book launch | Paula Wild

October 19, 2019October 19, 2019

Of books and bears – Harold Macy launches San Josef

The first time I hiked into San Josef Bay I was worried about bears. Didn’t even see a track. The second time, I woke up one morning and groggily wondered why Rick was making so much noise outside the tent.

Turns out, Rick had gone to investigate the sea stacks and a bear was wandering through camp. Luckily, all our food and toiletries were safely stowed in an improvised bear-hang.

I’ve explored San Josef two other times via the printed page. The first was at a week-long writing workshop at Strathcona Park Lodge. That’s where I met another wanna be writer, Harold Macy.

One afternoon, while Harold’s wife and two young sons went for a walk, I sat on the floor of their suite next to a stack of paper. Harold pounded away on an old IBM Selectric typewriter (computers were few and far between in 1986) as I read a draft of his work-in-progress.

I remember the evocative language and the strong sense of a wild, wet landscape and the haunted, hopeful characters that inhabited it. The manuscript began with a man in an oilskin coat rowing. For thirty some years I pondered the U.S. civil war deserter’s fate once he reached the struggling Danish settlement on northern Vancouver Island in Canada.

This summer I found out when Tidewater Press asked if I’d write a blurb for the back of San Josef. Harold’s story ignited memories of my visits to the remote bay and of the writing retreat that launched my career.

But most of all, I was struck by the development of the plot and personalities. Both had matured like a bodacious red wine. Within three pages, Harold captures the soul of a man and the landscape he finds himself in.

San Josef is a deep and sometimes dark novel where hope goes astray but is never lost. The characters are as complex as a spider’s web, the language poetic and the environment a tangible force.

On Saturday, Oct. 26 Tidewater Press and Harold Macy will launch San Josef at the Courtenay and District Museum at 2 pm. in downtown Courtenay, BC.

Admission is free; stories will be filled with Harold’s trademark humour and the history that inspired this novel.

June 18, 2012June 20, 2012

Preparing to launch Part 3 — guest blog by Rick James

Well, contrary to Susan and Harold’s experiences with book signings, I actually looked forward to my book launch of West Coast Wrecks & Other Maritime Tales with a good deal of confidence. Perhaps too much.

For one, I have no shortage of tasteful, better quality shirts in my closet. (Christmas presents over the years from Mom and also courtesy of Paula’s brother who manages the fashionable outdoor store, REI, in San Francisco). Plus I had just bought a new pair of black jeans. And since I don’t live in Merville like Harold, my fingernails stay reasonably clean.

But I do make sure I get a haircut just before a presentation. Otherwise, my unruly, white locks tend to make me look like a deranged Albert Einstein.

Also, I credit my ability to stay relaxed before a group to the fact that I’ve given a fair amount of slide shows and presentations over the years. And for some bizarre reason, I’ve become a more social animal as I age and actually enjoy standing up in front of a group. (This been a surprise to Paula who often reminds me that I used to be a quiet and retiring Fanny Bay recluse.)

Last fall I had my book launch at the Vancouver Maritime Museum. And, gad sakes! some 60+ people turned up and they were all out there in front of me!! Man, I was pumped and I think my publicist from Harbour Publishing was surprised too. Turns out she misjudged the number of people who would attend and hadn’t purchased enough pastry items; a disappointment for those late getting to the goodies table.

The PowerPoint presentation went over exceedingly well. A good indication of success was the comments afterwards and question period that lasted for about 15 minutes. The worst thing that can happen at the end of a presentation is that everyone sits there with a deadpan, bored expression on their faces.

So I was brimming with an overwhelming sense of success and goodwill as I made my way to the book signing table where a crowd had already lined up. Then it happened; about seven signed copies along.

As I looked up at this big, middle-aged, balding guy with a pony tail I asked, “Who should I make it out to?” And he answers, “Rick James!” I did a double take and replied, “No, that’s me, the author, I mean, what’s your name?”

Rick at Salmon Days002 — Rick back in the 1970s before he developed his published author persona.

“Rick James!” he declared again. “Don’t you remember me from the old days in Victoria? How could ya forget, I mean, we not only have the same name…” And continues in an overly loud voice, “Oh man! We even used to smoke dope together at Keith’s place on Burdett back in the early 70s!”

Thankfully most of the folks around the table were old friends or work colleagues who were probably already aware of my past. Still, I could tell some people were startled. You know, the strangers I had managed to convince over the past hour that I should be looked upon as a respectable West Coast maritime historian and writer. Who knows what they thought after the other Rick James finished talking?

So there you go, no matter how well prepared – and groomed – a person is for a book signing, something totally unexpected can still bring you to back to reality with a jolt.

June 5, 2012June 5, 2012

Preparing to Launch Part 2 — guest blog by Harold Macy

Whatever the occasion, going to town requires thought as to dress, or could require thought if one was given to care. A quick run to the feed store or Central Builders is pretty straightforward. But for such an event as a book launch, especially if it is one’s own book launch, may call for a bit additional consideration.

If it is a high-brow literary event, would I wear the tried and true tweed jacket with suede elbow patches, possibly over a sweater vest? — how timeless is that combo? Or is it so dated to be pathetic. Or perhaps I could try the po-mo look — lots of black, maybe even a fake piercing and a temp ‘tat.’

