It’s just about 2 days – 48 hours – until I leave here for Europe to begin my next attempt at walking across France and into Spain on the Chemin de St. Jacques. It’s better known in Spanish as the Camino de Santiago. I am, as you might imagine, a little trepiditious. This always happens the last few days before I leave for a long walk or do anything else that has an element of risk associated with it. I get the unmistakeable message from the part of my brain that wants to protect me; “What are you THINKING? You could just stay at home, enjoy the lovely and friendly warmth of your family, play golf and eat fries whenever you want.”

But I persevere, not least because I have told everyone that I am going. It’s just too embarrassing to tell everyone that I have changed my mind, especially since I have enlisted people to contribute to a Hospice as I walk. Speaking of that, the response to my Hike for Hospice is very encouraging. We have raised about 13% of my $10,000 goal already and I have had messages from Toronto, Victoria, Atlanta, Houston, and Wellington, NZ that people are donating to their local hospices. I am just delighted by all this. Feel free to help.

Speaking of delighted, last Friday I had a “Doesn’t get any better than this” moment. Carroll and I were invited to my daughter Meredith’s house for Fabulous Food Friday. Typically it’s us plus a small group of close friends, perhaps a half dozen of us. Since we had a TGIF for our community at 5, we asked about arriving at 7. No problem. At the TGIF, many people say goodbye and good trip to me.

So at 7 off we go – it’s a five minute walk – to Meredith’s. When we get in the door, there are a lot more people than normal … and it turns out that it’s a farewell and bon voyage party for me. I am completely surprised and that has happened seldom in my life. It gets even better when most of the people at the TGIF show up at the door within a few minutes of me arriving, wearing big smiles. I find out that everyone has known about this for weeks … and no-one, not even the usual suspects, has blurted it out to me. The party is wonderful and I feel thoroughly loved.

Meredith has had a tough time making this happen. Her fridge failed about ten days ago and the company was able to get her a replacement only on Friday afternoon. My daughter is resourceful and determined. I think that she gets this from her mother.

Now it’s Monday afternoon. I have the travel itineraries done, both mine and Carroll’s, the packing checklist printed and everything that I need (not want) on a single surface to be packed into the backpack and into my carry-on. For those of you who recall five years ago, the backpack and my poles will travel as unaccompanied baggage inside a non-descript black duffel bag, to reduce the risk of loss. As the grandchildren, almost 5 and almost 3, say, “Only two sleeps, grandad.”

I am going to Europe to continue my walk on an ancient pilgrimage route that connects to the Camino de Santiago. I leave Ottawa next Wednesday, 18 April for a 750 kilometer journey across France and over the Pyrenees to Pamplona in Spain.

This time I have a mission. I am walking to support Hike for Hospice, a fund-raiser for Hospices everywhere. I am hoping to raise $10,000. It’s ambitious, I know, but together we can do it. It is a great cause!

Visit www.hospicemaycourt.com/index.php?page=guy-thatcher-s-hike-for-hospice to see the map, read my blog and make a donation to the Hospice. Please help support me in raising funds for hospice palliative care. Help make a difference. Donating is easy and it will only take you a few minutes.

If you prefer to donate to a Hospice near you, search the Internet for Hospice and find one near you. Please make a donation and let me know what you have done. Send me an email at journeyofdays@yahoo.ca and include Hike for Hospice in the subject line. Thanks for your support. And please tell your friends. Every donation counts!

Buen camino,

 Guy

I have been thinking about the person who last week sent me the random text message that looked like a real cry for help. “That’s it. Im done. Next time you see me i-ll be dead. The bridge isnt far so don’t even try to convince me not to jump. Goodbye.”

When I found out that it was a 12-year-old girl texting between classes, I wrote it off as a “hoax” and just put it aside as a juvenile prank. But now I am not so sure. While she was not in a position to carry out her threat at that moment, young people at school, often the subject of bullying or harassment or ridicule, do think about life, its meaning … or lack of meaning, and sometimes come to the conclusion that it is really unbearable to go on. Or perhaps it is the beginning of a pattern of mental illness that is showing up.

