MARKETING FUN AND JOY

YELLOW RUMPED WARBLER

Writing a novel is hard work. But marketing?! My god! It feels like undergoing daily stomach flu up-chucks.

​It’s like fly fishing. You take a long time to prepare the fly and then when you cast out your precious hand-crafted fly it’s like maybe I’ll catch one and maybe I won’t. While the black flies, deer flies and mosquitoes poke, gnaw and flutter in and out of every orifice on your body.

​

WATER FROM THE FOREST

Why I’ve researched until I was grinding my teeth and squeezing the life out of my chair’s innocent arm. What a hoot! Party time!

​Get an agent. Don’t need an agent. Self publish. Traditional publishers are the best. Begin with the ending. End with the beginning. Opposite opinions everywhere. It’s like listening to political discourse. It pollutes your brain with dark noise and threatens to drive me into deeply depressive ruminations. 

SALMON POOL'S TRAIL

Do we need evil to have good? Black to have white? Hard to have soft? An agent to not have an agent? Planning your novel to not planning your novel? Eating healthy food to not eating healthy food. See what I mean? If you do, then maybe you should have yourself checked out.

BESIDE SALMON POOL'S TRAIL

Speaking of, there are plenty of opinions about this corona virus and the approach to take. Here’s one from a college retiree.

A SNORING LOG

“I am not sure its entirely cynicism, but I do think that society has watered down people. They want and need to be force fed everything from fast food to (supposed) news and information. I haven't watched the news in 3 months and haven't missed a thing! This whole CV19 thing is very much a media driven event herding people around like cattle, unduly influencing their actions and decisions because they cannot function for themselves.”
                      A College Retiree        

WINDY AFTERNOON ON BEACH

I play games when I am, for example, cycling.

Here’s one. I pretend I’m on a game show. 

Now, one of the roads I cycle on is only technically paved. 

“Gee mommy, that road isn’t wearing any pavement.”

​“Settle down, sonny. It’s Cape Breton and it’s wearing Cape Breton pavement.”

FOAMY CHETICAMP RIVER

My cycling road has potholes to die for. Cars go the long way to avoid the road. Around here, you purchase ball joints at the bulk store. 
However, it’s a good road on which to play my little game. 

HEADING OUT OVER THE OCEAN

So how does the game go? Well, I pretend I’ve been given this task. I have to cycle to the end of the road without seeing a motorized vehicle. Either direction. I don’t make it easy. If I see no vehicles I win a million dollars.

SEAGULL LANDING

The last time I played I did pretty well. No cars up to the final five K stretch. Five more k’s and I’m a millionaire. 

Here comes a damn SUV ducking around the holes. 

​“Damn you!” I whisper as I give the driver a cheery wave and a swear-finger behind my back. I can ride with no hands.

CHETICAMP RIVER

Now, because of the damn SUV, I’m only playing for one hundred thousand dollars. If I see another vehicle it drops to ten thousand dollars.

CABIN ON SALMON POOL'S TRAIL

So how much did I win in my last cycling game? I won one hundred thousand dollars. Not a bad haul for an hour’s cycling.

​I dare you to try that game on the Trans Canada. However, the rules are a little different. If you see a car or a truck, you can phone a friend.

ON THE WAY TO CHETICAMP