My life doesn't need a movie... But it needed something.

As many, if not most, of you know I was in the Military (that was a fun time). Most of you also know that I spent a little time in Afghanistan (also a fun time). Well, it’s hard to believe but, that tour was ten years ago now.  Ten years.  TEN YEARS.  

Sorry, I tripped out for a second there. Where was I?  Oh yes, ten years ago I stepped foot in Afghanistan and forever changed my life. Not in the way that I would feel the need to write a memoir about my tour, or that my tour deserved a movie, but in some different way I can't explain. A way that gave me a sort of appreciation for daily life I guess.

After I had been back in Canada for about five years, I left the military. That’s when I started to go through some sort of weird separation anxiety. I wanted so bad just to be in uniform and head back to the sand box where everything made sense. 

Knowing that I couldn’t do that for whatever reason; age, my knees, my wife (take your pick), I started writing down a list of my experiences. Not a memoir, a list. It's totally different. After a two-thousand-word list (chapter), I was out of material. But damn did it feel good to get that out of me. I set that Word document aside and continued on with my life for another year. 

The following year, I was cleaning up my MacBook and happened across the Word document again. So, I popped it open and gave it a quick read through. I thought to myself... damn… this is NOT that interesting. This was by no means a movie worthy story. And on top of it, I only had one measly chapter (list). I'm also not worth any of Hollywood's time. 

As I was about to delete the document, I had a flickering light bulb of an idea. What if this was a work of fiction? Seriously. Why not? A movie or story about my life is not that interesting, but maybe one about someone else and their life is. So, I started hammering on the keyboard. Started changing some names, details and locations. Before I knew it, the two-thousand-word "memoir" was now a three-thousand-word, two-chapter short story. The bonus was that I felt just as good as I had a year prior when I wrote the first time.

From there, I set a schedule. Once a week, I’d hammer out at least five-hundred words and if I couldn’t, I’d at least make some notes on the direction I wanted the story to go. Needless to say, I did NOT stick to that schedule. This is A Procrastinators Blog after all, we don’t do things on a schedule. 

I would occasionally open up my short story over the next couple of years and add things here and there. By the summer of 2017, I had four chapters and a clear direction of where the story was headed. Then, and this is where it gets a little interesting, I did something unexpected. I printed a copy of the chapters and showed it to my wife (I wasn't even drunk!). And then I gave a copy to my sister (I was a little drunk). This was one of the most stressful moments of my life.  I had taken something that had taken me a few years to create and asked someone what they thought of it. As someone who sucks at drawing, can't build things and has always said he wasn't creative. This. Was. Stressful.

But, boy am I glad I did that. The adrenaline rush I got from that was like a shot of Red Bull to the heart. In the next four months I took their feedback and my little four-chapter short story and turned it into a little eighteen-chapter novel. Yep. I had written a book.

Now, this wouldn’t be a true procrastinators story without a little more procrastination. I set that first draft aside for another six months before I opened it back up to edit and review it. Telling myself “You gotta review that book before summer.”  Naturally, I didn't do that at all. I actually didn't touch the damned thing until June of this year. From there though, I spent the better part of the summer editing, changing, adding and erasing content from this book until I had something I felt was worth more than just my family reading. 

It’s amazing how the story has changed so much over the years. But I couldn’t be happier with the final product. I’m incredibly excited that after four years my first book, an ebook, is titled ‘Insurgent Fire’, and is releasing on October 1st, 2018. And it’s available now for pre-sale on Kobo ereaders and Amazon Kindle. As well as the Kobo app for iOS or Android!

It’s been an amazing journey from stress release and self-care to the creative process of thinking up all the details of a full-fledged story. I couldn't have done it without your support either. That's right, you, reading this blog, have helped me build up the courage I needed to release a book.  So thank you.

I hope you enjoyed this and if you're interested in checking out my ebook 'Insurgent Fire', you can find it at the following Kobo or Amazon links:

https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/insurgent-fire

https://www.amazon.ca/INSURGENT-FIRE-D-S-Cannon-ebook/dp/B07GSJ62P9/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1535115538&sr=8-1&keywords=insurgent+fire

That's enough for now, and remember:

"Procrastination means you have nothing to do today, and something to do tomorrow." - Unknown

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Having A Dog Is Basically Like Having A Kid

It's not.  I know that.

I personally don't have children.  But my friends do and they've told me the stories.  I've heard about the two a.m. feedings and the constant crying.  The smells.  The liquids... Excuse me while I gag.

That's nothing like having a dog, right?.  Especially when that dog is a chihuahua that weighs less than three pounds.  So why did I draw a correlation between pet ownership and having children?  Good question.  It started one night, a few weeks ago, when we were abruptly woken up by the sound of dry-heaving at Zero Dark Thirty. By the time we were awake enough to realize what was wrong, our aforementioned three pound chihuahua had thrown-up on our duvet.  Not a big deal, she's little, and her stomachs little, so her barf should be little.  I fumble for my phone (yes, despite my last post about airplane mode, I still keep my phone next to my bed), and flip on the flashlight.

Photo by Mike Wing, Wing Studios

I saw what I can only describe as a mountain of partly digested dog food in the centre of our black and purple space-themed duvet cover.  Seriously, I think there were tiny adventurers already reaching the summit!  I gave her a quick pat on the back to comfort her, but also to make sure she's not hurt anywhere.

I made my way out to the kitchen to grab the paper towel when I hear her dry-heaving again.  Seriously?  Like, how much do you even have in there?  I made my way back to the bedroom, paper towel and disinfectant wipes in hand just as another "large" glob of foamy bile and undigested dog kibble land on our duvet cover, adding a second peak to Mount Barf.  So there I am at two a.m., cleaning up vomit and thinking of my poor friends with kids who could be doing the exact thing at that exact moment.

Now, if you've made it this far in reading this post I bet you're either one of two things; disgusted about the barf chat, or starting wonder why we weren't rushing her to the after hours vet clinic.  Well, four years ago, we would have been out the door before I even attempted to clean our bed.  Much like our kid-having friends when they were new parents we would have wanted to get our little one to a doctor as fast as possible. 

The best part about sharing your space with something you need to care for such as a animal or a tiny human is that you get to learn and grow.  Over the course of the last five years of sharing our lives with this tiny creature we have come to learn all of her little quirks that make up her little personality.  The night she got sick, as I was cleaning up her mess, I thought back to what she had eaten that day:

• the same grain free dog food she's eaten since we got her (no issue there)
• her little bite treats (nope, not it)
• a piece of dehydrated beef liver (maybe, but doubtful)
• a chunk of hot dog bun (ding! we have a winner)

We've come to realize that this little Chihuahua has such a sensitive stomach that any tiny deviation in her diet results in an upset.  And this was quite an upset.  For those of you who are still concerned we didn't see a vet, don't worry, I kept a close eye on her over the weekend and within a day, she was back to being the yippy little cuddle factory that she is.

So, to all the parent's out there:  I may not fully know the horrors and joys you face with your kids, but I feel your pain in the middle of the night when you're trying to help a little creature who doesn't know what's happening.

Time to bounce,

D.S. Cannon