Mike Rimar Reason

2011 in review

2012-01-02T17:38:00.001-05:00

Another year has come and gone. Last years post was melancholy, almost a prayer for better times. And in a way my prayer was answered with four acceptances and publications including InterGalactic Medicine Show and that elusive Canadian anthology Tesseracts. A fifth never happened because the publisher had some woeful times himself, but that would have been a reprint so that’s okay and will probably happen in the new year.

Thanks to the nudge of fellow author’s Rebecca Senese and Michael Andre McPherson, I’ve taken the plunge into the epublishing market through Smashwords and Kobo. Already my story, Vigilant sold once. Since these are all reprints anything I make off of them is a bonus.

But as seems to happen with my life, anything good comes with a price, and in August, my father passed away. He’d been a cantakerous man in life, and our relationship was that classic father/son love/hate thing with the emphasis on the later. But as the year closes I find I miss him, which I think surprises me more than anything.

My writers group, The Stopwatch Gang is ticking along nicely, with publications and award nominations and a finer group of people you will never meet.

So here’s to 2011, another rollercoaster ride of life. As for 2012, bring it on, I’m ready.

Vigilant now available through Smashwords.

2011-12-14T11:54:00.001-05:00

You can now purchase my short story, Vigilant for $0.99 at Smashwords. Vigilant was first published in Afterburn SF.

Glory Swenson is Vigilante Val, a new superhero ready to bring justice to her crime-ridden town. But can she keep her rage and incredible strength in check? Find out here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/107089

SFContario 2 – Con report

2011-11-21T15:00:00.001-05:00

So, back from SFContario2 held downtown Toronto. Thanks to the organizers and volunteers for the effort they put in. Saw some old friends and made some new friends--and managed to put my foot in my mouth with what I thought was a funny story, and it was, but not with the crowd I was with. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time for me, and won't be the last.

Sadly, our fellow SWG member, Suzanne Church did not get her deserved Aurora for short work English, which went to Hayden Trenholm, who deserved it too, I guess, but he’s not in my writing group.

But we learned that the voting was close. Damn close. You get get the full Aurora results on Rob Sawyer’s blog. He also won for his novel Watch.

Among the new people I met were Rebecca Senese and Michael McPherson. Well, I already knew Mike from last year, Rebecca and I are in Tesseracts 15 and at the book launch. Both Rebecca and Mike are strong supporters of e-publishing and convinced me to give it a go. So, I spent today getting one of my short stories formatted and uploaded to Smashwords.com. Now, I'm waiting for approval which should take a week or so. When it's ready, I'll put up a link.

I had a reading this Con. My first ever. No one showed up except for the author who followed me. It was my fault. My reading was at the same time as the Aurora ceremony, and, of course, other panels. I could have changed the time, but I didn’t. Honestly, I can't say I’m too unhappy. Reading in front of people is a nerve wracking business but as Julie Czerneda, half of the Tesseracts editing team told me after the Tesseracts launch, you have to do it, and learn to do it well. She also told me to keep my hands away from my mouth when I talk. Life is an ongoing lesson.

Out Stopwatch Gang panel was moderately attended. Most people, it appeared, had left the con to look for food around the dinner hour and never returned. Weird, and frankly, a failing of this particular hotel.

Next stop Ad Astra. I’ve decided to go, even though there is grumbling about the fact they’ve changed hotels. Don’t matter to me much, but those who take public transit are plenty unhappy and for good reason. But it is our job as writers to support these things as much as the fans. Cons are already in danger of dying away altogether.

Okay, getting maudlin.

bye

Blog Interview

2011-11-13T04:51:00.001-05:00

Read a short Blog interview of me and other Tesseracts Fifteen: A Case of Quite Curious Tales, and other authors from the anthology here.

Online interviews at Bitten by Books

2011-10-29T08:18:00.001-04:00

Bitten by Books is a website dedicated to reviewing books centering on the paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and horror genres. They also organize online chat interviews with authors and on Nov 8, will be doing one with the authors of Tesseracts 15: A Case of Quite Curious Tales, in which appears my story, My Name is Tommy.

I am tentatively scheduled to be on between 7 and 9 pm EST. Log on and ask questions or make comments. There will be prizes including and Amazon gift card and book giveaways.

Mike

My SF Contario Schedule

2011-10-17T12:44:00.001-04:00

Friday 9 pm - Tesseracts 15 Book Launch, Ballroom A

Sat. 11 AM - Targeting the Appropriate Market, Parkview
(Madeline Ashby, Karen Dales, Stephen Kotowych, Jana Paniccia(M), Mike Rimar)

Sat. 6PM - Winter is Coming ... to your TV Screen, Room 207
(David Clink, Mike Rimar, Marah Searle-Kovacevic, Alex von Thorn(M))

Sat. 8 PM - Writer's Groups Behind the Scene, Solarium
(Brad Carson, Suzanne Church, Costi Gurgu, Stephen
Kotowych, Tony Pi, Mike Rimar)

Sun. 11 AM - Reading, Gardenview

Tesseracts 15 Book Launch!!!!

2011-09-15T18:01:00.001-04:00

Tesseracts 15: A Case of Quite Curious Tales Book Launch at Bakka-Phoenix, Sept. 17 3-6 pm!!!

2011-09-10T06:25:00.001-04:00

Pretty much says it all. Be there or be square.

Mike

Mother Goose is Dead: Modern Stories of Myths, Fables and Fairy Tales is out!

2011-09-01T11:01:00.001-04:00

It’s been a long journey for this one, but From the Files of the E.F.P.D. is finally out in Mother Goose is Dead, available from Damnation Books. You can order your copy here.

Beware! The Goose is Coming September 1st

2011-08-31T07:55:00.001-04:00

My story, From the Files of the E.F.P.D. is coming out tomorrow in the anthology, Mother Goose is Dead published by Damnation Press.

WooT!

Mike

Eulogy for my dad

2011-08-19T19:51:00.003-04:00

Kat, wrote this for my dad. It turned out she didn’t have to read it since Catholic funeral services usually don’t have eulogies. I thought they were wonderful thoughts and I love her, and thank her for writing them down.

Steve Rimar was my father-in-law. Over the years, it has always surprised me when I hear different people's view of him.

I got to know him later in his life, and to see him with his grandchildren. I was there for Christmas times, and we were told never to miss his name day. He taught me to kiss the European way, two cheeks. Having come from a family where we didn't even hug, it took some getting used to but I grew to love it. He served me home made schnapps that made my eyes and stomach burn, he made me special spicy sausages that I loved. There were always little trinkets and gifts waiting for our children, and some wondrous cookie or chocolate that they never had seen before. Even in the nursing home, he would save the ice creams for when his grand children came to visit.

I know many people believe you are judged when you die, I believe it's by the people you had relationships with. Where ever we seem to go in Kitchener, people have little stories about Steve. He was a generous man, sometimes appearing gruff, but always with a tender heart. The tears when we would say goodbye after each visit over the last 14 years said so much. I know many people will remember 'Steve the barber' for many years, and many summer brush cuts!

There are so many wonderful full of life stories to tell about Steve. I knew at my wedding, my family life would always be colorful when he not only played the saxophone; but then at 11:00 pm proceeded to order our guests over speaker Nobody Leave, The Pig is being Served! The full pig, with the apple in it's mouth arrived 5 minutes later, and not one guest had the courage to leave, even the ones that had been on the way out the door. He was a character, and I'm sure we will be reminiscing for many years to come.

Who could forget the cabbage patch doll nailed to the tree on the front lawn - it kept the squirrels from climbing the tree and taking the bird seed from the bird house. Did I mention the bird house was a converted cat carrier on a pole? His sense of humor was sublime, and not everyone really understood it. It's hard not to think of the sparkle in his blue eyes and the glistening of tears when he would laugh.

Steve was always very determined, you might even stretch that to stubborn. It was no different with his health. He had cancer and beat it three times. He would go into the hospital and they would tell us, this was serious. Each and every time he beat it, he would scoff and be up and eating breakfast a few days later. He was determined, but he couldn't beat old age finally. He had a long life everyone will say, but I will say he had a colorful, determined life and he will be missed for the sense of wonder, adventure and twinkle that he always amazed me with.

Steve Rimar (Dec 29,1923- Aug 16, 2011)

2011-08-17T23:33:00.001-04:00

My father passed away last Tuesday in his 88th year.

Mike

Chicka-Chicka-Bow-Wow

2011-08-12T10:08:00.002-04:00

Got my contributor copies for cucurbital 2 in the mail today. The turtle picture still makes me laugh.

Trials and Tribulations of a Quick-Thinking Dad

2011-08-12T08:44:00.002-04:00

Today is my kid’s 6th birthday. Yesterday I bought balloons to hang up around the house. Kat and my oldest daughter notice that one package of balloons is marked Happy 65th. Oops.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “She won’t notice.”

This morning the birthday girl looks around and frowns. “Daddy, why do some balloons have a six and a five?”

