Books in my hands.

Hi All:

I received my order of six copies of my novel Deadly Enterprise this past week. Not enough to act as my own distributor and costly enough I'm not sure where to give them away. Some review sites will only accept printed copies to review, but which ones are worth the investment? Now comes the promotion aspect of being a writer and I'm still mulling over how best to go about it.

My local writing group want me to do a reading and book signing at a local library, and some date in September is best for them. I have to take my wife to town next week for blood tests at our nearest town in the other direction, so I'll try to arrange an appointment with the librarian there and ask her advice. No booksellers around here for miles, and I need a different printer if I want to put books and a big poster – "Local Author", picture of the cover, etc etc – in some friendly outlets on consignment.

I was notified that the first review of the novel had been done for TCM Reviews http://tcm-ca.com/index.html but it's not posted on the site yet. I'll check to see when it's going up. So far I have the kind words of Lea Schizas, who runs the Muse Online sites (check the next free conference details at http://www.freewebs.com/themuseonlinewritersconference/) as my best quote:–
"Gisel's character is so refreshing, not only because she is a woman and can defend herself, but the situations she finds herself in and how she eludes the enemy, well, you just have to read to understand why I loved this novel."

I finally made it to a different computer this week and signed up Gisel on Facebook. So my protagonist has her own page there, with her network as Toronto (the largest in terms of membership). I will get back to advertising the book on the site next week – this time I'll splurge and pay for exposure. Gotta drive those readers to look and buy. Word of mouth is the most sincere form of advertising, so Gisel and her accompanying characters have to make friends with enough readers that the word goes out in reader-land.

Now for the light entertainment:–

Oil Gypsy – episode five.

I doubt if any oil exploration crews have worked on the Canadian muskeg for twenty years. In the past, they used to work on tracks every summer. Canada then had several manufacturers of muskeg vehicles, including Nodwell and Flextrac. I've used both in the Arctic to travel over snow. They are large cab-forward trucks that look like tanks, on wide rubber tracks running over lots of rubber tired wheels.

Perhaps you're not familiar with muskeg. The last ice age left millions of scooped out holes in the northern bush that filled with water. Over thousands of years plants have slowly invaded these ponds and lakes and built mats of floating vegetation across them, bound together by tendrils of sphagnum moss. I've worked on them in winter, when the surface is frozen, and they can hold up trucks and tracked dozers over thirty tons in weight. You can drive on them if you don't mind the surface undulating beneath you like the skin of a waterbed. If the vehicle breaks through – you have to hope it's not deep.

In summer time, the Nodwells crawled over and through these swamps of floating muskeg like alligators pulling themselves out of a swamp, leaving huge scars in the surface behind them. That's the reason no one does it any more.

Crews roughed it in those days. No air conditioned trailers and hot showers – they lived in tents. They were generally isolated for weeks, since even a ten mile trip to civilization could take three hours at Nodwell speed, and evening relaxation consisted of sitting outside the kitchen tent amid the mosquitos, yarning and drinking beer. And on every crew, someone would have a dog.

Dogs didn't mind the hardship, the mud, and the strong tea-coloured water, stained with the tannin from the sphagnum – it was all great fun to a dog. Especially chasing bears that wandered periodically into camp to investigate the garbage dump. Mostly the bears were blacks, who would generally prefer to run off than get into a fight.

Not all blacks would run. One evening on PM's crew (PM standing for party manager, who told me this tale) a small group of guys sat drinking and chatting when a new bear arrived. The dog launched into his act – running at the bear, barking and growling. The guys laughed at the antics, especially a French engineer out from head office on a visit. Better than a reality show. But this bear didn't want five minutes of fame on camera – he turned and growled even louder – putting the run on the dog.

Now, where would a frightened dog – tail between his legs – run for safety? You guessed it – right behind all those big tough guys.

The party broke up rapidly as bear and dog arrived. The nearest cover was a Nodwell parked nearby where the mechanics had been repairing it. Half a dozen men took cover behind it.

Left alone amid the spilled beer cans and upended chairs, the dog ran after his unwilling protectors – and the bear followed. Within a few seconds, a race developed around the Nodwell, the dog easily in the lead and the bear, who couldn't make turns very gracefully, in the rear. The guys who made up the pack in between jostled and hoofed it in order not to be last but one.


Each guy in turn put on a sprint for the lead, in hopes of gaining enough distance they could leave the race and find safety elsewhere. Usually the dog would get under their feet and slow the whole procession. PM was lucky enough to find a clear stretch on about lap five that he could peel off and make it to camp. That left five guys and the even angrier bear in the race.

The French engineer took a chance as he came past the cab again, to leap onto the track and dive through the open door. Not wanting to invite bear in behind him, he leaned out to yank the door closed. Pity he wasn't more familiar with Nodwells, as the door had been latched open and his frantic heave almost pulled him out into the bear's path. A horrified yell signaled they'd come nose to nose. Luckily for the engineer, the roof hatch of the Nodwell (the escape hatch for sinking crew members) was also latched open and so he reversed direction and flew through it like a Space shuttle leaving the ground.

When PM got back to the scene with the camp rifle, three men were perched on the cab roof and two more were hiding among the tents. The dog and bear were on lap twenty-two and dog was beginning to panic. As he scampered around the rear of the machine he escaped by diving under the rear differential.

Bear saw where he went and tried to follow. Being a lot bigger than the dog, he didn't fit. His head hit the steel case with a loud clang. First time in his life something hadn't given way for him – bear fell down with a thump. As he rolled over, PM said he could visualize the cloud of stars orbiting bear's head like a cartoon drawing. He didn't shoot. He just watched him stagger erect, put one massive paw to his head, and totter away into the bush.