Couple of notes from the publishing world:

I read yesterday on quillandquire.com that the Chicken Soup for the Soul series, which has apparently generated $1.3-billion in revenues in North America, is getting into magazines.

The Chicken Soupers tend to be too warm and fuzzy for my cynical soul, but I am curious about how they’ll produce content for the mag. I assume it will be from reader submissions so will the contributors be paid? Are they paid for contributing to the books? I know someone who contributed to Chicken Soup for the Chiropractors Soul. I’ll have to pose those questions to him, unless any of you know.

And is there a Chicken Soup for the Naysayers Soul? There must be an equivalent.

In other news, I read that one of my favourite publishing houses, Anansi, has just hired Lynn Henry. Anansi has some fantastic books on its list, including The Big Why, which I’ve fawned over before. Well, technically I fawned over Michael Winter because I have yet to read the book.

Anansi has a fantastic website by the way.

I’m off now to Shebeen for a Hemingway evening. Shebeen is a Vancouver whiskey bar, accessible from the Irish Heather. It is only open for private functions, and for those willing to creep out the back door of the Irish Heather into Blood Alley.

In the early days of Vancouver, Blood Alley was the location for a number of butcher shops. Public executions were also held in Blood Alley Square. Your choice on the roots of the name.

Speaking of doors, you go through the alley and look for the red door. Unmarked.

It should be interesting getting into Gastown tonight because the Tour de Gastown is running.

“The bicycle riders drank much wine, and were burned and browned by the sun. They did not take the race seriously except among themselves.” –Ernest Hemingway

“The Tour de France is the greatest sporting event in the world.” –Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

Hemingway’s grandson will be in attendance tonight, and James is reading from Up in Ontario.

My plan is to not get run over by bicyclists, especially after I’ve been into the whiskey.