waiting

Now waiting for responses to: renovations I've made to World in a Bubble ( Man who swallowed the world ) which I sent off to Sharon Dodge, editor in chief of Reflection's Edge. Hoping my email hasn't gone goo-goo on me by not delivering mails where they ought to go. I am hoping she likes the renovations, as I would really, really love to see World in a Bubble on RE. She did say she wanted it on RE, it just needed some changes.

I've resubmitted Children of the Stars...and am hoping it too will find its place in this electronic galaxy.


**

Just got back from a consult with a surgeon who will be taking out a thing they call the "gall". I still have to look up what that is in english. But it's this little thing inside my body that gives me extreme attacks of pain. The first time, I thought I was having a heart attack. That certainly changes the way you look at life when you think you're on the brink of going.

I took
Pinoy Poetics with me on my visit to the Surgeon. He saw the book and was quite curious about it, which now gives me an idea how to approach writing about this fantastic piece of work. Ah, a pity this isn't available over here. Otherwise, I'd have gone off to the nearest bookstore and bought him a copy. Yes, my favorite hobby...spreading the word regarding my favorite authors ;) and promoting Philippine Poetics.

**

Just received in my mailbox, finally arrived from the deep recesses of an amazonian book jungle...Bino Realuyo's, Umbrella Country. I would buy every book on the Filipiniana list, except I have this budget I have to stick to and one book a month is just about as reasonable as I can manage at the moment.

Just wait until I sell my million dollar novel ;) He, he... That's quite a challenge for someone who did manage to get through nanowrimo by the skin of the teeth. Going beyond 4,000 words is always a challenge for me.

**

Waiting is always the hardest part. I really should go and write on the non-internet connected computer now.

Vergeet mij niet
als je
groot

bent.
Vergeet niet
deze mooie moment.

Vergeet niet hoeveel
ik je
liefhebt.

Ik heb je
lief. Ik
heb

je lief. Ik
heb je
lief.

Popcorn

Here's the link to Popcorn where Joel Jan's poem is published among other winners. Here's the text from the announcement:

28 januari 2006

Bijna tachtig dichters stuurden hun gedicht op naar de Popcorn-redactie. Heel veel gedichten gaan over het weer, eenzaamheid, liefde of over oorlog. De jongste dichter is 6 jaar. Zijn moeder zette zijn gedicht over een trein op papier. De gedichten van de winnaars lees je op deze pagina. Kijk maar goed of jouw gedicht er tussen staat.

( translation: Almost eighty poets sent their poems to the Popcorn editorial team. Lots of poems were about the weather, loneliness, love or about war. The youngest poet is six years old. His mother wrote down his poem about a train. The winning poems can be read on this page. See if your poem is published among the winning entries.) And if you scroll down, you'll see his poem... Joel Jan Loenen (6), Bodegraven. Sweet ... As if getting the book wasn't enough...he gets published too :) National and with a special mention at that.

curious...curious...contest

Well, curious, curious indeed. I got an invitation in my mailbox to join the First Philippine Graphic contest sponsored by Neil Gaiman. According to fullybookedonline.com, Neil Gaiman (creator of the Sandman ) has taken note of how Filipinos write mostly realism and how with this contest he would like to encourage Filipinos to write about unrealism. Hence, the contest is asking for genre fiction. Not literary...it has to be genre. Wow! Is this for real? Checking out the list I discovered that about eleven people have signed up so far. It seems pretty quiet.

I decided to check out the site where the contest rules are on display and I bumped into rule number 6 which made some warning bells go...rrrrriiing. Here, it states that while the authors retain all rights to their work, Fully Booked retains or maintains the right to publish submissions without permission/compensation or advance warning. Yikes! There goes my big warning siren, folks. This is like waving a red flag at a bull, because while I have no argument with them maintaining rights to winning entries...it's up to the contestant if he/she wants to sign away all rights to a particular story...gaining rights to all submissions would make joining this contest a big, big, big question.

Professional publications: scifi/fantasy/speculative genres will mostly only ask for first North American/electronic/worldwide rights. Some will ask for anthology rights, but to say they have the right to publish anything submitted at will, that seems like a no-no to me. I think Mr. Gaiman would be perfectly aware of this too. So, I've sent in a question regarding rule number six, asking for clarification. Sometimes, it could just be miscommunication, you know. I still object to the wording on rule number six.