Family gives me a collective told-you-so look, but I merely smile.

“It’s because you are six today, but was 5 yesterday.”

“Oh,” she says. “That makes sense.”

Mike

A Plug for a Fellow SWG’er

2011-08-08T20:05:00.002-04:00

Fellow Stopwatch Gang member, Stephen Kotowych story, Under the Shield. Is now out in the latest InterGalactic Medicine Show. That means our little critiquing group has had representation in that illustrious zine for three issues running. It also means my story, Four Wizards and a Funeral, has gone to the archives.

…

Hey! Hold on there.

;)

Mike

The Trouble with Eating Clouds

2011-07-21T09:34:00.001-04:00

Edmund R. Schubert, editor of OSC’s InterGalactic Medicine Show has just released a collection of short stories. You can find the book in all the usual places and at Spotlight Publishing.

Mike

Stop-Watch Gang Keeps On Chugging

2011-07-18T20:58:00.001-04:00

My friend and fellow Stopwatch Gang member Stephen Kotowych has had his story, “Under the Shield” accepted by OSC’s InterGalactic Medicine Show. That makes three of us, including Tony Pi and myself, who will have stories printed in there.

Mike

Cucurbital 2 Book Cover

2011-07-06T07:30:00.002-04:00

It just makes me laugh.

Sale!

2011-07-04T09:45:00.001-04:00

My story, Chicka-Chicka-Bow-Wow has been accepted by Lawrence Schoen’s for his upcoming anthology Cucurbital 2. The book should be out around November 1st, 2011.

Cover for Mother Goose is Dead

2011-07-04T09:37:00.001-04:00

Coming December 2011 to a Bookstore near you.

Happy Birthday to ME!!!

2011-06-27T07:42:00.001-04:00

Yes, another year has passed. So far for me, it’s been a good one.

My story, Avarice, previously published in Darwin’s Evolutions is being reprinted in e-book form through Darwin Garrison’s new publishing venture.

My youngest is graduating Senior Kindergarten today. And my oldest is having her grade 8 prom tomorrow!

God, I suddenly feel old. Happy, but old ;)

Please, send presents. It’s my only hope…

Mike

A review for Four WIzards and a Funeral.

2011-06-23T15:57:00.001-04:00

Lois Tilton does short fiction reviews for Locus Online. She had this to say about my story which appears in InterGalactic Medicine Show.

There were five wizards in the Cabal before one of them died. This makes Carmichael the business of the Undertaker. His will has left instruction for his funeral, but the other members of the Cabal each have their own demands. One wants him burned, another wants him soaked in preservative, another puts a dagger through his heart with the demand that no one remove it. And of course their demands are all backed up by the most dire of threats, not to mention the suggestion of necromancy. What’s an innocent Undertaker to do?

In this case, the suggestion of humor in the title is appropriate; this is light horror. The Undertaker’s solution is satisfactorily ingenious, as it ought to be.

A Contest!

2011-06-23T09:23:00.001-04:00

Darwin Garrison, former editor/publisher of Darwin's Evolutions is starting up an e-publishing company and one of his writers is offering up a contest on his blog. If you are interested in a free ebook, here is the link:
http://jakobdrud.livejournal.com/35609.html

Mike

More IGMS stuff.

2011-06-13T09:21:00.002-04:00

Here is my version of the story writing process in the IGMS blog.

http://sideshowfreaks.blogspot.com/2011/06/four-wizards-and-funeralmike-rimar.html

…and an official press release.

2011-06-10T07:25:00.001-04:00

Dateline: Greensboro, NC, June 8, 2011 - Six years after appearing in Writers of the Future XXI together, four of 2005's winners will have stories published in the same issue of Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show (IGMS), a leading webzine of science fiction and fantasy. [http://www.InterGalacticMedicineShow.com]

Recent Nebula-winner Eric James Stone, Scott Roberts, Lon Prater, and Mike Rimar - each a 2005 winner of the ongoing Writers of the Future contest - were notified separately this year that the short stories they had submitted to IGMS would appear together in the June 8 issue of the award-winning webzine. "I noticed that we'd all mentioned stories coming out in the same issue and joked that we should call it a reunion," Scott Roberts said.

"It's not unusual for IGMS to publish winners of the Writers of the Future contest," fiction editor Edmund Schubert pointed out. "We regularly receive outstanding submissions from prior winners. What's really odd is publishing so many from the same year in one issue. I wouldn't be surprised if this turns out to be some kind of record."

Some press from SF Signal

2011-06-10T07:19:00.001-04:00

http://www.sfsignal.com/archives/2011/06/sf-tidbits-for-6711/

Check out this artwork!

2011-06-09T15:58:00.001-04:00

From artist Anna Repp, this drawing accompanies my story in IGMS. Very cool.

IGMS P - 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, LAUNCH!!!

2011-06-09T14:37:00.000-04:00

http://www.intergalacticmedicineshow.com/

IGMS P - 9

2011-06-08T21:10:00.001-04:00

I hope everyone realizes the – means minus, and not dash, otherwise the whole effect is ruined.

Mike

IGMS – 10

2011-06-07T09:12:00.001-04:00

The clock is really ticking now. The press release has been sent to Writers of the Future and a few other places. I’ll post links as they become available.

Mike

IGMS P- 11

2011-06-06T07:14:00.002-04:00

I’m seriously considering weeding the garden.

Remember, I said seriously considering. I’ve made no commitment.

Mike

IGMS P - 12

2011-06-05T06:33:00.001-04:00

Quiet day. It rained. Canucks are two games closer to the Stanley Cup.

Mike

IGMS P-13

2011-06-04T08:26:00.001-04:00

The authors have written a kind of advertising blurb for the Writers of the Future telling them four of us are in IGMS. Since Orson Scott Card is also a judge, I’m sure they’ll give us some publicity.

Got an email from my friend Darwin Garrison. Darwin used my story, Avarice, as the flagship story for his new magazine Darwin’s Evolutions. The magazine folded, but Darwin hasn’t. He’s taking advantage of the e-publishing revolution and starting his own publishling company, including the stories originally published in his magazine. Looks like Avarice is going to make the rounds again.

Let you know when I get more information.

Mike

IGMS P- 14

2011-06-03T06:38:00.001-04:00

Interesting coincidence. A total of four of the stories in the upcoming issue were written by Writers of the Future XXI alumni, and all of the stories were written by members of the Codex Online Writers group.

I assure there is no conspiracy. Really. I have a birth certificate to prove it.

Mike

Arbitrary Countdown Commencing P minus 15

2011-06-02T09:49:00.001-04:00

Since the publishing schedule for Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show isn’t exactly written in stone and usually come out the middle of every other month, and since my story, “Four Wizards and a Funeral,” is slated to come on in the upcoming issue, I’ve decided to begin a little countdown to the main event. Will the zine publish when I hit zero? Will the zine publish before I hit zero? Will my story even make it into the issue? So many questions all adding to the excitement.

OOOH! I scared!

Mike

Living in Interesting Times

2011-05-02T07:23:00.001-04:00

Go to sleep and wake up to a different world.

Osama Bin Laden is dead which came as a surprise. I honestly thought he was already dead. Of course now the conspiracy theorists will come out and disclaim the whole thing, but then, that’s their lot in life.

What I’m going to find interesting is the fallout. Particularly with Pakistan. Increasingly unstable politically, how will they react to a US military operation on their soil, and more importantly, how are they going to explain the world’s most wanted man managed to live in a million dollar mansion close to the country’s capital?

Canada is in trouble. Why? Because Jack Layton and the NDP just might win the election, or, at the least become the official opposition. He’s already said he’d be happy to create a coalition to oust the Conservatives, and from the looks of it, only the Liberals would have enough seats to make that worthwhile.

My prediction. Another election within two years.

Mike

A Right Turn at Albuquerque

2011-04-30T12:17:00.002-04:00

After much ado, the anthology with my story, “From the Files of the E.F.P.D.” has finally found a publisher and a publishing date. Damnation Books, the same press that has taken over Realms of Fantasy Magazine, has set a date of December 1, 2011. Still not sure what the book is called, but when I find out, you will.

Also, did you notice how, soon after I posted my story “The Legacy of Charles Laurentian”, which features the CanadaArm, the shuttle launch of Endeavour was postponed? They claim technical difficulties, but I have it on good authority they just wanted to read the story first.

It’s true.

Mike

A Free Story – The Legacy of Charles Laurentian

2011-04-29T10:49:00.002-04:00

Since NASA’s shuttles are all but parked for good, this story is kind of dated, but I liked it. I hope you like it, too.

The Legacy of Charles Laurentian

by Mike Rimar

Charles Laurentian tried very hard to ignore the two RCMP officers floating helpless in what looked very much like lime-green gelatin. “Tu ne peut pas faire ca!” Telling an invading alien it can not do this seemed inadequate, especially after proving it can, but as Prime Minister of Canada, and by default the world's highest ranking representative of humanity present, he was sure protocol demanded he say something.

