in his head during all those years.
In addition to making a promise to the reader, you are also making a promise to yourself. There is a reason you’re writing the book. There is something you want to tell the world, something you want to get off your chest.
One thing that I’ve discovered is that you might not know yourself why you’re writing the book when you start, or that reason will change as you write it. I discovered this when I wrote my fourth novel titled The Back Nine. Yes, it’s about golf, but it’s mostly about life after fifty. I created a bunch of fictional characters who live in a fifty-plus golf community. But as I wrote the book, I realized it was really about my own fears of growing old. I now refer to it as my mid-life crisis book.
Writing the First Chapter (or the first sentence): Okay, you’ve now got a great idea for a book and you’re committed to writing it. How do you actually get started?
Many so-called experts have said readers will decide if they’re going to like your book by reading the blurb and the first few pages of your book. Many will do that while they’re still in the book store or library. For those who are into eBooks, they’ll use Amazon’s “Look Inside” feature to scan the first few pages. If you don’t capture their interest immediately, they’ll simply pass it on by. The same is true of editors trying to decide which books they’re going to publish each year.
Talk about pressure!!! There’s no way you’re going to be able to get started if you think the first few lines of your book have to be absolutely perfect.
Tip: Although the first chapter (or sentence) is the first one they’re going to read, it does not have to be the first one you write.
Just start writing. You may write quite a bit until you’re really “into” the story. That happened to me with my book, The Legacy. The early beta readers said they really didn’t get into the story until about the fifth chapter. Guess what. Now I knew where my story really started. I didn’t throw away everything I’d written in those first four chapters. I just moved them until later in the book and they became the supporting material explaining how my main characters got themselves into this mess.
Sometimes a great opening line will magically appear. For example, one person in our local writers’ group read something at one of our meetings that had us immediately hooked. It was “Christmas didn’t come every year at our house.” What a great opening line. I’m jealous. I usually have to write quite a bit until I discover where my story really starts.
In part 2 of this series, I'll be addressing the following topics:
Research: How much is enough?
Outlining: Is it right for you and your story?
Point of View
Thanks for reading.
Published on November 23, 2017 16:47
May 7, 2017
The Canadian Way
The Canadian Way
“I don’t understand,” said the man from New York,
“How you really believe your ideas will work.”
“But they will,” I protested. “Let me have my say.
It may not be easy, but it’s the Canadian way.
To build a great nation, you need input from all.
If it’s us-versus-them, that will be our downfall.”
“We’ve got fishermen in the Maritimes, miners in Quebec.
We’ve got builders in Ontario, along with high-tech.
We’ve got farmers in the prairies, Alberta’s gas and oil,
BC has got lumber, the Arctic’s great spoils.
It’s not one against the other, together we succeed,
It’s not a zero sum game, we give each other what we need.”
“You’re too diverse,” he said, “of that there’s no doubt.
You should build a big wall, to keep the foreigners out.”
“But we’re a nation of immigrants,” I said with disdain.
“We don’t want a big melting pot, so we’re one and the same.
We believe in diversity, in land, people and culture.
We cherish our differences; we’re not white marble sculptures.”
“Spend more on your military,” he advised to succeed.
“You need a strong army, to take what you need.”
“But we’re a nation of peace keepers; we must all get along.
If we’re constantly fighting, we’ll never grow strong.
We’re all in this together, that’s what we believe,
We know we’re not perfect, so don’t think us naïve.”
“We’re explorers, inventors – not takers, you see.
We gave the world insulin, the telephone – and Gretzky.
We shared Anne Murray, Leonard Cohen, and Michael Bublé,
The Group of Seven, Emily Carr, even Cirque du Soleil,
The Tragically Hip, the Guess Who, and others who rhyme;
We gave you Java, basketball, the world’s Standard Time.”
He said, “you’re too liberal. Why should the rich have to pay?
For free healthcare, education, public pensions – no way!”
“It’s not free,” I corrected. “We just all pay our share.
We support all our citizens; it only seems fair.
If I’ve got your back, and I know you’ve got mine,
Then our country grows stronger, together we shine.”
“We must work with each other, and with nature, to endure.
We’d rather live richly, than be rich, that’s for sure.
Security without dependence, regard for one’s fellow man,
We have trust in each other, we believe in the plan.
We believe in democracy, everyone has their say.
We believe in each other – It’s the Canadian way.”
“I don’t understand,” said the man from New York,
“How you really believe your ideas will work.”
“But they will,” I protested. “Let me have my say.
It may not be easy, but it’s the Canadian way.
To build a great nation, you need input from all.
If it’s us-versus-them, that will be our downfall.”
“We’ve got fishermen in the Maritimes, miners in Quebec.
We’ve got builders in Ontario, along with high-tech.
We’ve got farmers in the prairies, Alberta’s gas and oil,
BC has got lumber, the Arctic’s great spoils.
It’s not one against the other, together we succeed,
It’s not a zero sum game, we give each other what we need.”
“You’re too diverse,” he said, “of that there’s no doubt.
You should build a big wall, to keep the foreigners out.”
“But we’re a nation of immigrants,” I said with disdain.
“We don’t want a big melting pot, so we’re one and the same.
We believe in diversity, in land, people and culture.
We cherish our differences; we’re not white marble sculptures.”
“Spend more on your military,” he advised to succeed.
“You need a strong army, to take what you need.”
“But we’re a nation of peace keepers; we must all get along.
If we’re constantly fighting, we’ll never grow strong.
We’re all in this together, that’s what we believe,
We know we’re not perfect, so don’t think us naïve.”
“We’re explorers, inventors – not takers, you see.
We gave the world insulin, the telephone – and Gretzky.
We shared Anne Murray, Leonard Cohen, and Michael Bublé,
The Group of Seven, Emily Carr, even Cirque du Soleil,
The Tragically Hip, the Guess Who, and others who rhyme;
We gave you Java, basketball, the world’s Standard Time.”
He said, “you’re too liberal. Why should the rich have to pay?
For free healthcare, education, public pensions – no way!”
“It’s not free,” I corrected. “We just all pay our share.