So, I got a rewrite request in regards to a story I subbed on the 16th of January. Children of the Falling Stars, is one of the first stories I've submitted this year, one I really, really love, and the comments I got on this story got me so inspired, I'm in the midst of rewriting as I'm blogging about it.

The editor writes:

"We hope that you can make the revisions while still keeping that beautiful, winsome quality that we so adore and that sets this story apart from much of what we receive."

Oh, if that isn't enough to make your heart sing. I am definitely going to rewrite and re-submit.

*picture me here with a big smile on my face*

And if that isn't enough smileys for today...

Joel Jan got a surprise package in the mail today. A couple of weeks ago, I subbed a little poem he dictated to me, to Nederlandse Dagblad. They have a section for kids called Popcorn, and they had sent out a call for poetry submissions by kids up to 13 years old. So, I sent in Joel's train poem and he got a thank you package from the paper with a card telling him that his poem had won him a children's book. According to my mom-in-law, this is like the latest children's book...wow!

It was like party time for Joel Jan, since he'd been complaining about Mama getting all these packages and none for him. So, now he got something as a result of his writing and he's made me promise to write down the stories and poems he dictates to me. It's probably just a matter of time before he starts asking me to send out submissions for him too. Ooops...more work for me...

In turn, I made him promise he'd learn to write for himself as soon as possible.

He was so pleased about winning a book, he threw his arms around me and cried:

"Mama, we are both writers."

That was a very cool moment.

Judging the effectives
of one
work.

Words open closed
doors, freeing
us

from years of
self imposed
solitude.

playing

Behind black box
Is that
You?

Real me exists
Behind white
Noise.

Brown beauty, black
Box, white
Noise.

*this because I just had a hair cut ;)

and then there's this...


Insights from man who swallowed the world hay(na)ku


Let it change
The way
You

Drink your coffee
Read your
Paper

Check your pencil.
Absurd realities
Exist.

You just have
To look
Inside.

more hay(na)ku

*pondering why I can't seem to find the right place for man who swallowed the world*
this hay(na)ku...

Dissect.
The tale
Divided into three

Segments
That attract
Repel the other

This - a tale
Of skin
Bones

Exonerated.

writer's haynaku

This is how
I number
Days.

One of five-
Page numbers
Defined

One
Of two,
Two of five,

Three of four,
Five of
Nine.

Words
One thousand.
Approximate. Not total.

Standard manuscript format
Almost memorized.
Robotic

Script.
The cycle
Starts over again.

Hay(na)ku - man who swallowed the world

He
swallowed mist
rain, sunshine, earth,

downed
one shot
light, dark, heaven,

changed eternal sky,
pale blue
to

red
fire, ambushed
the other's surprise,

twisted
physical values.
Science doesn't lie.

***

Transposing Man who swallowed the world into Hay(na)ku. That's one story I still have to place.

The Word

I can't help thinking about the word and how "the word" spoken or written empowers the speaker or the writer. I found myself talking about this and about the "glass wall" that exists in this society. It's a wall people like me come up against everytime we try to make connections.

It is sad to note that this disconnectedness exists even within the church which is the body of christ and which in my own mind means "family". However, I find myself wondering if the church body as I see it here, is indeed my family. I still don't know how far I dare to go in answering that question. At the moment, I still feel excluded, a stranger wandering around on the periphery, seeking for an entry into what I believe should be sanctuary for strangers like me.

It's a puzzle I keep picking away at. This culture, this society, and how tradition and belief seem so intertwined that it's difficult even for the most visionary people in a church to break through the "glass wall" of tradition and what has always been. I keep thinking that something has to give...something has to change in the way we look at each other.

And I go back to "words" and how they empower us and give us the possibility to break down the wall of glass. Words, in my experience have the power to shut people outside the circle of acceptance and brotherhood. Likewise, I believe that words can be used to open the circle to include, to accept and to embrace the rejected.

