Best Paddling Ever

When I had a job but would go on vacation, I always used to say that I needed a few extra days after vacation to recover from my vacation. If DW and I travelled abroad, we would always try to book a return flight that would give us at least one full day to rest before returning to work.

I now have the luxury of time after a vacation because I don't have a job to go back to. And this week, I really needed the past couple of days to recover from our trip.

There are some metrics that my Garmin smart watch takes that I don't put a lot of stock into, but there are some that seem to be quite accurate. For example, it has a reading that's called Body Battery, where it measures my heart rate, my blood-oxygen levels, and activities, and determines how energized I am.

Any time I feel exhausted and look at the Body Battery reading, my watch seems to agree with me, showing a low percentage of energy. When I feel that all I can do is rest, for example, my Body Battery reading agrees, showing me at five-percent "charge."

When I awake feeling well-rested, the Body Battery shows a high "charge" level.

Each morning, it shows stats that indicate how ready my body is to tackle activities, and on this vacation, it showed me some interesting numbers.

DW and I spent 10 days in Québec's Laurentian mountain region, including the fjords of the Saguenay River. We camped for the first seven days, did plenty of kayaking and hiking, and sampled some great beer from this region.

Oh, and we saw lots of whales.

We started of with five nights in Parc National de la Jacques-Cartier, a beautiful park that's only a half hour north of Québec City. And because we started our vacation on the Labour Day weekend, it was crowded with day trippers from the city.

Our first paddle was a short one, only a 4.7-kilometre paddle along the Jacques-Cartier River where the water is mostly flat, but on which there is a current that will gently lead you southward. The hills that line the sides of this river are nothing short of stunning, and it was gently raining throughout our paddle, with clouds creeping around the ridges of these mountains.

The next day, we paddled another part of the river, when the weather was nicer and the temperature warmer. We had just finished a gruelling 6K trail that had us climbing steep parts of the hillside below where we were paddling now, and the short 3.7K paddle was just what we needed to decompress.

However, the next day of paddling was going to be a tough one.

DW and I reserved a seat on a shuttle bus that would tow our kayaks along with rental crafts—both kayaks and canoes—and other paddlers up 20 kms to a put-in spot, and we would paddle down to the park's discovery centre, where our car was parked.

This was no easy paddle, even though we were paddling with the current. The river has a lot of hazards, from low water levels to rocks, and with rapids that ranged from Class I (gentle ripples) to Class III (white water with strong currents and slight drops in elevation).

One of the Class III rapids required a mandatory portage for all paddlers. There were simply too many rocks to navigate and it was just too dangerous.

DW and I were nervous about our kayaks hitting rocks but we wanted to use our own boats, rather than rent. Even though our kayaks are designed for open water, they can easily handle Class I rapids and, though tough, should be able to negotiate Class II rapids if you know what you're doing.

They aren't really recommended for use through Class III rapids.

We aren't particularly experienced in waters with rapids. We've run Class I rapids with our old kayaks but have never paddled through rougher water. We had taken a white-water canoeing course more than a decade ago and I never finished it because I got sick halfway through it. I had paddled through a set of Class II rapids in that course, but canoes and kayaks are very different beasts.

After our first set of rapids (Class I), I was very nervous for my kayak because I went over a large rock so hard that it lifted my seat up. When we saw on the map we had that the next set of rapids was Class II, we decided to stop at the portage to check it out. And when we saw that there were a lot of rocks, we decided to portage the 185 metres.

Only when we were carrying our second kayak along the portage route did we see some people in kayaks negotiate the rapids, and we saw the route that they took. They got through easily and we figured we could have, too, if we had spotted that way through.

The next set of rapids were Class III, and again we stopped at the portage spot to survey the rapids. I saw a canoeist get his craft through, and he turned in to the downstream section of the portage, so I decided to talk to him.

The man had been through these rapids the day before but had chosen a different route, and he said it had been a mistake, that he almost hit a large rock and nearly capsized. He explained the route he took this time and told me that I'd have no problem with my kayak if I stuck to this route.

He was right, and though it was terrifying going through Class III rapids in a 14-foot touring kayak, it was also exciting when DW and I got through the other side unscathed.

Foolishly, I forgot to wear a helmet, which was strapped to my deck for such occasions.

Apart from the first portage we did and the mandatory portage, further down, DW and I ran all other sets of rapids. It took us four hours and 45 minutes to paddle the 20 kms back to the park's discovery centre, and we were exhausted.

My watch agreed: when I pressed the button to stop my kayaking activity, my watch actually told me that I had overexerted myself, that I'd need 96 hours to recover. And admittedly, as soon as we returned to our campsite and had dinner, I just wanted to go to bed. I slept for about 12 hours.

And of course, I didn't take 96 hours to rest. We had more paddling ahead of us.

In the 10 days of our vacation, we got into our kayaks five times. We also hiked a lot more and I'll share more of our Laurentian-Saguenay trip next week.

We returned home on Monday afternoon, and after emptying our car, putting all of our camping gear away, washing our kayaks (and buffing out some of the scratches on the bottom hull), and throwing our clothes into the washing machine, I was too tired to even think about dinner.

My Body Battery reading was at only two percent.

I've needed most of this week to recover from our vacation and I'm glad I didn't have to return to a job. It was certainly worth overexerting myself, as my watch said. It was the best paddling we've ever done through some of our country's most beautiful landscapes. We paddled in all kinds of conditions, with whales only a short distance from us in at least one case, and this will go down as our number-one paddle.

I'll have more to say on Monday and I'm currently working on editing the video footage I've captured.

Stay tuned.

Where to Sing Next

I'm someone who went from singing at karaoke nights a couple of times a year to once every one or two months, from heading out once a month to being a weekly regular at a karaoke venue. This year, the only time I wasn't at my local karaoke spot was when I was out of town, and that didn't happen often.

Some of the Hummingbird regulars.

Over the summer months, my preferred karaoke venue, Hummingbird Hall, made a decision to shut down karaoke night until September. When they made that announcement, the regulars of karaoke night, including me, put up a stink, and that evening, they made the decision to stay open but to reduce karaoke night to once every other week.

Fair compromise.

Admittedly, not every karaoke night was busy. People were on vacations or at their cottage. But there was always a handful of regulars and a few occasional visitors. Hummingbird even saw a few newbies to the venue.

Three weeks ago, I attended the Thursday karaoke night and there was a good turnout. We had most of the regular crowd, a few people who would come once a month or so, and a few people who made their first appearance.

Everything seemed to be good.

However, while I was on vacation in the Laurentians, I received news that Hummingbird was suddenly cancelling karaoke night indefinitely. No explanations as to why: karaoke night was simply over.