My criteria are not driven by the whims and caprice of the Style Section of the Globe and Mailwhich we buy each Saturday, but rather by necessity. Something that doesn’t show dog hair is high on the list. There is enough black hair in the seat crevices and cranny’s of my truck to knit a new hound. Something that relates to the weather, usually waterproof, reinforces the gumboot archetype.

Harold Macy 4 — Harold Macy is the author of The Four Storey Forest, As Grow the Trees, So too the Heart

But really, I don’t care. I take lessons from my Grandpa. His long legs were perpetually clad in blue denim overalls. Annually, upon Grandma’s urging, he bought a new pair, stiff as boards, which he initially saved for church. After a few months, they became his town and house pair. Eventually they were worn in the shop, on the tractors and in the calving barn doing the chores he loved. After a year or so on this duty, they were fit only for wipe rags. Grandma made quilt squares from any section that was not threadbare, grease stained or soiled by the wet but messy miracles of animals, but there were only few.

But it is not your clothes that are noticed at a book launch. It’s your fingernails.

I gave a talk recently and was setting up to sell and sign books to the good folks in line, money in hand. I glanced down at my hands and saw the half-moon of cargo delineating each and every nail. Not only that but there was a stubborn smear of chainsaw oil giving the edge of my hand a delicate blush of purple, not unlike a fresh bruise. Various scratches. Enough grit in my fingertips to make cop prints and a dusting of Merville Silt, apparently a particular noxious element according to the Sears Carpet Cleaning Technician who does our rugs once a year.

So, as the first pink-fingered, smooth-handed lady passed me my book to sign, I almost felt the urge to make some glottal grunt to match what really mattered, my hands there on the page. Now her page. Soiled. She glanced down at the virginal page, at my stubborn grime and made a small silent “Oh” with her mouth. I felt her gaze, looked up, and gave a wan smile.

Don’t worry about the clothes, check your fingernails first.

Paula’s note: Harold originally sent the above in as a comment to Preparing to Launch, a guest blog by Susan Ketchen. It’s so well written — and funny — that I decided to run it as Preparing to Lauch Part 2.

The subject of clothes, fingernails and potentially embarrassing moments that happen to authors at book signings seems to have struck a chord for many writers. Check back in a couple of weeks for Preparing to Launch Part 3 & 4.

May 21, 2012May 21, 2012

Preparing to launch — guest blog by Susan Ketchen

For the normally reclusive author, one of the essential components of new book promotion is — unfortunately — The Launch. Even if a formal affair — at a gallery, with offerings of wine, fancy finger-food from an exotic caterer and napkins that look like works of art — is avoided, the venue is but one of many many decisions which must be made.

The date should be close to the issuing of the book, but not so close that you’re in heart failure for days before, worrying about whether you’ll have stock on hand. You also have to decide how and when to advertise the event, who to invite, how many chairs, how much standing room, who will sell the books, and oh yes, what you’re going to say during your presentation.

But for me, the first and most daunting question, every time (and I’ve launched three books) is always and immediately: What am I going to wear? Perhaps for most people this is not a difficult problem to solve. But I live on a small farm, and spend days on end seeing no one other than people on neighbouring farms and sometimes the Hydro meter reader.

On the few occasions I go to town for groceries or chicken feed, my standard of dress aims not for style but for cleanliness. I have no idea what is currently fashionable. Reading the Style section of the Globe and Mail is absolutely no help — I’m sure they are catering to people on another planet, the one called “Toronto.”

For one launch, I threw myself on the mercy of the clerk in a fashion store. I told her I needed to stretch beyond my usual comfort levels, but in retrospect I think she was bored and looking for someone to play a practical joke on. I still can’t bear to look at photos of that launch. I wish I’d tucked in my shirt the way I wanted to and not left it dangling the way I was told I must.

For another event, I had my ensemble well planned in advance, something light and airy, to minimize sweat (us farm folks sweat) under the hot lights in a small room. On the day of the event, it snowed. This was March, on Vancouver Island, where often a whole winter can pass by with no snow at all. Back to the drawing board.

And then there’s the shoe problem. In my closets I have riding boots, rubber boots, hiking boots and runners. When I try on clothes in fashion stores, the clerks are known to say, “You won’t be wearing those shoes, will you?” They will be looking askance at my (newest) runners, which are inexplicably dirtier in town than they were when I left the farm. There is often a piece of hay stuck to the laces, because on the way out the driveway I had to stop and respond to a plaintive expression from a horse who thought he was hungry.

It occurs to me, re-reading this ridiculous state of affairs, that perhaps fretting about clothing is a form of procrastination, as I avoid thinking about what surely is the main point of the event: What am I going to talk about?

Well, I could go on about that too, and I would, but the thought of it is making my palms sweat, which is not good for the keyboard.

Paula’s note: I also suffer from outfit anxiety before a book launch. I wonder if this is something only female authors go through?

As for Susan’s book, Grows that Way, I was reading it in bed one night and kept laughing out loud and waking my partner up. I’m long past being a young adult but the original plot, feisty characters and fresh writing kept me reading – and stifling chuckles — until the wee hours of the morning. You can find out more about Susan at www.susanketchen.ca.