In my mind, I couple myself to that group of the population carrying the label "allochtoon" because what affects this group, affects me. Some try to differentiate and say the word is used to refer to Morrocans, to Turkish, Antillians and other races. In turn, I say, but this word is also used in reference to me. I may bear a Dutch passport but to those who see my brown skin and who hear my accent, my stumbling about for words when I speak, they think "allochtoon".

As my son came home one day and said to me..."mam, you are a vreemdeling (stranger)".

And yes, I am a stranger, a foreigner, an outsider in this society. Nevertheless, that does not mean I am of less value.

The Netherlands used to be known as a tolerant country, but I can tell you this, it is not what it appears to be. Beneath the surface there is so much resentment and intolerance. A great deal of animosity is directed towards the allochtonen. In a way, it's like sitting on a powder keg. Everyone is short tempered these days. If you look at a person in a way he doesn't like, you could just as easily find yourself the victim of aggression.

Something I fear : When the powder keg explodes what form will it take?

streetlife blog

Found this interesting blog while I was searching for a former student who lives in Bicol. http://streetlife.blogspirit.com. Reading the entries from December 22, 2005 and June 23, 2005. Quite true. Lots of food for thought there. September 14, 2005 is quite relevant too. There's lots to think about in that blog...so I've put in a link to facilitate finding Streetlife.

Eileen Tabios reviews The Passion of Phineas Gage & Selected Poems by Jesse Glass

Eileen Tabios reviews The Passions of Phineas Gage and Selected Poems, by Jesse Glass

As I read this review, I realize how much my perception of poetry has changed since I picked up the pen again. A great deal of these changes have to do with reading reviews done by other poets.

For someone like myself who has trouble sticking labels onto written work, reading reviews has helped me a lot to understand the art form, poetry. I appreciate how this has helped me to move beyond fear of poetry and return to loving it.

Poetry as art
layers on
layers

word
built on
words, shaping movement,

life
into form,
breathing colour, opening

heart,
sensory perceptions
eye, ear, touch

smell,
taste, drowning
the beloved tongue.

Bada, bada...I'm still stumbling around in the dark with this. But don't you just love that form ;)

Experimenting...

So, I've created this other blog where I'll post pieces from something I call, Letters to the Other. I don't know what to call this first post. Is it a poem, is it an essay, a short story?

I am made more conscious of my flaws, not having that literary background.

It doesn't really matter...I suppose this is just my way of verbalizing my experience. Going back to the point where I lost and found myself, I see how much it all is connected to the written word, to language and my love for it, and how this all in turn are rooted in community and that sense of connectedness that was one of the first things I lost when I came to this country.

http://travellingraindancer.blogspot.com

I have discovered that one of my friends, an Indonesian lady, also loves to write. Amazing what opens up when you open up yourself to others. This lady migrated to the Netherlands a year after I came over, and her father-in-law ( a wonderful guy ) approached me on her behalf asking if I would befriend her as she didn’t speak any Dutch, but she did speak English. So, I said “yes”, and in between, we’ve developed some sort of friendship, although not as deep as the friendships I do have with kababayans. There it is again, that rift caused by differences in culture...*sigh*. Someday, I would love to tear down the glass wall, break it down so that we would all see that underneath the skin we are all the same, but that’s not as easy as it sounds. Trying to pull out live emotion and trying to unveil the true you is much harder than trying to pull out an aching tooth. ( I know, I tried this when I was a kid. Remember how our grandmothers used to advice tying a loose tooth to a thread, attaching the other end to the doorknob, and then slamming the door shut? It doesn’t really work as easy as it sounds. I ended up having to go to the dentist.)

But it was a nice surprise to discover her secret love...which came out into the open because I revealed my own obsession with the written word. Sometimes, I wonder why it is that we seem to feel as if we’re doing something covert or forbidden when we write. But because I dared to speak up about my passion, she dared to reveal to me her dream of someday writing a children’s book. It’s like being handed a gift...I wonder whether this will give her the freedom to peel of the layers of skin protecting the sensitive inner her.

2006 seems so ripe with promise. Like there is this big thing waiting to happen...I’m quite full of expectancy, because I think the face of this year will be key in changing the landscape of my life.