For its part, the alien appeared nonplussed, naked except for a single bandoleer draped from shoulder to waist revealing skin the color of a deep bruise and wrinkled like a prune. Five almond-shell eyes focused in five separate directions upon five thin reed-like stalks. Lips fully a meter across rippled like a sine wave revealing toothless gums covered in a coarse abrasive substance resembling granulated brown sugar. “I don’t speak French,” it said in a tinny falsetto.

“Tabernac,” cursed Laurentian, then pressed his lips together as he found himself staring into the alien's weapon, an upright vacuum cleaner dripping greenish mucous. Given recent budget cuts the arrival of more guards was unlikely, so he spread his arms wide and smiled. “Welcome to Canada,” he said in Francophone English. “How may I help you?”

"So, polite." The alien’s chuckle sounded like gravel churning in a cement mixer. “You are Charles Laurentian, Prime Minister of the sovereign nation known as Canada?”

The alien’s question seemed as innocuous as a telemarketers greeting, but given the fact they stood in the backyard of the PM's mansion on 24 Sussex Drive, Laurentian saw no reason to lie. “Oui, I am.”

Having no visible legs, the creature half waddled, half rocked forward like a giant water balloon as its free hand removed a thin black box from the bandoleer. A quintet of eyes looked imperiously down upon Laurentian as the lid flipped open. “The Intergalactic Department of Space Beautification fines you nine parlops for littering,” the creature read. “Please, sign here.”

Laurentian gaped until a curious gnat flew into his mouth and down his throat. “De quoi tu parles?” he sputtered, then remembering the alien’s lingual defect, repeated in English, “What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?”

“My name is unpronounceable to you, but in your primitive language translates to Bob.”

Laurentian smoothed back his graying hair. “Actually, Canada has two official languages. English and French.”

Five eyeballs rolled in unison toward the sky. “Very well, what is the French form of Bob?”

“Ah, well.” Bob was Bob in either language. Then, struck with sudden inspiration, he smiled. “Roh-bear.”

The alien’s eyelids closed from left to right sounding like fingernails drumming on a metal desktop. “Very well. Call me Bob.” He shoved the box under Laurentian's aquiline nose. “Your signature or mark, if you please. You will find a stylus attached to the side for your convenience.”

"Enough of this nonsense." Exasperated, Laurentian stepped back searching for directional microphones, a satellite dish, even light reflecting from a telephoto lens. This wasn't the first time Canada's leader was the butt of some hoax. “Whoever you are, the joke is over. Now, take off that damned costume.”

Bob’s eyeballs rotated on their stalks. “Mr. Laurentian--”

Undeterred, Laurentian pressed onward. “I’ll have your broadcast license revoked.”

“This is not--”

“And it is Mr. Prime Minister,” Laurentian continued. “You shall address me as Mr. Prime Minister.”

Bob held the vacuum jelly gun inches from Laurentian's face. “Very well, Mr. Prime Minister. This is not a prank. It is, in fact, a very serious matter. The galaxy takes a strong stand on littering. If you fail to comply, I might add, we will resort to stronger measures.”

“Such as?”

“They are varied.”

Laurentian arched an eyebrow. “Give me an example.”

“Please, I have many more planets to visit today. If you will just sign.”

“You don’t know, do you, Bob?” Laurentian smiled, victorious. “Your making the whole thing up, aren’t you?”

“Fine.” Bob’s gums ground together like millstones. “Censure in the galactic council.”

“Earth is not in any galactic council,” said Laurentian.

“Economic boycotts.”

“Potentially devastating, if earth had trade agreements with other planets, which we do not.” Laurentian rocked on his heels, enjoying himself now. “And, as leader of the second largest country in the world, I think I would know these things.”

“How about annihilation of all sentient life on this planet?”

Laurentian’s smile faltered. “Pardon moi?”

“How about annihilation of--”

“I heard what you said,” Laurentian interrupted. “I just can’t believe . . . to kill everyone on earth just because . . . oh, ridiculous. This has gone far enough. Where are the cameras? This is no longer funny, not that it ever was.”

“Down! Down!” Two fresh RCMP officers brandishing automatic rifles raced in from the front yard. “Everybody, down!”

Finally, Laurentian thought, then flinched as Bob's vacuum made two loud flatulent noises. The guards joined their companions completely encased in translucent snot.

“Mon Dieu,” gasped Laurentian. “You’ve killed them.”

“No,” said Bob. “The glue-ton is fully oxygenated. They can breathe, and may even eat their way to freedom, though it will take some time. Now, understand this. This is not a jest, however the audio-visual devices you are so obviously searching for do exist. For customer service and training purposes this conversation is being monitored by my ship orbiting this junk yard you call a planet. Considering the proliferation of litter floating around your atmosphere it’s a wonder the IDOSB hasn’t fined you earlier.”

“Let me understand this.” Laurentian pulled his gaze from the now four useless RCMP officers. “You’re fining Canada for the space junk orbiting Earth?”

“For a start.”

“A start?” Laurentian hadn't felt so out of depth since his Party's near bribery scandal almost made the front page of the parliamentary newsletter.

“Besides earth you have littered your moon,” said Bob. “And the red planet you call Mars, not to mention the space craft you have sent beyond your solar system.”

“Now, just a minute.” Laurentian waggled his finger at the alien. “You’ve made a mistake. First of all, most of what orbits Earth are satellites we use for communication and scientific observation of our planet.”

“I am aware what a satellite does,” said Bob, curtly. “But why so many? How many satellites do a people need to track a storm system, or transmit a message from one side of the world to the next?”

“Well,” said Laurentian. “We have more than one country on this planet, each with its own industries which again have their own specific needs.”

“You mean agendas,” said Bob. “In any case, the number of satellites you have in operation is not at issue. The Intergalactic Department of Space Beautification recognizes planetary rights to launch objects into sovereign space. What is at issue are the dead satellites, not to mention the probes.” He shook his ponderous head. “So many probes. In any case, the IDOSB does not care what you do to yourselves. Our concern is the general state of the galaxy.”

“Look.” Laurentian stepped away from the box grasped within Bob’s stubby, extraterrestrial fingers. “I see your point of view, and despite what you think, many of us are trying to make things right.”

Bob’s eyes swiveled in Laurentian’s direction. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” Laurentian continued, emboldened by matching Bob’s sarcasm. “We have recycling programs and are cutting back on fossil fuels. Anyway, I believe you are misinformed. Canada doesn't send rockets into space. Our space agency acts mostly in a supportive role to other nations, say, like the United States. In fact, I have their president’s number on speed dial. It would be no trouble--”

"Do you think the Intergalactic Department of Space Beautification is stupid? Hmm?" Bob’s gums ground together and his lips puckered into a giant anus. “We have observed the many space flights of these United States. In most cases, as the craft orbited your earth, a large appendage poked from the ship's hold releasing the payload.”

“Ah, yes,” said Laurentian. “The Canadarm. We invented that. We’re extremely proud of . . . ah,--” Laurentian tried to swallow.

“Exactly.” Bob’s five eyes quivered on their stalks. “Your Canadarm. The very instrument of dispensing the trash. The smoking gun, as you humans like to say. So, as you can see, we are not misinformed.” Sarcasm, thick and syrup-sweet, returned to Bob’s tone.

Laurentian ran a hand through his hair. It felt thinner, as though he had been balding during the conversation. “But we’re not responsible for all of it.”

“Nevertheless, you must bear the brunt of guilt. If you are in contact with other world leaders perhaps they will assist you in payment, considering the circumstances.”

“Unlikely.” Laurentian snorted. “Mon Dieu, we’re only Canada. No one really listens to us.”

“Really? Are you not the leader of the second largest country on the planet?”

“In land mass only,” said Laurentian. “Half of which is uninhabitable rock and tundra. And the mosquitoes! Don’t get me started on those pests. Tabernac. No matter how we try--what we do--we’ll always be, ‘That country north of the United States.’ Do you know how frustrating that is?”

“Not really,” said Bob. “And I don’t care. The fine is still six parlops.”

"Fine." Defeated, Laurentian pressed the stylus against the strange symbols on the face of the black box. "What is a parlop anyway?"

"Given the present exchange rate of your planetary monetary base, a parlop is equal to a trillion ounces of what you call gold."

Paling, Laurentian snatched the stylus away. “Wh-what?"

"Approximately," amended Bob.

"And you want six parlops worth?" asked Laurentian.

"Sign now and the rate locks in. I don't have to tell you how wildly the Galactic Market fluctuates."

Laurentian tried to calculate just how much six trillion ounces of gold was, but his brain refused to function. "I don't think we have that much."

"Perhaps you could borrow some," offered Bob.

"Yeah, at ridiculous interest rates. We'll be bankrupt." Laurentian turned away unable to look the alien in its multiple eyes. What was he to do? Did he have the right to represent the world in their future? As a nation, Canada had always striven to be the quiet peace keeper, acting behind the scenes and below the radar. Her prestige, however, had wanned over the years, and Laurentian had hoped to bring his country much needed global respect. It was to have been his legacy, and if not for that near scandal that almost made the front page, he might have succeeded.