We support all our citizens; it only seems fair.
If I’ve got your back, and I know you’ve got mine,
Then our country grows stronger, together we shine.”
“We must work with each other, and with nature, to endure.
We’d rather live richly, than be rich, that’s for sure.
Security without dependence, regard for one’s fellow man,
We have trust in each other, we believe in the plan.
We believe in democracy, everyone has their say.
We believe in each other – It’s the Canadian way.”
Published on May 07, 2017 08:46
May 1, 2017
Competing Against The Old Man (Reprise)
I was recently corresponding with another writer about blogs, which prompted me to review the entries I've made in my own blog over the years. I noticed that an entry I made a couple of years ago which contained a link to a story I submitted to the Golf Canada website was no longer valid. The piece was titled "Competing Against The Old Man" and was one of the most popular stories posted on their website that year. So, I decided to post the story again below. I hope you enjoy it.
Competing Against The Old Man
My father was a fairly good golfer – not a great one – but a good one. He played to a ten handicap when I first started caddying for him when I was ten years old. We used to travel to play in tournaments at various courses in the Ottawa valley and these were some of my favourite times spent together.
My father taught me to play golf, although he also enrolled me at various junior golf camps at our home course in Renfrew, Ontario. We were fortunate enough to have the great Ernie Wakelam as our professional when I was a kid. He must have been almost seventy years old at the time, but he loved to teach kids about the game. He was a master of the short game. He could hit a simple bump-and-run up to within a few feet of the hole. But he could also hit it almost all the way to the hole, take one bounce and then stop on a dime. Next, he’d hit the shot half-way to the hole, take one bounce, check, and then release about five feet to the left. Then he’d hit the same shot and have it spin to the right. All with a seven iron, not the custom ground wedges with deep grooves available on the clubs today. It was magic.
As I grew through my teens, I would always strive to beat my father. Even though I could out-drive him by twenty or thirty yards, he was also good around the greens. I don’t know how many times I would be looking at a ten foot putt on the last hole to win and he’d be off the green facing a difficult up-and-down. He’d chip it in and I’d miss the putt. And he would win – again.
It was so frustrating. My handicap was a couple of shots lower than his, but I could never manage to beat him when we played together.
I remember the day that I finally did beat him in one of our father/son matches. He was off his game that day and it wasn’t even close. When we finished the round, I was surprised at how happy he was that I had finally defeated him. Rather than being ecstatic about the win, I felt a little sad. The bubble had burst. My hero had fallen.
We didn’t play much together after that and I never really understood why. Whenever I’d ask, he’d suggest that I go play with some of the younger guys. I wish we had played more rounds together, regardless of who won.
When Jack Nicklaus won the Masters in 1986 at the age of forty-six, I called my father and we shared the thrill of watching the “old man” get it done once again. For some reason, it felt like we were cheering for Dads everywhere to beat the young up-starts as we watched Jack on that day.
My father is now gone and I’m now over sixty years old myself. My oldest son is a golfer and the father/son competition is on once again. I’m still a better golfer than he is and I give him a few shots to make it fair, but that doesn’t stop him from trash-talking that it’s just a matter of time until he beats me. I won’t admit it to him, but I’m actually looking forward to the day he does. I just hope he’ll still want to play with the old man when he has to give me a few shots to make it competitive.
Competing Against The Old Man
My father was a fairly good golfer – not a great one – but a good one. He played to a ten handicap when I first started caddying for him when I was ten years old. We used to travel to play in tournaments at various courses in the Ottawa valley and these were some of my favourite times spent together.
My father taught me to play golf, although he also enrolled me at various junior golf camps at our home course in Renfrew, Ontario. We were fortunate enough to have the great Ernie Wakelam as our professional when I was a kid. He must have been almost seventy years old at the time, but he loved to teach kids about the game. He was a master of the short game. He could hit a simple bump-and-run up to within a few feet of the hole. But he could also hit it almost all the way to the hole, take one bounce and then stop on a dime. Next, he’d hit the shot half-way to the hole, take one bounce, check, and then release about five feet to the left. Then he’d hit the same shot and have it spin to the right. All with a seven iron, not the custom ground wedges with deep grooves available on the clubs today. It was magic.
As I grew through my teens, I would always strive to beat my father. Even though I could out-drive him by twenty or thirty yards, he was also good around the greens. I don’t know how many times I would be looking at a ten foot putt on the last hole to win and he’d be off the green facing a difficult up-and-down. He’d chip it in and I’d miss the putt. And he would win – again.
It was so frustrating. My handicap was a couple of shots lower than his, but I could never manage to beat him when we played together.
I remember the day that I finally did beat him in one of our father/son matches. He was off his game that day and it wasn’t even close. When we finished the round, I was surprised at how happy he was that I had finally defeated him. Rather than being ecstatic about the win, I felt a little sad. The bubble had burst. My hero had fallen.
We didn’t play much together after that and I never really understood why. Whenever I’d ask, he’d suggest that I go play with some of the younger guys. I wish we had played more rounds together, regardless of who won.
When Jack Nicklaus won the Masters in 1986 at the age of forty-six, I called my father and we shared the thrill of watching the “old man” get it done once again. For some reason, it felt like we were cheering for Dads everywhere to beat the young up-starts as we watched Jack on that day.
My father is now gone and I’m now over sixty years old myself. My oldest son is a golfer and the father/son competition is on once again. I’m still a better golfer than he is and I give him a few shots to make it fair, but that doesn’t stop him from trash-talking that it’s just a matter of time until he beats me. I won’t admit it to him, but I’m actually looking forward to the day he does. I just hope he’ll still want to play with the old man when he has to give me a few shots to make it competitive.
Published on May 01, 2017 18:12
April 18, 2017
The Key
Several weeks ago we had a presentation by some poets from our local writing group. They taught us about the different types of poetry and indicated the best poems have many different interpretations of what it's actually trying to say.
They gave us an exercise to choose one of a handful of words to use as a prompt for a poem. I chose the word "key" and wrote the following poem. After you've read it, please leave a reply on what you think the poem is about. In a few weeks, I'll post my interpretation.
