It has recently come to my attention that demand for my new novel, “How to Praise Canadians and Stroke Their Egos-While adding Floridians, who were former Pennsylvanians named, Grammy, to the Title” has reached epic proportions… three people!
I’ve learned to never ignore the masses, or you don’t get paid!
In the past, I’ve had people approach me (usually with stun guns) shouting at me to put down with pen and paper (or was it, “Put down the pen and paper!” I really never could make out what it was they were yelling), about writing a novel, and when was I going to get around to doing it?
As I have no idea how to do an eBook, or how much it would cost me personally to do that (in any event I’m sure I couldn’t afford it), much less how it finds its way into the Amazon (why on earth would any publisher market a book in the jungle?), I continuously begged off on the project.
Perhaps a paperback!
Additionally, I always feared that once a publisher got done with my submission (and sending me the numerous rejection slips), the editor would then demand a re-write.
This, however, would eliminate all the rubbish (or, the best parts!), leaving me to tangle with the grammar police to clean up what was left… a one paragraph novel.
Hardly worth the $49.95, thus forcing you to send me $49.94 which is a penny off the suggested retail price. Better to pay the full price, and get the rubbish at its regular price, you’ll be glad you did.
But with the clamor for my new novel about a lost civilization to the north of us (again, known as Canada), to be written by an American (with no knowledge of their culture) growing louder and louder, I felt I had no choice but to write what will be considered (when finished), the greatest piece of fiction (crap) of all time.
Now I’m not one for shamelessly promoting my own unfinished literary masterpiece. That responsibility belongs to more skilled professionals who know all about shameful plugging—you my readers. No, no, no, no need to thank me for letting you carry the load, it’s my pleasure.
The seeds for my soon to be best seller, came from some back and forth banter between myself and another Paul, who I allowed to participate in this venture (mind you, purely for straight man purposes only) After all, it was his blog that made this all possible.
The inconsequential article that started all the fuss can be found here—on Paul’s blog…
You should really go check it out, there is even an except from the book. Naturally it’s priceless material, because I wrote it. And take time to press Paul’s like button, his site could really use the attention.
And because Paul really is a Canadian (yes, they really do exist), he knows absolutely nothing about Canadian culture, but fortunately neither do I, which makes it perfect that I tell their story—despite massive protest from most Canadians, and Paul.
Yet, their history should be told—although no one else seems to care. I mean come on…its Canada, how much interest can there be?
But I confess to having an interest (albeit a passing one) in these tribal people, and their infatuation with plaid, moose, beer, and a silly game with sticks played on ice. Boy, they must have been wasted the day they came up with that one!
And don’t worry if you see some yahoo’s in red uniforms and funny looking hats called, mounties. They talk funny, but they’re really harmless. There principal job seems to be adding local color, and saving young girls tied to railroad tracks from some imbecile named, Snidley Whiplash. Definitely a Canadian kook.
But, hiding up there in the cold, white, North American wilderness is a country just waiting to be discovered. And this country is loaded with lovable people who say “eh” a lot. Suggesting, many of them are hard of hearing.
So before you rush out and buy my book—remember its just $49.95—at full price, why not save the penny. Paul insisted on having a large pizza as payment for his participation, but remember he’s Canadian, and probably doesn’t understand the exchange rate.
And if you decide on taking a trip up there, you might want to let them know your coming. You can, and should do this by screaming…