About 15 years ago when I got my first computer at home and signed up to the Internet, I remember waking at night to use the bathroom and stopping to check my emails, hopeful that something would come in from a friend, colleague or anyone, just as long as that tiny envelope flashed on the screen, telling me that somewhere out there someone wanted to keep in touch. I had lots of Internet friends then – persons I communicated with from countries I never visited –and it was quite satisfying to share information about our homes and the things we do. Since then I’ve had this love-hate relationship with the Internet. At times I feel like I could throw everything with a cyber-space connection through the window and at other times I feel I could take the laptop to bed, snuggle down and sleep contented knowing there’s a real live connection to information that would be lost if it were not for this wonderful creation. These days though I’m thinking it a curse and an addiction I cannot seem to rid myself of....but do I want to? Do I, really? I don’t think so.
As it turns out, the Internet is perfect for anyone who is as introverted as I am. My friends laugh when I say this to them because they feel I don’t have an introverted bone in my body. But I get the last laugh because I’m wickedly so; it’s just that I’m a very good actor and over time, once I’ve gotten to know someone, I get out of my shell more and more, but only barely. And if people were as attentive as they seemed to think they were, they would see that my going for weeks or months without connection except for emails and text messages is all part of my inability to crawl outside of myself and be a proper social being.
I get into friendships quickly – I know within minutes if I’m going to like someone or not. I have to, otherwise I may spend a long time on a relationship that’s going nowhere and the disappointment of that is as bad as any betrayal. And because I make friends quickly, I also hurry on the friendship activities: hanging out, exchanging messages, chatting often. Then it dies as suddenly as it begins because I’m usually sucked dry by then. Mind you, not the friendship, but the energy required with being a friend. And after that first waning, I may or may not pick myself up and make a connection and continue as if nothing has happened. Because of this, I have few true friends. Few people who even if they don’t hear from me in a long time, can embrace me once I come around and who understand that they don’t have to hear from me daily to know that I do care and that I’m there for them. My best friends know if they phone me up in the middle of the night, out of the blue, in desperate need, I would simply come. Calm and collected, unquestioning and willing. It’s the same with family.
So, what has brought on this examination of my strange friendship ways (Hey! I think I’ve found the name of my next story!)? It’s the end of the year and time for a reckoning to prepare myself for the new year and another birthday. Oh Lord!
I got an email from Oprah – you know the ones she sends out to anyone who will opt into her mail out – and as I read it, I starting thinking it was a mail from a friend. Then it occurred to me that the only mail I get these days are junk, from work and a few friends. And I do look forward to the junk – or rather store subscriptions – because without them I realise I would get very little mail on a daily basis and that should make me feel alone but it doesn’t, not really. Except it had me thinking that I’ve been extremely bad with communicating this year.
Three years ago I had a newsletter I sent out once per month that kept me in touch with friends here and abroad and kept everyone up to date with happenings at home and with me. I stopped that for school and never started back. Instead I would send occasional emails about my thoughts and what was going on with me. I stopped that too due to work and that’s when everything sort of ended. Communication became a hurried birthday message with a graphic and the exchange of jokes – never threatening spiritual passages – and a brief Hello, What’s up? Then I became hooked on watching movies on the Internet, voraciously reading books on Kindle on my BlackBerry. Every moment I had to myself was spent reading or watching; hiding from everyone and everything. I would climb out to do the honours or talking on the phone when I was called or responding to an email or going out with friends then once that was over, I was back in my world of work, watching and reading. Reading Oprah’s email today, it occurred to me that for the past two years, I have finally achieved total alienation. I no longer wanted to socialize unless I had to. Driving in the car alone with my new discovery of alternative rock was a blessing, so much so that I would resent having to pick up someone on the way to work because it meant I had to speak and I cherished down to the last second because I needed it to interact with people who I had no choice but to. Depressed? I don’t think so. Maybe.
I’m an introvert and the Internet was made for people like me and in that breath it’s a curse. Don’t get me wrong. There are times when I crave human connection. When I feel I must go out or go mad but those times are few and when they occur I’m careful where I choose because I know that being around too many people for too long would send me back into myself in a heartbeat. At those times, when I’m among people putting on my act for long periods, I literally feel like I’m bottled up and about to burst. I long for a quiet space and not being able to find any then would turn to a screen or a monitor and close off. Anyone who knows me very well, can see in my eyes that I’m like a caged animal, desperate to get out, anxiously shaking my leg or tapping my finger in need of release. Turning to a monitor has become my escape. My own little room in which I direct my attention where I want and I don’t have to be concerned with what is going on around me. Only then am I able to relax and breathe properly.
At times, being alone is euphoric. I have maybe an hour some evenings when I’m by myself at home and I feel so free that I’m actually frighteningly happy and have to think hard about how I’m gong to put it to use. Not that I don’t love my family – I do and know I wouldn’t do well without them – but I also like being with me and am not afraid. After a long tiring day the first moment to myself is greeted with a sigh of relief. I do this thing where I stretch my neck from side to side and I breathe...just breathe – inhale and exhale and then I smile. Bliss.
I like crowds best when I’m a stranger and there’s some distance between myself and everyone else. I don’t like to be touched – not unless I know you, and even then, only so much. I like being a spectator but people see me and continuously think I need company and I have little choice but to be polite. It’s a joke we have in our family that we attract crowds, and we do, especially me and particularly when I don’t want to.
For now I'll admit I'm an introvert and because of it a terrible friend. I would want nothing better than a place I could escape everyone for about three months of the year (with Internet and cable) and be able to recover. But I don’t have that and so must make due with snatching moments of alone time, like now in my office with everyone else asleep or in their own little corner of the house.
For 2012 the only promise I’m going to make is to re-open some friend connections and send more emails. I will try to remember birthdays and make an effort to send proper messages, maybe even mail a letter...nah, not the latter but better messages...yeah. And of course, I will write.
It’s a start. Isn’t it?
Daily thoughts and stories I write.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Vampire Dawn is alive!
I was working on Vampire Dawn (name change pending) but was having a bit of trouble with the prologue. It kept nagging at me like Jehovah’s witnesses on a Sunday afternoon. No matter how much work I did on the other pages and how far I’d gone, I would hear it’s call and be forced to guide the cursor up to the beginning and re-read the prologue. I read it so many times that I could recite it in my sleep.
The feeling begun to set in that the pages needed drastic editing. But I didn’t know what to do. I just knew something was wrong with those five pages of prologue and that they screwed up the first half of the book.
Sunday morning I was in the kitchen fixing tea when suddenly it came to me – five pages of prologue had to be condensed to one and the deleted parts scattered throughout the first half of the book. I got right to it and edited the shit out of that baby. When I was done, I read it through and thought, good stuff.
Thing is, now that I’ve done it I realize that all along I knew what had to be done but just didn’t have the guts to do it. I’m flying on a hope and a prayer writing this novel. Sometimes I don’t have a clue but press on regardless. Other times, I’m too caught up and like a mother, refuse to admit the child is bad and must be punished...or in this case, done away with. The effort to redo is daunting. I procrastinate, I bitch and I groan, but eventually, I get to it. The creative process can truly be hell.
The prologue was condensed and I’ve begun placing things where they should have been in the first place. Truth be told, I’ve known I needed to do this from the moment I finished this version of the draft in May. As a matter of fact, if I were completely honest, I would say I knew it from the moment I expanded what was originally a one page prologue into five. Ridiculous, huh? But I had to do it, to know that it really should be one page.
Writing the novel is like writing the story of my life – not the tale but the process. I am a terrible procrastinator and then again I can be dangerously spontaneous; so dangerous that I suppress that part of my instinct in favour of the other. I have to. I’ve seen the results of my spontaneity and let me tell you, it often isn’t pretty, despite the pleasure of the moment. But no matter how I suppress this ‘wild’ side, somehow a bit of it always stabs through, like in my writing.
The best short stories I’ve written – at least I think so – are those done on a Sunday morning when inspiration usually strikes in the middle of making tea when the house is deadly quiet and I’m standing by the kitchen window peering out at the little view I have of the distant mountains. I would rush to the computer and start writing. One hour later, I would have the first draft of something special. The same thing has happen for novel ideas or the name of a novel. Funny, isn’t it, that the thing I suppress the most, can produce something good in one aspect of my life and dread in another. I’m a walking conundrum. The medical journals must have a name for this.
But, back to Vampire Dawn. There are aspects in the middle – the hated middle – that I need to tie up and others that must be clear. I have to go through the first half and make sure the story builds properly and is explained in preparation for the second half – the story’s sort of complicated and to get everything, certain key points must be explained. That’s the thing with science fiction, you have to make sure the ground rules are laid and then play by them and in my case it has to be done in the first part if the second is to be accepted.
The novel is divided into three books: Book I: Spark of Life, Book II: The Dawning and Book III: Awake!
Book III is actually the epilogue – of course it’s one page and I’m not about to change it (lol!) – and will eventually be the beginning of the next book in the series. It will be the real third book because I plan to write the prequel to Vampire Dawn entitled The Cauldron. (Hey! I just thought of that. I think I’ll keep it.) Vampire Dawn fittingly has 13 chapters spread across the three books.
Told you it was complicated.
I use a verse or quote at the beginning of each book and I just thought of the one I’ll use for Awake!
I see the sun
Rise up before me
And I think,
God of man
You,
Are a magnificent
One!
I just created it and wrote it on a piece of paper I have beside the computer – truly, I did. (There’s a hidden gem and if you can figure it out, drop me a line.)
If you ever get to read my novel, you’ll understand why this would be quite appropriate for the protagonist to say, even though he is a vampire.
To summarize, the plan is, when I’m done with all three books I’ll have: The Cauldron, Vampire Dawn (to be renamed) and Vampire Awake! Neat, right? Yeah. I think so too.
My juices are flowing and I feel energized like I could write for the entire day. But as it is with the world, I have to stop to go earn a living.
So until next time, I bid you adieu, adieu.
The feeling begun to set in that the pages needed drastic editing. But I didn’t know what to do. I just knew something was wrong with those five pages of prologue and that they screwed up the first half of the book.
Sunday morning I was in the kitchen fixing tea when suddenly it came to me – five pages of prologue had to be condensed to one and the deleted parts scattered throughout the first half of the book. I got right to it and edited the shit out of that baby. When I was done, I read it through and thought, good stuff.