The Key
He tried to open the door, but found it was locked.
Many times he had tried, but his access was blocked.
Open – closed – what would he find?
Open – closed – to free the person behind.
He needed the key, to find the way in,
To see the whole spectrum, but his prospects were dim.
There was someone inside, of that he was sure,
To find the way through, his intentions were pure.
The person hidden inside, was under lock and key,
He had to find a way in – open the door – set him free.
He had a handful of keys – just try them all – so simple,
But was it Skeleton, Abloy, Tubular, or Dimple?
A Transponder key? He just needed to work it.
But there’s a fault in the wiring, a fault in the circuit.
Perhaps it was music, maybe the key was in C,
But he didn’t know the tune, so he sang it off-key.
He tried to break the door down, to set the prisoner free,
He tried to pick the lock, but it wasn’t to be,
All he could do was promise, that he’d continue to fight,
Someday we’ll find the key, open the door, see the light.
They gave us an exercise to choose one of a handful of words to use as a prompt for a poem. I chose the word "key" and wrote the following poem. After you've read it, please leave a reply on what you think the poem is about. In a few weeks, I'll post my interpretation.
The Key
He tried to open the door, but found it was locked.
Many times he had tried, but his access was blocked.
Open – closed – what would he find?
Open – closed – to free the person behind.
He needed the key, to find the way in,
To see the whole spectrum, but his prospects were dim.
There was someone inside, of that he was sure,
To find the way through, his intentions were pure.
The person hidden inside, was under lock and key,
He had to find a way in – open the door – set him free.
He had a handful of keys – just try them all – so simple,
But was it Skeleton, Abloy, Tubular, or Dimple?
A Transponder key? He just needed to work it.
But there’s a fault in the wiring, a fault in the circuit.
Perhaps it was music, maybe the key was in C,
But he didn’t know the tune, so he sang it off-key.
He tried to break the door down, to set the prisoner free,
He tried to pick the lock, but it wasn’t to be,
All he could do was promise, that he’d continue to fight,
Someday we’ll find the key, open the door, see the light.
Published on April 18, 2017 09:59
January 12, 2017
Road's End
I'm a fiction writer, but have recently started writing poems. This one's called "Road's End". Warning: some of you might find the following poem a bit "dark".
As the man hurried toward his goal, he saw a sign that said,
Warning – Caution – This road ends – one kilometre ahead.
Should he stop and turn around, reflect on where he’d been?
Or stay the course, take the road less travelled, see what he hasn’t seen?
He’d made a lot of choices, to get so far, so fast.
Some good, some bad, some in between – perhaps the die was cast.
Sometimes the road was straight and smooth, other times it was terribly rough.
But now the road was ending, he wondered if he’d done enough.
He’d read the maps, and charted his course, the best route was so clear.
But now that he was near the end, he had to admit his fear.
Should he have taken more exits, more stops along the way?
Worked harder to maintain the car, invested more each day?
His headlights lit up another sign, just around the bend.
It said that there was no way out; it was surely a dead end.
But he kept his foot firmly on the gas; he showed his courage now.
He had to trust this was the way; he wiped the sweat from his brow.
What would happen when it ended? Would the road just disappear?
Or would it end with white sand beaches, and water, oh so clear?
Would it end with a huge collision – a big bang, so to speak?
Or would he have to make a new path, only visible to those who seek?
There had been a lot of advisors, who told him the route to take.
But each man must find his own path; it’s his life, for goodness sake.
He had to have faith the path he was on, would deem his future well.
He hoped this was the road to paradise, and not the road to Hell.
As he crested the hill he was welcomed, by all who he held dear.
His father had kept his promise; he had no reason to fear.
He said, “this road’s not easy. I’m sure you had frustrations.”
He smiled and took him by the hand, “You have reached your destination”.
As the man hurried toward his goal, he saw a sign that said,
Warning – Caution – This road ends – one kilometre ahead.
Should he stop and turn around, reflect on where he’d been?
Or stay the course, take the road less travelled, see what he hasn’t seen?
He’d made a lot of choices, to get so far, so fast.
Some good, some bad, some in between – perhaps the die was cast.
Sometimes the road was straight and smooth, other times it was terribly rough.
But now the road was ending, he wondered if he’d done enough.
He’d read the maps, and charted his course, the best route was so clear.
But now that he was near the end, he had to admit his fear.
Should he have taken more exits, more stops along the way?
Worked harder to maintain the car, invested more each day?
His headlights lit up another sign, just around the bend.
It said that there was no way out; it was surely a dead end.
But he kept his foot firmly on the gas; he showed his courage now.
He had to trust this was the way; he wiped the sweat from his brow.
What would happen when it ended? Would the road just disappear?
Or would it end with white sand beaches, and water, oh so clear?
Would it end with a huge collision – a big bang, so to speak?
Or would he have to make a new path, only visible to those who seek?
There had been a lot of advisors, who told him the route to take.
But each man must find his own path; it’s his life, for goodness sake.
He had to have faith the path he was on, would deem his future well.
He hoped this was the road to paradise, and not the road to Hell.
As he crested the hill he was welcomed, by all who he held dear.
His father had kept his promise; he had no reason to fear.
He said, “this road’s not easy. I’m sure you had frustrations.”
He smiled and took him by the hand, “You have reached your destination”.
Published on January 12, 2017 09:41
January 3, 2017
2016 Year in Review: Highs and Lows
From this author’s perspective, 2016 was a year of highs and lows. I decided to take a more aggressive approach to marketing my books, which, as illustrated in several examples below, produced less than stellar results.
January: Sales in the new year got off to a terrible start so I decided to try a few different promotions. I put my first novel Goliath on sale and ran a Goodreads Giveaway promotion for a free paperback copy. The goal was to generate interest in the book and garner a few more reviews, which would hopefully result in future sales. Since the novel deals with mental health issues, I also offered to donate all of my royalties from sales in January to the Canadian Mental Health Association. The results? You guessed it. Zero sales. Nada. Zilch.