I was crushed. I had found a cozy, well-setup venue that was less than 10 minutes from my house. I had made lots of friends and felt like I was in a place where I belonged. And then it was all gone.

Now, there are other karaoke venues in Ottawa. For years, I had gone to O'Brien's, on Heron Road. I've been to the occasional karaoke night at Stray Dog, one of my favourite breweries. I've been to St. Louis Bar and Grill, though I didn't care for it. And I've been to George's, in Munster Hamlet, which is about 15 minutes further away than Hummingbird: it's a good venue but there's a lot of country music for my liking.

There's nowhere that I feel I can make my new home for karaoke. I feel sort of homeless.

I've made several friends at Hummingbird and we have each other's contact information. I was told that some of them would be meeting at Mort's, in Bells Corners, for karaoke this past Tuesday. Mort's is a pizza restaurant that offers karaoke every Tuesday.

I was going to meet up but I was exhausted from my vacation, so I didn't go.

Tonight, there's karaoke at George's, and I'll likely go. I'll let my karaoke friends know, in case they feel like meeting me there. But I feel that we're all pseudo-refugees, without a central home for us to sing together.

Maybe, I'll go back to occasional singing, but it's become a hobby that I really enjoy. So, until I find a new regular venue for karaoke, I'll continue wondering where I'm going to sing next.

Les Laurentides

Friday Fiction: Prologue for a New Story

If I had known that writing crime novels would give me so much joy, I would have started writing them decades ago.

I had so much fun writing Dark Water that I couldn't wait to start the next book in what I hope will become a series: The Calloway and Hayes Mysteries. I have ideas flooding my head, often keeping me up at night, but I love it.

A few days after finishing the first draft of Dark Water, I started coming up with a new case, which is set mostly in Ottawa's ByWard Market. This story is even darker than the first novel, with many layers. There's a serial killer in Ottawa and ritualistic murders, but are they actually related?

As I said, last week, I've even come up with a title for the next book: The Watcher. And this week, I started laying out the outline for the story. As with Dark Water, I have spreadsheets and notes, with characters and plot lines, and I'm taking what I learned from the first book to be even more organized the second time around.

I've even written a rough draft of the prologue for The Watcher, which I've decided to share with you. But I need to set it up a bit, first.

In Dark Water, we learn that Detective Sergeant Erin Hayes moved to Ottawa after a promotion from the Niagara Regional Police Services. She had never even been to Ottawa before this transfer, so she's getting used to the city at the same time that she's settling into her new position with her new team.

Hayes lives in an apartment building in the Lincoln Heights area, her unit overlooking Mud Lake and the Ottawa River. On the nights that she can get home at a decent hour, she likes to change into something comfortable, pour herself a glass of wine, and sit on her balcony to enjoy the sunset.

Hayes lives with two roommates who are also OPS employees. Becca Pierson is a communications operator (dispatcher) and Maya Rahman is a patrol constable. The three often work hours that seldom sees them together in the apartment.

The Watcher begins on a rare night when the three have a Friday night off, together, and they decide to hit the ByWard Market. And that's where the story begins...

***

The rhythm of the bass and percussion followed them into the night air of the ByWard Market. Even at one in the morning, the streets were alive. Laughter echoed from the patios that still clung to their last customers, whilst taxis idled at curbsides, headlights cutting through the smoke that was curling from a nearby shawarma stand. The air held the sharp scent of gin and cigarettes, twisting together with the sweetness of fried dough from the Beaver Tails stall, its workers starting the shutdown for the night. The rise and fall of drunken voices, the clatter of bottles dumped into recycle bins by weary bartenders. Pooling light from streetlamps carved bright islands that contrasted the dark alleys that were to be avoided. A gentle breeze carried a quieter rhythm amid the careless laughter and echoing footsteps—an invisible patience in the air, like something holding its breath just beyond the reach of a neon glow.

The heavy club doors swung shut behind them, muffling the throb of music until it was nothing more than a pulse of memory. Becca Pierson was the tallest of the trio, her black dress shimmering faintly under the jaundiced streetlights, long legs moving with a confidence that was sharpened by heels. She tilted her head back as she laughed, light-brown waves of hair spilling over her shoulders, her giggle colored by the cocktails she had downed, inside. Maya Rahman walked beside her; shorter but solid, every step purposeful even after three vodka sodas. Her pink skirt caught and released the glow of passing headlights, and she tugged absently at the hem of her sleeveless blouse, smirking at Becca’s retelling of some clumsy pickup attempt. Erin Hayes trailed less than a half-pace behind, her sequined red dress catching moving light like embers. There was nothing loose or sloppy in her gaze, not even with the haze of tequila. She watched her friends with a warmth that softened the detective’s usual edge.

Image: Perplexity

All three were laughing, shoulders brushing close as a warm breeze swept the humid, summer night air. They carried themselves with a mix of loosened joy and the quiet gravity of women who lived their waking hours inside the machinery of Ottawa crime. Tonight, though, they were only three friends in the Market, teasing one another about desperate men and bad pickup lines.

They didn’t see the still figure across the street, the one who noticed them first for their laughter, then for the way the light caught their hair, and finally through the lens of a camera raised from a shadow.

Behind him, beyond the reach of laughter and neon, the chocolatier’s shop sat as if abandoned. Its window displays—rows of truffles, glossy pralines, brittle wrapped in gold foil—were now only vague shapes in the dark, dulled by the sheen of glass. Inside, the sweetness that usually hung in the air had curdled under the weight of silence.

On the tiled floor between the display cases lay the owner, her body carefully placed, as though she had been gently lowered rather than violently killed. Her arms rested neatly at her sides, her face turned up, expression softened into something almost serene, as if she were only sleeping amidst her creations. Around her, deliberate patterns had been scrawled and arranged: carefully positioned objects and markings that broke the order of the shop with unsettling precision. The symbols seemed to radiate outward, framing her in an unnatural tableau.

The harmony of the arrangement made the scene more chilling—not a crime of passion, but one of patience and intent, every detail calibrated. Had anyone been standing above her, they would have recognized that this was not simply a body, but a message waiting to be read.

Outside, the Market carried on with its noise and chaos, blind to the quiet horror concealed just one pane of glass away, reflecting the three women as they climbed into their hired HOVR ride and made their way out of the ByWard Market.

***

As of writing this blog post, I've also written the first five chapters of the story (writing crime fiction has become an addiction) but that'll be it for at least a couple of weeks, if not longer. Today, DW and I left for a vacation, where I expect to be offline for many days.

When we return, in the second week of September, I'm hopeful to have feedback from my Dark Water readers, and I'll start work on the third and final draft before submitting the manuscript for edits and, fingers crossed, publishing.

Only when I've sent Dark Water of to the printers will I devote my full attention to The Watcher.

Happy Friday!