Thing is, now that I’ve done it I realize that all along I knew what had to be done but just didn’t have the guts to do it. I’m flying on a hope and a prayer writing this novel. Sometimes I don’t have a clue but press on regardless. Other times, I’m too caught up and like a mother, refuse to admit the child is bad and must be punished...or in this case, done away with. The effort to redo is daunting. I procrastinate, I bitch and I groan, but eventually, I get to it. The creative process can truly be hell.
The prologue was condensed and I’ve begun placing things where they should have been in the first place. Truth be told, I’ve known I needed to do this from the moment I finished this version of the draft in May. As a matter of fact, if I were completely honest, I would say I knew it from the moment I expanded what was originally a one page prologue into five. Ridiculous, huh? But I had to do it, to know that it really should be one page.
Writing the novel is like writing the story of my life – not the tale but the process. I am a terrible procrastinator and then again I can be dangerously spontaneous; so dangerous that I suppress that part of my instinct in favour of the other. I have to. I’ve seen the results of my spontaneity and let me tell you, it often isn’t pretty, despite the pleasure of the moment. But no matter how I suppress this ‘wild’ side, somehow a bit of it always stabs through, like in my writing.
The best short stories I’ve written – at least I think so – are those done on a Sunday morning when inspiration usually strikes in the middle of making tea when the house is deadly quiet and I’m standing by the kitchen window peering out at the little view I have of the distant mountains. I would rush to the computer and start writing. One hour later, I would have the first draft of something special. The same thing has happen for novel ideas or the name of a novel. Funny, isn’t it, that the thing I suppress the most, can produce something good in one aspect of my life and dread in another. I’m a walking conundrum. The medical journals must have a name for this.
But, back to Vampire Dawn. There are aspects in the middle – the hated middle – that I need to tie up and others that must be clear. I have to go through the first half and make sure the story builds properly and is explained in preparation for the second half – the story’s sort of complicated and to get everything, certain key points must be explained. That’s the thing with science fiction, you have to make sure the ground rules are laid and then play by them and in my case it has to be done in the first part if the second is to be accepted.
The novel is divided into three books: Book I: Spark of Life, Book II: The Dawning and Book III: Awake!
Book III is actually the epilogue – of course it’s one page and I’m not about to change it (lol!) – and will eventually be the beginning of the next book in the series. It will be the real third book because I plan to write the prequel to Vampire Dawn entitled The Cauldron. (Hey! I just thought of that. I think I’ll keep it.) Vampire Dawn fittingly has 13 chapters spread across the three books.
Told you it was complicated.
I use a verse or quote at the beginning of each book and I just thought of the one I’ll use for Awake!
I see the sun
Rise up before me
And I think,
God of man
You,
Are a magnificent
One!
I just created it and wrote it on a piece of paper I have beside the computer – truly, I did. (There’s a hidden gem and if you can figure it out, drop me a line.)
If you ever get to read my novel, you’ll understand why this would be quite appropriate for the protagonist to say, even though he is a vampire.
To summarize, the plan is, when I’m done with all three books I’ll have: The Cauldron, Vampire Dawn (to be renamed) and Vampire Awake! Neat, right? Yeah. I think so too.
My juices are flowing and I feel energized like I could write for the entire day. But as it is with the world, I have to stop to go earn a living.
So until next time, I bid you adieu, adieu.
Monday, September 12, 2011
I'm back!!
The song The Shining by Badly Drawn Boy has a verse in it that says:
But now I’m dry of thoughts
Wait for the rain
Then it’s replaced
Sun setting
And suddenly you’re in love with everything
These five lines sum up the way I’ve been feeling these past three months since I’ve blogged. I could say that I was working on some grand project or taking a break to fuel creativity but it wouldn’t be true. I’ve been in a fog this past year and have had to push myself extremely hard to get by. It’s been particularly difficult his summer. I wrote and read nothing of substance because I felt it important to let my mind run free, otherwise I would be in serious trouble. I did spend the time watching a lot of movies – and I mean a lot! In watching movies I had the opportunity to observe other people’s lives without having to be involved or responsible. It took away some of the pressure.
“My rain has come and my sun has set and suddenly, I’m in love with everything.” What a beautiful thought.
For me, this translated to what I felt was best to get me through the dark time. I needed to be immersed in my troubles and in my self so I could once again see the true me. I know my strengths and my short-comings and while some may be shameful, I am aware and honest, if only to myself.
“But now I’m dry of thoughts.”
I went to a dark place, and probably still am there, but at least now it feels less dreadful and there’s a lightness around me that’s quite refreshing.
“Wait for the rain. Sun setting.”
I have this new sense of appreciation for all things in this world and no longer see with black or white vision. I get it now that everyone’s different but yet the same, ultimately wanting the peace of mind, comfort, love and respect. I get it too that I can’t impose myself on anyone but must accept that sometimes I won’t get what I think I want.
“And suddenly you’re in love with everything.”
The world cycles itself and history does repeat. What appears to be tragic and hopeless today is tomorrow's past incident. Courage and faith is what gets us through each moment. I must accept and appreciate life for what it is because at the moment, it won’t change. It is what it is.
So what does it all mean? I have not a clue and it doesn’t bother me that I don’t know. What is important is that as hard as it is and as impossible as it seems, I’m trying to pull myself through it.
My sun has set and I am in love with everything.
But now I’m dry of thoughts
Wait for the rain
Then it’s replaced
Sun setting
And suddenly you’re in love with everything
These five lines sum up the way I’ve been feeling these past three months since I’ve blogged. I could say that I was working on some grand project or taking a break to fuel creativity but it wouldn’t be true. I’ve been in a fog this past year and have had to push myself extremely hard to get by. It’s been particularly difficult his summer. I wrote and read nothing of substance because I felt it important to let my mind run free, otherwise I would be in serious trouble. I did spend the time watching a lot of movies – and I mean a lot! In watching movies I had the opportunity to observe other people’s lives without having to be involved or responsible. It took away some of the pressure.
“My rain has come and my sun has set and suddenly, I’m in love with everything.” What a beautiful thought.
For me, this translated to what I felt was best to get me through the dark time. I needed to be immersed in my troubles and in my self so I could once again see the true me. I know my strengths and my short-comings and while some may be shameful, I am aware and honest, if only to myself.
“But now I’m dry of thoughts.”
I went to a dark place, and probably still am there, but at least now it feels less dreadful and there’s a lightness around me that’s quite refreshing.
“Wait for the rain. Sun setting.”
I have this new sense of appreciation for all things in this world and no longer see with black or white vision. I get it now that everyone’s different but yet the same, ultimately wanting the peace of mind, comfort, love and respect. I get it too that I can’t impose myself on anyone but must accept that sometimes I won’t get what I think I want.
“And suddenly you’re in love with everything.”
The world cycles itself and history does repeat. What appears to be tragic and hopeless today is tomorrow's past incident. Courage and faith is what gets us through each moment. I must accept and appreciate life for what it is because at the moment, it won’t change. It is what it is.
So what does it all mean? I have not a clue and it doesn’t bother me that I don’t know. What is important is that as hard as it is and as impossible as it seems, I’m trying to pull myself through it.
My sun has set and I am in love with everything.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Vampire Dawn - some more revealed - and Picket Fences - my next project
I've finished the first true draft of the vampire novel I'm writing, Vampire Dawn. By the way, the title will have to change because I've discovered another vampire book by the same name. I'm thinking of renaming it The Dawning, The Vampire at Dawn or Re-Birth...something like that. I'll figure it out although I really did like Vampire Dawn.
There are some things I need to work out like Cutter (antagonist) being like a human and what he can do as his 'humanness' reverses and he becomes more like a vampire and is desperate for the new dawning. Likewise, I need to decide what powers Neloc has and how he will use them. (I looked into the name Neloc which I thought I made up but only to find that Nissan has a car by that name with the same spelling -- one more thing I'll have to change.) I also need to work out the distances between the various estates. Sometimes this appears short and other times too far. There's also a scene that I don't know if I'll keep and if I do decide to keep it, then I will have to rework some parts to make it more meaningful.
I entered the first few pages in this online competition. I was a few marks away from the final 3 but I did get good reviews. I had 3 judges -- one gave a low grade but she did go through and offer some good points. While the other two did the same, they gave rather high marks and one sent a personal comment.
At the same time I sent it to the competition, I sent it to an agent in LA and was happy when they asked to read the first few chapters. Then I was deflated when they wrote back and said it wasn't for them but at the bottom of the email was a personal note from one of the owners that said it was an interesting premise and that I should work on it some more and shop it around. So I'm feeling good. I'm going to look at all the comments and apply them to the book and do exactly as advised.
I finished the draft about two weeks ago and decided I would let it sit and start another novel then go back and do an edit. That way I look at it with fresh eyes and will be able to work out some of the things that I couldn't while I was immersed in the story. Even though I'm not working on it daily, I find my thoughts often drift to it as I try to work out aspects of the story.
Writing Vampire Dawn, is a scary yet exciting processe. Scary because I think I may never get it published and also that I may not present it the way I know it should be presented. The excitement comes because I really do like the challenge of creating the story that's different from anything that's on the market. Then I get scared again because I know the literary world is going through a vampire phase that will soon be over. If that happens, I may have to put it down and hope the phase returns in the next century, as it has done many times in the past.
The story I'm working on is called Picket Fences and it's about 4 friends (as always) who lead dramatically different lives and have the strangest relationships that best friends can have and still call themselves friends. It's about women who have no illusion that there are no picket fences in life, but still they try for no other reason than it's what they were raised to believe. And of course, as it always does, that seed of a dream, planted when they were little girls in their mothers' arms, prevent them as women from achieving true happiness.
Picket Fences is a story that was published in the Observer as a pure narrative with no prose. The section that was published was a restaurant scene when the friends were talking about the various troubles in their lives. I've used this as the start of the novel and will expand on it. The story is told from each woman's perspective and all together as they try to surpass some hurdle.
I have a lot to do and so I'm off to write. Until next time.
There are some things I need to work out like Cutter (antagonist) being like a human and what he can do as his 'humanness' reverses and he becomes more like a vampire and is desperate for the new dawning. Likewise, I need to decide what powers Neloc has and how he will use them. (I looked into the name Neloc which I thought I made up but only to find that Nissan has a car by that name with the same spelling -- one more thing I'll have to change.) I also need to work out the distances between the various estates. Sometimes this appears short and other times too far. There's also a scene that I don't know if I'll keep and if I do decide to keep it, then I will have to rework some parts to make it more meaningful.
I entered the first few pages in this online competition. I was a few marks away from the final 3 but I did get good reviews. I had 3 judges -- one gave a low grade but she did go through and offer some good points. While the other two did the same, they gave rather high marks and one sent a personal comment.
