Onwards and upwards

Despite frequent thoughts of posting updates life just hasn’t directed me towards that particular task. It isn’t as if nothing has happened in the last six months, more that I’ve been unwilling to harp on about the same droll garbage all the time. But now, continuing the same blog, I feel duty bound to bring everything up to date. As to the decision whether to continue with this blog, or start a new, fresh episode, I’ve merely followed the precedent set before. I’m still committed to publicising my Tibetan odyssey, still intending to write my second book. The aim is to catch up with myself, to try and bring my focus fully into the present. It’s a strange situation really, writing about my own life experiences. You can’t help but live in the past. Writing may heighten the experiences at the time, and indeed provide a much deeper understanding of the world I pass through, but it can also hold me back. (Photo: A new flashy business card, with all my current details)

At the time my reasoning for a return home was to promote the sale of my book, and I’ve done that to a greater extend than imagined. I don’t want to mislead people though, I didn’t give it much thought, assuming it would pick up it’s own momentum. It didn’t, there have been no reprints, it hasn’t found it’s way onto the best-sellers lists. There again it wasn’t why I wrote the book, I wanted my story told. The moment when I held the proof-bound copy in my hand was emotional, I felt so proud to have succeeded in seeing my first effort in print. It was never about the money, while it would have been nice I didn’t expect to recoup the financial outlay of self-publishing. A lot of lessons were learnt, mainly the more pro-active you are in promoting yourself the better it goes. To my chagrin an expensive attempt at employing a professional PR company (BookedPR) was an utter failure. My own efforts with the media proved a much greater success. (Photo: The Menai Straits and the old suspension bridge - Nr Bangor)

People are hesitant about approaching an author, or is it just me? I don’t think so, most people go around in their own little bubble. How many times have I written about doing this myself? How many times do I rely on creating my own protective bubble as a buffer from the surrounding world. The general public don’t like to be singled out, made special yes, but not to receive uninvited attention. A series of book signings at local libraries proved this point very well, it was a long quiet week when I undertook to hold six signings on consecutive days. Miraculously a severe lack in sales figures failed to perturb me, making money wasn’t the aim, at least I persist in this claim. Raising awareness of it’s existence was the main goal, and at least in this I’ve had greater success. The libraries have copies of my book sat on their shelves, a fact I was happy to point out to all and sundry. So no, it isn’t about selling copies alone, I simply want my story read. (Photo: A room with a view - Menai Straits, between the bridges. At high tides the water washes straight through the property.

The most successful events were those at which I gave a presentation, being well attended and much appreciated. I guess there’s a knack to self-promotion, and on my last event I seemed to have realised the most effective way. Maybe if I’d kept my mind on the job at hand the realisation would have come sooner, but common sense overcame me. When I set off last year, into the unknown, it was without a clear idea of exactly where to or for how long. The possibility of encumbering myself with property and the associated responsibilities were not on the agenda, that all changed in the last few months. I’m now the rather nonplussed owner of a quiet house on the outskirts of Rachub, or should I say landlord of an ideal investment property? OK, the idea is that I can eventually have a home to settle into, but that’s in the unforeseeable future. I’m not settled and don’t feel that it’s just round the corner either. (Photo: My house/investment - Rachub)

Though feeling no desperate compulsion to be anywhere in particular, I really didn’t feel like staying in the UK for too long. Is it me, or has the recession beaten folks into a miserable submission? After the standard of living I was surrounded with for so long I fail to see what people’s problem is in the western world. Life really is not that bad here in comparison, yet everyone is much less content. Does it take poverty and real hardship to make people realise how lucky they really are? I don’t think it should, there are always those less fortunate in plain view. And so we come full circle, living in our own bubble, blinding us to the goings on around us. Well I’m taking my bubble to India and the Andaman Islands. It really should be with the express intent to get my next book written, but before that can happen I need to burst that bubble, it’s time to let my world wash away. Yes, I’m off again. Hopefully I won’t be travelling anywhere fast or frequently, it’s time to kick back and reintroduce myself to the real world. (Photo: Landscaped and walled, a promising garden space - Les Maison, Rachub)