Beer O'Clock: A Loss of Taste

About a month ago, someone from a marketing company reached out to me to invite me to visit Blyth, Ontario, a small village more than 45 minutes northwest of Stratford.

It's home to a well-loved brewery, Cowbell. As far back as 2016, I tried, loved, and reviewed their Kölsch, Absent Landlord. The person who contact me represents the brewery and was hoping that I would take a road trip and write a review of the brewery.

Unfortunately, I have no plans to head that way this year. I was in Stratford last year and the year before, but won't take in the theatre season in 2025.

Maybe next year, I replied, but not this year.

The marketing person said that she understood that a drive to Blyth is a long way to go to grab a beer. She then offered to send me some beer, with the hopes that I'd review it.

Of course, I said, telling her that I would give a fair review. But I cautioned her that if I had issues with the beer, I would say so in a fair and kind manner (I like Cowbell, after all). If I really didn't like the beer, I wouldn't write a review; instead, I'd contact the brewery and have a discussion about the brew—perhaps there was a flaw in the production line, and I wouldn't want to base my review on a bad batch.

So, sometime in the next few weeks, I can expect a care package in the mail and I will do my best to give a good review.

So long and thanks for all the beer.

But here's the rub: recently, I've lost my taste for beer. I KNOW! I'm as surprised as you are.

I keep very little beer in the house, these days. More than a month ago, when I was in Toronto, I stopped at a brewery and brought a dozen cans home—two of six different brews. I bought one that was recommended by the person who ran the shop and reviewed it the following week.

Since then, I've only occasionally gone to my basement fridge an pulled out a random can. The various brews are fine but they haven't given me that 'wow' factor.

When I go out to karaoke night, I've had only one beer for the evening. Hummingbird serves an IPA from Overflow Brewing Company that's quite good: Landlocked. When they ran out, a while ago, and were serving a lager, I stopped drinking beer and the server noticed. So he made sure to put in an order for Landlocked and he pulls one from the fridge whenever I walk in the room.

I drink it because I feel obligated, not because it's what I want. I'm kinda off beer.

At home, I may have only one or two drinks per week, and when I'm not trying to finish off the beer that's in my fridge, I make myself a margarita or a gin and tonic. On rare occasions, DW and I will split a bottle of wine.

I haven't become a teetotaller but I've significantly limited my alcohol consumption.

While I'm looking forward to the Cowbell brews that will be sent to me and I will whole-heartedly give a review my all, I'm thinking that Beer O'Clock has finally run its course. From being a regular occurrence on The Brown Knowser to being a rare post, I don't think beer reviews follow the new theme of my blog, which has turned to being mostly about writing, travelling, kayaking, and photography.

Plus a few rants here and there.

For all I know, my taste for beer will return and I'll want to write more reviews in the future. But until I want to make Beer O'Clock a regular part of my blog again, the Cowbell review will be the last one.

Stay tuned.

Old Routines Die Hard

Before I was laid off from my job of almost 19 years (I was a technical writer for more than 25 years), last March, I was a creature of habit.

I would wake early, get ready for work, and head out. I liked to arrive at the office as early as possible—usually no later than 7—to get set up for the day and try to get as much accomplished before most of my colleagues arrived. I enjoyed working with my peers but wouldn't be as productive as I was when I was on my own.

Image: ChatGPT

When COVID-19 shut everything down and we all found ourselves working from home, my routine didn't change much. I'd sleep in a little later but I'd still be showered, dressed, fed, and at my desk at a decent hour—no later than 8.

In the office, I liked to be done between 3 and 3:30; at home, by 4.

Now that I'm unemployed, my weekday schedule hasn't changed much. Because I'm not bound to a 40-hour week, I don't feel the need to be at my desk early. I am usually awake by 7 but will often linger in bed until 8, catching up on news, social media, and any correspondence.

I'll also play a couple of games that get my brain going.

Instead of working for a multinational corporation, however, I now work for myself, writing my novel, putting together blog posts, and editing videos for my YouTube channel. It's a non-paying job (so far) but it leaves me happier than I've been in years.

But there is a bit of a downside to this new routine. It seems to have me behaving as though I was still in the old routine.

I sometimes feel chained to my desk. I feel as though I have to be productive, somehow, between the hours of 9 and 4, or sometimes even much later, depending on whether I'm caught up in writing and don't want to lose focus.

On some occasions, when I have to run errands or have a medical appointment, I feel that I have to get back to work as soon as I can. Rarely to I tell myself, take your time: enjoy being out. A couple of months ago, when I went to the Rideau Canal for a solo paddle, on a week day, I felt as though I was playing hooky.

It felt good to be out but there was an underlying pull to get back behind my desk.

Before I was laid off, I had thoughts about retiring and how I'd have the time to do all of the things that I want to do: I'd go on trips; I'd take my kayak out whenever I wanted; I'd learn to become proficient with my drone; I'd take my camera gear and capture so many photos; I'd make a steady amount of YouTube videos.

And, I'd write what I want to write, when I wanted to write it.

So far, I'm writing, almost every day. But sometimes, it feels like as much as a job as it is a passion. I've somehow got the belief that unless I'm working at my desk, I'm not being productive.

I've gone on trips, often combining them with kayaking. But I tend to do that on the weekend, with DW, who is still gainfully employed. I haven't touched my drone very much, only taking it out when the weather is optimal (low wind) or I have a specific idea to use it.

Peru, of course, was our greatest trip in many years but it was planned and paid for before I was laid off. DW and I will be leaving on a vacation, again, on Friday, where we'll camp and kayak in some pretty spectacular places. Stay tuned for that.

My cameras have literally gathered dust. The only time I pick them up is to clean them off. Even though I've told myself that tomorrow, I'll get up early and head out with my cameras, I've never followed through.

My desk keeps calling me.

I have made more YouTube videos this year than I've made in previous years but not as many as I had hoped. I've done the editing on weekends and on weekdays, depending on when I've captured the video clips, so at least I've mostly kept that plan.

Maybe, I haven't convinced myself that I'm retired. I thought I had a few years to prepare myself—I didn't expect to retire until my 63^rd birthday—and I suddenly found myself in a position where I didn't have a job.

I had come up with the initial idea for Dark Water on the very weekend before I was laid off, and my initial reaction to my job loss was that I thought, great! I can put my full attention into writing this book.

I did throw myself into writing my crime novel and I thrived. But now that it's done, I don't want to stop. I want to start the next book right away, even though Dark Water hasn't even been submitted to a publisher.

When DW and I return from our vacation, I'm going to force myself into a new routine. I'm going to commit myself to doing specific things on specific days that keep me away from my desk. Of course, there will be days where I sit down to write but they won't necessarily be 9 to 5 time slots. I hope our vacation breaks me of the old routine.