Dooming humanity to extinction was definitely not the kind of legacy he'd been hoping for, not that anyone would be around to remember.

Six trillion ounces. Like molasses, the number cloyed at his mind. He needed to do something. Find a way out. Some kind of loophole. Abruptly, he spun on his heel. “Bob, I want to see some documentation. I’m sure our attorneys can find a way out of this.”

“The finest minds in the galaxy have shaped the law into what it is today," said Bob. "Believe me when I say your petty judicial advocates will have little luck in seeking a legal means out of this. However, it is within your rights to request a copy. I shall have one downloaded to a computer of your choosing, though I must warn you, it is not written in your language.” His mouth curved into a scimitar. “English or French.”

Laurentian shook his head and shrugged. “How are we to follow the letter of the law if we don't know what law to follow?”

“The law is sound," said Bob. "You have my word as a bureaucrat.”

“And all the considerable weight that carries, I’m sure.” Laurentian didn't hide his disdain. “Look. The people of earth are very diverse, with differing ideologies. Quite frankly, most of us just don’t get along. If I were to tell their leaders a space alien stood in my backyard and demanded payment for our interstellar trash, why, they'll laugh in my face.”

“I will send them a record,” said Bob. "As I told you, this conversation is recorded for--"

“Training purposes, yes, I remember. Then this recording is legally binding?"

"There is precedent.”

Laurentian rocked on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. When he opened his first restaurant, he had to translate many French terms to his younger English speaking trainees, often to his amusement. Did he dare risk the fate of the world on misunderstanding? Did he have a choice? Looking down at the box, he was struck by its similarities to a courier's tablet, only with a wider screen and indecipherable text. “What method of payment do you wish.”

“Gold,” said Bob.

Laurentian smile amiably. “I mean do you want l’ingot, or bouillon?”

“I told you I don’t speak--”

“Oui, I know,” said Laurentian. “You don't speak French. However, many English words are French derivative coming from the middle ages when French nobility ruled England, and, well, simply put, anything of worth is measured in French. Now, bouillon is preferred, but I suppose that is too mundane for someone such as yourself.”

“Whatever method you wish, is fine," said Bob. "Gold is gold.”

“So,” said Laurentian, suddenly aware he had been holding his breath. Holding the stylus in twitching fingers, he looked directly into the sky and hoped Bob’s space ship had a clear shot of them. “You agree to a payment of bouillon equal to the amount of 6 parlops, at a trillion ounces per parlop?”

“Yes, yes.” Bob swayed on his legless torso like an extra-terrestrial punching dummy. "Please hurry, I have other planets to visit today."

“Done.” Laurentian scrawled his signature. “How long do we have to pay? I mean, we just don’t have that much bouillon lying around. I think ten years should--”

“I can give you five of your earth years." Bob checked the signature. "For me, the end of the business day. Time dilation and inter-dimensional travel, I’m sure you understand,” he said, his tone clear he didn't expect Laurentian to understand at all.

“My hands are tied,” said Laurentian. “You are a shrewd negotiator.”

“I’m just a bureaucrat, like yourself. " Replacing the box to his bandoleer, Bob touched a button elsewhere on the belt. "Have a nice day." Air snapped softly to replace the void of his disappeared body.

Satisfied the alien was truly gone, Laurentian hurried to the mansion and unwound a long garden hose from its cradle and sprayed down his hapless guards, relieved at how easily the green gloop washed away. With his free hand he removed his cell phone from his pant pocket and dialed his deputy Prime Minister.

“Myron,” he said into the mouthpiece. “Call together the Cabinet for an emergency meeting. In Camera. Why?” Laurentian looked up at the clear blue sky over Ottawa. “On va changer le monde,” he said. “We’re going to shake up the world, my friend. An apt legacy, don't you think? Oh, and call every soup and food processor in the country. We’re going to need bouillon. That's right, soup cubes, and lots of it."

The End

Ad Astra 2011 Con Report

2011-04-11T10:19:00.002-04:00

I'd have to say this was the best con I've been to yet, the first one where I was genuinely melancholy it was over for another year.

Friday:

I arrived and met up with my Stopwatch Gang colleagues, then wandered over to the opening ceremonies, which I've never done before, and was surprised to see Lieutenant Governor David Onley talking at the podium. Onley is well-known in the Toronto area as a television journalist for CITY TV broadcaster before taking the post as the Queen’s representative to the province of Ontario. And he’d written a book called Shuttle: A Shattering Novel of Disaster in Space, which I didn't know.

After that, I killed time by going to the con suite--I would just like to thank the Ad Astra staff for their courtesy and general cheerfulness--and hanging out with friends until 10 pm and the Stopwatch Gang reading. My first reading, ever.

Despite the late hour, we had about 8 people in the audience who were not friends or family, (though we suspect many had come to see Suzanne Church who seems to have a cult following for readings). Either way, we considered the panel a success.

An hour of self-congratulatory backslapping and I went home.

Saturday:

Quick breakfast in the con suite and headed to some panels. The Chilling Tales Anthology Panel was interesting and I learned Edge Publishing is bringing out more anthologies in the future, which is good for everyone.

Editing Anthologies Panels was also interesting just in case I get all full of myself and try to put one together do some reason.

Briefly attended the Chilling Tales book launch, then went to the Speculative Fiction and Comedy, which I was supposed to be a part of, but because of scheduling mix-ups on my part, I had to be bumped. Lucky me. It ended up being a bit high-brow for my tastes, going into in-depth analysis of humor. Interesting, but not funny.

Next three hours I wandered the dealer's room and art room, had dinner with the Stopwatch Gang and visited Julie Czerneda's Pizza Party to thank her in person for including me in Tesseracts Fifteen: A Case of Quite Curious Tales.

I attended a panel on SF's Shelf Life, and then came the BIG EVENT. The Writer's Group Behind the Scenes Panel, a live critiquing of a story. Special thanks to Suzanne Church for painting the target on her back.

We had some 18 people there, then added friends and family. Bluntly, standing room only. A great success.

From their we adjourned to the con suite and more well-deserved backslapping. In fact, a member of the SFCon, the new convention held in the fall, asked that we recreate the panel for their convention. Or at least, that’s they way I heard it. Very cool.

Amazingly, I went home earlier than I had intended, and woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed for Sunday.

Sunday:

Went to the Ben Bova GOH PANEL. I'm really beginning to like these panels. Guys like Bova are living history of the genre, and his antidotes were both fascinating and funny. I even got a hook for one of my stories I was having problems with.

A little gang support for Costi Gurgu and his European Science Fiction was not necessary. He had a full house, although the moderator could have taken more control. Just saying.

The Publishing Your First Novel, was nothing new, but only because I've attended a lot of these panels.

The Giving it Away for Free Panel was a different view of, not just the giving away content on the internet, but promotional giveaways in general, and pirating. The general consensus was, it isn’t as bad as alarmists make it out to be.

From there it was the Best Time/Worst Time To Be a Writer. I really liked this panel, and marked a milestone as it was the very first time I had ever asked a question.

Then, finally, after much ado, my own panel, Face to Face Critique Groups, which went well.

And that was it. The day was done, the dealers were packing, guests checking out, so I left.

Again, I thought it was a great con, great experience, and I thank the Ad Astra Con-committee for inviting me.

Mike

We Who Steal Faces

2011-04-09T08:41:00.001-04:00

Fellow SWG member’s story, Tony Pi’s story, “We Who Steal Faces,” is now out. You can read it here: http://www.intergalacticmedicineshow.com/.

My amended Ad Astra Schedule

2011-03-30T11:24:00.002-04:00

Fri 10 pm Crowne Room Reading: Stop Watch Gang

Sat 3:30- 5:30 pm Ballr. East and Centre Autograph session

Sat 7 pm Salon 243 Writer's Group Behind the Scenes

Sun 3 pm Salon 243 Face-to-Face Critique Groups

My Ad Astra Schedule

2011-03-28T13:44:00.001-04:00

For those who are interested:

Fri 10 pm Crowne Room Reading: Stop Watch Gang

Sat 7 pm Salon 243 Writer's Group Behind the Scenes

Sun 3 pm Salon 243 Face-to-Face Critique Groups

Cover Art For Tesseracts 15!

2011-03-21T09:28:00.001-04:00

Sale!!!

2011-03-15T08:22:00.003-04:00

Julie Czerneda and Susan MacGregor, editors of Tesseracts 15: A Case of Quite Curious Tales have accepted my story, “My Name is Tommy” for the anthology!

Now, since I began writing speculative fiction, I’ve always felt to be a bona fide Canadian author in the field you need to be published in either one of two markets. On Spec Magazine, or a Tesseracts anthology from Edge Publications. I’ve been trying to crack both of these for years. Now, I’ve finally done it.

I AM CANADIAN!

