Todd Babiak

Every writer in the provinces wants to be in Toronto. I cannot live in Toronto, of course, because I have no money and I am scared of smog. But the Open Book Toronto virtual writer-in-residence program allowed me to pretend I lived in Toronto. I was at the Alberta Literary Awards gala last night, where one of my novels was shorlisted for the novel prize — it didn't win — and I met people from all over Western Canada.
"So where are you from?" one stranger said. Her eyes were pretty.
"Toronto, at the moment," I said.

I am in the midst of writing a blurb.

It's the first time I've been asked to write a blurb, so of course I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. I'm trying to slip it into conversations at dinner parties.

For example:

Guest A: This is excellent paella.
Guest B: Thank you. I marinated the meat.
Guest C: Is there saffron in the rice?
Guest A: Oooh, saffron is expensive.
Guest B: You're all very important to me, and therefore worth the expense.
Babiak: Someone asked me to blurb his MF book!

Yes, it's an important step, moving from non-blurber to blurber. The agent and the publisher can say anything they like about you. Awards shmawards. Until someone, preferably someone awesome, asks you to review his or her book, you're nobody.

For my last novel,

My first two novels, Choke Hold and The Garneau Block, were nominated for literary prizes. Both won a prize.

I was thrilled, of course. Thrilled!

Only other writers were impressed by these prizes, and they were probably being sarcastic. After all, we aren't talking about the Giller or the GGs here.

With the actual reading public, the most important measure of success seems to be film and television adaptation.

Last night, I participated in a literary reading with Gail Anderson-Dargatz. She is one of Canada's grandest literary stars, so I studied her approach meticulously. Like all young writers, I too would like to be one of Canada's grandest literary stars, and one ignores the qualities of grandness at one's peril.

I made notes afterward.

Note the First: Make it personal.

Last year, my novel The Garneau Block was longlisted for the Giller Prize. This year, The Book of Stanley was not longlisted for the Giller Prize.

Last year, I was surprised. I did not even know there would be a longlist. This year, I waited for the longlist like a gazelle waiting to be attacked by a panther. That is, if panthers attack gazelles.

I am spending 32 hours this weekend in a seminar room with 170 other people, listening to a man called Robert McKee. If you saw Adaptation with Nicholas Cage as Charles Kaufman, you saw Robert McKee — or a facsimile played by Brian Cox. McKee is a stern man in the lecture hall. Interrupt him with a dopey remark or the uncalled-for answer to a rhetorical question, and he will call you down. Last night, he did just that to a woman who had paid $600 to hear him.

In the last posting, I mentioned that I would be on Sounds Like Canada today, that is Thursday. Well... the media are more sophisticated than my assumptions. My interview is being taped this morning, to run on a later date. The magic of the digital age! If I discover the later date, I'll dish it. But I'm sure you listen to Sounds Like Canada every day, anyway.

So far, I have never set any fiction in Toronto. While I have spent a lot of time in Canada's first city, I have never lived in Toronto. At least physically. I currently live in the virtual Toronto, as you can read. These are Toronto words I am writing.

On Thursday morning, I will be on Sounds Like Canada, with Shelagh Rogers. We're going to talk about my latest novel, The Book of Stanley. I don't know why I am so nervous, as she is only a human being, but I am somewhat terrified. She is one degree of separation away from everyone who is anyone in Canada. And as a relative nobody, I am keenly aware of her power.

Today, I published a NEWSPAPER COLUMN about the trials of the book tour. But it's only half-serious. Literature and circus are Canada's two great cultural exports. We understand, inherently, the importance of literature both to explain what it's like to be a human being and what it's like to be Canadian. Our other cultural industries have been unable to produce figures like Richler, Atwood and Ondaatje.

I have had three stops on the book tour so far — one in Edmonton, one in Banff, one in Calgary. I have used the same material. In Edmonton, we were in a bar and I didn't begin speaking until about 8:30. The drinkers in the crowd had already taken two drinks, and they were rowdy. In Banff, where The Book of Stanley takes place, I was in a public library, where raising one's voice feels like an ugly provocation. In Calgary, I was in a bookstore restaurant. While I spoke, staff crushed ice for smoothies and called out to one another: "Can I get a double espresso, short?" and "Oh my God, shut up?"