February: Sales continued to be few and far between. However, I was distracted by purchasing a new house in the Shuswap region of British Columbia. With a May possession date, we started making plans for the move from London, Ontario to Blind Bay, B.C.
March: My new novel The Back Nine was released on March 11th. I was quite excited about it and planned a major marketing initiative. Unfortunately, Amazon had trouble making it available on their Amazon.ca website. Since the Canadian market is where I make most of my sales, I decided to delay the marketing efforts until it was actually available for purchase. To my surprise, sales started happening anyway. Don’t ask me how people even heard about the book, but I sold several copies in the U.S. and the U.K. in the first week. It was almost a week later when the book finally became available on the Canadian website and I started my marketing efforts. The Back Nine was my most successful launch to date and sold 80 copies in the first two months. (I know that’s not a lot for some people, but it’s a lot for me.) The new book also triggered sales in my other books.
April: I received a great review of The Legacy and had my name added to the LWS Luminaries page of the London Writers Society. I will forever be indebted to the members of the LWS critique group for helping me with my writing.
May: My wife and I moved into our new house in beautiful British Columbia. I was fortunate enough to discover a group of writers called the “Writers Nook” and we get together every few weeks to write and encourage each other. I attended the “Word On The Lake” Writers’ Festival (http://wordonthelakewritersfestival.com/) in Salmon Arm, which is quickly gaining a reputation as a top-notch event.
July: The Okanagan Regional Library purchased multiple copies of all four of my novels and made them available in their branches in the region. A local bookstore in Salmon Arm called the “Hidden Gems Bookstore” (http://www.hiddengemsbookstore.com/) also agreed to sell my books.
August: The Back Nine became my biggest selling novel less than six months after its release. Since my second novel, The Legacy, is about the Rio Olympics, I decided to run several promotions during the Olympic Games. Once again, disappointing results.
September: For the first time ever, I decided to try giving away free copies of The Legacy. Numerous people suggested this was the way for unknown authors like me to generate awareness and interest in my books. The promotion ran for three days and on the first day, it was the #1 book downloaded on Amazon.ca in the sports category. The free promotion may have resulted in increased exposure, but it has not generated any new sales or reviews since that time.
October/November: I ran several promotions for The Second Shooter which produced disappointing results. I also signed up for a series of Scriptwriting workshops offered by Peter Blacklock which proved to be interesting and challenging. In fact, I’m in the process of adapting my upcoming novel titled “Women 101” into a stage play. We’re hoping to workshop the play in early 2017 to see if it is good enough to be staged by one of the theatre groups in the area.
December: I am pleased to announce that I sold my 500th book in December. I know that’s not a lot of sales, but it means a lot to me. When I started writing four years ago, I thought the only person who would be interested in reading my novels would be my mother. I’m still not getting rich or famous doing this but I just looked at the numbers and it looks like I’ll make a whopping profit of $154 for the year. Sales have been in Canada, the U.S., the U.K., Germany and India. Paperback sales account for 64% of my sales, which is not the norm for most indie authors. I’ve come to the conclusion that the most successful marketing endeavour is not discounting the price of books or giving away a lot of free books; it is simply continuing to write and produce new material.
In 2017, watch for the release of my new novel titled “Women 101”. It will be my first book in the humour category and is about a father’s (sometimes questionable) advice to his son about the fairer sex.
January: Sales in the new year got off to a terrible start so I decided to try a few different promotions. I put my first novel Goliath on sale and ran a Goodreads Giveaway promotion for a free paperback copy. The goal was to generate interest in the book and garner a few more reviews, which would hopefully result in future sales. Since the novel deals with mental health issues, I also offered to donate all of my royalties from sales in January to the Canadian Mental Health Association. The results? You guessed it. Zero sales. Nada. Zilch.
February: Sales continued to be few and far between. However, I was distracted by purchasing a new house in the Shuswap region of British Columbia. With a May possession date, we started making plans for the move from London, Ontario to Blind Bay, B.C.
March: My new novel The Back Nine was released on March 11th. I was quite excited about it and planned a major marketing initiative. Unfortunately, Amazon had trouble making it available on their Amazon.ca website. Since the Canadian market is where I make most of my sales, I decided to delay the marketing efforts until it was actually available for purchase. To my surprise, sales started happening anyway. Don’t ask me how people even heard about the book, but I sold several copies in the U.S. and the U.K. in the first week. It was almost a week later when the book finally became available on the Canadian website and I started my marketing efforts. The Back Nine was my most successful launch to date and sold 80 copies in the first two months. (I know that’s not a lot for some people, but it’s a lot for me.) The new book also triggered sales in my other books.
April: I received a great review of The Legacy and had my name added to the LWS Luminaries page of the London Writers Society. I will forever be indebted to the members of the LWS critique group for helping me with my writing.
May: My wife and I moved into our new house in beautiful British Columbia. I was fortunate enough to discover a group of writers called the “Writers Nook” and we get together every few weeks to write and encourage each other. I attended the “Word On The Lake” Writers’ Festival (http://wordonthelakewritersfestival.com/) in Salmon Arm, which is quickly gaining a reputation as a top-notch event.
July: The Okanagan Regional Library purchased multiple copies of all four of my novels and made them available in their branches in the region. A local bookstore in Salmon Arm called the “Hidden Gems Bookstore” (http://www.hiddengemsbookstore.com/) also agreed to sell my books.
August: The Back Nine became my biggest selling novel less than six months after its release. Since my second novel, The Legacy, is about the Rio Olympics, I decided to run several promotions during the Olympic Games. Once again, disappointing results.
September: For the first time ever, I decided to try giving away free copies of The Legacy. Numerous people suggested this was the way for unknown authors like me to generate awareness and interest in my books. The promotion ran for three days and on the first day, it was the #1 book downloaded on Amazon.ca in the sports category. The free promotion may have resulted in increased exposure, but it has not generated any new sales or reviews since that time.
October/November: I ran several promotions for The Second Shooter which produced disappointing results. I also signed up for a series of Scriptwriting workshops offered by Peter Blacklock which proved to be interesting and challenging. In fact, I’m in the process of adapting my upcoming novel titled “Women 101” into a stage play. We’re hoping to workshop the play in early 2017 to see if it is good enough to be staged by one of the theatre groups in the area.