And the story only gets better. Tony Pi, my long time nemesis also made the anthology with his story, “The Tremor Road”. Congratulations Tony!

Both stories went through the Stopwatch Gang critiquing crew, so its a win for all of us.

That’s two good sales so far. I told you it was going to be a good year.'

Mike

IGMS

2011-03-09T12:50:00.001-05:00

My story will come out in the June issue of the magazine. June. That’s going to be a loooooonnnggg wait.

Mike

Oscar show

2011-02-27T20:40:00.001-05:00

The opening was funny enough, but I miss Billy Crystal.

That’s enough. I’m bored already.

Oscar Buzz

2011-02-27T20:25:00.001-05:00

Gwenyth Paltrow fashion advice… this is not the best time to go really avant garde.

Me: I miss Cher.

Oscar Buzz (pre-show)

2011-02-27T20:09:00.001-05:00

I like the Oscars. And I like the pre-shows.

Comments so far…

Anne Hathaway – perfect lipstick.

Fashion Designer Valentino – up for a zombie part in next season’s Walking Dead.

SALE!!!!!

2011-02-22T10:27:00.001-05:00

The long drought is over. I finally made a professional sale to Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show. Hoping it might come out in the April issue, but not sure.

Special thanks to my critiquing crew, the Stopwatch Gang.

Mike

Ad Astra 2011

2011-02-11T09:58:00.001-05:00

I’ll be a panelist at Ad Astra, Toronto’s Science Fiction and Fantasy Convention April 8,9, and 10. My writing group will be there in force and we might even get our own panel. This is the 30th anniversary of the convention and should be great fun.

Mike

Award Shows and stuff

2011-01-31T11:06:00.001-05:00

Congratulations, you’ve just been nominated for best in your category, your competition: four people skilled in your craft and an 89 year old favorite experiencing yet another career renaissance. Will you be attending the ceremony?

Why bother?

Of course, I’m talking about Betty White who picked up a Screen Actors Guild award for her work in Hot in Cleveland, a kind of 50 is the new 40 Golden Girls comedy. I watched one episode and bailed, but apparently it’s a hit—and an award winner. I suspect this has much to do with Betty White. Does she deserve the award? Hell yeah, if not for Cleveland, then for everything else she’s done. A great woman who deserves all the long overdue accolades she’s been receiving.

BUT! Those poor other actresses. Some may never get nominated again. To find your name on the list only to go up against Betty White.

Well, it’s nice to be nominated as they say.

(If you believe that, I got a the deed for the CN Tower I could let go for cheap.)

Mike

2010 Round Up

2010-12-31T22:41:00.001-05:00

Wow. What can I say? Stop this year, I want to get off. Technically as I’m writing this there is still 1 1/2 hours left in 2010, but Jesus H. Christ am I glad this year is over. Last year I hoped this year would be better. Little did I know the last year had actually been better. Following the logic of this precedent, I’m hardly looking forward to the upcoming year.

Writing-wise, other than being a finalist for the WOTF contest once again, (which I lost) and being given the Science Fiction Showcase Award--nothing. Nada. Lots of opportunities, some of which still require a final resolution, but otherwise, pain, heartbreak and rejection. Nothing new for the life of a writer, but this year I’ve felt it more keenly than others.

Life-wise, well, a death in the family, illnesses, (whole family came down with bronchitis since mid-August and some of us are still feeling it), well a whole long list of crap that some would say so what while others would cringe in sympathy.

Ah, well. The year is over and good riddance. Will next year be better? Who knows. But we will soldier on, because, as my a past teacher once pointed out, I have the tenacity of a bulldog. Even when I should give up, I just won’t let go.

So, blah, blah, blah, life sucks, wah, wah, wah, gonna get better. Have a Happy New Year and stay safe.

Mike Rimar

Quote of the Day

2010-11-28T14:13:00.001-05:00

From my eldest daughter after I gave her the first chapter of the YA novel I’m working on.

“This is good, and I’m not saying that because you’re family.”

An official Award Winning author

2010-10-28T19:14:00.001-04:00

Reviewer for Tangent, and long-time Critters Workshop critiquer, Carl Slaughter, has chosen my story, Graves for an award.

http://www.sciencefictionshowcase.com/

How cool is that?

Thanks Carl.

Mike Rimar

Election is over

2010-10-27T07:14:00.001-04:00

Toronto has got a new mayor. Considering the vehement hate Rob Ford has generated by those opposed to him, I am looking forward to a very entertaining 4 years.

My town has re-elected the same mayor. She did a fine job her last tenure, and her competition just didn’t have enough. Like my friend says, if you’re up against the champ, you have to dominate, you can’t hope for a split decision.

Mike

Dear Penthouse

2010-10-21T17:50:00.001-04:00

I never thought this could happen to a guy like me, but I died.

Well, that sucks.

Bob Guccione (December 17, 1930 – October 20, 2010)

Coincidences continue…

2010-10-20T17:37:00.001-04:00

Johnny Sheffield, who played ‘Boy’ in many Tarzan features died today. He was 79.

Tuesday…Maintenance for those in the know ;)

2010-10-19T08:00:00.001-04:00

Interesting coincidence this week concerning actress Maureen O’Sullivan. In his blog, The Way the Future Blogs, Frederick Pohl laments how he’s forgotten many moments from F&SF conventions long past including one particular con he dubbed the “Johnny Weissmuller Con.”

For those too young to remember, Johnny Weissmuller was the best and most popular Tarzan. That distinctive Tarzan yell is his. His co-star for six Tarzan features, his Jane, was Maureen O’Sullivan and both were in attendance at said Con.

So, that was posted Oct 14. Just this past weekend Kat spent the weekend with her mother, who gave her a stack of her late father’s DVD’s, among them a collection of Tarzan classics starring Johnny and Maureen.

As William Shatner might say, is that weird or what?

If you are interested in the history of science fiction, I urge you to visit Frederick Pohl’s, The Way the Future Blogs, for which he recently won the Hugo for best Fanzine. The man is the definition of living legend with tons of great anecdotes about your favorite authors like Heinlein, Clark, and a others.

Mike

Municipal Election Time

2010-09-21T08:06:00.001-04:00

It’s that time for all good little communities to elect the officials that will lead them to disaster for the next three to four years. Admittedly, I’ve kept my nose out of this one. As far as issues go, nothing stands out for me like last election, that of reigning in the town’s growth. And I don’t know all the players, but I’ve seen their signs. So, like any good hunter, let’s taste the spoor of the stag and see what they’re all about.

Patricia Perkins. Present mayor looking for reelection. Last election she ran on a platform of slowing down town expansion. I was for this. When I moved here, Whitby was still a town, now it has the population of a small city, and all the joy that goes with it. Did she keep her promise? Hard to tell. The economy took a dive, which helped her cause, but I doubt she was responsible for the global financial meltdown. Or was she…hmm.

Marcel Brunnel. He lost to Pat Perkins. During his tenure Whitby grew five times it’s size. Why, because growth is good for the city. It brings in more tax dollars. Oh really. This is what I got from so much growth. Raised water taxes to pay for all those new sewers. Raised property taxed to pay for all that new infrastructure. Raised blood-pressure to deal with the added traffic brought on by extra traffic lights to deal with the added traffic and on and on.

Marcel was likely a good mayor when the town was small. He held the job for twelve years or so, but he had created a monster he couldn’t control, and we’re paying the price.

I really don’t know who convinced him to run again. Personally, I think his wife got on his back to get rid of all those old election signs in the garage, because they are the SAME SIGNS FROM LAST ELECTION.

Rocky Varcoe. Come on. Who doesn’t want a mayor named Rocky? Well, before you jump on the bandwagon consider the math.

Rocky Varcoe = Rocky V. = Rocky V, considered the worst of the Rocky movies. Rocky VI wasn’t bad, but do I want to take the chance?

Joe Drumm. A fixture on town council. His platform is he’s Irish, he’s old, and he’s Irish. On any given issue his standard response is, “Don’t matter what we want, the province tells us what to do.”

Town growth? “Don’t matter what we want, the province tells us what to do.”

Traffic cameras? “Don’t matter what we want, the province tells us what to do.”

Curb-side parking? “Don’t matter what we want, the province tells us what to do.”

So why do we have local government? Who cares, he’s Irish, and old.

There are other players, of course, but these guys stand out for me. Maybe I’ll read the local paper and actually get a handle on some hard current political issues, no that it matters. The province will tell me what to do.

Oh, and as an addendum. Ford, Smitherman, or any of the other bobble heads running for Toronto mayor--that city deserves everyone of them.

Hellish Kitchen

2010-08-10T22:06:00.001-04:00

I hate all reality shows. Almost.

God help me, but I I can sucked into Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe its Gordon Ramsey and his irate rants that sometimes are just a long string of censored bleeps. (In Canada a recently launched Reality Show Channel showed a couple shows of an earlier season uncensored. Sadly, some elderly ladies club must have complained because they are all censored again). Maybe it’s because I’m a closet foodie. I like to cook, and occasionally wonder what my life would have been like had I realized at an earlier age that I liked to cook.