At the same time I sent it to the competition, I sent it to an agent in LA and was happy when they asked to read the first few chapters. Then I was deflated when they wrote back and said it wasn't for them but at the bottom of the email was a personal note from one of the owners that said it was an interesting premise and that I should work on it some more and shop it around. So I'm feeling good. I'm going to look at all the comments and apply them to the book and do exactly as advised.
I finished the draft about two weeks ago and decided I would let it sit and start another novel then go back and do an edit. That way I look at it with fresh eyes and will be able to work out some of the things that I couldn't while I was immersed in the story. Even though I'm not working on it daily, I find my thoughts often drift to it as I try to work out aspects of the story.
Writing Vampire Dawn, is a scary yet exciting processe. Scary because I think I may never get it published and also that I may not present it the way I know it should be presented. The excitement comes because I really do like the challenge of creating the story that's different from anything that's on the market. Then I get scared again because I know the literary world is going through a vampire phase that will soon be over. If that happens, I may have to put it down and hope the phase returns in the next century, as it has done many times in the past.
The story I'm working on is called Picket Fences and it's about 4 friends (as always) who lead dramatically different lives and have the strangest relationships that best friends can have and still call themselves friends. It's about women who have no illusion that there are no picket fences in life, but still they try for no other reason than it's what they were raised to believe. And of course, as it always does, that seed of a dream, planted when they were little girls in their mothers' arms, prevent them as women from achieving true happiness.
Picket Fences is a story that was published in the Observer as a pure narrative with no prose. The section that was published was a restaurant scene when the friends were talking about the various troubles in their lives. I've used this as the start of the novel and will expand on it. The story is told from each woman's perspective and all together as they try to surpass some hurdle.
I have a lot to do and so I'm off to write. Until next time.
The Last Oprah Show
Surprisingly, I can't wait to watch the last three Oprah shows. I say surprisingly because before April, I hadn't watched the show in months except for now and again if I was scanning channels and came across it. And so I'm a bit taken aback that I have this sense of nostalgia about the show and feel like I'm truly going to miss it. I think part of it is the loss of something familiar. I've always thought it would be on and now and again she'll bring someone interesting and I would watch; now there's no such option, unless I'm watching reruns.
I can't identify any talk show or other that will fill the void of Oprah. Like her or not, she really was a remarkable woman and one who knew when to call it quits. I like that she did it while she was on top. I like also that the media was never able to get one over her and that she followed the basic rule of PR - tell it all before they find out. That way there's nothing to scoop and interest will wane. I like it too that she wasn't afraid to show her weaknesses even with the roller-coaster ride of her weight.
For a woman to create something so simple and so overdone as a talk-show and take it to the level it has reached is truly remarkable. She will go down in history as an icon and someone to be remembered for a long, long time. Her largess and ability to 'force' others to be equally generous is unprecedented. She started a trend of giving that other talk shows tried to imitate but could not equal. Those who have been fortunate enough to be on her shows for one of the big give-aways must truly treasure the moment.
For the final show, I'm planning a one-woman Oprah party. I'll mix up a cocktail take a seat and enjoy. I will miss you, Oprah!
I can't identify any talk show or other that will fill the void of Oprah. Like her or not, she really was a remarkable woman and one who knew when to call it quits. I like that she did it while she was on top. I like also that the media was never able to get one over her and that she followed the basic rule of PR - tell it all before they find out. That way there's nothing to scoop and interest will wane. I like it too that she wasn't afraid to show her weaknesses even with the roller-coaster ride of her weight.
For a woman to create something so simple and so overdone as a talk-show and take it to the level it has reached is truly remarkable. She will go down in history as an icon and someone to be remembered for a long, long time. Her largess and ability to 'force' others to be equally generous is unprecedented. She started a trend of giving that other talk shows tried to imitate but could not equal. Those who have been fortunate enough to be on her shows for one of the big give-aways must truly treasure the moment.
For the final show, I'm planning a one-woman Oprah party. I'll mix up a cocktail take a seat and enjoy. I will miss you, Oprah!
Monday, April 25, 2011
True Romance
I’ve long ago admitted to being a romantic. Not a hopeless romantic but a romantic nonetheless.
I puke at the mushy, mushy stuff that bear no resemblance to how love develops in real life. Yes, I do believe in love at first sight, or great attraction, but I’m more convinced if love survives life’s tolls and grow into something more solid than the initial reaction.
Over this Easter holiday, I happened upon a story about that 1990s hit, la Femme Nikita...okay, okay, I didn’t happen on it, I went in search of it. I was trying to work out some romantic scenes in Vampire Dawn and something about Michael and Nikita kept nagging at me. I felt the need to see what interaction between the two characters were like in order to decide how my characters would play against each other. (Plus after watching one episode, I find the new Nikita show a failed cliché.)
Before I get back to Michael and Nikita, let me start off by saying that there are very few romantic novels, movies or television shows that I enjoy. Primarily my interest is more dramatic with a bit of action or problem-solving intellect. I like mysteries and crime novels (with or without romance), first person narrative if the narrator is interesting and of, course anything by Stephen King. I never read a romance novel until I was in my 20s.
My list of romantic moments, written or dramatized are:
First a disclaimer: this list is as I can remember right now. It doesn’t mean that there have not been others or that sometime in the near future the list will not change. So here goes:
I think my most favourite movie is The Bridges of Madison County with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep. It’s the most sensual movie I have ever seen and starring old people at that!
My other favourites, in no particular order are:
-The English Patient – Ralph Fiennes and Juliet Binoche.
-Sixteen Candles - Molly Ringwald and Justin Henry.
-Bend it like Beckham – Parminder Nagra, Keira Knightely and Jonathan Rhys Myers.
-The Princess Bride – Cary Elwes and Robin Wright.
-The Way We Were – Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford.
-The Horse Whisperer – Robert Redford and Kristin Scott Thomas.
-The Wedding Planner – Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey.
-Something New – Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker.
-Angel Eyes – Jennifer Lopez and James Caveizel.
-Mission Impossible II – Tom Cruise and Thandie Newton.
-The Truth about Charlie – Thandie Newton and Mark Wahlberg.
-Anything adapted from Nicholas Sparks pre Nights in Rodantha, such as Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember and The Notebook. Anything now is just mush.
-Ten Things I Hate About You – Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles.
-And last but not least – and for this I will get a lot of flack – Brokeback Mountain with Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal as well as A Single Man with Colin Firth. Yeah, say it and get it over with. I don’t care. I like them because of the writing and the plot and the fact that they are beautifully scripted and expertly directed.
I won’t get into books now but for television series the list is rather short and more consists of missteps than anything else. All the romantic characters in television drama that could have great onscreen relationships usually fizzle and die and I stop watching. JAG immediately comes to mind. There was an opportunity there, much like there is now for Tony and Ziva in the NCIS drama. Bones too is another let down and one I’ve stopped watching.
Producers seem to get cold feet as they think the end of any series is the consummation of the romance, but that isn’t so. The romance actually begins after and that’s the beauty of it. It takes a skilled and brave studio to carry on a series after the characters have gotten together and it is felt that nothing else can happen. I consider the producers spineless and lacking creativity and so they go for the obvious – never make the characters come together, for what will we then write? My response, go find some experienced writers and begin the real relationship.
That takes me back to la Femme Nikita and the never-ending romance of Michael and Nikita and my week of indulgence. This is a show that is a perfect example of how to manage a romance and manage it well.
First there was the question of, Will they get together and does he even like her? Once that was answered in his mumbled-lack-for-words-breathless whispers, we then start thinking, If they do, what will happen? We saw that and finally came the ultimate question, Will they survive and will their love last considering they work for an agency that frowns upon imperfection and considers emotional attachment, debilitating. Their solution should this occur is death. For Michael and Nikita, it was truly a live or die situation and as we saw from many episodes, both characters were more than willing to die for each other or at the very least preserve the other. Of course they both will survive. But despite this, it is perhaps the ending that’s most fulfilling and that left something for the current Nikita producers to take off on. But they failed to do so.
In the end Michael and Nikita still aren’t together; at least not how normal people consider together. At the time of parting their love is evident but duty separates them and they have little choice but to wait. It is the tragedy of their situation that makes their love true.
To understand the obligations of your partner, support it and still love is probably one of the best ways modern couples can show their love. It is why the old fashion notion of the woman taking care of the house and the children while the man works is not so ridiculous if you truly think about it. If love can endure poverty or death or similar grief, then you are set for life. Nothing will break you apart. This is unselfish behaviour and the only way of demonstrating true love.
Someone I went out with once said, you should marry someone who is in love with you. It took me a while to reason this out, but he was right. If we all married people who are in love with us, then for sure we will both love each other. Get it?
This is what the characters in la Femme Nikita portrayed: they were with people they knew loved them. It took Michael a long time to tell Nikita he loved her but he showed it everyday. His lack of expression was a puzzle, for like a typical woman, Nikita held nothing back and was quite happy to tell him countless times that she loved him. But his one wish was for her to be patient. A request for patience in this situation is one that required great faith and belief to know that he had his reasons. I don’t know anyone in real life who would do this.
Mid-way through the series, the reason for Michael’s hesitation was revealed and that sent viewers into a new tizzy. I’m sure he was hated by many but there were a few, including me, who perfectly understood and who knew the characters would get through it because, to say it as simply as it can be said, they had trust and respect for each other, another sign of true love. In one episode when Nikita was rethinking her faith in Michael, he says, ‘You are the one person in the entire world I can trust. Don’t fail me’. In the final episode near the very end, he embraces her and says, ‘I love you’.
So, is the love between the characters of Michael and Nikita the perfect love story? I think so. It’s the best I’ve seen portrayed on any screen, even more than those I’ve listed above. Yeah, yeah. I know you’re asking what about Romeo and Juliet or even Swazy and Moore in Ghost? Michael and Nikita are far better.
Romeo and Juliet died. What kind of crop out is that? Yes, I understand that they can’t live without each other, but to me, living with the hope that one day they would be together would be better. Fake suicide should not have come into it at all. But Shakespeare had little choice if he wanted to portray the tragedy of the day. After all Romeo and Juliet is a sort of ‘literary cautionary tale’ meant to warn that you never know what plots are playing in the background while you fight your battles, which often are unnecessary.