December: I am pleased to announce that I sold my 500th book in December. I know that’s not a lot of sales, but it means a lot to me. When I started writing four years ago, I thought the only person who would be interested in reading my novels would be my mother. I’m still not getting rich or famous doing this but I just looked at the numbers and it looks like I’ll make a whopping profit of $154 for the year. Sales have been in Canada, the U.S., the U.K., Germany and India. Paperback sales account for 64% of my sales, which is not the norm for most indie authors. I’ve come to the conclusion that the most successful marketing endeavour is not discounting the price of books or giving away a lot of free books; it is simply continuing to write and produce new material.
In 2017, watch for the release of my new novel titled “Women 101”. It will be my first book in the humour category and is about a father’s (sometimes questionable) advice to his son about the fairer sex.
Published on January 03, 2017 17:00
December 13, 2016
My Favourite Books Read in 2016
One of the neat features of the Goodreads website is that you can use it to track all the books you read. This year, it told me I read 33 books and I've listed a few of my favourites below. Although I mostly read mysteries, I still enjoy a bit of variety with technical material from Stephen Hawking, humorous books from Terry Fallis, a classic from Mitch Albom and a book on the craft of writing from Stephen King.
Tuesdays with Morrie
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
Poles Apart
A Brief History of Time
The Hit
The Innocent
The Target
An American Caddie in St. Andrews: Growing Up, Girls, and Looping on the Old Course
Missing Steps
Borderline
Sacrifice
Dark Waters
Deep Six
The Woman
Unforeseen
Tuesdays with Morrie
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
Poles Apart
A Brief History of Time
The Hit
The Innocent
The Target
An American Caddie in St. Andrews: Growing Up, Girls, and Looping on the Old Course
Missing Steps
Borderline
Sacrifice
Dark Waters
Deep Six
The Woman
Unforeseen
Published on December 13, 2016 12:13
November 18, 2016
On Writing
I finished reading Stephen King’s book “On Writing” a few weeks ago but have thought about it numerous times since then. I think that’s the mark of a good book; it continues to have impact long after you’ve turned the last page.
I’ve never been a big fan of Stephen King’s genre of books, but there’s no doubt he is a gifted writer. This was a book that I’d been meaning to read for quite a while, but never seemed to make it happen. Then my sister-in-law found a copy at a garage sale and put it in my hands. I thank her for that.
The book is divided into several sections. The first part describes some early events in his life which provides insight into his books. The second section describes the tools that he feels are required to be a good writer. The third section, "On Writing", describes some of his philosophies about writing and the fourth part describes how writing helped him recover after a horrific accident.
As a budding writer myself, it was the "On Writing" section that I found the most interesting. One aspect that I found quite encouraging is that he doesn’t always know what’s going to happen in his books until he writes it. That’s the same for me. There are writing courses out there that suggest that a writer should plot everything out ahead of time. That doesn’t work for me because I keep changing the outline as I write the novel, rather than following the map I initially drew.
Mr. King suggests to just write the story and then figure out what it’s about after you’re done. That’s exactly what happened when I wrote my second novel, The Legacy. It started out as a basic kidnapping story and then evolved into something much more. He suggests that it’s only after an author has written his first draft that the theme and the symbolism become apparent. Those aspects can be enhanced in subsequent editing sessions, but the author usually doesn’t know that going in.
That also happened with my fourth novel, The Back Nine. Sure, it’s a book about golf, but it’s mostly about life after fifty. I think it was my way of dealing with my fears of getting older. The cover of the book shows the bright red and gold colours of the leaves in autumn, but we all know it’s just a matter of time until those leaves fall to the ground.
I’m currently working on my fifth novel, titled “Women 101”. It’s a (hopefully) humorous story about a father telling his son everything he knows about women. (It appears that it will be a short book because I apparently don’t know as much about women as I thought.) What’s it really about? I’ll let you know when I finish writing it.
I’ve never been a big fan of Stephen King’s genre of books, but there’s no doubt he is a gifted writer. This was a book that I’d been meaning to read for quite a while, but never seemed to make it happen. Then my sister-in-law found a copy at a garage sale and put it in my hands. I thank her for that.
The book is divided into several sections. The first part describes some early events in his life which provides insight into his books. The second section describes the tools that he feels are required to be a good writer. The third section, "On Writing", describes some of his philosophies about writing and the fourth part describes how writing helped him recover after a horrific accident.
As a budding writer myself, it was the "On Writing" section that I found the most interesting. One aspect that I found quite encouraging is that he doesn’t always know what’s going to happen in his books until he writes it. That’s the same for me. There are writing courses out there that suggest that a writer should plot everything out ahead of time. That doesn’t work for me because I keep changing the outline as I write the novel, rather than following the map I initially drew.
Mr. King suggests to just write the story and then figure out what it’s about after you’re done. That’s exactly what happened when I wrote my second novel, The Legacy. It started out as a basic kidnapping story and then evolved into something much more. He suggests that it’s only after an author has written his first draft that the theme and the symbolism become apparent. Those aspects can be enhanced in subsequent editing sessions, but the author usually doesn’t know that going in.
That also happened with my fourth novel, The Back Nine. Sure, it’s a book about golf, but it’s mostly about life after fifty. I think it was my way of dealing with my fears of getting older. The cover of the book shows the bright red and gold colours of the leaves in autumn, but we all know it’s just a matter of time until those leaves fall to the ground.
I’m currently working on my fifth novel, titled “Women 101”. It’s a (hopefully) humorous story about a father telling his son everything he knows about women. (It appears that it will be a short book because I apparently don’t know as much about women as I thought.) What’s it really about? I’ll let you know when I finish writing it.
Published on November 18, 2016 08:11
May 26, 2016
And Now For Something Completely Different
As many of you are aware, my first three novels were mysteries and my latest novel was a lifestyle piece about life after fifty. For my next project, I'm tackling something completely different, the humour category with a novel tentatively titled:
Women 101: A Father's Guide to His Son
Here's a sample:
I was in deep shit now. Trevor had just called and said he was on his way over for our first session. It was too late to back out now. But what is a father supposed to do? When your son asks for help, you’re supposed to give it, no matter what. Right?