**

Immersing myself in poetry, I discovered that in The Netherlands, poetry falls under the category “Beeldend Kunst” which literally means, Imaged Art. It is “literaire” ( literary ) but also “beeldend” (imaged). I found this interesting, while I was conscious of the importance of imagery in poetry, this labelling made certain things clearer to me.

**

On the way home from Gouda, I had a discussion with my husband regarding poetry, literature, and how the word – written or unwritten – strengthens/facilitates the passing on of tradition and heritage.

I was more strongly convinced of the need to cultivate a literary community here. Dredging up past conversations with other Filipinas, I realize that there is indeed a hunger to share, as well as to verbalize on paper our experience.

I find myself wondering how many are out there, just waiting for this. I wonder if we are even conscious of how empowering the written word can be.

**

writing

Writing another science fiction story. This is just about as addictive as writing hay(na)ku, except it takes a lot longer to finish. I've passed 3,000 words and I'm not yet done. So, here I am taking a break and trying to write some science fiction hay(na)ku, only not succeeding very well, I'm afraid.

But Mark Young over at Pelican Dreaming has written this superb speculative hay(na)ku about Goerge Washington. Oh, oh, that is really beautiful. I wish I could write half like that, I bet if I could, I'd be able to break down Ideomancer's door. I am getting quite obsessed with Ideomancer and wanting to break down the door and gain an entry pass. Now to write the right story or to write the right poem, which is not half as easy for me as it is for some. *sigh*

And here's to hoping I don't jinx my own chances by dreaming out loud on my blog.

Oh, oh. It's time to serenade the muse...please send me something superfantastic. Thank you very much.

working

Shedding off that mañana habit. Worked the column for Munting Nayon so I can sub it before the deadline.

Being strict with myself today.

I read this piece of news last week, and could not verbalize properly how much it impacted me. Actually, I was supposed to be writing something else, but couldn't get this off my mind so I just had to get it onto the page.

I found myself thinking about giving and how when "big people" give the act gets limelighted. I'm thinking again about that passage in the bible that talks about giving with your right and not letting the left hand know about it, and the implications of this verse in current events.

Giving is an act of the heart. It proceeds from an attitude of thankfulness and realizing how blessed you have been.

Which is why, when I'm griping about the economy and how much inflation has gone up, I always have to stop myself and think...hey...there are people in the world who can't even eat three square meals a day. Instead of complaining, I should just be thankful.

in the news...

There’s this story in the new testament
it tells about these two people
who came to the temple
to give their offerings to God.

And so, there was this man
who was wealthy and mighty
he probably had a herd of camels
a whole lot of gold
pretty much like your modern day
real estate agent,
big business guy
or your big time talk show host
who earns tons of money
giving away a few million
won’t even hurt their pockets
because
there’s tax rebates
increased popularity ratings
and it’s basically good for the image.

So anyway this big shot fellow
walks into the temple
and delivers his gold
with aplomb
to the sound of applause

“Thank you very much, my audience
Thank you, my fans
Thank you, my weeping public.”

“Observe,
how generous
and kindhearted I am.”

Behind this fellow
comes this raggedy lady
she’s probably old and bent
worn out from
washing someone’s clothes
and scrubbing someone’s floor.
Maybe
she has to scrounge
for leftovers
just so
she can bring
one measly
unshiny cent
to the temple.

She creeps in
behind the crowd
creeps up
because she’s a bit shy
but really
all she wants to do
is give
all she has to give...

No bright lights turn on
No cheers
No applause

No one notices
she’s there
and gone
before
the rich man turns
and waddles out
on his fat behind.

But this woman’s the one
Who captures our minds
Who touches our hearts
Who reaches out
And grabs us by the collar
And says

things
we wouldn’t dare
to say
face to face
to each other
in this modern age...



This story
repeats itself

Somewhere in Turkey
a poor boy
sends a letter
with less than a dollar
(What’s a million Turkish lira these days?)

He sends his money
a few cents
scrounged together
minus the cost of a stamp on an envelope-
no name signed
just words and the money to Pakistan

He says:

I found bread
in the garbage today

I want you to have this
because
I want to give
I want to give
Even if
This is all
I have to give

Not to be sniffed at
This modern day hero

They’ve offered scholarships
and rewards
boxes and boxes
of plenty

He’s not yet found

Stop and think.