One last thing about Michael and Nikita. Roy Dupuis was not necessarily a good looking actor – unless viewed in a certain light – but he was quite sensual. I won’t say sexy because back then I was never sure about those tight leather pants and looking at them again, I’m thinking, creepy. His mouth’s sort of small and he appears shorter than the 6’ 11” he was supposed to be.
What he had going for him were those eyes and the way he played a romance scene. His ability to maintain and hold eye contact was uncanny – it may be a camera trick, but who cared. And he had a way of angling his head as if to search the deeper meaning.
The character Michael was able to exude desire simply by touching Nikita’s hands. He would lace his through hers and examined their entwined fingers as if he was always amazed that she let him touch her. And whenever he spoke to her in private he was always touching: arm, shoulder, hairline, brown, lips. His movements were seamless and natural and there was no resistance she could offer and often simply melted at his touch.
An aside—the actress who played Nikita was Peta Wilson. She’s not much known as Roy Dupuis except for their native homes. It is my opinion that Peta Wilson is a good actor and I wonder what would have happened if she lived in Hollywood and picked up regular roles there. In la Femme Nikita, her ability to switch emotions while the camera remained fixed on her face was uncanny. She could go from smiling to sad and hurt in a second and it all showed on her face: lips, eyes, angling of the head. Her on film crying is one of the best I’ve seen. Not the bawling or the scrunching of the face, but the fact that her eyes do tear up and around them reddens; or when Michael says something sexy and she blushes, her skin actually flushes. Her emotions were real. She was a clunky girl but then again that was probably the character. Another endearing factor – she was not a size 2.
I don’t know if the characters were created purposely to be as they were or if the writers stumbled on something and decided to go with it. What I have read is that they had very little budget to work with and it required great creativity to come up with something the audience would enjoy. That compares to nowadays actors whose salaries seem to know no boundaries. I think some of the pay is quite ridiculous and when their pays are high, the acting suffers. They feel they are important and people will come to see regardless, so why put out the effort.
For the writers or the director of la Femme Nikita, I like that the sex was never the focus and that there was no direct humping scenes. I like too that it’s Michael who mostly makes the arrangements for them to meet and that the character felt it his duty to provide a safe place and prepare. All she had to do was turn up. That caveman feature will get us girls every time.
If you look at my list above you will see that none of these shows have these sweaty, hot sexy scenes or characters that were constantly jumping in bed. In la Femme Nikiki most of the interactions were foreplay, focusing on the face and shoulders and maybe a back here and there. However, there was one scene where Michael was standing naked by a window and Nikita, also naked joined him. The shot lasted less than 5 seconds and them focused on their faces for the remainder. In other words, it was tastefully done. We are all adults, we can imagine what goes on between two people when they get naked, do we really need to see...all the time? And as is common in these nowadays sitcoms, do they really have to talk about sex in all their episodes, every single one?
I never got into Friends or Grey’s Anatomy or shows like that because everyone sleeps with everyone. When is there time to have great interaction? I’ve never watched it long enough to find out if there’s any. That brings Nurse Hawthorne to mind...I wonder what they’ll come up with this season?
So, in the end, what do I have to say for myself?
I am weird when it comes to love and all that and I believe that the bible had it right. The vows as presented did dictate that if two persons chose to marry, then they better be in love for nothing else will get them past the better or worst phases or even through the years of grief after death. I look differently on people who seek to change the vows. I’m always wondering what are they up to? If you love this person, then why is it so hard to say that at this moment, I will give you my all, I will love and honor you and I will obey. We both are agreeing to the same thing, so what’s so wrong with that? After all, isn’t love supposed to triumph all?
I puke at the mushy, mushy stuff that bear no resemblance to how love develops in real life. Yes, I do believe in love at first sight, or great attraction, but I’m more convinced if love survives life’s tolls and grow into something more solid than the initial reaction.
Over this Easter holiday, I happened upon a story about that 1990s hit, la Femme Nikita...okay, okay, I didn’t happen on it, I went in search of it. I was trying to work out some romantic scenes in Vampire Dawn and something about Michael and Nikita kept nagging at me. I felt the need to see what interaction between the two characters were like in order to decide how my characters would play against each other. (Plus after watching one episode, I find the new Nikita show a failed cliché.)
Before I get back to Michael and Nikita, let me start off by saying that there are very few romantic novels, movies or television shows that I enjoy. Primarily my interest is more dramatic with a bit of action or problem-solving intellect. I like mysteries and crime novels (with or without romance), first person narrative if the narrator is interesting and of, course anything by Stephen King. I never read a romance novel until I was in my 20s.
My list of romantic moments, written or dramatized are:
First a disclaimer: this list is as I can remember right now. It doesn’t mean that there have not been others or that sometime in the near future the list will not change. So here goes:
I think my most favourite movie is The Bridges of Madison County with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep. It’s the most sensual movie I have ever seen and starring old people at that!
My other favourites, in no particular order are:
-The English Patient – Ralph Fiennes and Juliet Binoche.
-Sixteen Candles - Molly Ringwald and Justin Henry.
-Bend it like Beckham – Parminder Nagra, Keira Knightely and Jonathan Rhys Myers.
-The Princess Bride – Cary Elwes and Robin Wright.
-The Way We Were – Barbara Streisand and Robert Redford.
-The Horse Whisperer – Robert Redford and Kristin Scott Thomas.
-The Wedding Planner – Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey.
-Something New – Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker.
-Angel Eyes – Jennifer Lopez and James Caveizel.
-Mission Impossible II – Tom Cruise and Thandie Newton.
-The Truth about Charlie – Thandie Newton and Mark Wahlberg.
-Anything adapted from Nicholas Sparks pre Nights in Rodantha, such as Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember and The Notebook. Anything now is just mush.
-Ten Things I Hate About You – Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles.
-And last but not least – and for this I will get a lot of flack – Brokeback Mountain with Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal as well as A Single Man with Colin Firth. Yeah, say it and get it over with. I don’t care. I like them because of the writing and the plot and the fact that they are beautifully scripted and expertly directed.
I won’t get into books now but for television series the list is rather short and more consists of missteps than anything else. All the romantic characters in television drama that could have great onscreen relationships usually fizzle and die and I stop watching. JAG immediately comes to mind. There was an opportunity there, much like there is now for Tony and Ziva in the NCIS drama. Bones too is another let down and one I’ve stopped watching.
Producers seem to get cold feet as they think the end of any series is the consummation of the romance, but that isn’t so. The romance actually begins after and that’s the beauty of it. It takes a skilled and brave studio to carry on a series after the characters have gotten together and it is felt that nothing else can happen. I consider the producers spineless and lacking creativity and so they go for the obvious – never make the characters come together, for what will we then write? My response, go find some experienced writers and begin the real relationship.
That takes me back to la Femme Nikita and the never-ending romance of Michael and Nikita and my week of indulgence. This is a show that is a perfect example of how to manage a romance and manage it well.
First there was the question of, Will they get together and does he even like her? Once that was answered in his mumbled-lack-for-words-breathless whispers, we then start thinking, If they do, what will happen? We saw that and finally came the ultimate question, Will they survive and will their love last considering they work for an agency that frowns upon imperfection and considers emotional attachment, debilitating. Their solution should this occur is death. For Michael and Nikita, it was truly a live or die situation and as we saw from many episodes, both characters were more than willing to die for each other or at the very least preserve the other. Of course they both will survive. But despite this, it is perhaps the ending that’s most fulfilling and that left something for the current Nikita producers to take off on. But they failed to do so.
In the end Michael and Nikita still aren’t together; at least not how normal people consider together. At the time of parting their love is evident but duty separates them and they have little choice but to wait. It is the tragedy of their situation that makes their love true.
To understand the obligations of your partner, support it and still love is probably one of the best ways modern couples can show their love. It is why the old fashion notion of the woman taking care of the house and the children while the man works is not so ridiculous if you truly think about it. If love can endure poverty or death or similar grief, then you are set for life. Nothing will break you apart. This is unselfish behaviour and the only way of demonstrating true love.
Someone I went out with once said, you should marry someone who is in love with you. It took me a while to reason this out, but he was right. If we all married people who are in love with us, then for sure we will both love each other. Get it?
This is what the characters in la Femme Nikita portrayed: they were with people they knew loved them. It took Michael a long time to tell Nikita he loved her but he showed it everyday. His lack of expression was a puzzle, for like a typical woman, Nikita held nothing back and was quite happy to tell him countless times that she loved him. But his one wish was for her to be patient. A request for patience in this situation is one that required great faith and belief to know that he had his reasons. I don’t know anyone in real life who would do this.
Mid-way through the series, the reason for Michael’s hesitation was revealed and that sent viewers into a new tizzy. I’m sure he was hated by many but there were a few, including me, who perfectly understood and who knew the characters would get through it because, to say it as simply as it can be said, they had trust and respect for each other, another sign of true love. In one episode when Nikita was rethinking her faith in Michael, he says, ‘You are the one person in the entire world I can trust. Don’t fail me’. In the final episode near the very end, he embraces her and says, ‘I love you’.
So, is the love between the characters of Michael and Nikita the perfect love story? I think so. It’s the best I’ve seen portrayed on any screen, even more than those I’ve listed above. Yeah, yeah. I know you’re asking what about Romeo and Juliet or even Swazy and Moore in Ghost? Michael and Nikita are far better.
Romeo and Juliet died. What kind of crop out is that? Yes, I understand that they can’t live without each other, but to me, living with the hope that one day they would be together would be better. Fake suicide should not have come into it at all. But Shakespeare had little choice if he wanted to portray the tragedy of the day. After all Romeo and Juliet is a sort of ‘literary cautionary tale’ meant to warn that you never know what plots are playing in the background while you fight your battles, which often are unnecessary.
One last thing about Michael and Nikita. Roy Dupuis was not necessarily a good looking actor – unless viewed in a certain light – but he was quite sensual. I won’t say sexy because back then I was never sure about those tight leather pants and looking at them again, I’m thinking, creepy. His mouth’s sort of small and he appears shorter than the 6’ 11” he was supposed to be.
What he had going for him were those eyes and the way he played a romance scene. His ability to maintain and hold eye contact was uncanny – it may be a camera trick, but who cared. And he had a way of angling his head as if to search the deeper meaning.
The character Michael was able to exude desire simply by touching Nikita’s hands. He would lace his through hers and examined their entwined fingers as if he was always amazed that she let him touch her. And whenever he spoke to her in private he was always touching: arm, shoulder, hairline, brown, lips. His movements were seamless and natural and there was no resistance she could offer and often simply melted at his touch.
