Book sales

It is 4 o’clock in the morning, and I’m sitting before a keyboard looking at the blank screen on my computer, with pointing fingers articulately poised to seek and peck.

I have the additional problem of meeting a weekly deadline, just a few short hours after the fast approaching breaking of dawn.

Since the passing of my Little Lady, with fond memories flowing freely, writing has become almost the sole interest in my life. Not often has procrastination placed me in the position of rush, but not having the Little Lady by my side throwing out suggestions I sometimes have a problem in picking a topic to which I think might interest the bulk of my readers. But then again, knowing the dedication of many, I think they would read between the lines if it was possible at all to write a blank article.

By the time this article escapes the pressures of the presses I will have been and gone to another two-day book signing at the sixth annual Art in the Yard at the Elora Centre for the Arts. This is a fun thing for me, ’cause I get to meet many of my readers, some for the very first time, and through my books it gives me a chance to share with them many of the things that have happened during many past years. And believe me, having lived for over 52 years with the love of my life, my Little Lady, by my side, though some were definitely the saddest of sad, there were not too many dull moments.

She was simply an undemanding fun person to live with both night and day. And believe me when I say, that now that she is not  here to tweak my ear and say, “Oh no you don’t,” I may be able to get away with repeating some of the funny little quips that so often spontaneously popped from her lips, some of which were rather colourful, some of them perhaps caustic or crude, some, too, when she was dreaming, she often talked when sound asleep.

It is funny how it happens, but now that Book One and Book Two, of the Best of Bits and Pieces have become more popular, the sales of my first book, Niska, Niska Niska, though laying like a dead brick when first self published, is starting to skyrocket.

It is a book, being my first ever, that I wrote originally over 30 years ago, and rewrote, and rewrote again, which was turned down by publisher after publisher. A book, I might add, that won me multiple refusals by publishers.

One that has provided a quantity of rejection slips, of sufficient spread to cover an entire wall. A book that was refused publications because, would you believe it, it lacked crime, violence, and soft-peddled, too greatly the act of sex.

Well folks, this is the book that I self-published three years ago, and perhaps I am guilty of spicing, in more explicit detail, the acts of passion which invariably are a part of  life. But I have firmly refused to add crime, untruths, and violence, for I harbour strong personal convictions that God had higher hopes that it would not be entangled in the larger brain that He gifted the Homo sapiens species. And further, the publishers simply didn’t believe that this book is not fiction.

But it is part and parcel of two women’s lives that I was fortunate in being able to introduce, one to the other, and help them help themselves, when the whole world seemed to have separately turned their backs against them.

What I write are true experiences of life that have unravelled over the years. The fabric of which, during correlation and tatting, has become more than just familiar to me. With sights and scenes and happenings, I have intimately entangled to weave a basically true and touching story; exceedingly reflective of the times. A story mingled after the fact; of which I’d suffer great apprehension if refrained from sharing.    

In the meantime, so that you don’t have to bug my editors so often, with questions you think I may be able to answer, I have had a professional; Jeremy Woods, of ICS, Intelligent Computer Systems, make up for me a web-site.  So you can contact me directly. For those who do not have on-line service, don’t hesitate to phone me at 519-843-4544. I have one of those answering gizmos if I’m not there, or simply not in the mood to answer. I may be cranky, but I will get back to you. So cut this last paragraph off and stick it on your fridge door. You may want to stick the heading up there also, so I can keep an eye on you while you’re working in the kitchen.

Take care, ’cause we care.


Barrie Hopkins