I met blogger and author
Ivan Prokopchuk the
other night, in person. He's long been one of the most colourful
personalities I've met as a blogger, and a character who consistently
captures my imagination.
But there he was in the
Lula Lounge, in full colour, three dimensions, in the flesh, across the table from me with his book,
The Fire in Bradford, in hand. "I'll show you mine if you you show me yours," he grinned.
[That's me in the pink shirt, reading to an enthusiastic crowd at the Lula Lounge.]
But with
Another Story Bookshop on hand selling
Drive-by Saviours I
didn't have any swap copies. The swap had been my suggestion, but with
all the insanity of travel, visiting family and friends, organizing book
launches and an Eastern Canadian book tour, I'd forgotten. I promised
to send Ivan a copy in the mail and he gave me his book, shook my hand
and heartily congratulated me. And he was gone, making way for the next
in line.
It was one of a series of surreal encounters I've had
lately with old friends. The support has been overwhelming - people I
haven't seen in years, people I've only met online, have come out to my
two book launches in Halifax and Toronto to celebrate my accomplishment.
And now, writing from a friend's home in East Toronto, planning to head up to
Kent Bookstore
in Lindsay Ontario in a few hours for another reading and more old
friends (and to meet a boisterous one-year-old), I'm feeling a deep easy
happiness in that willingness to celebrate what others among us do.
At
the same time, I ache for my wife and son, who flew back to Halifax
yesterday morning at about crack o'clock, and I long for my own bed
where I could properly nurse this worsening cold. Suddenly I'm a lone
drifter again, something I missed and didn't expect to experience again
so soon. Last time I was a young man, full of abstractions and equipped
with an eager pen and ink-hungry notebooks. It all seems a little more
businesslike this time - I'm a drifter with a mission, a product to
move. I feel like a huckster with a money-bulge in my pocket.
That's
not a complaint. I'm loving meeting people, sharing my art with them,
and experiencing their kind and enthusiastic responses - their
questions, comments and cash. Living the dream for me has moved beyond
sloganism and into reality.