Carolyn Bennett Writer/Comic

My debut novel Please Stand By has been on the shelves for a month and a half now. In that time, I am delighted to say that over 200 books have been sold. Some of you might be thinking “that’s pathetic”. Yes, I know Margaret Atwood’s The Testaments sold over a hundred times that amount, but that’s only because she is an enormous success. I would be embarrassed to be that talented. You may wonder how I’ve managed to sell over 200 books without any publicity. What follows are my ten tips for promoting your debut novel without money, social media posting, or a publicist: 1. Come From a Big Family: My extended family is big, with the mouths to match it. Thank god for catholic guilt. My siblings and their friends have probably snapped up 50% of the books. 2. Cry In Front of Your Audience at Readings : First of all, give readings. Then make sure you cry in front of your audience. Mention having a mysterious illness, or that you are being renovicted. 3. Have Giveaways: ...

I had never seen anyone die.  The rasping I read about in fiction was unmistakable. I was the first to hear it. The other women in the room were chatting, doing their best to keep spirits bright. “Uh, I think it's near.” I moved over to the bedside and listened to my aunt's breathing. My cousin and my aunt's friend gathered close. I held my aunt's hand. Her respiratory system spasmed. It's an uncanny sound, the death rattle. It's a signal for loved ones to ready themselves. * Around the corner from my apartment is an old house. It is home to a couple of professional set designers. This time of year the house is transformed into pure magic. Why they arrange and construct such an elaborate display and rack up enormous electricity bills year after year, I don't know. All I know is that it brings such inexplicable joy to my heart. * Auntie Martha was what my mother would call a “grand dame”. She never had kids...

  Random Image from Internet Dear To Whom it May Concern: Well, well, well. Well, well, well, well, well, well, well. If it isn't holiday time ... It's been a challenging year, but what would life be without its challenges? If you thought 'pleasant', I am in agreement. Be that as it may, 2016 is almost over and a new year, with fresh possibilities and hope, is just around the corner. It is a grand thing to still be alive to experience the challenges, unlike one of the 20th century's greatest artists who passed away this year. Yes, that's right, I am talking about Abe Vigoda. Fish, we never knew 'ya. This is all to say, from my conglomerate to yours, have a very Merry Christmas and a peaceful New Year. We'll pick this up in January 2017. With warmest wishes for good health and happiness, Carolyn

     I gauge my emotional health on how I react to It's A Wonderful Life. Most years I smile at the familiar sentimentality. On a couple of occasions I've fallen asleep before the climax (that's what she said - BOOM!) This year, I felt George Bailey's desperation. I let out a maudlin sob at the end. The fact that the film  ran on CTV last night, December 6, may say something about our nation's morale. This is the earliest I remember the movie being broadcast.        Is it just me, or is the news really bad these days? Is anybody else troubled by what's going on in the world? Before you say "'twas ever thus", hear me out.        The other night I was staring glassy-eyed at the telly, while Dan tapped on his phone. Peter Mansbridge, growing balder by the minute, read this off the teleprompter, in reference to UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon's call for action on climate change:       ...

Twas the night before vote time, and all through the ward Not a drug dealer was stirring, not even a Ford. The putdowns and smearing were strung out with care In hopes the electorate soon would be there. The children were tossing all angst in their beds while visions of Daddy loomed in their heads And mamma in her muumuu and Rob in Leafs cap Had scrawled the last promise in a long list of pap When out from the basement there arose a great clatter Rob hoisted from his chair to see what was the matter He shuffled to doorstep and then he did shout "Hey Doug, vote's tomorrow -- get the fuck out!" The stairs creaked and buckled as the big man came up From smoking from bong and drinking from cup He rubbed his wide face and with eyes all a glisten He vowed he would fight, to the people he'd listen Rob outstretched his hand to his very big brother Then gave him a hug, and one for his mother More sluggish than buzzards, Ro...

Late afternoon, mid-November and I'm sitting in a corner booth at McDonald's with Dan. We had just finished sanding an antique sideboard at his shop and I was the one to suggest a coffee at McDonald's. After not setting foot in the place for over 35 years, I will now drink their coffee on occasion. This is an occasion; I'm depressed. Depression feels like a vice grip clamping my brain. I've felt it coming on for weeks, have tried to ignore it, but it has closed in. Gloom eclipses my thoughts and days are getting darker. Thank god November coincides; it's always difficult to describe this pain in the spring. I've suffered from depression all my life. Some of the best comedians have. That's not to say I'm one of the best comedians -- I'm pretty good -- but I'm not great and certainly not the best. I have a melancholic nature and I discovered early the antidote to that is to assume the opposite. I remember as a child sitting in an...