FINAL THOUGHTS

 "Good morning, Bum.  I don't like the title.  It sounds like we are croaking--- and soon."

"No one knows how long they have on this earthly plane.  Your last minute could be today, or tomorrow, or next week, or years in the future.  The only thing I know for sure is that when I go, you go, amigo."

"Enough with the rhyming, Bum.  I suppose I will be subjected to that stuff, page by page of that book you're reading because Paul has a book for everything."

"Paul reminds me of  that old TV show back in the day where the character, a detective as I recall,  always said book 'em Dano."

"How much of that book have you read Bum?"

"About two pages so far Bear."

"That's not enough to bore me with, and that's a good thing."

"It may bore you, dear Bear, but after I read a bit on page 2 of that book about letting your thoughts run free, I drafted another poem, one for Paul because it's his birthday."

"That's great, Bum.  My apologies for knocking the book.  If it can inspire you, it can't be all bad.  Will you read Paul's poem to me?" 

"Sure, here it is."

Here's to you Paul

You seem to have it all.

You were lucky to win

A wife called Kim.

She's the cutest little trick

And you were smart to pick

Her for your wife.

You have a good life.

Writing is something that makes you happy

Your essays, your stories, your books are not yappy

They're clear and concise

And never never say things twice.

So here's to you Paul

You have it all.

"I like it Bum.  He's a lucky guy.  What did he think of it?"

"I haven't heard from Paul about either my birthday wishes or my poem."

"As we know, he's slow," said Bear, and then added, "Now I'm starting to rhyme."

"We'd best get on with Paul's Final Thoughts in his analysis of our story.   I'll be glad when that's over so I can file it in my complete file."

"What's your complete file, Bum?"

"I have a red binder to store my completed chapters, i.e. the ones that have been edited.  So, I thought I'd file Paul's Analysis Report in that binder when it's complete."

"Sounds sensible," said Bear.  "What were his Final Thoughts?"

"He said, and I quote....

You talk about your sadness at losing contact with your characters Bear and Gordon, but you know, I don't think you necessarily have to lose contact with them.  This is not an idea that necessarily has to come to an end.

One thought is that you could continue on with the Janey--Bear relationship in, say, a weekly blog.  That's the kind of thing that could attract a following.

Another thought is that the story could continue on in further books.  You would need to find new things for the stories to be about, but if you could do that, then you would be able to go on.  One idea might be to have Bear introduce a puppy, and then, if Bear kicks the bucket, you could continue on with the new puppy character.

You may not want to do any of these things, but they are possibilities if you did want to carry on with these characters."

"We've got our blog, Bum, so that part's OK.  I enjoy it very much. as you do.  However, all that crap about a puppy and yours truly kicking the bucket, I do not like."

"I knew you wouldn't.  I was almost afraid to read it to you."

"I'm glad we've finished analyzing Paul's Analysis and we can move on to more interesting subjects, Bum."

"I'm glad too, Bear, and it has been fun.  Before we leave it, I would like to tell you that you will always be with me in my heart and in my spirit.  You are my very best friend."

"Thank you Bum.  Ditto."

"The next time we meet Bear, I will tell you all about my BIG doll.  So far, I have finished two hands, not attached yet, that are lying at the end of my bed.  On my desk, I have the fixings for a couple of ears, ruby red lips, and a nose.  I told my sister the other day that anyone looking at this stuff in my room might think I'm a bit of a flake."

"What did she say to that, Bum?"

" She said, what do you mean a bit?"

 

 

 

  

  

 

2021 HERE I COME

"I am going to make it through this year if it kills me," started Bum.

 "That's a pretty depressing start to the new year Bum," said Bear and included a frown to show his displeasure.  "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It's a song I heard on the radio about a week ago.  I liked it."

"Why?" asked Bear. 

"It appealed to me after that fucking 2020 and the fucking pandemic."

"You know I don't like cursing, so I won't say it again.  So, did the song have any redeeming qualities?"

"Not really," said Bum.  "One line was, I played video games in a drunken haze, and some other bits about drinking scotch with my girlfriend Cathy."

"How about the tune, was that any better?" asked Bear. 

"I can't remember the tune," said Bum.

 "Sheesh," said Bear, "who wrote that crap?"

"I don't know who wrote it Bear.  It was sung by an American group called The Mountain Goats."

"Let's move on Bum.  We must have more interesting things to talk about.  What have you been doing with yourself these days?"

"First tell me what you've been doing Bear.  It may inspire me."

"My master is stuck in the States and his wife is pretty grim because she's in lockdown in the house, alone, and no one to talk to but me.  She's not a dog person so you know how that's going.  When she opens the door to let me out, because she has to, she says get lost so you get the picture."