Maybe

it wasn’t the applause he wanted
not the bright lights
not the tears
mock sympathy
and adulation
no tax deductions

He just wanted to give...

And that,
Reaches out
And touches me
And grabs me by the collar
And says

What the hell are you doing
With the bounty
God gave you today...

Bino Realuyo posted something awesome on his blog .

I found this post especially moving since this mirrors something that I've been thinking about since I started writing for The Sword Review and since meeting poets like Eileen Tabios, Barbara Jane Reyes, Luisa Igloria , and Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor , on the Flips list.

Yesterday, I spoke with my aunt. My aunt, Evelyn Miranda-Feliciano, is one of OMFLit's bestselling authors, and probably one of the prime reasons why I keep picking up the pen even when I wonder why I do it. I wouldn't dare go back home and face her saying I've given up on writing and have decided not to write another word again.

But, that's for another topic.

So, my aunt and I were talking about the consciousness of being Filipino that is bringing a wave of second and third generation American born Filipinos to the Philippines to discover their roots.

I remember saying to my aunt, that my decision to write for Munting Nayon stems from my desire to keep alive that sense of us being Filipinos even if we have immigrated to the Netherlands.

I feel you can't erase roots, ties of blood and heritage just because you have a permanent residence visa or a Dutch passport. One of my biggest concerns is that a lot of us seem so unaware of what wealth we do carry within us...and I believe that acknowledging this wealth of heritage, becoming aware of what we as a people have achieved and continue to achieve will increase our self-image.

(one of the first things you lose during the first years of living in a country whose language you don't know and where the native population is white and thinks people coming from third-world countries are uneducated and poor is that sense of knowing what you are worth - but again, that's another topic).

So, my aunt and I were discussing about how it was almost impossible to separate awareness of heritage and history from the written word. Which brings me to share a line I wrote in my introductory column for Munting Nayon. Here, I write:

Our history is replete with men and women who took up the pen to record their thoughts and so passed on to us a wealth of heritage that we would have missed if these men and women had not taken time to give birth to words.

Basically, what I want to do is bring to the attention of the reader authors, poets and books whom we have missed during our absence from the Philippines and whose works we might have not noticed during our years of study in the Philippines. I think it would be really awesome if through this means, our awareness of what others go through and what they achieve on the other side of the channel would become an encouragement and a challenge to us to follow suit. I'm not really sure how this would manifest itself, but I am curious as to the results of writing about authors and their books.

In the meantime, I received an email from Pip Farquharson, who is festival director of the Amsterdam Literary Festival. In her mail she wrote about activities that had already been planned around this festival. Last year, I attended the ALF, mainly because I saw Barbara Jane Reyes's name on Versal 3 and I was really curious as to what ALF is all about.

In the activities I attended, I was probably the only Filipina about...which made me wonder whether there were other literary minded/curious Filipinas in the Netherlands.

So, I was reading Pip's mail and I found myself wondering why there is no Filipino presence in this festival. Most of the booked authors are British ( understandable because the UK is just across the channel and the cost of flying authors over is taken into consideration). Anyway, I sent an email querying how they schedule authors and all that, and an email came back saying that they do pay for fares and accomodations, but are a bit low on funding as the Amsterdam Fonds For the Kunst turned down their application for funding.

Hmmm...food for thought...and I haven't sent Pip a follow-up mail yet, as I have no idea what to ask/say. But I'm still thinking about that.

One response I did get in relation to the introductory column was a call from a good friend who suggested putting up a literary group for Filipinos and for Dutch born Filipinos. And now, that is something moving along the lines of thought that I've had since I picked up the pen again after I almost killed my spirit writing self.

***

I am now going back to reading Mark Young's Betabet. My printer is getting fully exercised after months of being out of use...he, he.

***

writing...

winter
rain chills
bone and spirit

years
of pain
become a habit

this too can
kill what
is

--

something too painful
to write -
stories

that exorcise ghosts
living in
cupboards

under the skin.

--

Interview with D.A.Adams, author of Brotherhood of Dwarves

Ooops. Haven't been keeping up with my own columns. My interview with D.A. Adams was published a couple of days ago on The Sword Review.