An aside—the actress who played Nikita was Peta Wilson. She’s not much known as Roy Dupuis except for their native homes. It is my opinion that Peta Wilson is a good actor and I wonder what would have happened if she lived in Hollywood and picked up regular roles there. In la Femme Nikita, her ability to switch emotions while the camera remained fixed on her face was uncanny. She could go from smiling to sad and hurt in a second and it all showed on her face: lips, eyes, angling of the head. Her on film crying is one of the best I’ve seen. Not the bawling or the scrunching of the face, but the fact that her eyes do tear up and around them reddens; or when Michael says something sexy and she blushes, her skin actually flushes. Her emotions were real. She was a clunky girl but then again that was probably the character. Another endearing factor – she was not a size 2.
I don’t know if the characters were created purposely to be as they were or if the writers stumbled on something and decided to go with it. What I have read is that they had very little budget to work with and it required great creativity to come up with something the audience would enjoy. That compares to nowadays actors whose salaries seem to know no boundaries. I think some of the pay is quite ridiculous and when their pays are high, the acting suffers. They feel they are important and people will come to see regardless, so why put out the effort.
For the writers or the director of la Femme Nikita, I like that the sex was never the focus and that there was no direct humping scenes. I like too that it’s Michael who mostly makes the arrangements for them to meet and that the character felt it his duty to provide a safe place and prepare. All she had to do was turn up. That caveman feature will get us girls every time.
If you look at my list above you will see that none of these shows have these sweaty, hot sexy scenes or characters that were constantly jumping in bed. In la Femme Nikiki most of the interactions were foreplay, focusing on the face and shoulders and maybe a back here and there. However, there was one scene where Michael was standing naked by a window and Nikita, also naked joined him. The shot lasted less than 5 seconds and them focused on their faces for the remainder. In other words, it was tastefully done. We are all adults, we can imagine what goes on between two people when they get naked, do we really need to see...all the time? And as is common in these nowadays sitcoms, do they really have to talk about sex in all their episodes, every single one?
I never got into Friends or Grey’s Anatomy or shows like that because everyone sleeps with everyone. When is there time to have great interaction? I’ve never watched it long enough to find out if there’s any. That brings Nurse Hawthorne to mind...I wonder what they’ll come up with this season?
So, in the end, what do I have to say for myself?
I am weird when it comes to love and all that and I believe that the bible had it right. The vows as presented did dictate that if two persons chose to marry, then they better be in love for nothing else will get them past the better or worst phases or even through the years of grief after death. I look differently on people who seek to change the vows. I’m always wondering what are they up to? If you love this person, then why is it so hard to say that at this moment, I will give you my all, I will love and honor you and I will obey. We both are agreeing to the same thing, so what’s so wrong with that? After all, isn’t love supposed to triumph all?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Easter Reviewed
My friend is all over Easter. She's into the Easter bunny, the hunt, the eggs -- the whole thing. And she's most surprised that I never exposed my daughter to that furry little rabbit that is non-existent in Jamaica except for a stew, or a cage. Why on earth would I have spun some tale about a rabbit that brings eggs? I can't even remember if that's how it goes...or if he brings chocolates. Whatever!
I was raised Christian and I went to a catholic high school. Need I say more? There is no Easter bunny in the stations of the cross and there's no disillusion that this is a time of hunting eggs. The only hunting involved soul searching and forgiveness seeking. Reflection was a big part of Easter and so too repentance.
Many feel it is their duty to give up some sin or pleasure for Lent and that through this, their atonement secures them a place in heaven. I am of the firm view that if you believe in Lent, the Bible, Jesus, etc., then you should know that abstinence for a few weeks will not resolve the issue. There's no two ways about Christianity. You either believe or you don't. And once you do, there's that little book called the Bible. You can't follow one section and then ignore everything else that doesn't fit with your lifestyle. If there's sin to be repented and pleasures to be put aside, then this must be done for all your life, not just during Lent. No one said righteousness was easy. Ask the nuns.
More and more we see the true meaning of Easter give way to shameless commercialization that encourages Easter egg hunts and the purchase of copious amounts of spring-colored sweets. I think the bunny's creepy. In the first place, where does he put the eggs? After seeing the preview to Hop, that ridiculous movie that's clearly meant for 3-year olds, I'm afraid to touch the stuff unless it's from a certified factory like Cadbury's. And if that's my thinking, what's the purpose of the bunny? Not a thing. Stew anyone?
But despite all of this, Easter is a time for reflection, just like Christmas. These holidays forces me to think of my life, even for a moment. It's a time to analyze the good and the bad and to determine: Am I getting it right? What will happen to my soul when I'm departed? It's a question I'm far too scared to answer, just because I know.
I don't subscribe to the premise that everyone who has some good in them goes to heaven. That's too easy. But seriously, where do the 'in-betweens' go? The ones who are bad but not quite as bad as the man who just shot his girlfriend because she left him? If they did not follow the Word, would they end up in hell together? It almost seems unfair. And when she sees him there, what will she say? There must be different levels, don't you think? But I fear good reader that the answer may not be what we want?
I reflect on Thee, oh Lord and accept what may.
I was raised Christian and I went to a catholic high school. Need I say more? There is no Easter bunny in the stations of the cross and there's no disillusion that this is a time of hunting eggs. The only hunting involved soul searching and forgiveness seeking. Reflection was a big part of Easter and so too repentance.
Many feel it is their duty to give up some sin or pleasure for Lent and that through this, their atonement secures them a place in heaven. I am of the firm view that if you believe in Lent, the Bible, Jesus, etc., then you should know that abstinence for a few weeks will not resolve the issue. There's no two ways about Christianity. You either believe or you don't. And once you do, there's that little book called the Bible. You can't follow one section and then ignore everything else that doesn't fit with your lifestyle. If there's sin to be repented and pleasures to be put aside, then this must be done for all your life, not just during Lent. No one said righteousness was easy. Ask the nuns.
More and more we see the true meaning of Easter give way to shameless commercialization that encourages Easter egg hunts and the purchase of copious amounts of spring-colored sweets. I think the bunny's creepy. In the first place, where does he put the eggs? After seeing the preview to Hop, that ridiculous movie that's clearly meant for 3-year olds, I'm afraid to touch the stuff unless it's from a certified factory like Cadbury's. And if that's my thinking, what's the purpose of the bunny? Not a thing. Stew anyone?
But despite all of this, Easter is a time for reflection, just like Christmas. These holidays forces me to think of my life, even for a moment. It's a time to analyze the good and the bad and to determine: Am I getting it right? What will happen to my soul when I'm departed? It's a question I'm far too scared to answer, just because I know.
I don't subscribe to the premise that everyone who has some good in them goes to heaven. That's too easy. But seriously, where do the 'in-betweens' go? The ones who are bad but not quite as bad as the man who just shot his girlfriend because she left him? If they did not follow the Word, would they end up in hell together? It almost seems unfair. And when she sees him there, what will she say? There must be different levels, don't you think? But I fear good reader that the answer may not be what we want?
I reflect on Thee, oh Lord and accept what may.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The original wireless message
Last week I was driving to work and saw a billboard that read:
Prayer, the original wireless message - 0$.
I thought brilliant! because it was funny and then had to sober up because it was quite serious. Coincidentally, I had just read a page in the Daily Word (yes, I do read it. My sister keeps me supplied so I must read.) that spoke about prayer in times of desperation and the faith to know that God will answer. Those two things happening so close together made me wonder about the many times that I have called on God for help, knowing it's just because I can't figure my way out of the latest pickle. But what do I do the other times when things are good? Nothing.
Sometimes I do say thanks like when my daughter drives in late at night and I know she's safe, but mostly I forget to say thanks for the good things that happen every day.
So, from now on, I'm going to take a minute and pause to say thanks.
This week I uploaded an ebook on Smashwords.com and sold a copy. I also sold 5 copies of other stories on Kindle this month and am at a total of 37 from last June; this without advertising and only telling 2 people. Thank you God.
My family is well and I am working and getting paid, for this I am especially grateful.
Take a break and pause a moment and think about the blessings in your life. Even if you don't believe in God, you must admit, something is keeping us all going and for that, you should be grateful.
I am blessed.
Prayer, the original wireless message - 0$.
I thought brilliant! because it was funny and then had to sober up because it was quite serious. Coincidentally, I had just read a page in the Daily Word (yes, I do read it. My sister keeps me supplied so I must read.) that spoke about prayer in times of desperation and the faith to know that God will answer. Those two things happening so close together made me wonder about the many times that I have called on God for help, knowing it's just because I can't figure my way out of the latest pickle. But what do I do the other times when things are good? Nothing.
Sometimes I do say thanks like when my daughter drives in late at night and I know she's safe, but mostly I forget to say thanks for the good things that happen every day.
So, from now on, I'm going to take a minute and pause to say thanks.
This week I uploaded an ebook on Smashwords.com and sold a copy. I also sold 5 copies of other stories on Kindle this month and am at a total of 37 from last June; this without advertising and only telling 2 people. Thank you God.
My family is well and I am working and getting paid, for this I am especially grateful.
Take a break and pause a moment and think about the blessings in your life. Even if you don't believe in God, you must admit, something is keeping us all going and for that, you should be grateful.
I am blessed.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Writing to the death!
I just watched an interview with famous author Dean Koontz who has sold over 4 million books worldwide. He was really being interviewed about his love for his dog but of course, some things about writing came out.
Koontz writes on a 19 year old computer that doesn't even have Email. I can understand this because the temptation to check an email is quite high especially is the email remains open like mine and arrivals are announced with a little tone. What I don't get though is him writing his emails for an assistant to type and send off. Huh? Oh well, if you're as rich as he is, then you can have an assistant do everything for you, even breath. His saving grace however is that he types at lightening speed. Two fingers flying over the clunky keyboard as if he was a tap dancer on a mission for a world record.
Koontz gave a tour of his library which he separated into books that he reads and his books. Both are large, but his books are closed off by an elaborate grill gate that opens to rows and rows of novels with his name on it including those translated into copious different languages -- more than I knew existed.
Koontz is 60 but he has been writing for years and he said he'll be writing until he drops dead at the keyboard -- it's what writers do. He also said that creativity is a muscle in the brain that must be worked and that the more one imagines, the easir it is to produce new stories...or something like that.
I agree as it seems that I'll be writing forever, whether I'm published or not. When I'm gray (well, more gray) and old, I'll sit in a comfortable chair and read my stories and imagine what could.
Here's to writing to the end.