 Either way, it is possible that the message that I got was a real cry for help and I really hope that her parents, teachers and classmates take the time to think about the scourges of despair and mental illness in every community.

And I hope that you think about this as well. I know I will.

Today while sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, I have perhaps the most bizarre and unsettling telephone call I have ever had in my life. My cell phone vibrates (I have it on vibrate since I can’t always hear it) and I look at it to see that I had a new message. I open the message, received at 9:22 AM, and here is what I read (It is preceded by a phone number which I will not share for what will quickly become obvious reasons):

“That’s it. Im done. Next time you see me I’ll be dead. The bridge isn’t far so don’t even try to convince me not to jump. Goodbye.“

All these messages are exactly as received on my phone.

 I am stunned. The phone number is not one that I recognize and I quickly search through my contacts to see if it shows up there. No luck. After a couple of minutes, frantically thinking “What to do, what to do”, I respond, rather lamely; “Who are you?”

It occurs to me, as it already has to you, that it is highly likely that the whole thing is a hoax, but what if it’s not?

The next message: “Im sorry .. Wrong number. But I won’t be able to soon ..” That’s it. No explanation, no indication that the first message was false.

I walk over to the receptionist, who is busy speaking with a couple of other patients. I interrupt to say; “I think I have an emergency here. We need to call 911” … which is what happens as soon as the receptionist reads the message on my phone. She gives the 911 operator the phone number from the message, which we can see on my phone.

I text back; “Hold on, help is on the way”. Again. a little lame, but I am not used to being part of what may be a suicide help line.

Then I receive four messages in quick succession:

“No its okaii im fin”.

“Thank you !!!”.

“Im not going too”.

And finally “Thank you so much”.

After which, complete silence.  No more messages. Nothing. 

A couple of hours later, I try the number as a voice call. No-one picks up.  I spend the rest of the day wondering if the call was genuine or not, whether I did the right thing or not. I toy with the idea of calling 911 to find out what happened but decide not to. They don’t need nuisance calls based on my curiosity.

Just before dinner time, we get a call at home from the police. The messages were from a 12-year-old girl, in between periods in a classroom, who dialled three random numbers with the same message. Not a serious message (I don’t think). The police person told me that all three of us called 911, which activated a major exercise. Police to the girl’s home and school and to the parents’ place of work. The young lady in question will be dealt with by her parents. I am thinking cell phone suspension and a period of grounding, as well as a discussion about spreading alarm in the community.

I am personally heartened by the fact that all the people she contacted then called 911 to try to help. Says good things about our community.

 This is a section of my training walk that I particularly enjoy. Although almost all of my walk is on roads, this 3-km section is wooded and very lightly travelled.

Today is 18 March, a Sunday and it is a significant day for me. Yes, it is the day after St. Patrick’s Day, but that is not why it is significant. It is because in exactly one month, on 18 April, I leave for France to continue my long walk from where I ended last year, in Saint Chely d’Aubrac. It is a tiny village on the Chemin de St. Jacques, part of the French pilgrimage route which joins the Camino de Santiago in Spain. I still have 670 km to go to end up in Pamplona, which is where I started all this five years ago. At about this point, I start to get a little anxious about my plan. I started very late with my training, since it was winter here.

Although relatively mild, there was a lot of ice so walking was quite treacherous and I took advantage of that to not do much through the winter months. Now however, I have only a month to go so I can’t slack off any more. About two weeks ago, I started walking an 18-km route from my home and I have done that every two or three days since then. I walk with my pack, boots and poles to get as close to the actual walking setup as possible.

As the snow has melted, the walk has become easier … and I have learned quite a bit about my fellow humans. The winter snows cover up everything on the ground, including stuff that ought not to be there in the first place. The first thing I noticed was that we are treating ourselves more healthily that ever before. The classic litter of beer bottles and condoms has reduced, to be replaced by milk containers and empty plastic water bottles, so we are now a much better quality of litterers. On one stretch of the walk (along the Second Line extension, for those of you who know Kanata), there is a new subdivision and along Second Line, there is a sidewalk and a high wooden fence, presumably a sound barrier for those living next to the road. Earlier when I walked along here, I noticed that there was a lot of dog shit, and a lot of that from large dogs. Presumably, when people walk their dogs along here, they don’t all pick up after their dog. A lot do, some don’t.