Whatever the reasons, I liked Hell’s Kitchen. Then, I stopped. I got sick of the inept cooks claiming to be executive chefs, and Ramsey screaming the same things, insisting he was looking for the most skillful cook with leadership qualities, and then when tasked to eliminate two contestants, seemed to keep the worst of the pair more often than not.

But mostly, it’s the finalies that did me in as it did me in again in this recent season. I blame my daughter for getting me hooked on the show. I had no intention of watching it, but summer is summer and nothing was on, and she insisted on watching this show with this crazy screaming chef, and so I watched. And watched. And for the first time I felt the last two chefs standing deserved to be there.

BUT THE BEST CHEF DID NOT WIN!!!!

Again. Ramsey gave some weak-ass reason for his choice, something about this particular chef grew the most as the show progressed and therefore deserved the prize. What he really meant was this chef, being a woman and a mother was less likely to hunt down his Scottish ass once they find out the prize offered, a year as head chef in one of his restaurants equates to 6 months as an apprentice line while the restaurant undergoes extensive renovations and expected to have little or no patrons. (Hell’s Kitchen rarely pays off its winners.)

So once again, I am disappointed, and once again I vow never to watch again. Until next summer, and nothing is on.

Mike

Milton Pirates Festival

2010-07-31T18:39:00.001-04:00

A number of years ago we discovered the Renaissance festival held in Mississauga. It was, in a word, COOL. They had plays, and vendors and silly games for the kids and, get this, real jousting. Lists, armored knights, horses, lances, the whole sha-bang. My family really loved going.

Then the farmer who allowed the Renaissance festival the land to use decided to sell it for a housing development. And for years, nothing other than whispers of a Robin Hood festival in London and a Medieval Faire in Michigan. Both way too far.

Anyway, Kat discovered the Pirate festival in Milton which is, for us, the far side of Toronto. But it sounded like maybe, just maybe, and off we went.

Short review, if you live on the west end of Toronto, or about a half-hour from Milton, yeah, go ahead. Otherwise, it’s just a bit too small to be worth it.

Best thing are the patrons and on site actors who take part in the scenery. Among them the pickle guy, who sells cucumbers on a stick from a large barrel on wheels.

Two great quotes I heard:

From and an actor who noticed me and my daughter walking into each other “Like two ships passing in the night only to find the sea too small.”

From two girls passing the pickle guy. “I’d buy a pickle if the guy wasn’t so weird.”

Mike

Dangers of Blogging

2010-07-01T12:19:00.002-04:00

With the understanding that by blogging my burgeoning writing career (emphasis on burgeoning), my words are essentially public domain, I’ve striven to keep my opinions and statements light-hearted, never to be taken too seriously. For the most part, I believe I have succeeded.

Unfortunately, there will always be people out there who lurk in the cyber shadows with their own private, nefarious agendas. I’ve done my best to keep my children's names private, but I didn't notice them in Kat's eulogy for her dad.

So, it wasn’t too surprising to discover someone from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, scouring the web for my daughter’s blog. God only knows what sickness must be infecting this person’s mind, but I hope they get help. Or shot. Preferably with a small calibre bullet that doesn’t quite penetrate the cranium, doing just enough damage to cause permanent brain damage so that you can only view life from a wheelchair while sucking dinner through a straw. Sick, demented, however you prefer to think of yourself, consider this: if I know where you are from, how much more effort would it take to know who you are? You, your friends--your relatives, I'm sure they would be interested to know your proclivities. Mark my words.

Why just thinking about it almost brings a tear to my eye.

Have a nice day.

Mike

Father in law

2010-06-26T08:39:00.011-04:00

My father-in-law passed away June 19, with his family at his bedside, he was 84 years old. The following is the eulogy Kat wrote about her dad, I couldn't say it better:

My Dad

My dad will be truly missed. Growing up with my dad, he showed me a lot about life. He taught me about loyalty, kindness and looking on the good side of everyone. He never said a bad word about anyone, and when someone did say something unkind, he would tell them good aspects of the situation or person. People said my dad was an optimist, or an ostrich, depending on who you ask. But to me he was a determined optimist – the cup was almost always full to him.

My father taught me to sing in the car, to love a bargain, to love technology, to be kind and always try your best. He taught me that when it comes to parenting, respect and love are more powerful than yelling – he never yelled. He would tell you, it's your decision, but you may come to regret it – and he would try to use logic to change your mind - he was a parent after all. He never treated you as you were less because you weren't an adult. I can only hope he knew how much I love him.

My dad was a very loyal person, he was married to my mother for 54 years. While in the hospital all he was concerned about was how she was and if she was eating properly. He worked at the Metropolitan Toronto Water Treatment plants for over 35 years and ended his career as boss of the computer room, which controlled the water purifying process. He lived in his house for 45 years – he was a steadfast person you could count on.

I truly believe my father was the first geek. Long before personal computers, he was telling us that they would be the wave of the future, that we should learn them because we'll need them in our jobs one day. He predicted that movies would be able to be played in your house affordably. We all nodded, laughing a bit at his ideas... I'm sure, later, he laughed inside too knowing he was right! He was the first trekkie, and continued to watch Star Trek, including the new movie last year.

My dad loved life and always laughed. He had simple needs, a good apple or caramel banana pie (like his mother made), music and his computer. He would spend endless hours in the public library, getting books out about technology. I once asked him why he didn't read novels. He said that he never did, except when he was serving in the navy during World War II. He said he discovered the world of novels there, but he found after the war it only reminded him of those hours on the ship.

My dad never talked about the war, only little bits and pieces. I asked him why, I would have been interested in hearing about it. My husband also would ask him questions. My father only would say that he didn't like to talk about it, it wasn't something to tell stories about. He would talk about his time with the Merchant Marines and his life before the war, but not about the war.

During the last few years my father would talk about his childhood. He would tell us little stories about the things he was remembering. One of his favourite memories was sharing a room with his brother Roger. They had received a toy car as a present and laid in bed whizzing the car back and forth to each other. Then he would laugh and say how such a simple memory brought back the feeling of happiness he had with his brothers.

My dad talked often about going to the movies, there was no television back then, they would listen to the radio shows and go to the matinee. He talked of the serials – the lone ranger - he recently had watched them all on tv and laughed at how they didn't stand up to his memories. My dad had such a love of old movies. His favourite movies were The Quiet Man, and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon – well a lot of John Wayne and James Bond movies. My dad also had a love of musicals, which he passed on to me.

My father had a strong attachment to music, he continued to tweak his stereo system – there were more tweeters and woofers in his basement then a theatre has. Since he was losing his hearing, he would have them turned way up, so you had to withstand the sound to enjoy music with him. One of my fondest memories as a child is dancing in the basement with my dad to Hernando's Hideaway and Boney M's Rasputin. He also had a love for big band music.

My father's other big love was dogs. He told me one day his favourite dog of all was the afghan – Kaden. He said the dog wasn't bright, but he was so emotional and so loving. That dog loved my father and would follow him around the house. Kaden would escape, he loved to run, but if my father got in the car and stopped beside him and asked him if he wanted a car ride, that dog would jump into the passenger seat. So they would go round the block, with the window rolled down, the dog riding shotgun – because he would never lie, even to a dog.

When my father was in the hospital, they asked him about lifesaving measures, when he understood what they were asking, he simply said 'Why not try?' I think that message is one that layered through his life, he was a determined person who had no fear of trying – whether learning computers at age 50, building our pool, tiling the bathroom or being a good person – he always tried, and I can never remember him failing at anything.

I remember when his first grandchild was born. My dad said he was so happy. I said, yes, it's nice to see your line continue – he laughed, he said no, I just missed playing with a baby. He always spent time with his 4 granddaughters whenever he could, buying little presents like a little statuette of a bunny, or Disney movies to watch with the girls. He'd make sure there was some ice cream and didn't mind having silly conversations or making voices for toys. I know my children are not aware how he has coloured their lives, from the singing in the car, reading books, homemade oatmeal cookies, garage sales, the library and computers – my father's touch is everywhere in their lives.

I know my father is with his big brother Roger and his parents now. He missed them so, and I know he'll be waiting for us too one day, with his easy laughter and eyes shining. He wouldn't want us to be sad, he would want us to remember his love and to always be a determined optimist. My cup is not empty, it is full with memories of my dad.

Dear Diary – Final Post

2010-06-03T13:09:00.001-04:00

So much for the power of positive thought. Just got the call from Joni that I didn’t win. Kind of bummed, considering the crap that went on the past couple of weeks. Ah, well. I was running out of snarky comments, anyway. Until next time.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-06-01T21:29:00.001-04:00

June 1 Got the car back from the shop. Again. Guy said this time it was fixed. Again. But, he was sincere, and only charged me for the parts which was much appreciated. Even allowed me to take the car home and try it out for a few days before paying. Lotsa trust there. Foolish man.

Bwahahahahahahahahahhahahahaha!