Wish me luck. Old routines die hard.

Water Rescue in Arnprior

A police officer thought we might need help but we didn't.

For a couple of weeks, DW and I knew that we had to get some practice in for water rescues, in the event that one of us overturns in our kayaks while we're paddling in the fjord of the Saguenay River. We're hoping to not fall in but we need to be prepared anyway.

The last few weeks, however, have either been too hot, too smoky, or too hot and smoky. We went three weekends without kayaking—the longest gap this season and one of the longest gaps of any kayaking season.

I was hoping to put out a kayaking video every one or two weeks but it's been a while. And as I write this, I realize it'll be several weekends before I release any video, as DW and I will be away. I'm sure I'm messing up the YouTube algorithm with my inconsistency in video releases but it can't be helped.

So, as I said in yesterday's video, DW and I took our kayaks to Arnprior and put them in at a boat launch at the mouth of the Madawaska River, where it opens into the Ottawa River. We planned to paddle downstream on the Ottawa River to the Mississippi River, go up as far as we could towards Galetta, and then paddle back.

But first, we were going to practice water rescues.

Within a minute or so of heading out from the boat launch area, DW and I realized that we hadn't stripped down to the bare necessities in our kayaks. We were still wearing our hats and sunglasses, and we had other gear strapped to our decks. We needed to put them somewhere safe, so we paddled to a tiny beach so that we could place this equipment in our kayak's storage containers.

DW flipped her kayak over first and I rescued her. That's when the cops showed up.

You can see the action plus the rescues in my latest video. Have a look:

Because it took us more than 45 minutes to prepare for our rescues, practice our rescues, and set back up for a paddle, we didn't get to the Mississippi and decided to turn back, especially since time was getting on, the wind was picking up, and the skies threatened some rain.

All in all, it was a good paddle. Even though being upside-down, under water, played havoc with my sinuses for two days after.

If you like my videos, please do me a favour and subscribe to my channel. I have a loyal but small number of followers and I'd like to surpass 300 subscribers by the end of the year. I have kayaking videos, travel videos, and other goofy shit, so I'm hoping there's something on the channel that grabs your interest.

Thanks.

Don't Fall In

At the end of this week, DW and I will be heading out on another vacation. This time, we're heading east, following the north shore of the St. Lawrence River, past Québec City, to Parc national de la Jacques-Cartier, where we'll do some camping, hiking, and kayaking along the Jacques-Cartier River.

We're hoping to shoot some class-1 and maybe even some class-2 rapids on the river. If the water isn't suitable to shoot with our kayaks, we'll rent a couple of kayaks that are better-suited to the river conditions.

As much as I don't want to fall out of my kayak, I don't want to risk damaging it because

• I don't want to wreck my kayak, obviously; and
• I'm going to need my kayak for the second half of our vacation.

We'll spend a few days in the park and will then continue, further up the St. Lawrence, to the Saguenay River. We have two nights of camping and several more days in B&Bs and hotels. We're going to explore the small towns in this region and also get our kayaks into the fjord for some exploring on the water.

And, with any luck, we'll spy some beluga whales.

In preparation for this trip, DW and I wanted to make sure we were prepared in case we fell into the Saguenay River. We've bought some Farmer Johns—essentually, wet suits that are sleeveless. They'll also be good for keeping us warm when we're going down rapids on the Jacques-Cartier River, but they'll be absolute necessities in the Saguenay.

We also practised performing water rescues on the weekend. We drove out to Arnprior, on Saturday, where we planned to paddle from the mouth of the Madawaska River to the mouth of the Mississippi River, along the Ottawa River, and did our rescue practising close to a beach at the mouth of the Madawaska.

DW and I get ourselves into position.

Last year, we practised these techniques with our Paddlefolk on a lake, and we easily lifted ourselves out of the water and into our kayaks with the help of our partners. We did the manoeuvre where we hauled ourselves onto the stern deck, pushed our legs into the cockpit, and turned ourselves around whilst our partners held tightly onto our kayaks.

This time, DW and I practised the leg-hook method, where you lie on your back, next to your kayak, take the leg that's furthest from the kayak and hook it into the cockpit, you grab the opposite straps on your kayak and haul yourself up.

It sounds complicated but we found it easier than the other method. Headwaters Kayak has a great instructional video on their YouTube site. Check it out.

One of the downsides of flipping over in your kayak, for me, is that you find yourself briefly upside-down while you're under water, while you exit your craft. And for me, being upside-down, under water, is not good.

For years, I've developed a condition that when my head is under water and I'm not the right-side up, my sinuses revolt. I get completely congested. My ears block up and squeak, and I get off-balance. My eyes become itchy, as if I was having a bad allergy attack.

In essence, I'm allergic to being under water.

All night, Saturday, and all day, Sunday, my body felt like it was having the worst headcold or allergy attack ever. I was barely functional for a good part of the day.

On our trip, I'm going to be extra-careful when we're in our kayaks. I don't want to get cold and I don't want to find myself upside-down, under water.

So, I just hope I don't fall in.

I'll have a video of our water rescue, tomorrow. Happy Monday! 

The Watcher

Is it too soon to start thinking of another novel?

I've completed the second draft of my Dark Water manuscript but I've sent it to friends and family who will proofread the story. I'm hoping they give me honest feedback and can point out any holes in the story.

When I get that feedback, I'll make any necessary changes and then submit the final draft to a professional editor and a possible publisher. There is still a lot of work to go before we see Dark Water in print, if we see it at all.

I'm hoping it gets published. I like the characters of Inspector DS Erin Hayes, and I'd like to see them move forward in another story.

Last week, after running through my first full read of the completed manuscript, I had an idea for the next case. I've even come up with the title.

Image: Perplexity

The Watcher.

So far, there's not much to this story but that was exactly how I started with Dark Water. When I made the decision to write my first crime novel, I started with the victim and a location where she'd be found, and I built from there. At the start of my outline, I didn't even know who the killer was nor why the victim would end up floating in the Rideau River.

With The Watcher, I'm thinking about creating a serial killer who has targeted people in Ottawa's ByWard Market. There's also a minor detail that I briefly touched on in Dark Water that I'd like to continue in the sequel and expand upon.

I'm even thinking that the case won't be completely solved by the end of the story, with one antagonist getting away (and I'll save them for a third novel).

Wow, I'm really getting ahead of myself.

As I said when I finished the first draft of Dark Water, I was surprised at how quickly I was able to come up with the story, create the bare bones, and flesh out the details. I had a lot of fun writing the story and my own excitement spurred me on.

Now that I'm almost ready to start the final draft and have no major writing to do with it (unless it comes back from the editor with serious changes suggested), I want to keep the writing going. I want to see what Calloway and Hayes do next.

