Well. What a year that was.
I did a book tour in Australia. I saw lots of crazy animals there, dipped my feet in the Indian Ocean for the first time, swam in the Pacific Ocean less than forty-eight hours later, and performed in a handful of well-paid poetry gigs. Failed to see a living quokka, though.
I also conducted my own little ragtag Canadian Book-Fair Mini-Tour (inspired partly out of petty anger at the way Toronto Word on the Street mismanaged my exhibitor application this year). This tour saw me attempting to promote my novel Hate Story in Ottawa (twice), Vancouver and Lethbridge, Alberta. I was also supposed to be at an event in Timmins, but the flight was delayed and eventually cancelled at the last minute (never, ever, ever booking with Porter again); I was also hoping to be in Montreal two weeks ago, but apparently that event was too cool to accept my application. Missed my chance to do a Hamilton fair because I didn’t even know of its existence until the last minute; maybe in 2024?
And I performed at the inaugural New Mexico Poetry Summit in Albuquerque. And I had a few other gigs here in Toronto, and a few on Zoom. And the Writers’ Union of Canada selected one of my short stories as a runner-up in a contest, finally and definitively proving York University wrong about my writing abilities. And I was showcased in the Toronto Guardian and appeared in at least one more podcast…
And I performed stand-up comedy in front of live audiences for the first time, and found I wasn’t entirely terrible at it. And I turned fifty, with shockingly little life accomplishment to show for it. Just think of what Orson Welles achieved before he was thirty. I’m a disgrace.
Who knows what’s in store for 2024? I have no idea; almost all of it is up in the air.
One thing I do know: the year will kick off with my appearance on The Poetic Robin Hood, a poetry podcast hosted by Christopher Moore. No, not the famous Christopher Moore – the Chicago-based poet.
The episode will be available on New Year’s Day, on Spotify and other online platforms.
Not sure what time it’s going live. I’ll be flying home from Saskatchewan that day (yes, more bloody flying), so I’ll catch it later.
Now, here’s Baby Meryl Streep silently showing her love for the Beatles.
See you next Tuesd—I mean, next year.