"Where are the children?  They always liked you."

"They grew up, moved out, and now live elsewhere.  It annoys her that they cannot visit because of the pandemic and it annoys her even more that I've all she's got.  The children think she's lucky to have my company but, although she doesn't tell them that, she doesn't feel lucky at all."

"That sounds pretty grim, Bear.  I'm glad we can meet occasionally."

 "Yes, that saves me, Bum, from utter despair.  Dogs get lonely too, you know."

"I know, Bear.  All living creatures can get lonely.  People sometimes forget that."

"Back to you Bum.  What have you been doing?"

"I started making a doll, almost a year ago." said Bum.

"What's taking so long?  Those miniature caricature dolls you make should be a breeze for you.  You made enough of them for people, five of them from my recollection."  Bear looked puzzled.

"I'm making a big doll this time and that's why it's taking longer."

"How big?" asked Bear.

"So big it will be able to wear my clothes." said Bum with a smirk.

"That's big, Bum." said Bear.  "You are such an extremist, aren't you?"

"I prefer to think of myself as a fun person."

"I bet you do," said Bear in that disapproving tone he uses too often.

"Never mind that Bear.  The big doll is coming along nicely.  It's pretty much done except for the head." 

"Why's that?  I would think getting the big body, arms and legs, would be the hardest parts.  Presumably, you needed a lot of stuffing for that big doll, particularly the body.  You have a somewhat long body as you and I well know."

"I got all the stuffing I needed from the Church Thrift, and cheap."

"That's a lot of stuffing, Bum.  What did you stuff for the body, a coat?"

"Very funny Bear. If you must know, and I know you do, I used a jumbo pillow which I purchased from Superstore for five bucks.   I had noticed one night when I was getting into bed that my pillow was the same size as my body.  Voila, an idea was formed."

"Very clever, Bum.   If I know you, and I do, I bet that five bucks was the biggest price you paid for all the doll parts."

"So true, Bear, so true," admitted Bum.

"What was the cheapest thing you found at the Thrift?"

"That would be 25 cents for a box of red Christmas bows.  They were edged with gold, with gold ties hanging down that could be squeezed around things like branches."

"That's pretty cheap alright, Bum.  Did you use them to decorate your Christmas tree?"

"We don't have a tree inside.  No one is coming so what would be the point.  Big F and I don't care."

"So why did you buy a box of red Christmas bows?"

"I planned to use one of the big bows for lips for my big doll.  I needed ruby red lips and thought the Christmas bow would do the trick, and it did."

"I guess you had to return the rest of the bows to the Church so someone else could use them for Christmas." said Bear.

"By now it was too close to Christmas so I was stuck with them."

"You can keep the box of bows for next Christmas, if you live that long."

"Always the optimist, Bear, always the optimist."

"I prefer to think of myself as practical Bum." 

"Practical is all very well.  I prefer to be creative so I decided to decorate the neighbourhood.  On my morning walks for the three days before Christmas, I attached those bows to bushes and trees nearby and they looked very nice and jaunty, if I do say so myself."

"I'm impressed Bum," said Bear.  "What a nice surprise for walkers at Christmas."

"I decided to try my hand at poetry, something I never was interested in, or good at I thought.  I mentioned it to Paul and of course he sent me a book called The Complete Rhyming Dictionary by Clement Wood.  It is the essential handbook for songwriters, poets, students, teachers, speechmakers, and members of the performing arts. "

"Don't you have enough to do, Bum, without adding poetry to the equation?  You've got that big doll you're working on, our book which is awaiting editing, and that second book you started which I believe you called Witless because that's what you are now."

"Never mind all that, Bear.  Do you want to hear my first poem or not?"

"Lay it on me."

MY CHRISTMAS POEM (that's what I called it)

A red Christmas bow on a bush is a beautiful sight

It smiles each morning but it's gone at night,

My Christmas is lonely

Just Fran and me only.

I wish I had a quiver to ride the arrow of change that's coming.

2021 is near, 

I think I'll have a beer.

Let's toast a new beginning,

The putrid pandemic cannot be winning.

I wish I had a quiver.

"OK, Bear, what do you think for my first effort?"

"It's pretty good, Bum, but I smell a touch of plagiarism here."

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

"You probably heard that famous song, I wish I was a river. on the radio.  I'm not saying you lifted it on purpose, but..."

"Who cares.  No one is going to read my poem.  They can't even find my blog."

"You don't know that.  What if your poem goes viral?"

"Fat chance."

"If it does, that I wish I was a river singer may disagree and come after you. "What do you say to that?"

