Travels with Myself

The Occasional Blogs of Doug Jordan, Author

48. The Writing Bug Returns

As I anticipated my trip to Manila to meet the Filipina Cupid, I fretted about being drawn away from my [renewed interest in writing and completing my ‘novel’]. Such is the mind of the writer when the writing bug is upon him, he doesn’t want to do anything else.

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34. WOTS 2

Word on the Street (WOTS) is one of the biggest [outdoor] book fairs in the world, certainly the biggest in Canada. And you’ve got to admit, it’s a clever name, both of them.

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33. WOTS

If I was to be a real author, not a closet pretender, I needed to sell a lot more of my books.
Despite my reservations, and fear, I wanted to get wider exposure. I wanted affirmation. Endless ego needs may have been at the base of all this, but if I wanted exposure, I had to promote my books. As any author, successful and otherwise, will attest, the better mousetrap gets no attention by itself.

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27. Writing Mania

One Sunday afternoon of hopeless staring I suddenly saw my story unfolding in my head. I rolled out of bed and sat down at my computer. The words started to flow from my fingers. And in the erratic days and nights of the next three weeks, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

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23. Time to Move

I only felt alive when I was with her. But even then, I knew this was more fantasy than real. I knew I had to get my life in order, and my finances in order, and start over. The confusing part was when the fantasy and the reality merged.

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Observations on Blogging

Of the 105 subscribers, about 55 (not always the same 55) are reported as ‘Open’ed but of those only about half Click through to the blog site itself. This is not surprising really, it’s only my tender ego that expects all my readers are eager to read my latest post.

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22. Reading, Writing, ‘Rithmetic

Little did I realize I was also tampering yet again with my core identity. We are creatures of habit and we are especially attached to our own territory: house and office are core to our sense of self.

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18 Parallel Universe

During the period of Marlene’s illness, and dying, I was consumed with the obvious activity – caring for the patient. Caring for myself was an

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2. Master Class

I never took a writing course. There was a basic styles handbook in university, and I’m sure I had marginal feedback from various TAs who

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Travels with Myself (with apologies to John Steinbeck, or should it be Graham Greene?) is the story of my journey of discovery, to find myself

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