I live in British Columbia. In the 1970s, my wife and I bought 10 acres of bush, cut the trees down, milled the trees into boards with a chain saw, collected poles from the woods and the beach and built a cabin on a remote island with a small village on it. We had a toddler, ducks, chickens, goats, and eventually a horse and a pig. Initially we had no running water or electricity and cooked and heated with wood. My wife gardened and I shot the occasional deer for meat (even legally sometimes) and black bears on nearby Vancouver Island when we eventually got electricity for a freezer. I worked on fishing vessels in season for salmon, crabs and prawns. The local community was kind of inbred, conservative and many people were prejudiced against us "hippies," even though we did not identify with the so called hippie movement. We lived this life from 1977 until 1986, expanding the garden every year as I tried to work my way onto better boats. We took casual labouring jobs when we could get them, banging nails, pouring cement, gardening, etc. We were pretty poor most of the time though, and most years I did not have enough real wage work to qualify for unemployment benefits. We ate lots of home grown veggies,deer meat, goat milk and eggs. Every year in the book stores I see a new batch of "I lived on an island, in the bush on a commune" type non-fiction books. Looking at them, I see many of these stories don't have half the depth or number of anecdotes I can just think of off the top of my head from my own experiences. One for example that I saw recently recounted one woman's year on a small island on the coast here in BC; kind of a "Year in Provence" kind of thing. It was pretty lackluster if you ask me. I'm compiling my recollections of all the things we did in those years. Should I make an attempt to pitch them as a book when I've got 60 or 70,000 words down?