My name is Dave and I am a forty-six-year-old software engineer living in a typical middle-class home with my wife, Angie. Trevor is our twenty-four-year-old son. He’s smart, athletic, personable, and relatively good looking, but just hopeless with women. There have already been several Facebook postings about some of his blunders with the fairer sex, some of which, unfortunately, have gone viral. His last wingman had finally given up on him and told him he was on his own. Apparently, Trevor was putting their entire squadron of young, single men in danger of crashing and burning.
In desperation, Trevor had turned to his last resort – his father – for help.
I had hoped this day would never come. Trevor had managed to avoid the whole “how to get women” thing for years. Jessica, the girl-next-door, had been Trevor’s best friend since we moved into the neighbourhood when he was six. They’d gone through public school together, were declared the “cutest couple” at their high school prom, and spent four years together at the local university. Trevor was completely shocked when she told him she was moving to Toronto and leaving him behind. She told him she would always cherish their friendship. He’d thought they were more than just friends.
There was a soft knock on the back door and Trevor entered the kitchen. “Mom’s already gone, right?”
I was sworn to secrecy about our father-son lessons. I didn’t want to advertise them either, particularly to my wife. I knew she’d say I was hardly qualified to be giving such lessons.
My wife sings in a local choral group and the calendar on the front of the fridge showed they had rehearsals every Saturday morning for the next eight weeks. Trevor had surmised that I could teach him everything about women in eight two-hour sessions. That alone should give you some idea how clueless he was.
Today was lesson one: Where to Meet Women.
He sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out a small notepad and a Red Bull from his coat pocket. I poured myself a cup of coffee; I preferred to get my caffeine the old-fashioned way.
“Okay Dad, where’s the best place to meet women?”
He looked at me with wide-eyed anticipation. He was so young, so naïve, so stupid. It was like watching Bambi about to wander out of the forest unaware that there were hunters with guns out there. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. The women he’d encounter wouldn’t be carrying guns, at least I hoped not. But don’t kid yourself, they are fully armed and can easily destroy the entire male population. Talk about your weapons of mass destruction.
“The best place to meet women is normally where you spend the majority of your time, like at work or school.”
“I’m done school,” Trevor said. “And I don’t think I’ll meet any prospects at the plant. I think there are only two women there in total.”
That was true. Trevor had graduated from university over a year ago and landed a position as a design engineer at a local auto parts company. He said the two women who worked in the production plant scared him. I ran into them one day when picking him up for a lunch date; they scared me, too. It was probably too late for him to go back to the university looking to meet girls. A guy could get arrested for stalking young co-eds.
Time to look at Plan B.
I told him grocery stores were a good place to meet women and spent the next half-hour explaining how to look helpless when selecting fruits and vegetables. “If you ask dumb questions, women immediately clue in you’re a bachelor who’s not still living at home with his mother. Plus, it appeals to a woman’s basic instinct to nurture and take care of a man. They love that kind of stuff.”
It was only when I was wrapping up my lesson that I realized I was describing a scene from an old episode of Happy Days – the one where Fonzie tries to help Richie meet women. But it was too late to change strategy now. Fortunately, Trevor wouldn’t know how that episode turned out because it aired before he was born.
He said he would give it a try during the week and report back to me at our next lesson.
* * *
Trevor showed up the following Saturday morning carrying several bags of groceries. “I don’t suppose you want some vegetables,” he said.
I was encouraged to see he’d followed through on our first lesson; I was afraid he might chicken out. He proceeded to empty the grocery bags on the kitchen table. There were more vegetables than I’d ever seen in my whole life. I recognized most of them, but a few left me stumped.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, pointing to some green, leafy stuff.
“I forget. It’s either spinach, kale or watercress. I’ve been eating nothing but vegetables all week.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. “I’ve got a severe case of the runs.”
I now realized I hadn’t told him that he wasn’t supposed to buy every vegetable in the place, just browse through the produce section. We sat down at the kitchen table.
“Don’t worry about the groceries. Did it work? Did you meet any women?”
“I tried,” he said. “I went to the local Valu-Shop store on Monday after work and spent about two hours there, just like you told me. Whenever I’d see a cute, single woman, I’d wander over and ask if she knew how to pick out a good melon or how you’re supposed to cook Brussels sprouts.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “You know what, Dad? Most women don’t know. They’re as clueless as I am!”
I have to admit that I was surprised by that as well. I thought most girls were taught this by their mothers, or learned it in Home Economics class. “So you didn’t meet any women at all?”
“I did meet one,” he said. “She didn’t know any more about fruits and vegetables than I did, but we started up a nice conversation. It was going great until Mrs. Jones showed up.”
“Mrs. Jones? You mean the old lady from down the street?”
“Yep. She was in there shopping and overheard us talking about produce. Before I knew it, she was conducting a Vegetables 101 class for both of us. The cute girl managed to make her escape, but I was stuck. That’s where that kale or watercress, or whatever the hell that is, came from.”
I heard a scary, rumbling sound coming from Trevor’s stomach. He took the cap off the Pepto and took a swig.
“But I didn’t give up,” he said. “I figured I should go to a different store the next day – one with less chance of running into Mrs. Jones or anyone else I might know. On Tuesday, I went to the Mega-Shop on the other side of town. It’s huge and as a bonus, it’s got a women’s fitness club up on the second floor. I figured women would shop there either before or after their workouts.”
Brilliant, I thought to myself. It’s times like these that a father feels most proud. My son was a hunter, learning about the habits of his prey before moving in to claim his prize. I leaned forward in my seat in anticipation. Now we were getting to the good stuff. I could picture him sidling up to a svelte, athletic-looking girl. “I bet the women there were really hot.”
