I'm chicken. Wrote this short novel in my uncleemiltales.blogspot.com blog about a fictitious fishing trip my Uncle Emil and I took to Manitoba back in 1961. Not so much an adult novel as it has boys, or girls, in their tweener years in mind. The me in the story who's also the narrator is a young fourteen. So figure that as being the target group. I'd like to move it from the pages of the blog onto those of an actual book. Not many copies, perhaps a dozen or so. Give one to each of my grandkids, a couple to the Pope, maybe one to Vladimir Putin.
My son is a designer of some note and also a fair illustrator in an ink, line drawing sense. If I could twist his arm for a few illustrations it'd sure perk the book up. I might also draw a few maps to go with the pages.
But it's hard for me to begin the printing process. The book should have the look of something by Sigurd Olson or John Gierach. Not that it's in their league but the classic look of their essays appeals to me. To set mine apart, my son's illustrations could reflect the humor of the tale by adding a slight cartoon edge.
Yeah, yeah, it all sounds so easy but at least for me it's not.
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