Here we go again... stay tuned.

More Changes

I know, I seem to be talking about nothing but my novel, lately, and with good cause. Ever since I lost my job, working on my crime story has been my new day job and I sit at the same desk over the same daytime hours as I did when I was working from home.

I just don't get paid to be here.

Putting in close to 40 hours each week writing Dark Water is what allowed me to finish the first draft in such a short period of time. And, unlike my old job, this book has given me a great deal of joy. I had a lot of fun putting the story together.

(I was really good at my old job but to say I had fun or that it gave me joy is a stretch. It paid the bills and allowed me to enjoy the rest of my life.)

I'm now at a point in the writing process where I've started reading my book and making corrections to the grammar, spelling, and other errors. In reading just the first two paragraphs of the prologue, I realized that I had left out something from the epilogue, and used that morning to add the new content. I then started from be beginning and read through the story.

By the end, I had cut some material, added new material, and corrected existing material. I also made notes of things that I needed to research more and made sure I had followed all of the clues that the detectives discovered.

And, after reading, I walked away from the book for the weekend.

As I wrote, a couple of days ago, I made some changes to one of the detectives, Erin Hayes. Using an advanced AI search engine, I was able to make her more believable, even if that meant she was knocked down in rank.

At the beginning of this week, I started reading Dark Water a second time, and by the second chapter, I decided to make a major structural change. And this change took me the entire day.

When I started writing the outline, I wanted to structure the book so that each chapter was an entire day, with the exception of the prologue, which spans two days (it's short), and the first and second chapters, which were one day but from the perspective of different people.

The problem with keeping one day per chapter was that the chapters became very long. Some were as many as 60 8.5 x 11 pages, which translated into 80 paperback pages or more. I used asterisks (*) to denote scene breaks, hoping they would make it easy on a reader, but I decided that I need to give up my one-chapter-per-day structure.

So I went through each chapter and broke it up where I thought the scene change warranted a new chapter. Some chapters are as long as 14 pages while a few are as short as one or two pages. After I restructured the book, I've ended up with 58 chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue.

I'm hoping that it is now easier to read: I'm currently going through my first reading with this new structure so I hope I made the right decision.

When I demoted Erin Hayes, I made her a Detective Sergeant, which is still a fast track for someone her age, but I thought I'd need to create a backstory that explains her rise in the ranks. This involved me creating another crime story, which actually came pretty quickly, though I find the crime-fiction genre to be my calling (more on that, tomorrow).

Without giving too much away, Hayes is known as the Detective Constable who cracked the Jackpot Kidnappings case, which had reached international recognition. By the time she is promoted and transferred to the Ottawa Police Services, Mickey Calloway had heard of the Jackpot Kidnappings.

While I was brainstorming for Hayes' backstory, I took a look at the image that I had AI generate, a few months ago, of our two detectives. I had already generated a new image of Hayes, alone, which I used for my blog post about her demotion. It's perfect in its depiction of my "ridiculously beautiful" detective and I won't be generating any more.

The new Calloway (Perplexity)

But I've always thought that the AI image of Calloway was too 'Hollywood' in its portrayal of my lead male detective. Calloway is huge (two metres tall and broad) and has an imposing look about him, but he can be as gentle as he is tough.

I wanted to create a less-perfect image of him, so after attaching the old picture of Hayes and Calloway into Perplexity, I asked the AI tool to make him less 'TV-ready' and to give him a more human appearance.

The image gives him a softer, more rounded face, though I believe that when he wants to look intimidating, he can. The new image also has him appear like he would be a good dad, and that's how I've written Calloway.

So this picture is also a keeper.

Someone asked me, in an earlier Comments section, if I would not use a human graphics artist for my book cover, and they are right. When Dark Water is eventually published, I will seek out a graphic designer (or the publishing company will).

When I had Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary published, the publishers offered a few cover designs from which I could choose. I assumed they had a few stock covers and suggested the most suitable ones for me to inspect. I chose the cover it ended up getting.

I've created these AI images to use as ideas for a cover, and I would show them to the graphics designer as a template. In the meantime, I've created them to use in my blog posts. They were never intended as a final book cover.

I continue to go through the manuscript and make changes as needed. I'm still several weeks away from submitting it to an editor, so there's lots of work ahead of me.

I hope you're not bothered by me sharing my thought process and status of the book. In fact, I hope that I'm building anticipation, so that when Dark Water is finally published, you'll be interested enough to want to buy a copy.

Happy Thursday!

A Demotion

Now that the first draft of Dark Water is done, I've started looking at the story and the characters with a more critical eye. I want my eventual readers to believe that the story is plausible.

For the first draft, I did a lot of Googling and asked ChatGPT a lot of questions. In roundabout ways, without sharing excerpts of scenes, I would describe scenarios that reflected the content of the story and ask the AI tool if what I described was realistic.

More times than not, Chat GPT would chime in with a positive assessment of that scenario, to the extent that I thought it was a yes-bot. Its responses would be encouraging, starting with a "that's a great idea and really develops your (character/plot) well."

If there was something that didn't go well, the AI tool would still give me encouragement but would offer a suggestion that would "tweak" my scenario. Never once did it tell me that I was wrong or unrealistic.

Now that I'm trying a new search engine, Perplexity, I'm being given a dose of reality.

I've been told that I'm not being realistic on one important piece of my story and that my audience would have a rough time believing it, especially if the reader knows anything about the police.

As you might know from following my posts about Dark Water, the two main detectives in the story are Inspector Michael 'Mickey' Calloway and Inspector Erin Hayes. What you may not know is anything about the characters, themselves, as I have kept most of the story out of my blog posts (I've shared the first chapter and the story synopsis in other blog posts but want to keep the overall story quiet).

But I feel I can tell you about the main characters without spoiling anything.

Calloway is 50 years old and a seasoned veteran in the Ottawa Police Serious Crimes Unit. He's lived in Ottawa his whole life and is married, with a teenage daughter.

Hayes (image: Perplexity)

His partner, who is a hard-working officer, was steadily promoted up the ranks from the Niagara Regional Police. When a vacancy opened at the OPSCU, Hayes was recommended by the NRP top brass. Hayes is only 28 when she was promoted to the rank of Inspector.

When I developed Hayes, I did searches on the rank structure with the OPS, checking Wikipedia, Google, and ChatGPT. I learned that making Hayes an Inspector at 28 was a steep climb but possible.

Now that I'm going through my book with a more critical eye, I thought I would test out Perplexity by describing Hayes and giving her the rank I have written. And Perplexity was brutally honest.

It told me that there's no way that a 28-year-old, even joining a police force at 19, would reach the rank of Inspector in that timeframe. It worked out what would be needed to get to that rank, and the youngest that Hayes could be was in her early to mid 30s.

