Perhaps it was studying Arthur Miller’s DEATH OF A SALESMAN
in high school that caused it—literature can have a tremendous impact on young
psyches. Whatever it was, travelling about the country marketing my books took
on a sinister connotation...for unknown
reasons. If you haven’t read about that phobia of mine, check out my post on the Famous Five Plus website.
I predicted on there that the best way to
overcome that irrational fear was to get out and do it—tour Alberta’s largest
library system, from the southern most corner in the east to the northern most
points to the west.
Although the tingle in my tummy tells me remnants of the
fear linger, the fact I can sleep before and between my travel stops tells me I'm well
on my way to overcoming it.
One third of the way through the 23-stop library tour and
nothing dire or dreadful has happened during any of my journeys nor at any of
my destinations.
Like in my books, the settings of my travels contain
symbolic clues about my reality. It’s not just the audiences I speak to, nor
the workshops I give. Not the emails, or autographs. It’s watching the low
October sun skim the horizon, the prairies change to forests, the brush of
snow, the touch of frost, the harvested fields...an aging world approaching winter.
It’s discovering how active the oil industry is in what I
presumed to be remote Alberta communities, how busy the ribbons of highway with
construction equipment, tanker trucks, coach lines, and machinery of unknown
name and purpose spreading out past the edges of the lanes led and followed by
pilot trucks, their frantic “Wide Load” signs flashing. It’s pipeline crossing
signs every few miles, fields of stubble turned dark by ditchers setting
massive culverts into the ground. High tension power grids, encoded directional
signs.
It’s earphones on and stories on my kindle set to audio—Mr.
Robot Voice telling me of British romance, Canadian sasquatches and edgy
horror. Gritty American teen. It’s 45 minutes into my travel and the
directional sign advising 100 km to my destination—just one more hour.
It’s the young lad looking askance at the author photo on my
book mark, wondering aloud why I’d since cut my hair, I looked much better with
it longer.
It was the girl who was not shy at all about telling me I
was her hero and she has all my books in her room and asked what it’s like to
be an author—do people come up to me and bother me for autographs?
 |
| It's getting thank you gifts like these from the Morinville Public Library |
It’s finding others my age, who’ve always dreamed of writing
a novel, seeking advice on how to make that happen. It’s the mother with the
treasured manuscript of her daughter’s in her hands, wanting to polish it and
see it in print. It’s the challenge of keep a classroom of adolescents
attentive for an hour. (Here, let me show you another book trailer...)
It’s missing Hallowe’en with the grandchildren and the granddaughter’s birthday and the book club meeting and my curling team. It’s the
interest in my stories, in the social situations they address, the appreciation
of the potential positive effects my novels can have on teens. It’s talking
about writing and reading and gangs and drugs and bullying and Hugh Everitt’s
Many World Series...alternate universes. Death and dying and the true nature of
time.
It’s ups and downs and deepening winter weather, the end of
Daylight Savings Time and much more driving in the dark. It’s the pure joy on
the faces and in the feet of the Pomeranians when I finally return home and the
smile on hubby’s face. “How’d it go?”
It’s lunch on the road and forgetting my glasses and leaving
my water bottle in the garage and not packing the power cord for my computer.
And selling books.
Wow. It’s a lot of things, most of them wonderful.
****
The Great Alberta Author Tour was brought to you by
FATAL ERROR
“It's a worthy sequel to the explosive ‘THE TRAZ’.
“Wise, haunting, deeply moving…unforgettable!”
“Courage
and insight make for a compelling read”
"Gave me much to think about."
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