Still nothing from the WoTF, but to be fair, yesterday was an American holiday.

Again.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-31T09:25:00.001-04:00

May 31 – Damn near June. This should be the week. Shoouulllddd beeee.

I might be wrong. I have been in the past. Still, I feel good about this. Lots of positive waves. God knows I could use it.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-27T19:42:00.001-04:00

May 27 – Father-in-law is home from the hospital. Yea!

May have discovered yet another problem with the car. Boo!

Have it from a very reliable source that the results of the WoTF should come down sometime next week. Yea!

Or not. Boo!

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-26T08:02:00.002-04:00

May 26 - Nothing. Can you believe it? Evidently, to win this prize you must first pass a test of patience. Well, I got news for you, people of the WOTF, I can wait a very, very long time. So, just give me my prize. Now.

;)

See what I did there? I said I was patient, then acted all impatient. That’s comedy, my friends ( as denoted by the winky face).

Now, see what I just did there? I explained the previous joke, even though it was blatantly obvious and purposefully bad. More humour.

Did you see what I did there? Ah, never mind, you get it.

Update. In-law still in the hospital, car still screwed.

Nothing funny there.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-22T08:22:00.001-04:00

May 22 – Same old same old. Car still on the fritz. Mechanics still don’t know what’s wrong with it. Father-in-law still in the hospital. Still no word from WoTF.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-20T09:34:00.001-04:00

May 20 Car back in shop. Still doing the same thing. Hoping beyond hope it’s just a bad part. To quote Star Wars: “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-19T10:35:00.001-04:00

May 19 – Got an email from WoTF confirming they’ve received my next entry. They’ve also confirmed that the results from the first quarter are still OUT. Whew, I guess. The wait continues.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-18T06:49:00.002-04:00

May 18 – Nearly put the car out of my misery, the repair bill was that high. But with much humility, we borrowed the money. Once it is fixed, my car will actually be more than it's worth.

I sincerely believe the WoTF plan is to wait until all the finalists completely forget about the contest, then spring the results on them as a surprise. Sick, sick people.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-17T08:00:00.002-04:00

May 17 – Starting the week off right with a rejection. A well, when will I learn getting bumped up to the editor does not equal acceptance. Took the car to my mechanic guy who pretty much told me unless he is in the car when the problem happens he won’t know what the problem is. Joy. So, he had the car for the day leaving me cast adrift. Funny, other than taking the kids to school I had no plans to go anywhere, but now that I’m without transport I feel all claustrophobic.

Or is that just being lazy?

Still no word from the WoTF, but if there ever was a time for some good news, this is it.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-16T08:19:00.001-04:00

May 16 – Something wicked did come. My father-in-law ended up in the hospital and is still there. My car is on the fritz, and when you live in the suburbs, this is practically paralyzing. Frazetta died, but that has no real connection to me, but still, it is bad and wicked.

Thank God, it’s Sunday. Tomorrow we can begin fresh. Hopefully, with good news from the the West Coast.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-13T07:35:00.001-04:00

May 13 – Another day, another dollar.

$0.75 after taxes.

Mike

Dear Diarrhea

2010-05-12T11:30:00.001-04:00

May 12- Must have been something I ate.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-11T08:27:00.002-04:00

ay 11 – Artist and WoTF illustrator judge Frank Frazetta died yesterday. He did the coverart for Vol. XXI, which contains my story, Annus Mirabilis.

To put his impact in perspectiveM, all those fantasy drawings of overly muscular and scantily clad men and women warrior-types that weren’t drawn by him, most likely had been inspired by him. I could only hope to leave half the legacy he’s left in his life.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-10T07:20:00.001-04:00

May 10 – Something wicked this way comes. This will be the week. I sense it. The tight twist in the gut. The feeling of impending doom. The prickly hairs at the nape of the neck. The…oh, wait. Just gas.

Excuse me.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-09T20:56:00.001-04:00

May 09. Mother’s day. A day when mom’s can sleep in, have breakfast made for them and just generally relax--

unless your the Progressive Conservative Party, then it’s the perfect day to canvass for surveys and, well, I don’t know what else because at this point I told the guy what I thought of him calling on Mother’s Day and hung up. A mistake, I guess, since I’m not sure who to be angry at the Federals or the Provincials. I guess I can hate them equally.

As you might have guessed, no news yet on the you-know-what.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-08T10:31:00.001-04:00

May 08 – Realized I’ve miscounted in the last few entries. Since finding I am a finalist some 45 days have past. Not that it matters since I still haven’t heard from the contest, but just want to get matters straightened out.

Hmm, had a fried egg sandwich on a toasted fococcia bun. Not sure that was such a good idea. Going to go look for some antacid.

As noted in the comments from previous post, got a reach out from another finalist, Andrew Baines, who is also waiting as patiently as possible.

At this point I would normally insert some self-effacing comment about the on-going conspiracy against me and the unlikelihood that I would win, but I’m not. Today, I am going to feel positive. Later, I might return to my old ways, but only because it is more fun to be negative. That’s why critics love to blast anything that was once considered popular, but I digress.

No, I’m going to embrace a new philosophy. I may not win, but I have as good a chance as anyone else. The bottom line is, if at any time I felt my story was sub-par, why did I waste money on stamps in the first place? The story is good, and deserves to be published. Hopefully in the next anthology. If not, then somewhere else.

It’s just that ‘somewhere else’ does not provide a cool week of workshops and schmoozing with celebrities in sunny California, or wherever the hold the ceremony that year.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-07T07:35:00.001-04:00

May 07 – Another day another sale…for my arch-nemesis, Tony Pi. Of course his success is my success because his stories would never have sold without MY express critiquing. Yes. Me. Oh sure, all members of the Stopwatch Gang have contributed and are deserving of praise in some small measure, but without me to give that single significant comment that turned a mediocre story into a saleable resource—what can I say? I am humbled by my own magnificence.

Hey what did you expect? This is my blog.

In other news, still now word from the contest, although I’ve heard through the grapevine the illustrator winners have been announced. Weird, since they usually get announced after the writers. Just another inconsistency to the contest simply because I’m a finalist.

Not that I’m paranoid.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-06T07:56:00.001-04:00

May 6 – Over 36 days have passed an still nothing from the WoTF. Running out of funny, cutesy things to say.

The truth is, 36 days is hardly a wait at all. Last time I was in the finals I waited over two months. The reason for the long delays is simple. The judges. They are all writers in the field, some of them living legends—and they all work. Judging for the Writers of the Future is very much a labor of love, a chance for them to ‘Pay it Forward.’

This is a term associated with Robert Heinlein who when thanked by someone he had helped with writing replied, “Don’t pay me back, but pay it forward. If you have the chance, help the next guy with his career.” I’m paraphrasing, of course.

This is one of the reasons I strive to succeed in genre fiction. There is an actual community within the field. Stories abound of main stream authors who become full of themselves and only meet the ‘little people’ when its time to promote their books. On the flipside, you go to any SF Con and approach any author you might recognize and admire and say hi. If they have the time, they might engage you in conversation. They might even remember you from a previous meeting.

Be warned, this kind of interaction has its risks. If you’re a troll who only wants to harass an author, don’t be surprised if they rip your head off. After all, they are human, too.

Judges do get paid for reading, but so little you just know they do this out of the goodness of their hearts. (I had asked a judge and he quoted a figure that was less than a hundred dollars. Way less.) Sometimes life gets in the way, and they don’t get to the stories as soon as other times. Even K.D. Wentworth, who has to slog through over a thousand stories every quarter doing preliminary judging, sometimes runs over the limit. For this, she can be forgiven, as with the other tardy judges.

That doesn’t mean I’m not antsy about the outcome. I’m sure the other eight finalists are constantly checking their emails and phone messages. It’s all part of the game. And when the call does come through, and I get the old, “Sorry, but thanks for playing,” I will feel bummed out, more so because I have been to the ceremony before, and damn, but they put on a great show. On the other hand, I made finalist for a second time, which means I’m definitely heading in the right direction, (or is that write direction?).

And I’ve already mailed in my next submission. So, until then…

May 6 – 36 days + 15 minutes and still nothing. So hungry. Family is starting to look like roast chickens.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-05T15:04:00.002-04:00

May 05 – Schedule of feelings on WoTF story.

0530 - God, it’s morning already?

0900 – You know, I have a good chance at this thing.

1130 – Hurry up and eat lunch or you’re going to be late for school!

1300 – I suppose I could place

1500 – It’s only noon on the west coast.

1800 – I’m sick of cooking dinner.

2000 – Blech, I’m out.

2100 – Well, at least I sent in my next submission.

2200 – What a [smart/stupid/funny/sad] [show/movie/book]

2300 – Zzzzzzzz…

Dear Diary

2010-05-04T13:55:00.001-04:00

May…something.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-03T08:24:00.001-04:00

May 03 – Another weekend gone by and still no word from WOTF. Beginning double rations.