“Not really,” he said. “No hotter than anywhere else, anyway. But there were sure a lot of them. Those fitness and yoga classes attract a lot of women. I managed to strike up several conversations during the week and we’d continue chatting while we waited in the checkout line. Things would be going really well, but when I’d ask them whether they wanted to go out for coffee or to a movie sometime, they’d tell me they were busy or already had a boyfriend.”
I knew this issue might arise and had planned to discuss this topic later, but was now considering moving it forward in his lesson plan.
“Did you make any progress with any of them?”
“Not really. I went back there every night this week. I got a few names and telephone numbers, but didn’t get any further than that. I even shopped there twice on Thursday night. Alicia noticed how often I’m there and signed me up for their Points-Plus card.”
“Who’s Alicia?”
“She’s the checkout girl at the 10-items-or-less lane at the Mega-Shop store. She said I should get their loyalty card – said it could save me a few bucks. By the way, I don’t suppose you want to loan me some money until next payday. I’m running a little short.”
I reached into my wallet and slid a couple of twenties across the table.
“These women who gave you their number – did you try calling any of them?” I asked.
“There were only two and I called both of them. I left a voice-mail for the first one, but she hasn’t called me back.”
“And the second one?”
“I must have written down her number wrong, because when I called it, the message said the number was no longer in service.”
Poor kid. He’d fallen for the old bogus-telephone-number trick. It was definitely time for lesson two: Women Lie.
Women 101: A Father's Guide to His Son
Here's a sample:
I was in deep shit now. Trevor had just called and said he was on his way over for our first session. It was too late to back out now. But what is a father supposed to do? When your son asks for help, you’re supposed to give it, no matter what. Right?
My name is Dave and I am a forty-six-year-old software engineer living in a typical middle-class home with my wife, Angie. Trevor is our twenty-four-year-old son. He’s smart, athletic, personable, and relatively good looking, but just hopeless with women. There have already been several Facebook postings about some of his blunders with the fairer sex, some of which, unfortunately, have gone viral. His last wingman had finally given up on him and told him he was on his own. Apparently, Trevor was putting their entire squadron of young, single men in danger of crashing and burning.
In desperation, Trevor had turned to his last resort – his father – for help.
I had hoped this day would never come. Trevor had managed to avoid the whole “how to get women” thing for years. Jessica, the girl-next-door, had been Trevor’s best friend since we moved into the neighbourhood when he was six. They’d gone through public school together, were declared the “cutest couple” at their high school prom, and spent four years together at the local university. Trevor was completely shocked when she told him she was moving to Toronto and leaving him behind. She told him she would always cherish their friendship. He’d thought they were more than just friends.
There was a soft knock on the back door and Trevor entered the kitchen. “Mom’s already gone, right?”
I was sworn to secrecy about our father-son lessons. I didn’t want to advertise them either, particularly to my wife. I knew she’d say I was hardly qualified to be giving such lessons.
My wife sings in a local choral group and the calendar on the front of the fridge showed they had rehearsals every Saturday morning for the next eight weeks. Trevor had surmised that I could teach him everything about women in eight two-hour sessions. That alone should give you some idea how clueless he was.
Today was lesson one: Where to Meet Women.
He sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out a small notepad and a Red Bull from his coat pocket. I poured myself a cup of coffee; I preferred to get my caffeine the old-fashioned way.
“Okay Dad, where’s the best place to meet women?”
He looked at me with wide-eyed anticipation. He was so young, so naïve, so stupid. It was like watching Bambi about to wander out of the forest unaware that there were hunters with guns out there. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. The women he’d encounter wouldn’t be carrying guns, at least I hoped not. But don’t kid yourself, they are fully armed and can easily destroy the entire male population. Talk about your weapons of mass destruction.
“The best place to meet women is normally where you spend the majority of your time, like at work or school.”
“I’m done school,” Trevor said. “And I don’t think I’ll meet any prospects at the plant. I think there are only two women there in total.”
That was true. Trevor had graduated from university over a year ago and landed a position as a design engineer at a local auto parts company. He said the two women who worked in the production plant scared him. I ran into them one day when picking him up for a lunch date; they scared me, too. It was probably too late for him to go back to the university looking to meet girls. A guy could get arrested for stalking young co-eds.
Time to look at Plan B.
I told him grocery stores were a good place to meet women and spent the next half-hour explaining how to look helpless when selecting fruits and vegetables. “If you ask dumb questions, women immediately clue in you’re a bachelor who’s not still living at home with his mother. Plus, it appeals to a woman’s basic instinct to nurture and take care of a man. They love that kind of stuff.”
It was only when I was wrapping up my lesson that I realized I was describing a scene from an old episode of Happy Days – the one where Fonzie tries to help Richie meet women. But it was too late to change strategy now. Fortunately, Trevor wouldn’t know how that episode turned out because it aired before he was born.
He said he would give it a try during the week and report back to me at our next lesson.
* * *
Trevor showed up the following Saturday morning carrying several bags of groceries. “I don’t suppose you want some vegetables,” he said.
I was encouraged to see he’d followed through on our first lesson; I was afraid he might chicken out. He proceeded to empty the grocery bags on the kitchen table. There were more vegetables than I’d ever seen in my whole life. I recognized most of them, but a few left me stumped.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, pointing to some green, leafy stuff.
“I forget. It’s either spinach, kale or watercress. I’ve been eating nothing but vegetables all week.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. “I’ve got a severe case of the runs.”
I now realized I hadn’t told him that he wasn’t supposed to buy every vegetable in the place, just browse through the produce section. We sat down at the kitchen table.
“Don’t worry about the groceries. Did it work? Did you meet any women?”
“I tried,” he said. “I went to the local Valu-Shop store on Monday after work and spent about two hours there, just like you told me. Whenever I’d see a cute, single woman, I’d wander over and ask if she knew how to pick out a good melon or how you’re supposed to cook Brussels sprouts.” He threw up his hands in frustration. “You know what, Dad? Most women don’t know. They’re as clueless as I am!”
I have to admit that I was surprised by that as well. I thought most girls were taught this by their mothers, or learned it in Home Economics class. “So you didn’t meet any women at all?”