"I say, sue me.  God knows, I have nothing else to do." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IN MEMORY OF BILL STOCKMANN, by Frances Vitols

On December 6, 2020 I lost a friend of forty plus years to a fatal heart attack after a serious urgent surgery for an aortic aneurysm.  He is gone from the earth plane but he will never be gone from my heart or my mind.

Bill would be the last person on earth to admit to or even acknowledge the fact that he was a completely unique and special person.  In a way, he was always a little under cover.  Few people really knew him well and I am privileged to feel that he allowed me to see those qualities that made him special.

He was brave and adventurous--travelled the world to far-flung places, often alone, and enjoyed the history, the people, the weather, all of it.  And he never flaunted these amazing experiences, just as he down-played his many talents.  When he walked out of a corporate job with security written all over it to attend art school in Alberta, he took a step that many in their lifetimes would fear to do.  While there, he lived in very simple, cheap accommodations, found jobs to support his basic needs while he laid the groundwork for a life-long dream, art in all its forms.

When you see the world through the eyes of an artist, the world takes on a very different form.  Whether he plied his trade with graphic art, large oil landscapes or through the lens of a camera, he captured his real love of the earth, nature, and all living creatures on land, in the air and beneath the sea.

No description of Bill would be complete without inserting something about his completely zany, off the wall actions.  On the days when Bill, my sister, Jackie, and I met in the Library Bar of the Hyatt Hotel, he announced on arrival one evening after work that he had been walking through Holt Renfrew  and saw the most magnificent outdoor jacket he had ever seen at a price that was almost too much to even mention.  The only flaw was that this jacket could not be washed or dry cleaned.  Did that deter Bill?  No, he got it. 

On another occasion when Bill and I were discussing the everyday tasks of life, the subject of laundry came up and in particular, fitted sheets.  I bemoaned the difficulty of folding them and Bill's response was, "too damn complicated--I just threw all of mine out."

One of a kind for sure, and I will miss him forever, more than words can say.

Needless to say, I miss him very much even though, for the past years, we have mostly been in touch by mail.  However, as a writer that is a medium I have taken great pleasure in and I have all his letters on e-mail and snail mail over many years.  You, Rita, were his favourite person in the world and I like to think his soul is nearby and comforted by the fact that the people closest to him will love and miss him forever.

  

 

 

 

 

RECOMMENDATIONS

"Good morning, Bear .  How's it going?" asked Bum.

"It hasn't been going, Bum, as you well know," said Bear and he looked very annoyed.

"Whatever do you mean, Bear?"

"Where have you been?" asked Bear and he still looks annoyed.

"I am so sorry, Bear, to have left you by yourself for such a long time," said Bum.

"Sorry doesn't cut it Bum.  If you wanted to dump me, why didn't you just come out with it?"

"I don't dump my friends Bear.  I had my reasons for not being in touch."

"Let's hear them" said Bear.

"The last time we spoke was the end of June.  It was then I realized that the fucking pandemic was not gearing down but rather up."

"So?" questioned Bear.

"I contracted the fucking pandemic fatigue and depression.  At first, I didn't realize what my fucking problem was.  I was always fucking tired and only had the fucking strength to watch fucking TV, even during the fucking day."

 "Hold it right there Bum.  Do you realize that you have used that fucking word six times in that last rant?" said Bear in a very disapproving tone.

"I apologize Bear.  I know just how much you disapprove of needless cursing.  But, and I know you don't like sentences that start with but, I find myself cursing a lot since I got older and the fucking pandemic didn't help.  So there!"

 "That's not much of a fucking apology Bum, if you don't mind my saying so." 

"My apologies again, dear Bear.  Let's change the subject before we deteriorate any further."

"What do you mean, we?" muttered Bear.

"That's the Royal we Bear," said Bum.

 "We are not Royal, Bum  You are certainly not the Queen and I'm no bloody Prince Phillip." responded Bear.  

"It's only a common phrase, Bear.  It's nothing to get uptight about," said Bum, looking exasperated.

"Common is right, Bum, and not one I like.  Let's go over Recommendations from Paul's Analysis Report before we forget what we're meeting for."

"OK, Paul said taking the "middle path" would involve some effort to whip the story into shape, but the result will be a more complete and, hopefully, more salable book.  On the other hand, you may not want to put that much work into it.  You may be looking just to clean it up, put a cover on it, and send it out there.  If so, that's fair enough: you're the author and the publisher.  Only you know how much effort you're willing to put into it, and you should  be realistic about that."

"Wait just a minute, Bum.  We've already covered that "middle path" stuff.  Wasn't that explained earlier under the heading Possible Strategies?"