That was an interesting interview, especially since he did something I thought was really courageous. He put up his own publishing company, published his book and has been busy campaigning and doing a hell of a promotional job. Well, the book has gone to second printing, so there must be lots of people buying it.

Whenever the word self-publishing comes up, everyone perks up...hup...quite an interesting subject that. Now, would I do it? Would you?

Go read the column, before making up your mind.

poetry, like wine,
matures with
age.

---000---

Something I've been thinking lately. Back when I was still in PH, I used to not be able to appreciate some poetry. I'd read and think...heh? What's he/she talking about. These days, I look at poetry and I think...oh...my...so that's what he/she means. In some ways, it's like finding the key to a door that's previously been locked.

Poetry simply rocks.

One poet I've taken to visiting is Mark Young , whose posts make me want to ask, how do you that? Man, I wish I could write poetry like that. *sigh*

Okay, my Dad says this inquisitive mind thought runs in the family. This wanting to know. So maybe that's why he became a doctor? Could that explain my sister's endless quest for knowledge? And my own obsession with wanting to dissect the brains of writers who move me? Erm...that dissection was in a figurative sense, not literal.

Ah well...I still dream of visiting the stars...so there . He, he.

---000---

On another note. I've been told that my attempts at writing science fiction defy the norm. Why this comment should make me very pleased, is something beyond understanding. Actually, the reviewer who made this comment said something like, he couldn't understand if it was scifi or urban fantasy or magic realism or fantasy or myth. It was certainly unlike anything in genre he´d ever read before. He felt like he should know where this I-Walk is, but couldn't find it no matter how much he googled. Which is what another reviewer did. They googled for the I-Walk. Where is that darned I-Walk, they're asking me. I-Walk is of course a fictional name, although the place does exist. Now, I'm hoping that kind of response is what will grab some editor somewhere and make them publish I-Walk...well, as soon as it's ready of course. It's pretty rough, right now.

Over at the shop, still waiting for more reviews. Not that I've been sitting on it. I haven't stopped poking at the thing since it was born.

Anyway, keeping a record now of what's out and what I'm waiting on.

As of today:

Four stories out
One poem out

Yes!

Achieved my quota of five subs for this month.

---000---

Balikbayan

I am called"Balikbayan" because the girl in me is a country of rope hammocks and waling-waling orchids -- a land with irresistible gravity because, in it, I forget the world's magnificent indifference- from the poem, "Corolla", Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole by Eileen Tabios

Poetry, I find, is like a magnet that pulls and pulls the reader back again and again to read and reread, to savour the taste of words the poet has used, to puzzle over what is said and left unsaid. Rereading Eileen's poetry, these lines from Corolla resonated in me, so that I found myself writing this response.


Balikbayan


We will know you as our own
even if you speak
with an accent
that says
you have not visited
our shores for a long time.

We will know you by the way you smile
by the color of your eyes
by the kinship of spirit
that transcends
the outward shell.

And even though you exude
the perfume of shores we will never see
still we will know you
and we will embrace you

we are bound by
blood
calling to blood

by this collective memory
we have
of our forefathers
struggling side by side
offering themselves
so that we might live

this dream they dreamed
for us...


-----------****----------

**oh, I get so homesick sometimes

Hey! Yay!

Okay, I was saving this surprise. That Mark Young liked my hay(na)ku poem was already a big honor. But it has also been named as one of the winners for the Hay(na)ku Holiday contest. ( Should've blogged about this earlier, but Joel Jan is on vacation and it's pretty difficult to write and pay attention to a six year old who insists that he is more important than Mama being on the Internet...he is right, of course.)

The winning poems are posted on The Hay(na)ku Blog. Click on the link and read those poems. What a nifty form. Someday, when I'm brave enough, I'll do some more experimenting with it beyond what I've tried to date.

***

So what did I do today, aside from checking my mail and updating this blog? We spent almost all of today in Amsterdam. Me and my son.

This because of his desire to ride in a double-decker train (the intercity). That train doesn't ride through Bodegraven, so we took the train to Leiden and from Leiden we caught a double-decker intercity to Amsterdam.