I then gave the search engine more to work with. I told it the age that Hayes finishes high school (18) and to map out what she would have to do to get hired at the Niagara Regional Police. I also asked it to figure out what rank she could be in order to be brought on to the OPS as a highly recommended candidate to join the Homicide Unit.

Perplexity showed me the sources that it accessed to glean the information and I was impressed. It accessed the OPS Web site as well as the NRP site. It looked at sites that support Ontario Police Officers Association. It referenced various news articles from across the province.

Hayes would have had to go to university or college to obtain a three-year degree or diploma, preferably in in criminology, psychology, sociology, or policing studies. While in university or college, she would volunteer with community organizations (such as police auxiliaries and victim services) and/or work in security and crime prevention to gain relevant experience.

I'm not going to list everything that Hayes would have to do, but she'd also have to attend Police College, get hired after graduation, be on probation for a year, and then go through the ranks. Assuming she's a hard-working, dedicated officer—and I've created her such that she becomes a rock star at NRP—by the time she reaches 27, she could plausibly earn the rank of Detective Constable (a rank I didn't see in my previous searches of OPS ranks, though I recognize the rank in many detective novels I've read), also sometimes working as an Acting Detective Sergeant.

By the time she hits 28, when she applies for the position at the OPS Homicide Unit and receives glowing endorsement from the brass at the NRP, Hayes could be promoted to Detective Sergeant.

That's where I'm going to put her in my re-writes. And while I made up the Serious Crimes Unit for the OPS and named other divisions by their real names (the Drug Unit, for example, comes up), I may use the real name of Homicide Unit in the book, to distinguish it from the Guns and Gangs Unit and other departments that handle other serious crimes; though, in doing so, I'm going to have to make other changes to Calloway's past cases (one, that haunts him through this story).

Yes, it's a demotion from the rank I gave her but Google and ChatGPT didn't give me the depth of ranks that Perplexity gave me. DS Hayes has a certain ring to it, anyway.

I have ideas for Calloway and Hayes, and I've written a post for Friday that will explain what I have in store. While Calloway is exactly where he needs to be, hoping to someday become the Superintendent of his department, giving Hayes the rank of Detective Sergeant allows for a lot of growth of her character.

Stay tuned.

Perplexed

AI really struggles with direction. And it can't count.

Months ago, when I was playing with ideas about a cover for my crime novel, "Dark Water," I described the Vimy Memorial Bridge that spans the Rideau River in Ottawa's south end and wanted ChatGPT to create the image such that there was a woman in the river, floating face-down.

The AI tool created a random bridge, crossing the Ottawa River, below Parliament Hill. Buildings in the background didn't match Ottawa's downtown core, but most importantly, the woman was floating face-up in the river.

I wrote about this struggle with AI when I was still just sussing out my story.

It took some time, between breaks in my writing, to come up with an image that was passable, though I wasn't sold on it as a possible cover when it came time to publish my book. And every once and awhile, when I took a break from writing, I'd experiment with other covers.

When I finished writing the first draft of "Dark Water," I wanted to wait a few days before I would read what I had. I wrote the final sentence in the epilogue on a Thursday and started the reading and editing process on the following Monday.

On that Friday, I thought I'd have another go at designing a cover, using ChatGPT. Here's the information that I gave it:

Create a book cover for my murder mystery using the bridge in the attached photo. The angle of view would be below the water, underneath the bridge, looking upward. In the water, floating on the surface, is a woman who is dressed in blue jeans and a black jacket. She has long, red hair that partially hides her face. She is faced down in the water.

I gave ChatGPT the following attachment photo:

Here's what the AI took came back with:

It wasn't even close to what I had described. First, it made up a title that I hadn't provided (ant the kerning sucks). Also, the woman is lying on the shore or on a dry river bed (I admit that the photo I provided shows the water at a low level). I gave the prompt more instructions.

Remove the title. The angle of view should be underwater, looking up at the woman. It's morning, so light shines down, placing the woman in a partial silhouette.

The result was better but Vimy Bridge now only had two arches that were more round. The woman was fine but for a body floating at the surface, her legs seemed to be too low (I've luckily never seen a dead person floating in water, before, so I don't know how accurate that angle is).

Once more, I gave ChatGPT more instruction:

Much better. Make three arches on the bridge and make the angle of view such that the audience is below the woman, looking up at her. The bridge is visible through the water. Have the woman laying more prone on the surface, such that her legs are closer to the water surface. She should also be wearing shoes.

Okay, so the victim now had shoes. And was more prone. But the bridge still had two arches. Also, for the character of Emily Fraser, I imagined her hair much longer.

I decided to go into a much longer, detailed description of my image idea, so wrote this:

Create a realistic, cinematic-style murder mystery book cover for Dark Water by Ross Brown. Underwater view, looking upward toward the water’s surface and a large steel bridge with three arches. The arches are elongated (more stretched than semi-circular) and clearly visible through the water, above. Morning light streams down through the water, casting soft beams that illuminate the scene. Floating face-down on the surface is a woman with very long, flowing red hair that spreads out in the water. She is wearing blue jeans, a black jacket, and shoes. Her back and most of her legs are close to the surface so they catch the light, creating a partial silhouette effect. The camera angle is from directly below the woman, looking up toward her and the bridge above. The water is a deep, clear blue-green with gentle ripples and light shimmer on the surface. The cover should create a tense, mysterious, and haunting mood, blending realism with cinematic drama.

There, that aught to do it. I pressed Enter and got the following message:

You’ve hit the free plan limit for image generation requests, so I can’t create that cover right now. Your limit will reset in about 23 hours — once it does, you can paste the exact prompt you’ve written and the AI should render your scene exactly as described.

Ffff... !

Fine, I thought. I had been spending too much time on this and it wasn't productive. I moved onto other things around the house telling myself I'd try again sometime on Saturday night.

On Saturday, I worked on my Peru video, which ate up most of the afternoon and evening. But I did take a break, late in the evening, and posed the same query to ChatGPT. It responded,

I still can’t generate it yet — your free plan image limit hasn’t reset. Once it does, you’ll be able to paste that Dark Water prompt directly and get the cover.

If you want, I can keep your final prompt and have it ready so you can drop it in the instant your reset hits. That way you don’t lose time retyping everything.

Do you want me to store it here for you in a clean, copy-ready format?

Bloody hell. I told the AI tool to store the prompt and told myself that I'd try again on Monday.

At the start of the week, I prompted ChatGPT once again, copying its clean copy into the prompt. I still wasn't able to get my image. Nor on Tuesday. Nor Thursday.

On Friday, I received an e-mail from Bell, which informed me that it was offering me a free one-year subscription to the AI-powered search engine, Perplexity Pro. It was a $249 value.