Glimmer of hope from a story submission that’s been shortlisted for possible publication. An optimist would think 5 weeks till acceptance.

Oh, that I was an optimist.

…or even a Shriner.

Mike

Tony Pi Must Die

2010-05-01T19:32:00.001-04:00

My friend and nemesis, Tony Pi has his story up in Clarksworld. Read it and understand why I must destroy him.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-05-01T11:09:00.001-04:00

May 1st – Oil change went well. Still no notice from WoTF.

Have been illuminated to the fact WoTF is putting together a 25th anniversary coffee table book. Now. Jeez, guys. Priorities. I mean, it’s me. All. About. Me.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-04-30T07:40:00.001-04:00

April 30 – Getting the car’s oil changed today. Nothing to do with the WOTF not calling yet. Just saying the car needs an oil change.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-04-29T10:08:00.001-04:00

April 29 – The phone rang yesterday. I picked it up halfway through the second ring. Wrong number. Still waiting from the WoTF.

Fellow writing group member and Aurora nominee Brad Carson is mentioned in David Farland’s (AKA Dave Wolverton) newsletter. Nice going, Brad, but I’m afraid I’ll have to put your name on the list.

You know which one.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-04-28T09:47:00.001-04:00

April 28 – Roughly 38 days have passed since first notified of making the WoTF finalist list. Still no decision. Checked the official notice and blog again to make sure it wasn’t some acid flashback. I’m pretty sure it was real.

Tony Pi continues to mock me with his success. His story, “A Sweet Calling,” should come out in Clarksworld by the end of the week.

Presently stencilling his name on a WWII surplus bomb. Looking through local By and Sell for used bomber.

Mike

Dear Diary

2010-04-27T07:49:00.001-04:00

April 27. Still no word from WoTF. Supplies starting to run low. Beginning rationing. Tony Pi my writing group member and personal nemesis reports a starred review from publisher’s weekly for one of his stories where he is mentioned by name, and a professional sale to Clarks World.

Presently scheming his untimely demise.

Mike

You can’t pop a wheelie on a unicycle

2010-04-26T08:31:00.002-04:00

I drove to the supermarket last Saturday, and along the way I saw a guy riding a unicycle. Hmm, I thought, you don’t see that every day.

Sunday, on the way home from my writing group meeting, I saw another guy on a unicycle. Hmm, I thought, maybe you do see that every day.

This is Monday, and let me tell you, I’m keeping an eye out.

Personally, I think these guys are taking this whole environmentally consciousness thing a bit too far. I mean cutting back to just one wheel, what are you trying to prove?

Still no word from the WoTF.

Vote for this story damn your hides

2010-04-22T15:54:00.003-04:00

As mentioned earlier, Brad Carson's story "Here There Be Monsters" is nominated for an Aurora. You can read his fine tale here: http://bradcarsonfantasywriter.blogspot.com/

Then vote for it here

Thank you for your co-operation.

Mike

Caught in the Buble

2010-04-19T19:48:00.002-04:00

Michael Buble, the Canadian crooner, was in Newfoundland for the Juno awards. He did very good for himself, accolades well-deserved. Sadly, he had to cut his victory festivities short because there was concern the volcanic ash from Iceland threatened the skies of the Rock. His pilot warned that if they did not take off they might be trapped on the island for days.

GASP!

The poor man, because God knows Newfoundland doesn’t have any reliable form of transit, or ferries to the mainland, or heck, even cars.

Jeez.

At what point have we associated air travel as the only form of travel? Yes, it’s quick. And if you have to cross the ocean, there is no argument. But to travel within your own country? Or across Europe? I thought they loved their trains over there. Sure, it might take a couple of days, but if you’re grounded anyway…

No, I would rather stay were ever I am and complain about the situation.

I’m just waiting for the first airline to try and sue Iceland for money lost.

Here is an interesting observation: the older your picture is, the younger you appear.

Still waiting on the Writers of the Future thing. When I know, you’ll know.

Mike

‘ello, Malcolm! RIP

2010-04-09T07:39:00.001-04:00

Malcolm McLaren, the one time manager of the Sex Pistols has died of cancer at age 64.

I hit the tail end of the punk era. My musical time was the new wave eighties, but I’ve always been fascinated by the Sex Pistols and the musical genre as a whole. Then again, I’ve always been fascinated by WWII and the mafia, so take from that what you will.

But the Sex Pistols have always held a particular interest. I had there record and the sound track to the “Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle” and was in the minority in thinking the music was actually pretty good. Even today when I hear “Anarchy in the UK,” my bunk develops a hunch and I view the world through glassy, cynical eyes.

Much has been said of how Malcolm created the Sex Pistols and their short turbulent history of the band. His influence on Punk Rock is arguable. Some day he was the Father of the genre, while others claim he merely profited from it.

I suppose to profit, you must market, and in his way, along with fashion designer and former lover Vivien Westwood and former lover, he did just that. Whatever your opinion of McLaren, he was a player in a brand new genre of music. A testament to his standing can be seen in the length of this article from the BBC Online.

In the words of Johnny Rotten, “Above all else [Malcolm] was an entertainer and I will miss him, and so should you.”

From the Mouth of Babes

2010-04-06T11:42:00.002-04:00

So, I'm working on revamping my website and was perusing some pics from last
summer's family trip to Niagara Falls. We hit a few museums and took this
picture of me and the Boys.

http://mikerimar.blogspot.com/2009/08/what-i-did-this-summer.html

My youngest (4 yrs-old) looks at it and asks, "Is that you with your writer's group?"

I'm still laughing.

Happy Easter everyone,
Mike

A Bowl Full of Cherry

2010-03-30T07:45:00.001-04:00

Watched the rest of the Don Cherry story. Again, interesting take on one man's perspective of his life, although according to the credits, the story was written by his son, Tim.

Overall feelings: no wonder the guy hates Montreal. I would, too, given the situation.

Some interesting facts, like his son's kidney failure crisis and of course the hockey history is always fascinating. Personally, I think they could have added a third part to the miniseries. Don's hockey career might have ended with the Bruins, but his broadcast career is just as controversial and I for one would like to see the behind the scenes stuff.

But then that would mean the CBC digging for bones in their own backyard, and that's not going to happen.

Ah, well.

Mike

Grapes of Wrath

2010-03-29T08:21:00.001-04:00

Despite my better judgment, I decided to watch Keep Your Head Up, Kid: The Don Cherry Story, on the CBC. I'm not a diehard hockey fan, but when I do watch I try catch Coaches Corner just to listen to the interplay between Cherry and his co-host, Ron Maclean. His rants and stalwart defense of hockey have made him a Canadian icon, (but not in Quebec) and made the top ten list of Greatest Canadians by popular vote.

Besides, there was nothing else on at the time.

Bottom line, I enjoyed the show. Sure, it wasn't perfect. I don't know how much of the personal 'history' is true. Was his wife Rose that understanding of his hockey life, or was this how he remembered her? Well, as they say, times were different then. Also, I would like to think Don Cherry wasn't as wooden a character as the show's star portrays him.

But the tale itself is entertaining enough to hold the attention of anyone, of any age. It gives the average person an insight into the life of professional hockey you don't normally see, the minor league farm teams and how they're run. I took a curious pride in knowing that Rose Cherry's favorite town was my hometown of Kitchener. Don's struggles as a player, as he rubbed shoulders with some of the games legends, as well as his own headstrong foolishness was treated with lighthearted humor. One can almost understand his dislike for Montreal.

The show is divided into two parts, with the part I'm most interested in, where he coaches the Bruins, airing tonight.

My personal brush with Don Cherry. When I was twelve I had a friend whose brother-in-law played for Boston. We were sitting in my friend's kitchen when the phone rings and my friend answers. “Hello? Oh, hi Don. No, he's not here. Okay, I'll tell him.” Hangs up the phone and looks at me and shrugs. “That was Don Cherry looking for my brother-in-law.”

I look at him in wonder and say. “Who is Don Cherry?”

Told you I wasn't a fan.

Mike

Aaaand I'm in!

2010-03-25T14:37:00.002-04:00

I've known this for a week, but it's now official, I'm a finalist in the first quarter of the Writers of the Future Contest. What does this mean? Me and eight other finalists from around the world, (mostly California and Australia from the looks of it), have a chance to win 1st, 2nd, or 3rd and all the good things that go with it.

And if I don't win? The story still might get picked as a Published Finalist, meaning the anthology needs some extra stories to fill out. This is how I won in Writers of the Future XXI. This is by no means guaranteed. The finalist pool is huge, and sometimes the anthology just doesn't have the room. Besides, call me greedy, but I'd rather win.

Wish me luck.

Mike

Aaaaand--I'm out.

2010-03-25T11:58:00.002-04:00

No big surprise, but I didn't make the Aurora ballot this year. Again. Sniff.
BUT!
Brad Carson, fellow member of the Stopwatch Gang critique group did. Vote for his story, Here There Be Monsters, as can be read in the anthology, Ages of Wonder, also nominated for an Aurora.

Mike