Koontz writes on a 19 year old computer that doesn't even have Email. I can understand this because the temptation to check an email is quite high especially is the email remains open like mine and arrivals are announced with a little tone. What I don't get though is him writing his emails for an assistant to type and send off. Huh? Oh well, if you're as rich as he is, then you can have an assistant do everything for you, even breath. His saving grace however is that he types at lightening speed. Two fingers flying over the clunky keyboard as if he was a tap dancer on a mission for a world record.
Koontz gave a tour of his library which he separated into books that he reads and his books. Both are large, but his books are closed off by an elaborate grill gate that opens to rows and rows of novels with his name on it including those translated into copious different languages -- more than I knew existed.
Koontz is 60 but he has been writing for years and he said he'll be writing until he drops dead at the keyboard -- it's what writers do. He also said that creativity is a muscle in the brain that must be worked and that the more one imagines, the easir it is to produce new stories...or something like that.
I agree as it seems that I'll be writing forever, whether I'm published or not. When I'm gray (well, more gray) and old, I'll sit in a comfortable chair and read my stories and imagine what could.
Here's to writing to the end.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Vampire Dawn - a little revealed.
I'm working on my novel, VAMPIRE DAWN which is about a black vampire living in Portland, Jamaica at the time of slavery. If you're into vampires you can imagine what this would be like and see the varying roads the story could take. Think about a black man who is an undead but who is physically stronger than all the white masters put together. That's something, huh? Except, it's dangerous too. Imagine him being discovered and them hunting him? And what would they do to others they suspect of having the same powers? Would they start a manhunt? Probably. In which case, it's important for Neloc to remain undetected.
In VAMPIRE DAWN, Neloc was turned by a white man whom he consider his father, but at the same time blames for taking his life. For Neloc, Portland is quite boring. He has nothing to do at night but roam the forests and chase animals. Then one night, while he lazed on a branch and watched the stars, he sees a slave girl who has come to the watering hole to bathe. Her name is Camilla. He watches her play in the water and is quite taken. She is brave for being out at night when she could be caught and severely punished. But he sees her need for freedom and is compelled to follow, just to be sure she returns safely to whatever estate she came from.
While watching Camilla sneak into the compound, Neloc makes a sound which frightens her. She stumbles. Halton, the guard wakes and goes to investigate. He enters Camilla's hut and sees her still wet from the swim. He decides to take what he feels is his. He attacks Camilla. Neloc comes to her rescue and kills Halton in the process, sucking him dry. Camilla sees this and faints. Neloc must leave or be found out. He chooses to leave and must hurry to Benin, because he is not prepared for the effects of drinking human blood after almost half a century without. As he fights his new found thirst, he wakes to find Alphanso gone. Suddenly his life is complicated as he is torn between ensuring Camilla's safety and finding Alphanso, his creator and father and the man without whom he cannot live in a white man's world.
Imagine the consequences of his actions. How will Camilla explain a dead, bloodless white guard in her hut? What will the white masters do with her when they discover Halton's body?
I'm in the middle of the novel and working my way to the end which I've already written. It's exciting and sometimes I can't wait to add a few more pages. Other times I don't want to be near it because I feel I cannot do the story justice. That's when I become really scared that I won't finish and that I'll never find a publisher.
I first wrote about Neloc in 2001. Yes, in 2001. Believe it or not. I wrote about 4 paragraphs and left it. But it never quite left me. Like all my stories, they remain near and pull my thoughts on a daily basis. I'm constantly thinking about it and wondering what should come next. I remember those paragraphs like I'd just written them. Halton wasn't a guard but Camilla's lover and it wasn't slavery time but some years on when black men were said to be free. Halton was a jerk who slept around with anyone who spread their legs for him. Camilla was thoroughly in love with him and while she knew of his indiscretions, she refused to challenge him on it, thinking that if she showed her love more, he would eventually be with her alone.
The paragraphs pick-up with Camilla walking behind Halton, begging him not to go out. He turns and smacks her on the cheek and tells her to go home and stop following him. Up on a branch in a nearby tree, a black man is watching the scene. he can read both their minds. He dislikes the man's character and his heart pains for the woman because she is so true and when Halton strikes he decides he must teach him a lesson and swoops down on the man, breaking his neck and sucking his blood. Camilla freaks out and runs off. She wakes the village with her noise and the village Madda comes to take control. She puts Camilla to bed and administer till Camilla is calm and is able to tell them about the black man that floated. No one but the Madda believes. Neloc returns home to his estate and is angry for revealing himself and for allowing the woman to go. He should have taken her with him and he vows to go find her. He had to. I didn't write another word until 2006 and then not again until last year.
In VAMPIRE DAWN, Halton is the guard who attempts to rape Camilla and is killed by Neloc who is indeed a vampire. The Madda is Selma who is a blind priestess who can do wonders with her potions and magical spirits. Neloc does live at Benin and he eventually will take Camilla to his home. I've gone 275 pages and I hope I can finish.
The novel was first named Neloc Benin after the lead character. A few weeks ago I changed it to VAMPIRE DAWN because these words are important in the story. I want the story to be a trilogy that tracks Neloc and Camilla's adventures as they travel the world. I don't know how it'll go as yet, but I do know one of two ways the entire thing will end. Either someone will die, or someone will leave. I already know to which way I'm leaning but you'll have to wait on the published novel to find out.
I will continue to blog about VAMPIRE DAWN, my writing and other things. You should come with me on this exciting journey.
In VAMPIRE DAWN, Neloc was turned by a white man whom he consider his father, but at the same time blames for taking his life. For Neloc, Portland is quite boring. He has nothing to do at night but roam the forests and chase animals. Then one night, while he lazed on a branch and watched the stars, he sees a slave girl who has come to the watering hole to bathe. Her name is Camilla. He watches her play in the water and is quite taken. She is brave for being out at night when she could be caught and severely punished. But he sees her need for freedom and is compelled to follow, just to be sure she returns safely to whatever estate she came from.
While watching Camilla sneak into the compound, Neloc makes a sound which frightens her. She stumbles. Halton, the guard wakes and goes to investigate. He enters Camilla's hut and sees her still wet from the swim. He decides to take what he feels is his. He attacks Camilla. Neloc comes to her rescue and kills Halton in the process, sucking him dry. Camilla sees this and faints. Neloc must leave or be found out. He chooses to leave and must hurry to Benin, because he is not prepared for the effects of drinking human blood after almost half a century without. As he fights his new found thirst, he wakes to find Alphanso gone. Suddenly his life is complicated as he is torn between ensuring Camilla's safety and finding Alphanso, his creator and father and the man without whom he cannot live in a white man's world.
Imagine the consequences of his actions. How will Camilla explain a dead, bloodless white guard in her hut? What will the white masters do with her when they discover Halton's body?
I'm in the middle of the novel and working my way to the end which I've already written. It's exciting and sometimes I can't wait to add a few more pages. Other times I don't want to be near it because I feel I cannot do the story justice. That's when I become really scared that I won't finish and that I'll never find a publisher.
I first wrote about Neloc in 2001. Yes, in 2001. Believe it or not. I wrote about 4 paragraphs and left it. But it never quite left me. Like all my stories, they remain near and pull my thoughts on a daily basis. I'm constantly thinking about it and wondering what should come next. I remember those paragraphs like I'd just written them. Halton wasn't a guard but Camilla's lover and it wasn't slavery time but some years on when black men were said to be free. Halton was a jerk who slept around with anyone who spread their legs for him. Camilla was thoroughly in love with him and while she knew of his indiscretions, she refused to challenge him on it, thinking that if she showed her love more, he would eventually be with her alone.
The paragraphs pick-up with Camilla walking behind Halton, begging him not to go out. He turns and smacks her on the cheek and tells her to go home and stop following him. Up on a branch in a nearby tree, a black man is watching the scene. he can read both their minds. He dislikes the man's character and his heart pains for the woman because she is so true and when Halton strikes he decides he must teach him a lesson and swoops down on the man, breaking his neck and sucking his blood. Camilla freaks out and runs off. She wakes the village with her noise and the village Madda comes to take control. She puts Camilla to bed and administer till Camilla is calm and is able to tell them about the black man that floated. No one but the Madda believes. Neloc returns home to his estate and is angry for revealing himself and for allowing the woman to go. He should have taken her with him and he vows to go find her. He had to. I didn't write another word until 2006 and then not again until last year.
In VAMPIRE DAWN, Halton is the guard who attempts to rape Camilla and is killed by Neloc who is indeed a vampire. The Madda is Selma who is a blind priestess who can do wonders with her potions and magical spirits. Neloc does live at Benin and he eventually will take Camilla to his home. I've gone 275 pages and I hope I can finish.
The novel was first named Neloc Benin after the lead character. A few weeks ago I changed it to VAMPIRE DAWN because these words are important in the story. I want the story to be a trilogy that tracks Neloc and Camilla's adventures as they travel the world. I don't know how it'll go as yet, but I do know one of two ways the entire thing will end. Either someone will die, or someone will leave. I already know to which way I'm leaning but you'll have to wait on the published novel to find out.
I will continue to blog about VAMPIRE DAWN, my writing and other things. You should come with me on this exciting journey.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
The miracle of plants
My orchid is blooming. Remarkable! I have never had an orchid lose it's blooms, grow a new shoot and bloom again. It's a wonderful feeling. But, first I must say that my husband had a lot to do with this. I didn't realise he watered it until I saw the shoot coming up, then I got excited and started watching it like a hawk. Hopefully I don't love it to death. I don't think so, because now I'm careful with the water. I check on it every morning and every evening just to make sure. It feels good to grow something, or rather, have something grow in your presence.
As you can imagine by now, I'm no good with plants. Horrible as a matter of fact. Terrible even. Plants commit suicide rather than be tended by me - yes, it's that bad. I'm the woman who kills a cactus. Can you imagine that -- I kill a plant that requires no care!
I have a tender spot for orchids. They are beautiful, elegant flowers and I wish I could grow them for a living. But I don't think I have the patience to grow plants, soon I'll want them to water themselves and that won't happen. I'm easily distracted. I'll come home tired and forget about them and for weeks I don't see the back of the yard. Someone could move in and I would have no clue.
Today's the orchid show in Hope Pastures. I'll try and go if I finish cooking in time. It should be beautiful. At the orchid show I can dream of raising an orchid properly...one can only hope.