I wanted to take a boat trip to the I, but Joel who is totally into anything that is a train or related to a train insisted on us taking the tram. We boarded the tram and rode it all the way to Amstelveen Binnenhof ( a thirty minute ride ). When we got to Amstelveen, he wanted to go back right away. But Amstelveen Binnenhof has been judged as the most beautifully decorated shopping center in The Netherlands. No way I was leaving without seeing those lovely christmas lights and automated porcelain angels. After all, viewing is only until the 6th of January when somehow everything vanishes as if someone had waved a magic wand.

I suppose that means going back to Amsterdam again so that we can visit the I.
I had also planned on visiting The English Bookshop (in the interest of inquiring whether they are interested in stocking up on books by Filipino authors), but I'd left my danged address book at home. I was calling myself all kinds of dumb...drat! I'd taken care to look up specific directions and all that and I leave the book lying on the table next to the computer. Oh for the time when scifi comes to life and it is possible to summon up imprints from a book left lying on the table...

For some strange reason, I couldn't find the Biggest American Bookstore either. I was really disappointed as I'd been looking forward to picking up some books in the interest of research. Drat and double drat again.

Of course, it gives me another excuse to visit the city next time ;) I just have to check and double check locations and this time not forget to bring the instructions with me.

***

Anyway, one of my first moves for this year, was to re-write and send out The Man who Swallowed the World. I am keeping my fingers crossed. This year, I hope to send out more subs than I did last year. I think I only subbed five times last year. This year, I'll try to have around five stories out a month ( and try not to be disheartened when rejections come.) Sent out my second story today...just waiting for a verdict. Waiting is probably the hardest part.

Whatever happens, my thanks to Bec who took the time to look over my stories and point out where they needed strengthening.

***

Motto for this year: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. rephrased...
Send consistently to the same market until you break that market. I do have a couple of markets on my wishlist this year. I'd also like to submit something to The Sword Review. Hoping it will make it through the gauntlet, just as Benigno did. But Benigno took seven years to reach maturity! What does this mean?

***

In any case, 2006 promises to be a really busy year. I suppose that's only logical. I haven't done anything for the past six years and half. I have a lot of writing to make up for.

Tom Beckett Interviews Jean Vengua

What a fabulous interview.

Visit this link:

http://willtoexchange.blogspot.com

Jean Vengua is one of the poets and editors of the first Hay(na)ku Anthology. Enjoy!

-Inspired by Eileen TAbios's essay on Jose Garcia Villa-

Poetry
at its
best must sing.

Sing
like a
bird compelled beyond

natural might. Sing
with strength
withheld.

Sing
so that
it awakens passion.

To say the
least. Poetry
moves. Transforming scribes

into dreamers who
cry out,
"Hay(na)ku!"

Hay(na)ku
it haunts
even my dreaming.

**

Okay, I am badly in need of a poetry teacher, but hey One can play...and it is true. Hay(na)ku does haunt even my dreaming.

Dabbling more and more in hay(na)ku and trying to find that perfect combination that hits me in the gut and makes me go...I think I have it.

I suppose I had to write that down as I found myself reflecting on what it is about poetry that moves me.

I have to think about my mom and the constant commentaries that accompanied every musical performance we went to together. "My that's true music, dear." When my mom says this, she means the pianist has transcended beyond the notes and phrases so that in some way, music becomes the pianist's own.

I suppose that's exactly how I feel about poetry. I am so grateful for these poets whose works I am discovering. Grateful because I see how words can be transformed into works of living art. The words move me and transform me, making me dream of unlimited possibilities.

Happy New Year

Well, 2006 has arrived.

Some news to start the year with and some new links:

My hay(na)ku specfic poem, "Through the Looking Glass", has been published on the
Dragons, Knights and Angels E-magazine.

To visit the poem, here's the link:

http://www.dkamagazine.com

My interview with Selena Thomason, scifi writer, has also been published by The Sword Review
see a Conversation with Selena Thomason

And finally, my appreciation of Freeing the Angels has been posted on the ED SF project.

Aprecciation is here and the link to the story itself is here.

I'll update the links soon. Just have to run, right now...you know how it is...family duties.

Happy new year everyone.