So when does a story count as being published? When the publisher accepts
the story, when you sign the contract, when it's actually in print, or
when you receive payment. Certainly not the last one, as it's entirely
possible to be published and unpaid. (I said possible, not preferable.)
Regardless, my novelette, HARBINGER, has been accepted for the SHADOWSWORD
anthology by Coyote Moon Publications, and I just signed the contract today.
Heck, it feels like being published. I've even added a webring link at
the bottom of this page, for those of you who are interested, or just like
pressing random buttons.
I still haven't heard anything from BAEN on DARKSIDE, and I have a couple
of other short stories out, so with any luck I could soon be published
published. (It's magic if you say it twice, honest.)
I was mowing the lawn today (Well, I like to call it a lawn, but it's mostly
sand and weeds) and I'm choking on dust and getting bit by bugs, and all
the while there's this teenage kid next door skateboarding up and down
the driveway. Anyway, the mower decides to throw a rock at my head, and
I dive out of the way, tuck into a roll, and come to my feet, when I notice
the kid looking at me like I was on crack or something. So I look over
at him and say, "You know, this isn't near as much fun as it looks," and
he just cracks up, and falls off his skateboard. And, in all modesty, I
have to say his recovery was nowhere near as excellent as mine.
Anyway, I saw one of those big farm combines later on in the day--the kind
with mega watt stereo installed to pass the time while you're harrowing
field after field, and it gave me an idea to spice up the lawn-mowing experience.
See, what you need is a good riding mower equipped with an I-pod and a
DVD player or portable TV for watching the game while you work. Sure, you
might mow over the occasional rose bush or the odd cat or two, but trust
me, mowing the lawn won't seem quite the chore it used to.
The Canadian military certainly has changed. We were playing soccer for
PT this morning, and I was running down the field and yelling, "Pass it
to the old, fat guy...no, the other old, fat guy." And I was talking
about the students. Oh well, at least they didn't pass it to me.
As for The Writing,
I've got maybe a chapter or two left until Darkside 2 is finished--and
I'm stuck. Something's bothering me and I'm not sure what it is, but until
I figure it out, I'm screwed. On a positive note, once I actually finish
it, I have no idea what to do with it. I mean, it's the sequel to a novel
I can't sell. What do you mean that's not positive? Damn glass-half-empty
So the Master Warrant Officer comes up to me after the meeting yesterday,
and says, "You're due for your CD1, right?" (The CD is the medal we get
for 12 years of service, and the CD1 is a clasp to that medal after a further
10, which means I've served 22 years in the Canadian forces.)
"Actually," I say, "I was due for it on May 20th."
He nods, and puts a checkmark on the piece of paper he's holding in his
hand, and then tells me, "Be at the Aere Squadron Theatre at 11:00 on June
23--that's next Thursady--in full dress uniform, and they'll present it
I frown. "Can't they just mail it to me like they did my CD?"
The MWO actually looks
shocked. "They mailed you your CD?"
I nod, vigorously.
"Um, no," he says. He doesn't even think about it, but makes one of those
snap decisions, which is probably why he's an MWO.
"I know," I offer. "How 'bout they give it to me at the Squadron barbeque
on Friday instead. They can hand it to me while I'm waiting for my potato
salad or something."
Oddly enough, he doesn't go for that one either. Stupid military.
We saw Batman Begins on the weekend and really liked it. We also saw Crash,
and liked it too. That's all you get out of me as far as a review goes.
I figure if Ebert and Ropert can get away with "two thumbs up" and rake
in the cash and celebrity status, then "we really liked it" just says it
all (and is almost as descriptive as "It sucks!--20 bonus points if you
can tell me who's catch phrase that is).
We also went to Paramount Canada's Wonderland on Sunday. You can't leave
out the "Paramount", because, trust me, the theme park is just one big
cheesy commercial for the studio. (BTW--the Italian Job is a roller coaster,
not an attraction--something you should tell your wife before you
con--er--vince her into waiting in line for an hour. It'll save you a lot
of bruising.) The Tomb Raider roller coaster is pretty nifty too. You lay
down in it, and it's almost like you're flying, which is nice for those
of us who can't afford recreational pharmaceuticals, cheap or otherwise.
And once again, Pen proved that's she's the Queen of...um...getting a table
at the last minute. She conned The Keg into a table at six o'clock on Father's
day--no waiting, and no reservations. There were still people waiting to
get in who had arrived way before we had, when we'd already finished and
were on our way out. I felt like such a celebrity. Sure, an obnoxious,
self-important with delusions of privilege celebrity, but that's the best
kind. I'd tell you how she did it, but then I'd have to...um...wait in
line behind you.
So I got my medal today, and all I can say is I could really learn to like
16 Wing's idea of a parade. It took place in an air-conditioned conference
room, and we all sat in cushy chairs. When my my name was called I walked
to the front, saluted, got a picture taken with the CO, saluted again,
and went back to my chair. The whole thing was over in a half an hour,
and there were sandwiches and stuff afterwards.
The funniest bit was when the Sgt that was organizing the whole thing asked:
"MCpl Perry. You're receiving your CD1 today?"
"Yes, I am," I said.
"Do you prefer to be called Steven, or Steve?"
"Steve is fine."
"And you work at AVS Design and Development. What's your job there?"
"I design, and develop."
She looked confused for a moment, then said, "Um...right," and walked away.
And let's not mention how I forgot the medal in the theatre after the ceremony,
and the Chief had to call me after lunch to get me to go pick it up in
his office. Hey, I'm not used to keeping the medals I earn!
Pen bought me the box set of Batman movies, because they were on sale at
Future Shop for $30. (All the other stores wanted between $60-$70.) We
watched the first one last night, and I had to wonder: "What the hell kind
of acid did they use on Harvey Dent to make him go from looking like Billy
Dee Williams to Tommy Lee Jones? It must be the same stuff they used on
Michael Jackson, although with less disfiguring effects. No, wait a minute--scratch
The other thing I realized is that I could never be Batman, because he
always wears that black makeup around his eyes whenever he wears the cowl,
and anytime I wear black camouflage paint, no matter how hard I scrub,
I look like I've been wearing heavy eyeliner for days. Sooner or later
someone would figure it out. Either that or they'd think I was gay, in
which case I'd be compelled to say, "No, no, I'm not gay. I'm Batman."
So much for a secret identity.
According to my webcounter, someone arrived at my website by doing a search
for: Steve Perry gay. I certainly hope they weren't looking for
me. Everyone knows I go by S.K.S. Perry. Oh yeah, and then there's that
whole I'm-not-gay-thing. (Re: my Batman post.) And no, I'm not in denial,
nor even curious--regardless of all the Charlie-S'perry slash fiction you
may have read. (Note I've adopted the Vulcan spelling of my nickname, thanks
And in keeping with fair and honest reporting (okay, so I'll start now)
here's another reason why the CF doesn't suck. July 1 is Canada day, so
we all get Friday off. We're getting a new C.O., so as a parting gift our
old one stood us down for Monday. (In a show of support for our American
neighbors--yeah, that's the ticket.) And, seeing as I had already put in
a leave pass for Monday, instead of canceling it they gave me Tuesday off.
And off course we shut down at noon today to get a head start on the traffic
rush, so in effect I'm off from Thursday at noon until next Wednesday,
and it only cost me one day leave.
It still doesn't make up for all those months I worked 14-16 hours a day,
six days a week, with paperwork on Sundays, (or getting shot at on a regular
basis) but it's a start.