Monday, March 14, 2011
8.9 in Japan
Last Friday, the world watched with horror as an 8.9 earthquake rocked Japan and a tsunami produced a 23 feet wave that destroyed a large part of the north-east section of the island. I can't stop thinking about it. On the one hand it's rather incredible, especially the photo of the sea churning and looking rather beautiful. The photo of the wave showed nature at it's mightiest and literally stopped my breath as I thought of all those people. It is hard to fathom the last thoughts of the people caught in the wave or those who were unaware until the water slammed into them. My heart bleeds for them and I say a prayer for those thousands of persons who have died and the millions that must continue life without them. I pray particularly for the three Jamaicans who cannot be found and hope that it's simply a matter of communication.
Japan's 8.9 is the third major quake since the start of the year - and I suspect there were more that I can't remember. World disasters happen so rapidly now that I've begun a retreat from the media. I'm not as rabid as I was for some breaking news but check in when I wish. Sometimes it's every day, sometimes not. Locally, I try to read the newspaper daily - or rather glance through it and read what I want, usually something light mixed in with at least one important piece or commentary, depending on my mood. It's all too shocking and with the recession and the difficulties we're facing in Jamaica and in my job, my brain cannot absorb it all and I find it hard to think and focus.
My daughter says what happened in Japan is like the movie 2012 and she's partially correct. With the climbing number of disasters, I have to wonder if the world is truly not coming to an end, or if the planet is not at a point of repositioning itself for a new beginning, much like scientists thought happened when the dinosaurs became extinct. Everything is topsy turvey, from the weather to human behaviour. It all seems out of whack and I keep thinking, where has it all come from? But I think I know. In the last 15 years, technology has opened up a can of worms none of us thought possible. Two years ago we would not have gotten photos of the Japan earthquake within minutes of it happening and as it happened. Two years ago we would have heard the news hours later and would have to wait a day or two for photographs. Now, the news is instant and with that comes a level of anxiety that no one could predict. Maybe these things always happened and we were all wrapped up in our own little world that we didn't notice. Only the history books can tell. What I do know is that we're in a cauldron and someone's lit the fire.
Japan's 8.9 is the third major quake since the start of the year - and I suspect there were more that I can't remember. World disasters happen so rapidly now that I've begun a retreat from the media. I'm not as rabid as I was for some breaking news but check in when I wish. Sometimes it's every day, sometimes not. Locally, I try to read the newspaper daily - or rather glance through it and read what I want, usually something light mixed in with at least one important piece or commentary, depending on my mood. It's all too shocking and with the recession and the difficulties we're facing in Jamaica and in my job, my brain cannot absorb it all and I find it hard to think and focus.
My daughter says what happened in Japan is like the movie 2012 and she's partially correct. With the climbing number of disasters, I have to wonder if the world is truly not coming to an end, or if the planet is not at a point of repositioning itself for a new beginning, much like scientists thought happened when the dinosaurs became extinct. Everything is topsy turvey, from the weather to human behaviour. It all seems out of whack and I keep thinking, where has it all come from? But I think I know. In the last 15 years, technology has opened up a can of worms none of us thought possible. Two years ago we would not have gotten photos of the Japan earthquake within minutes of it happening and as it happened. Two years ago we would have heard the news hours later and would have to wait a day or two for photographs. Now, the news is instant and with that comes a level of anxiety that no one could predict. Maybe these things always happened and we were all wrapped up in our own little world that we didn't notice. Only the history books can tell. What I do know is that we're in a cauldron and someone's lit the fire.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The trouble with Gas - and unrelenting dictators
Gas price in Jamaica has passed the $100.00 mark. In US currency that is $1.176 per liter or about $4.71 per gallon. A lot of mullah for people who were suffering under a recession that shouldn't have hit our shores...so said one misguided politician, who thank God has since redeemed himself with his efforts in controlling the country's finances. But back to the gas...
I purchase by value rather than quantity. Where it takes is as far as I go and if I can purchase more I do. This week my sister and I decided to car pool. After all, we work and live in the same neighborhoods, or very near. The only difference is she works until late and I have to escape the office at 6 p.m. before the dogs are let out. But, in light of the cost of fuel, I'll sit in the car and read a book until she's ready. It's the new way of the world.
But seriously, when is this going to end? When are we going to get a transportation system that we're comfortable with in Jamaica, or at least one that I can be sure will arrive when it should. But then again, what do I know? I haven't taken the bus in ages, despite it running right past my gate. One look into that crowded abyss in the mornings convinced me that if I ever try that adventure, I will do it on Sunday morning, when the bus is practically empty. The crowds at the bus stop is also a turn-off as I think of the hours spent standing in the sun, peering far up in the never-ending metallica, hoping that yellow dot way back in the distance is your bus and knowing very well that peopling living further up the line have already rammed it tight. No wonder many still drive.
Last week, a friend told me that part of the reason governments are unable to properly convince their citizens to ride the public transport or car pool, is that people have become accustomed to the personal space and security a car provides. It's that three feet this and that way that keeps me protected from the other being without the need for unnecessary conversation or even politeness that has us struggling to afford pricey cars and ridiculous gas prices. He may very well be on to something.
They say this new rise in oil prices is due to the trouble in the Middle East. I don't know whether to thank the Tunisians for waking up the world and showing them the true deal behind the deals that have modern countries and so called leaders of the developed world, befriending these dictators and declaring them changed beings or to smack them over the head and ask, what the hell were you thinking? Well, one recent rant in the hallowed UN Council by the 'mad dog of the East' showed that up for the bag of hog wash it is. The plain and nasty truth is that not one of those countries would pay any of them the time of day if they weren't sitting on a sea of black gold, or if they weren't mad tyrants, threatening to kill us all. The latter, I do believe is closely tied to the first. What on earth is going on on earth? Where were we all when secret deals were being made with Ghadafi? How did we ever believe that this man or any of them really wanted to change and that the change would be sustainable? Why would they think that they can rule their people for ever, passing on leadership to their next of kin like it was a little plot of land in the desert. Did they not expect their people to be fed-up of being fed-up? I'm waiting to see how long it's going to take one of the G8 to go in guns blazing to save the people (wink, wink).
It's amazing when you think about the whole thing. If we have peace in the Middle East, then the rest of the world sighs and happily sucks up as much oil as they can produce; if they're angry, then we're in deep excrement. If there is a recession, then oil prices drop because, naturally, many will not be able to afford their existing cars much less drive new ones or consume anything that uses the precious liquid. When the world is in the black, then oil prices soar because we're happily consuming. So what's the solution? Be poor and lament the inability to afford a vehicle but rejoice at the low oil prices? Or be rich and don't care about the cost of oil because you can afford it and damned the gaps created beneath the earth because we're sucking it dry? Either way, something's not right and it seems like we'll ponder this til eternity.
By the way, what happens underground when the oil's taken out - is it a black empty mass of nothing? Now that's one for the naturalists.
P.S. The photo above was taken from the web and is courtesy PennsylvaniaForChange.Blogspot.com
Lent
Today is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. It's the time when many persons make announcements about what they will give up for the season. Few follow-through and it becomes like New Year's resolutions - we make them, knowing very well that not one item on the list will be fulfilled. My daughter announced that she will give up soda for the period and I said, very good, thinking that I've given up so much during the recession that I don't know there's much of worth left.
This year, I'm trying to take a new lease on life and am seriously thinking through business options. I'm not short on ideas but rather on follow-through and funding. The first is a big hurdle to overcome as I often get lost in the details. Courage fails me and my creativity fades as I think of putting myself out there and taking the challenge. But slowly but surely I'm getting there.
So for Lent, I will give up fear and make a plan to develop a business of my own...as a matter of fact, it is my New Year's resolution that this year, I get the courage to succeed.
This year, I'm trying to take a new lease on life and am seriously thinking through business options. I'm not short on ideas but rather on follow-through and funding. The first is a big hurdle to overcome as I often get lost in the details. Courage fails me and my creativity fades as I think of putting myself out there and taking the challenge. But slowly but surely I'm getting there.
So for Lent, I will give up fear and make a plan to develop a business of my own...as a matter of fact, it is my New Year's resolution that this year, I get the courage to succeed.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Poppy Show
There is a matter that is taking up much of public time and money and which up to now, I've refrained from writing about. This is the Manatt/Dudus Enquiry (not the proper name). For those non-Jamaicans who may wander into this blog unknowingly, the short version is that the Enquiry is being held to determine if anyone is to be held liable for the fiasco that was the extradition of one of our most reputed and known area leaders, Christopher Coke, a.k.a, Dudus. Manatt is the legal firm that was to don invisible cloaks and slip into a confidential meeting with US State Department and the Jamaican Government representatives who were there to discuss the extradition request. When found out, everyone lied and appeared stupid and here we are at an Enquiry.
It is a serious matter...or so I thought. I will be the first to admit that I thought it a waste of time. I was afraid to say it out loud, but now, I'm more convinced. I honestly don't know what will come of it except fame and future job prospects for the attorneys who represent the politicians who are all fumbling to protect themselves. To quote a newspaper headline, 'Send in the clowns!' Oh wait, they're already there.
The cartoon in this blog was taken from the Jamaica Observer's website today and is a perfect representation of the Enquiry.
Jamaicans would say this is a real 'poppy show' and it is. The lawyers are strutting their stuff like proud peacocks while the politicians hurl insults and innuendos. I have to wonder if this is their last ditch attempt at public grand-standing before they slip back into their uninteresting world of banging wooden desks in parliament and flipping pages of three-inch thick documents that they will never read. Politicians and attorneys are the only set of people I know who can sit and answer questions for 4 hours and not reveal anything except the fact that they saw nothing, read nothing, heard nothing and knew no one. And so it continues.
Ah well, I'm sure when this is done, someone will hold an Enquiry to determine why this Enquiry didn't reveal all the truths it should and why in the end, all we have is a fat expensive talk-fest.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Buju Banton
I cannot avoid writing about Buju Banton, one of Jamaica's reggae stars who was found guilty of drugs and gun charges in Florida on February 22, 2011. For almost two years, Jamaica waited for this trial to end, especially following the first mistrial. Many were hopeful that he would be found not guilty, but it was not so. When the news came, you could almost hear the audible gasp of Jamaicans as they receive the news with much sorrow. It's not that Buju is perfect but I think the feeling is for the loss of a music that was quite good, excellent in instances. Like Michael Jackson, we will forever wonder how one so talented could have found himself in this predicament and it is for this that we mourn. It is also a step back for reggae music and for the reputation of Jamaican rastas as well as Jamaicans. But I also hope it's a wake up call for all those 'DJs' and singers who feel that they must tout badness to sell songs. It doesn't work. All they need to do is write and produce good music that will bring riches for years to come. I don't even want them to write inspirational music, because that too I think is a cop out, they need to write good music - lyrically stimulating, intellectually compiled and perfectly scored. That's all one can ask.