“I did meet one,” he said. “She didn’t know any more about fruits and vegetables than I did, but we started up a nice conversation. It was going great until Mrs. Jones showed up.”
“Mrs. Jones? You mean the old lady from down the street?”
“Yep. She was in there shopping and overheard us talking about produce. Before I knew it, she was conducting a Vegetables 101 class for both of us. The cute girl managed to make her escape, but I was stuck. That’s where that kale or watercress, or whatever the hell that is, came from.”
I heard a scary, rumbling sound coming from Trevor’s stomach. He took the cap off the Pepto and took a swig.
“But I didn’t give up,” he said. “I figured I should go to a different store the next day – one with less chance of running into Mrs. Jones or anyone else I might know. On Tuesday, I went to the Mega-Shop on the other side of town. It’s huge and as a bonus, it’s got a women’s fitness club up on the second floor. I figured women would shop there either before or after their workouts.”
Brilliant, I thought to myself. It’s times like these that a father feels most proud. My son was a hunter, learning about the habits of his prey before moving in to claim his prize. I leaned forward in my seat in anticipation. Now we were getting to the good stuff. I could picture him sidling up to a svelte, athletic-looking girl. “I bet the women there were really hot.”
“Not really,” he said. “No hotter than anywhere else, anyway. But there were sure a lot of them. Those fitness and yoga classes attract a lot of women. I managed to strike up several conversations during the week and we’d continue chatting while we waited in the checkout line. Things would be going really well, but when I’d ask them whether they wanted to go out for coffee or to a movie sometime, they’d tell me they were busy or already had a boyfriend.”
I knew this issue might arise and had planned to discuss this topic later, but was now considering moving it forward in his lesson plan.
“Did you make any progress with any of them?”
“Not really. I went back there every night this week. I got a few names and telephone numbers, but didn’t get any further than that. I even shopped there twice on Thursday night. Alicia noticed how often I’m there and signed me up for their Points-Plus card.”
“Who’s Alicia?”
“She’s the checkout girl at the 10-items-or-less lane at the Mega-Shop store. She said I should get their loyalty card – said it could save me a few bucks. By the way, I don’t suppose you want to loan me some money until next payday. I’m running a little short.”
I reached into my wallet and slid a couple of twenties across the table.
“These women who gave you their number – did you try calling any of them?” I asked.
“There were only two and I called both of them. I left a voice-mail for the first one, but she hasn’t called me back.”
“And the second one?”
“I must have written down her number wrong, because when I called it, the message said the number was no longer in service.”
Poor kid. He’d fallen for the old bogus-telephone-number trick. It was definitely time for lesson two: Women Lie.
Published on May 26, 2016 09:02
January 5, 2016
2015 Year in Review: Okay, so I'm not getting rich and famous being an author, but it's still fun!!!
Feb 24: Released “The Second Shooter”, my third novel. Sold 50 copies in the first month, which was my most successful launch so far. The new book also seemed to trigger some new sales of my first two books.
Feb-March: For the first time, I tried promoting my books by running a handful of “Goodreads Giveaway” promotions. I’m not sure it justified the cost, but seemed to increase the awareness of my books. Several hundred people added them to their “To-read” lists.
March: Article about the release of “The Second Shooter” appeared on University of Waterloo alumni website. (https://uwaterloo.ca/alumni/blog/post...)
May: While struggling to make progress on my 4th book, I wrote a short piece for Golf Canada called “Competing Against the Old Man” (http://www.golfcanadagolf.ca/en/story/93). It is still one of their most popular entries (over 1,400 views) and I’ve received a lot of positive feedback on it, even though I wrote it in about 20 minutes.
June: I finally got some press coverage for my books when “The Second Shooter” was included in their “Summer Reading List” by the London Free Press.
July: Received a great review of “The Legacy” by Cy Wyss, a reviewer based in Indianapolis. (http://www.cywyss.com/2015/07/review-...).
August: Sold a copy of “The Second Shooter” in the UK, my first sale outside of North America.
September-November: I was one of the guest lecturers for the “Writers Teaching Writers” course.
November: Participated in the London WordsFest book festival.
November: Sold first copy of one of my books in Germany.
November: Interviewed for a local TV show called “Between the Lines”. The show is supposed to air in January or February of 2016.
November: Finished the first draft of my new book “The Back Nine”, which is a novel about life after fifty. I’m hoping the book will be released by March 2016.
December: Finished the year “in the black” posting a whopping profit of $124. Okay, so I’m not getting rich and famous being an author, but it’s still a lot of fun!!!
Feb-March: For the first time, I tried promoting my books by running a handful of “Goodreads Giveaway” promotions. I’m not sure it justified the cost, but seemed to increase the awareness of my books. Several hundred people added them to their “To-read” lists.
March: Article about the release of “The Second Shooter” appeared on University of Waterloo alumni website. (https://uwaterloo.ca/alumni/blog/post...)
May: While struggling to make progress on my 4th book, I wrote a short piece for Golf Canada called “Competing Against the Old Man” (http://www.golfcanadagolf.ca/en/story/93). It is still one of their most popular entries (over 1,400 views) and I’ve received a lot of positive feedback on it, even though I wrote it in about 20 minutes.
June: I finally got some press coverage for my books when “The Second Shooter” was included in their “Summer Reading List” by the London Free Press.
July: Received a great review of “The Legacy” by Cy Wyss, a reviewer based in Indianapolis. (http://www.cywyss.com/2015/07/review-...).
August: Sold a copy of “The Second Shooter” in the UK, my first sale outside of North America.
September-November: I was one of the guest lecturers for the “Writers Teaching Writers” course.
November: Participated in the London WordsFest book festival.
November: Sold first copy of one of my books in Germany.
November: Interviewed for a local TV show called “Between the Lines”. The show is supposed to air in January or February of 2016.
November: Finished the first draft of my new book “The Back Nine”, which is a novel about life after fifty. I’m hoping the book will be released by March 2016.
December: Finished the year “in the black” posting a whopping profit of $124. Okay, so I’m not getting rich and famous being an author, but it’s still a lot of fun!!!
Published on January 05, 2016 08:20