I thought, what the hell, why not, and downloaded the promo code. I entered a reminder at the beginning of August, next year, to cancel the subscription.

By then, I thought, ChatGPT might let me generate an image again.

I copied the prompt from ChatGPT and entered it into Perplexity, with a few changes and a new image of the Vimy Bridge. I also gave a suggestion for the font style for the title. Here's what the new AI tool gave me:

Honestly, it wasn't bad for a first attempt. But Fraser's legs were still too low for my liking, she seemed to be much deeper in the water, and she was facing away from the viewer. Plus, it seemed as though Fraser had two right hands. Also, I didn't imagine Fraser's hair in a ponytail, so I added the following suggestion to the AI tool:

Place the bridge such that it doesn't look like it's underwater and is diffused by the water. Make the woman more prone, as she is floating on the surface of the water. She should be facing the camera and her hair is not tied back, but is floating wildly about her head.

Here is what Perplexity gave me for its second attempt.

Obviously, there are a couple of issues with this image. Vimy Bridge has only two arches, just as ChatGPT had given it. Fraser was floating on her back with her face visible, and was viewed from the side. Her hair was also shorter than I wanted for my character. And what happened to the title?

Admittedly, I didn't specify to hide Fraser's face so I added a new prompt:

Turn the woman so that she is face-down in the water. Make her hair longer. The back of her head touches the water surface, such that someone who sees her from above the water believes that she could be an animal. Also, you have changed the bridge such that it is now missing an arch: there should be three. And place the title and author as described, above.

Everything about this image is perfect, except for the subject. Fraser is not at the water surface and she is twisted in a bizarre way: her legs and feet are facing in different directions such that it's hard to tell which way she is facing, and she has two right legs. You can't see all of the arches of the bridge but from this angle, it doesn't matter.

Growing frustrated, I tried one more time:

Keep everything in the last image the same but start over with the woman: she is floating face-down at the surface. She has very long, flowing red hair that spreads out around her head. She is wearing blue jeans, a black jacket, and shoes. Her back and most of her legs are close to the surface so they catch the light, creating a partial silhouette effect. The camera angle is from directly below the woman, looking up toward her and the bridge above.

AI struggles with direction and can't count. Fraser is facing away from the viewer. Also, the bridge doesn't have quite the right amount of arches.

Last chance:

Keep everything the same but move the woman so that her head is toward the camera, her body trailing off behind.

I give up.

When and if my book gets published, I'll let the publisher worry about the cover. I'll have some mock-ups prepared but I can't rely on AI to give me a good cover.

I don't know if I'll keep Perplexity, though I have ideas for more Calloway and Hayes books, so I'll see about using the tool to help me with enhanced searches and whether it's any better than ChatGPT.

Happy Monday!

Losing the Spark

When I lost my job, in March, I felt pretty good about it, overall, if you can believe that.

I hadn't planned to retire until I turned 63, in 2028, and my investments manager even told me, a month before my layoff, that if I retired at that time, I'd be financially well off until I reached the age of 93. I laughed, asking her how I'd fare if I retired the next day.

DW slapped my arm and said, "You're not retiring tomorrow. I don't want you lounging around the house."

I haven't been exactly lounging around the house since I was let go but I have taken longer naps when the mood strikes me.

When I did eventually retire, I had told myself a long time ago, I would keep myself busy: I'd write more; I'd get outdoors with my camera; I'd get in my kayak whenever the weather was favourable.

Now that I've been retired, I've kept the first promise. In a short period, I've written a novel, on top of my blog. I've even gone out for a solo kayak and, at the time of writing this post, I had planned to take my kayak out this morning, weather permitting. If I have a YouTube video out, next week, we'll know if I was able to venture out.

But one thing I haven't done much this year, let alone since I haven't been working, is pick up a camera. With the exception of a couple of model shoots, a weekend trip to Toronto, and our trip to Peru, I have let my D-SLRs gather dust.

I haven't felt inspired, have lost the spark.

A couple of weeks ago, when the smoke from Northern Ontario forest fires kept me indoors, I did venture out, for a couple of minutes, to take a picture of the moon from the end of my driveway. It was an uninspired shot, hastily taken.

When I saw the images on a larger screen than that on the back of the camera, the images of the moon seemed blurry and I felt I had wasted my time capturing them. It was only later that I realized I was shooting through smoke haze, so of course the moon wouldn't be sharp.

But I haven't felt the need to pick up a camera since, and that bothers me. You see, since I've been without work, I've been afraid to spend money, so that's another reason why I haven't gone out much.

Taking photos doesn't usually cost much money, other than the gas that's required to drive to the spot where you want to capture images. Mind you, the model shoots I attended weren't cheap but I had paid for one while I was still employed and the other one will likely be my last for a while.

I still think I will pick up another job in the fall. What I'll do is anybody's guess: I want to do something that brings me joy, as my old job hadn't done that for a very long time. I don't think I want to be a technical writer anymore.

But what kind of scares me is that if I haven't taken photos when I'm 'semi-retired,' will I take them when I'm fully retired?

At the end of every year, I post my favourite photos that I've taken over that year, and this year's choices are pretty slim. Unless I find my spark, I may skip that annual post for this year.

But there are still months left to ignite that spark. I just have to find a way.

Happy Friday!

The Review Process

A cover concept I'm exploring.

Unlike Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, where I was retelling my own experiences with a fictional character, Dark Matter is entirely made up and I have to keep track of what I had written at the beginning of the story so that if something comes up, later, I have my story straight.

Detectives, after all, like to have facts neatly tied up.

Now that I've completed the first draft of my crime novel, I've started re-reading it to make sure it flows well. And I'm finding that going back to the beginning has raised questions.

Yesterday, I read the prologue, which is only six pages long. And within the first two paragraphs, I realized that I had left something out of the epilogue, which sort of brings the story full-circle.

And so, I spent the morning writing that content for the ending.

After lunch, I started at the beginning of the prologue again and realized I had some contradictions. I also wanted to fact-check something that I had quickly written on my first day. That took about a half an hour to sort out.

It took me the rest of the afternoon to get through the six pages and I was tired, though satisfied that the opening to the novel is ready for a bona fide editor. I don't need to work on it anymore.

But I did make a list of things that came out in the prologue that I will use, going forward, to make sure they're covered later in the story. They are small points but are clues that the detectives should follow up on.

I think the re-read and potential changes will take some time to complete, after which I'll likely read the story one more time, without stopping, to make sure I'm happy enough to send the manuscript to an editor.

Otherwise, I'll start the re-reading process all over again.

I do have DW, my biggest critic, plus some friends who have offered to read the rough draft and give me their honest opinion, so I think I'm on the right path. With any luck, the final draft will be ready by the end of September.