But some folks are unclear on the concept. On the past couple of times that I have walked along here, I have noticed many small plastic bags, neatly tied and lying alongside the dog shit. So someone has walked their dog along here, noticed the dog squatting to do its thing, then tidily cleaned up after their dog, like any good citizen would do. Then, when no-one is watching (I am speculating here), they quietly and surreptitiously drop their little bundle of joy on the edge of the path. I find the behaviour awful and I hope that they feel guilty every time they do it. Of course, maybe it’s just one person although, if it is, he – or she – changed bags from white to black, since both are represented here.

So I have a month to go and the countdown has begun. I cannot help remembering about my high spirits last year before I took off on my abortive journey in France. Perhaps this year I will be older (that’s a given) and wiser (that’s not).

This is about my experience publishing and marketing my first – and so far, only – book, A Journey of Days. It won’t be your experience, but it may help.

 First question: why didn’t I self –publish? It’s easy and there are a lot of people and companies out there to help you. I looked at this option and even explored it a bit. Lots of back-room operations out there. Seriously caveat emptor. I believed that I needed an editor – not because my material needed editing (I thought, naively), but because without an editor it’s hard to get a book retailer to take you seriously. When I look back, with the realization of what my book actually looks and feels like, never mind the content, I am convinced that I made the right decision to find a professional publishing house.

To attract a publisher, you need to keep in mind the advertising mantra: “Don’t tell me about your fertilizer, tell me about my garden”. So you need to tell the publisher why it’s a good idea for them to take you on. I used a two-page letter, a teaser, which included a couple of short detail scenes from the book. I also wrote that I was going to get the book published and that I hoped it would be with them. That got me an email from Tim Gordon, publisher of General Store Publishing House in Renfrew, ON, asking me to call him. First try! That probably is not typical, either.

As a first-time author, do not expect to be picked up by a major name, or get an advance against the royalties. Life isn’t like that. What I got was an offer to have one of their editors read my manuscript, for a fee, then she would give me a commentary on the manuscript, with a copy of the commentary to the publisher. Based on the editor’s opinion, the publisher would go ahead … or not. After about a month of agonized waiting, I heard that the editor was positive and the publisher was interested. He offered me a co-publishing contract. Each of us would pay half of the fixed price one-time costs for getting the book edited, published, printed and marketed. There was also a small royalty arrangement. As a first-time author, I thought that this was fair and I contracted with the publisher. Almost four years later I still think that it’s fair.

I sent electronic copy of the manuscript to the editor, then worked with her over several months making the material copy-ready. I thought it was at least 95% ready, they thought about 75%. They were right. The editing process included a proof reader, who I thought would catch any typos and such. Turned out the proof reader was more interested in trying to – incorrectly – correct Spanish place names and missed a couple of glaring errors. (These were fixed in the second printing). Once the copy was ready and all the photos had been uploaded and captioned, a final proof was made and I got to review it before publishing. The book was in my hands by mid-June 2008, less than a year after I had returned home from my trip.

I was … and am … very happy with the cover design, the layout, the very high quality paper and overall “feel” of the book. One of the advantages of this process was that I had an eBook version ready to go. (It is available on Kindle and Kobo.) The publisher was not interested in the eBook, so I did that on my own. Same with the audio book version.

The book was launched in Oslo, Norway at the end of June 2008 and in October 2008 in Ottawa. Then the work started. With a small publisher, there is no dedicated marketing salesman, so the aspiring author does his or her own marketing. If you happen to luck into a larger publisher, their dedicated salesperson will have about a hundred books to market and about 15 minutes with each retailer’s buyer, so your new book doesn’t even make the cut. If you don’t market personally, your book won’t sell. It is as simple as that.

I prepared a Powerpoint presentation about the contents of the book which I have delivered over 80 times in the past three years. I also placed books on consignment any place that would take them – but you have to keep close track on where they are. Just write the material. Don’t worry about editing it or cleaning it up or getting it “nice”. That’s the editor’s job. Just get down on paper what is in your head. Tell your story.