Jeremy Kroeker

When I was a motorcycle instructor… actually, I still AM a motorcycle instructor. (My license expires in three months, though.) Anyway, when I was a motorcycle instructor, I preached the importance of maintaining a proper following distance. A good following distance is four seconds (which always bugged me as a writer, because a second is a measure of time, not distance. But I had to say it anyway.)
It works like this: when a vehicle you’re following on the road passes a fixed object, like a signpost or the shadow of a bridge deck, you begin counting the number of seconds it takes for you to reach that object. If it’s less than four, you are following too close. (By the way, no one actually maintains a four second following distance and that’s why there are so many accidents. We say four in the hope that people will shoot for that and end up with a two or three second following distance. Back up, people! But I digress… again.)
So we use seconds instead of distance to make it apply to every speed. A four second following distance at 30 kilometres per hour is a shorter gap than a four second following distance at 100 kilometres per hour, but that’s OK because you’re going slower. See? It’s flexible. It’s simple. And it never changes.
Here’s my point. I’ve taken the same approach to my work as a writer. Ever since I finished the first draft of my manuscript, people have been asking me – a lot – when the book will be out. I used to get stressed about this, but no more. Now, whenever people ask, I smile and say, “By this time next year I hope to have a finished product.”
See? Just like the following distance, it’s simple. It’s flexible. And it never changes. I’ve been saying “By this time next year” for over a year a now. It gives people the answer they want, and I’m confident that no one goes home and writes the date down on their calendar.

I can’t remember if I ever posted this. The following is an interview I conducted for “The Jerusalem Post.” Well, OK. I conducted the interview for my own personal interest. Ahed is my friend. But I nearly sold the interview to “The Jerusalem Post.” The reason they didn’t buy it (they claim) is that it was dated by the time it arrived on their desk. I was afraid to send it sooner, from Syria. You know. The Syrians monitor Internet transfers. Anyway, here it is.
BEIRUT – In spite of recent instability, Lebanon has become a safe haven for political activists fleeing persecution from the Syrian regime of President Bashar Assad. A growing number of political exiles gather in Beirut to offer mutual support, and to speak out against the human rights violations that they claim are being committed in Syria every day. Most members of the community, though cautious, welcome the chance to relate their story to outsiders in the hope that knowledge will facilitate change. As one man put it in broken English, “The word is stronger than the gun.”

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For the second time this winter, I’ve had to cancel a ride into the arctic at the last minute. The first time was not my fault. That one is a long story. This time, however, I dropped the ball and let down a friend.
Whenever people ask me (and they often do), “What is the hardest part of any journey?” I tell them, “Getting out the front door.” I encourage people to ride, even if they feel under prepared, because you will never plan for everything. You just have to adapt. I also say, “It’s better to regret something you did do than something you didn’t.” I still believe that. But now I find myself ignoring my own advice.
I have plenty of excuses, but I won’t list them here. Basically, it comes down to time and money. My new book is a priority, and it’s in an exciting stage right now. And (this is the real reason) I just couldn’t scrape together the cash in time.
This decision is especially painful because I’ve never been “that guy.” You know. The guy who backs out of things. But here we are.
Some of you may credit yourselves with this development, the people who sent unsolicited advice to the effect of “Hey! The arctic is cold, don’t you know! Also, there are ice roads up there and it’s dangerous!” Uh, yeah. Thanks. We (meaning Rene) did the research. We talked to many people who have done it before (rides like this happen more than you’d think), and we had contacts in communities. We took the “Danger and Misery” factor into consideration. We knew the seasonal average temperatures, we knew the historical closing dates of the roads, we even spoke to the guys who build the roads every winter. We had the gear, we’ve both camped in -30 Celsius weather. None of that was the problem. But I’ve explained what the problem was already, and I’m ranting now. I just have a problem with naysayers.
So, consider this an open apology to Rene Cormier. He will probably still ride the ice roads this winter, and he will be successful. Buy his book. And when you do, tell him that Jeremy is sorry.

Deadlines. I have some. One of them is for another draft of my book by March 1, 2010. Now, I know that I once claimed to have completed the first draft, but I think I’ll recant that. I’ll say instead that I finished my ROUGH draft. In March, I’ll have finished my first draft. Semantics? Maybe. (Anything to open another bottle of Scotch.)
At any rate, I’m on pace to meet that deadline. An editor in Toronto is willing to read that version. If he likes it, he may pass it along to an agent for review. If not, there’s a publishing house in Alberta that will give it a read. And if that falls through, I’ll hire an editor at that point and begin the long process of revisions myself.
Another deadline that looms is more of a departure date, really. I hinted earlier at a possible adventure up North with my friend Rene. Well, even though I feel unprepared, we still intend to ride our bikes up the ice roads to Tuktoyaktuk. We leave in March. I have lots to do between now and then, especially considering that writing is still my priority.
When I return from that trip, I have yet another deadline to finish an article for a major magazine. I hesitate to reveal the details because so far there’s no signed contract, but already I have worked a few revisions of the piece with their editors and they seem to like it.
Finally, I have just three more years to live like an adolescent. When I turn 40, I’ve decided, I will become an adult. I’ll get a job driving a tour bus, I’ll get a mortgage, and everything else that goes with it… unless I can be talked out of it between now and then.
If you’re interested, here’s a link to an interview I did with Park Radio in Banff. Just click on the POD link to download. Honestly, it wasn’t my best effort. You see, I assumed that no one listens to the show, so I didn’t really care about it. (I now know that lots of people listen to the show.)

How quickly things change. Just a few days ago, I posted that I was headed North with my motorcycle this February to conduct a test ride for something bigger. That February trip was supposed to be with an organized group as a way to safely gain experience on ice roads. However, that recently fell through with dramatic flair following a series of unfortunate events. Suffice it to say, Rene and I are back to the drawing board, but still planning a neat adventure for March.