"Wow, Bear, your memory is better than mine.  I am impressed."  Bum clapped her admiration.  

"Never mind all that crap, Bum.  Did Paul have anything else to say?"

He said he can help with getting the book polished and formatted into e-book files.  He can also probably help with arranging the cover art (there are fairly low-cost online service providers for things like this), and also help with the actual publishing process, sending the book through Amazon and Smashwords.

Bear thought a moment, digesting this information I suppose, before saying, "I prefer a real book."

"Me too," said Bum. 

"Did you let Paul know that you did not want an e-book for our book?" asked Bear.

"No."

"Why not?" asked Bear, and he looked puzzled.

"I don't know."

 "Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt his feelings, if I can avoid that.  Paul has worked hard at organizing an e-book publication and all the bits and pieces needed to make it work." said Bum. 

"He'll get over it," said Bear.

"That's a very hurtful thing to say, Bear, and totally not like you."

"He'll get over it," repeated Bear. 

"Saying it twice doesn't make it more acceptable, Bear," admonished Bum.

"There are three of us involved here Bum.  There's you who would be hurt by an e-book, there's me who would be hurt too because you know I want a real book.  And then there's Paul who you think might be hurt.  Two out of three wins, I say.  What's he got to be hurt about?  It's not his book, he's only the editor."

"OK, Bear.  I'll tell him," said Bum, giving in without much of a fight. 

"Good," said Bear.  "Where were we with this Recommendations stuff that Paul wrote?"

"He said the cover art will cost money, but maybe not much, and that I might be able to get something decent for $100 or so, maybe less."

"We've got our pictures front and back that your niece Mara drew, and very nice they are too, although my picture could've been bigger."

"I told you in an earlier blog post Bear, that my picture has to be bigger.  How can you, a dog, be bigger than I, or should that be me?"

"Who cares?  I know it's you, and OK, I get it," said Bear.  "What else did Paul say under his Recommendations?  He tends to run on a bit doesn't he?"

"I don't call analyzing all aspects of publishing a book as running on a bit," said Bum disapprovingly. 

"I'm sorry, if you're reading this post Paul.  Now Bum, what else did he say about Recommendations?"

"He said that promoting the book will also involve expense and effort, but as for how much, that's up to me  It's considered normal and essential for an author to have a website, for instance.  That will take some effort by somebody.  He said he found an interesting website called itch.io that functions as a kind of online mall for creators, through which one can sell one's works.  We could maybe set up a simple storefront there, and the site enables you to sell digital copies of your work, using an online payment facility called Stripe.  He plans to set up a storefront there himself, so he might be able to pioneer the way and then, if it seems to work well, get one set up for me too.  You probably don't have to pay anything to set up there.  They probably take a percentage of any sales." 

"This is useless information, Bum, since we are not going digital with our book, wouldn't you agree?" said Bear.

"Yes," said Bum. 

"Is that it with Paul's recommendations?"

"No,"said Bum, "there's more.  He said there are things like review services, which cost money.  By paying a certain amount, you can get a certain number of reviews for your book posted to Goodreads or to Amazon."

"That's all very good, Bum, but, sitnce Paul continues to lag on the editing of our book, a review package is the last thing we need," muttered Bear. 

"Noted, oh grumpy one.  The last thing Paul said was that the most important promotional tool is the online mailing list.  This is a list that you build up and to whom you send occasional messages.  This is a long process, and does require a website--a place where people can sign up.  This list becomes your core audience.  With all his efforts and fame, his own list now has 67 people on it, but if you are looking to sell books, you want to have a list with thousands of people on it.  It's a real uphill climb."

"Hold it right there, Bum.  How long has Paul had his website?  Many years I'm thinking and he only has 67 people?  Give me a break."

"Paul did say that all these things are daunting.  But then, they're not actually obligatory:  you don't have to do any of them.  It all depends on how badly you want to sell books.  You can send them out there and just leave them.  But with a thousand books being published each day, and most of them being promoted somehow or other, how is yours going to be noticed?  Book sales in general are hard to come by."

"This is my last word on Paul's Recommendations.  They are moot unless our book is out there published."

"Moot? What does that mean?" asked Bum, looking puzzled.

"Look it up.  I won't always be around to decipher this stuff."

"I'm glad this year is almost over, Bear.  Nothing good happened in December except it's almost over.  To top it off, my old friend Bill died December 6th, and the month deteriorated after that."

"Bill Stockmann?" asked Bear.

"Yes," said Bum.  "His heart failed him."

"I am so very sorry Bum, for you and your sister.  I know you three were good buddies."

"Frances wrote a lovely piece about Bill.  I'll read it to you tomorrow."    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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