Hello again and welcome! It’s been a long time. A couple of years. The end of my book tour and the beginning of an unprecedented period in our history. At that time, I was sending out a monthly newsletter—though I didn’t call it that—that you received. Its main intention was to promote my upcoming book events. I’ve been thinking of resurrecting it for some time but unsure of how. I’m still not sure, but here goes. I hope you’ll join me for the ride.
I was in Toronto last week after a long, overdue absence. I was visiting my son and his longtime girlfriend. My folks, who still live in the house I grew up in. My mother-in-law. And several good friends including my agent. Lots of fond memories and good food. I love the city.
I have just finished my latest novel, which you’ll hear about soon in this new space I find myself writing in. I’d been thinking about what to work on next. I wanted to return to the blogging series I’d started a year ago. I’ve been fascinated by what I’d discovered reading the Bible, Graham Hancock’s Fingerprints of the Gods and listening to Jordan Peterson’s Biblical Series amongst other things. I had started to write about how they had affected my thinking. I also wanted to relaunch my newsletter (hmm). My website needed refreshing. I have a number of unfinished short stories in the vault that I wanted to revisit along with drafts of a couple of complete novels I’d like to finish . . . someday. And, of course, I need to find a publisher for my new novel.
But it was my blog and newsletter that kept poking me.
The third day of my visit was my busiest and included meeting with my agent. I text with Max regularly so we’re fairly up to date. He has my new book. I thought that’s what we’d talk about and the plan for publishing. But what took place is why you’re reading this piece in this space called Substack.
Max is now with Sugar23. You may have never of heard of them but that’s okay. The Globe and Mail said the same thing about me. It’s a happening management company in Los Angeles. I’ve been with Max for three years. We met a few months before the pandemic started and it’s been a twisty, curvy, never straight ride ever since. Someday I’ll share our story. Max is always at least one step, if not several, ahead of me. Or he has the ability to read my mind (a hint about my new book).
After a quick catch-up chat, Max was on his tablet; “Have you seen …”
He proceeded to explain Substack like I’d already talked to him about wanting to combine my blog in a newsletter.
After my surprise introduction to this new publishing platform, I’m excited for what it may have to offer. Most of my published writing has been my three novels: The Actor, The Drive In and The Musician. Canada’s The Globe and Mail called my debut novel The Actor, “a bizarre, David Lynch-like thriller about obsession, delusion and determination.” You can still get these books on-line at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. My writing seems to follow what I read, which has included a lot of non-fiction material as of late. I’m eager to see where this new platform may take what I write about.
My plan here is to capture some of what took place when I started writing full-time almost ten years ago. I began to notice things in a different way, a shift in my thinking and how I saw the world from what I read, observed and listened to. I’ve titled it, “A Changing Frame of Reference.” There is so much to try and understand about the gift of life in this existence.
My meeting with Max was one such example. How did he know to show me exactly what I needed in Substack, having never discussed it with him.
Another experience to note on this trip was in the bedroom I sleep in at my parents’ house when I visit. A friend had driven me to the airport here in Abbotsford, British Columbia. On route, he shared a quote from the book he was reading Surprised by Joy by C.S. Lewis. I’d not read the book but knew Lewis’s wife’s name was Joy. You may know his work from the popular The Chronicles of Narnia series. On entering the bedroom, which is lined with bookshelves holding my father’s book collection, lying flat on the shelf nearest the door, as if positioned for me not to miss, was the book my friend had talked about, Surprised by Joy. How it came to be there I don’t know. My father said he didn’t know he even had a copy. My folks gave me the book.
And with that, knowing there is much more yet to discover in this life, I’m off. I hope you’ll read my next instalment of “A Changing Frame of Reference.”