If you're a writer—especially one who writes mysteries—what are your techniques for getting your book editor-ready? Do you have a system that works? Let me know.

Hopefully, I'll be able to get through the book faster as I move along. When I worked as a technical writer and editor, I was able to edit 20 or so pages per day, depending on the content. I'm used to moving faster.

Happy Tuesday!

Remembering Peru, Part 2

One of the things I like the most about putting together a video of a vacation is that I feel I'm reliving the moments that I treasured all over again.

And when I put together the various clips of our time in Peru, last May, I was able to remember the joy of the rich culture and beauty. Without the sweat and exhaustion.

There were moments I had forgotten about our trip to the Amazon Basin: the caramel-brown of the Tambopata River; the breakfast along the river, after having watched countless birds at a clay lick; the night walk in the jungle, where we saw tarantulas and snakes, and heard the night animals come alive.

This weekend, I put together the second part of our Peruvian adventure, where we shared some time in Lima before our kids flew back to Canada, and DW and I made our way to Puerto Maldonado. If you haven't seen Part 1, where we were in the Cusco area and visited Machu Picchu, check it out first.

And then, when you have more time, watch Part 2.

In reviewing both videos, something went wonky with the exposure settings on my smartphone, which recorded most of the video footage. The colours are off and at times, the scene seems washed out. But at least the memory was captured.

If you haven't done so, already, subscribe to my channel if you liked this video and want to see more adventures. After all, my YouTube channel is the video extension of this blog, and apparently you enjoy coming here.

Happy Monday!

Done (But Not Done-Done)

It came down to being a numbers game.

One of my karaoke friends had me thinking about how many pages I had written for Dark Water, my crime novel. When I started writing the story, I was quite enthusiastic about it, averaging about 20 or so pages per week.

When I hit the 100-page milestone, I was quite excited.

But every time I met up with my karaoke group, one of my friends would ask the same question: "How many pages have you written?" And over time, that question started putting some unintended pressure on me.

When I set out to write my first-ever murder mystery, I gave the page count a thought. The book wasn't going to be as long as Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, which is 440 pages. Dark Water, I thought, might be about 250 pages.

Through my writing process, I would go backwards many times as I discovered new clues and as characters changed. I had already outlined the whole story before I even wrote the first chapter, so the structure was there: I just needed to fill in details.

Side note: writing this novel was a lot of fun.

But after I hit 120 pages, I seemed to slow down a lot. I focused more on the legal procedures and researching what was realistic and plausible than the actual unfolding of the story.

It was all necessary but I was producing fewer pages.

The last time I saw my karaoke friends, I was asked about my page count, and I said that I was about 165 pages in. My friend then said, "Isn't that where you were the last time we saw each other?"

I don't think he meant to be hurtful with his comment but it did sting a bit. Yes, I wasn't writing as many pages at my initial pace, but I was making progress.

Last weekend, when DW and I were talking about Dark Water and she had asked me if I had Googled the title to see if there was a similar book out there, she also asked me if I had ever done a word count, rather than a page count.

She had an excellent point. Most publishers are more interested in the word count than the page count: depending on how the book is formatted, pages can differ. And I had been writing my book in Google Docs, which is formatted for an 8.5-inch by 11-inch page, which is bigger than a paperback page.

This week, as I was at about page 175 of Google Docs pages, I felt that I was coming to the climax of the novel, where the killer is revealed. But 175 was short of my 250-page goal. So I decided to do as DW suggested and perform a word count.

The 175 pages that I had written contained 74,416 words.

I did some online digging, and a typical crime novel ranges from 50,000 to 90,000 words. I was in the sweet spot, with a few more pages to go.

Another inquiry taught me that with my word count, I had written anywhere from 270 to 300 pages in an average paperback book. That information got me very excited.

The next day, I was writing full speed on the conclusion of Dark Water. And yesterday, I finished it. Or, rather, the first draft.

The final count is 79,600 words over 184 standard pages, or about 290 to 320 paperback pages. 

In under five months, I have written my first crime novel. It took much less time than that, actually, with our family trip to Peru, a few weeks of editing photos and putting together videos for YouTube, and general distractions that kept me from writing. It would be fair to say it took less than four months to write this book.

I'm done but I'm not done-done.

The next step is to read and revise. But because I had done several revisions over the past couple of months, I don't think I'll have a lot to do before I feel the book is ready to send to an editor.

Wish me luck.

End of a Paddling Era

Yesterday, DW and I said so long to an era.

For five seasons, our kayaks were a means of escape. During the pandemic, it was a way to enjoy the outdoors whist maintaining social distancing. Later, it was a way to get out of the city and into nature.

And though DW and I haven't used our old kayaks since we replaced them with longer boats, our old kayaks had a special place in our hearts.

My red Delta 12.10 kayak sold two weeks ago, after having been on the market for couple a of weeks. I had lots of views but no offers for more than a week, and then a couple of curious people who were looking to acquire the boat for less than it was worth reached out, but we couldn't come to an agreement. But finally, someone with a love of kayaks, who already had a Delta 12.10 for his wife, made a reasonable offer.

Paddling the Long Sault.

I couldn't help but get a bit choked up as I saw my kayak drive away on somebody else's car.

I modified my Kijiji ad but shortly after deleted it, opting to make a new ad for DW's kayak. Hers was a saffron-yellow Delta 12S and though it was 10 inches shorter than mine, it had fewer scratches on the hull.

For two weeks, there wasn't a single nibble on the ad and I even considered dropping the price, though I knew that we were asking a reasonable amount. Deltas are great crafts that hold their value.

Two nights ago, someone made an offer that was $200 less than our asking price. I checked out his profile and learned that he was selling a 14-foot Necky kayak. And through our chat, I learned that he was retired, making me guess that he was at least my age.

A Necky 14' kayak weighs 51 pounds; DW's Delta 12S: 38 pounds.

I surmised that he was looking for something that was lighter, that he was a serious kayaker who wanted to downsize. I offered to take $100 off the price of DW's kayak and he accepted. The next morning (yesterday), he picked it up.

I was right in thinking that this buyer was looking for a lighter kayak. He was about five or so years older than me and he agreed that his Necky was now too heavy to lift on his roof rack by himself. When he saw me lift the Delta, one-handed, he was convinced he was making the right purchase.

Even though it wasn't my kayak, I felt a small sense of loss when the man drove away with DW's boat on his car. We had so many great memories with those kayaks and I'm glad that I captured some of those memories in my YouTube videos.

Making memories on the Mississippi River.

We've been out together in our new Delta 14 kayaks seven times and I've shared all but one outing on my YouTube channel (I also have one video where I paddled alone). I'm confident that we'll have many great memories over the next few years.

It's the end of one paddling era. We've only just begun the next era.