Good luck Buju!
Good luck Buju!
Colours are alive in Kingston, Jamaica
The flowers are all a bloom in Kingston, and I'm sure all across Jamaica. In the residential areas of the city there are many yellow Pouie trees that are now blooming. The dark woody branches shed all their leaves and send out these beautiful bright yellow buds that open and spread with magnificence. Then they fall and blanket the ground in glory. It is said that the blooming of the Pouie tree indicates that rain is coming. I don't know about that but what I do know is that these trees certainly illuminate the city. But like a rose, the blooms do wilt and rot and eventually become a dark colour that's quite unattractive.
I have two Pouie trees in my yard but they're not really blooming yet. When they do, they are great and people usually slow to look at them. Pouie trees also come in white and pink but these colours are not as 'eye-catching' as the yellow. I like the white but only if the trees are very large.
Sometimes you look up at the hills and see the trees blooming. That also is a pretty sight especially from a distance.
Bloom on Pouie tree, bloom on!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Romance stories
I now admit that I can't write a romance story to save my life. Usually, the people in my story die and some in a not-so-nice way. Even when there's romance, there appears to be a lot of sadness as opposed to the happy or contented ending romance stories require.
I've been doing a lot of research lately into romances, especially for formula type and I think my stories are lacking...very lacking. So I'm reading and trying to understand what drives these authors and how they manage to write so happy, happy.
Maybe I should give up and write suspense, at least people are expected to die in them.
I've been doing a lot of research lately into romances, especially for formula type and I think my stories are lacking...very lacking. So I'm reading and trying to understand what drives these authors and how they manage to write so happy, happy.
Maybe I should give up and write suspense, at least people are expected to die in them.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Chilaxing on a Sunday
Ah, Sunday. The best and the worst day of the week. The top half of Sunday is heaven while the bottom half is hectic and synonymous of Monday -- uugh, the worst day of the week.
I like my Sunday mornings. I'm the first up which I enjoy because it's usually peaceful except when the neighbours' gardener comes to mow the lawn. But I get up between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. and I make breakfast and sit down to a very quiet meal, much like J.Lo in The Wedding Planner. After breakfast, I get to spend a good two or three hours at the computer before anyone else is even remotely awake and that's the good part. Then I go watch CBS Sunday Morning, depending on what they're bringing. If it's interesting, I watch, if not, I go back to the computer or to reading the newspaper. Yes, that's the life.
Sunday afternoon now is a different matter because that's when time rushes on and it seems I'll never get everything ready for work Monday and I never do. My sister would come for me to do her hair. I ponder doing my nails (usually I don't) and ironing (ha! haven't done that in a while) or finishing up some piece of work I brought home (sometimes I do). If it's my day to cook, I'm so exhausted that I don't do anything else but watch TV or lie on the bed and wish my legs to stop hurting. That aside, I would give up no other day for Sunday.
I like my Sunday mornings. I'm the first up which I enjoy because it's usually peaceful except when the neighbours' gardener comes to mow the lawn. But I get up between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. and I make breakfast and sit down to a very quiet meal, much like J.Lo in The Wedding Planner. After breakfast, I get to spend a good two or three hours at the computer before anyone else is even remotely awake and that's the good part. Then I go watch CBS Sunday Morning, depending on what they're bringing. If it's interesting, I watch, if not, I go back to the computer or to reading the newspaper. Yes, that's the life.
Sunday afternoon now is a different matter because that's when time rushes on and it seems I'll never get everything ready for work Monday and I never do. My sister would come for me to do her hair. I ponder doing my nails (usually I don't) and ironing (ha! haven't done that in a while) or finishing up some piece of work I brought home (sometimes I do). If it's my day to cook, I'm so exhausted that I don't do anything else but watch TV or lie on the bed and wish my legs to stop hurting. That aside, I would give up no other day for Sunday.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Back at work
After 2 weeks of vacation, I went back to work Thursday. Bad idea. I should have taken the additional 2 days. My mind was all over the place and there was a lot waiting. There's no one to do anything while I'm off and because of this, things just sit around for my arrival. It can be daunting and it means spending a lot of time catching up. I have no clue what I'm doing from moment to moment. But I've gotten some things done and they were important things - all was not lost.
I'll probably be in the same frame of mind on Monday but able to produce work. I'm like a drunk who is always intoxicated and learns to work while heavily influenced. You know the type. Sober him up and he don't know left from right, but pour a few shots down his throat and he's a genius. Yep, that's me - working on sub-pilot.
Changes are coming, I can feel it. I don't know if I'm ready for that but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do regardless. Despite the bleak, troublesome future, I am willing to deal with what may. I might not enjoy or welcome it, but I'll deal with it. What choice do I have?
This weekend I hope to write and fix up story beginnings to enter some RWA competitions. Maybe something will come of that. I'm hopeful because I'm excited about some of the stories I have to work on. So hopeful in fact, that I can't pour the words on the page fast enough and get frustrated and stop. But then I force myself to go back. Also have to be careful of the temptation to work on more than one stories and none get finished. That can be a trap within itself. Not that I can't jot down some words if something comes to me, but I must avoid working on a distraction for days before it occurs to me, that's not the story I should be doing.
The last time I wrote, I said I was going to take the bull by the horn and look at publishing my own stories. Well, I've started planning to do just that. It's early days, but so far so good. I'm not scared to death yet and am taking it one day at a time.
I had a weird dream last night. I was driving my daughter somewhere and ended up downtown -- which in Jamaica is not always a good place to be. First we were driving and then we were walking with a whole lot of bags, as if the car broke down, but I can't be sure. I stop to buy something and am trying to maneuver the bags between us when a man offers to help. I tell him no, but somehow between switching bags, he ended up with a blouse I was carrying. He walks with us up and over this bridge and the next thing I know, he is ahead of us and moving too fast. I shout out to him and he begins running. I try to give chase but I have a bum knee -- I really do -- and can't move fast enough. My daughter is not moving very fast either although I'm thinking she's younger than me and should be able to run. So we start screaming 'thief! thief!'. People hear and 2 young men give chase. The man throws the blouse in the park and runs in a different direction. Then he's not a man, but a woman. She falls in the road. A girl comes from nowhere and drags her up and they run off and escape. We go back to retrieve the blouse but find we are behind this low wall. I'm panicked because I want to get back to the place he threw the blouse and retrieve it. For some reason, I thought it important though I made the blouse. I'm telling my daughter to jump down but she's afraid of the height and I begin to get annoyed. Just as we're about to jump down, I wake with a massive headache. I wish if someone could tell me what this means.
I should add that the bridge we walk up and over, has been recurring in my dreams for years. It's always the same bridge, in the same area but usually coming from somewhere different and leading to different things. Weird, huh?
Till later....
I'll probably be in the same frame of mind on Monday but able to produce work. I'm like a drunk who is always intoxicated and learns to work while heavily influenced. You know the type. Sober him up and he don't know left from right, but pour a few shots down his throat and he's a genius. Yep, that's me - working on sub-pilot.
Changes are coming, I can feel it. I don't know if I'm ready for that but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do regardless. Despite the bleak, troublesome future, I am willing to deal with what may. I might not enjoy or welcome it, but I'll deal with it. What choice do I have?
This weekend I hope to write and fix up story beginnings to enter some RWA competitions. Maybe something will come of that. I'm hopeful because I'm excited about some of the stories I have to work on. So hopeful in fact, that I can't pour the words on the page fast enough and get frustrated and stop. But then I force myself to go back. Also have to be careful of the temptation to work on more than one stories and none get finished. That can be a trap within itself. Not that I can't jot down some words if something comes to me, but I must avoid working on a distraction for days before it occurs to me, that's not the story I should be doing.
The last time I wrote, I said I was going to take the bull by the horn and look at publishing my own stories. Well, I've started planning to do just that. It's early days, but so far so good. I'm not scared to death yet and am taking it one day at a time.
I had a weird dream last night. I was driving my daughter somewhere and ended up downtown -- which in Jamaica is not always a good place to be. First we were driving and then we were walking with a whole lot of bags, as if the car broke down, but I can't be sure. I stop to buy something and am trying to maneuver the bags between us when a man offers to help. I tell him no, but somehow between switching bags, he ended up with a blouse I was carrying. He walks with us up and over this bridge and the next thing I know, he is ahead of us and moving too fast. I shout out to him and he begins running. I try to give chase but I have a bum knee -- I really do -- and can't move fast enough. My daughter is not moving very fast either although I'm thinking she's younger than me and should be able to run. So we start screaming 'thief! thief!'. People hear and 2 young men give chase. The man throws the blouse in the park and runs in a different direction. Then he's not a man, but a woman. She falls in the road. A girl comes from nowhere and drags her up and they run off and escape. We go back to retrieve the blouse but find we are behind this low wall. I'm panicked because I want to get back to the place he threw the blouse and retrieve it. For some reason, I thought it important though I made the blouse. I'm telling my daughter to jump down but she's afraid of the height and I begin to get annoyed. Just as we're about to jump down, I wake with a massive headache. I wish if someone could tell me what this means.
I should add that the bridge we walk up and over, has been recurring in my dreams for years. It's always the same bridge, in the same area but usually coming from somewhere different and leading to different things. Weird, huh?
Till later....
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
It's my time!
So I get up this morning, this final day of vacation and am bummed out of my wits. I am totally fed up of being broke and have had enough! It's time I do something about it.
I admit that while I've had plenty business ideas in the past have been happy to pass them on to someone else, I know I can develop something and make it great. But everything I can think of requires lots of money, something that I have extremely little of. Lately I've been thinking of my writing and how I've only tackled it in a half-assed way. I've never seriously sought out an agent or a publisher. So these past two weeks that I've been on vacation I've been sending out queries and such. Nothing positive yet but at least 2 nice rejections and 2 promises. Believe me, it's hard work. It's like throwing darts blind folded -- you never know what you're going to hit. Already I know how impossible it is to understand the North American literary market from a country in the Caribbean. It seems like you have to be there in the thick of things in order to know whom to bug and when. Oh, that's another thing, if you don't understand the reading period during the year, forget it. I got one response from a publisher that said I am to check back in November to see if my story was accepted. November! By then I'll be on the street corner begging a change.
So I've been thinking of this self-publishing thing. I go back and forth with it and I've even tried it. I'm proud to say I loaded a bunch of short stories on Kindle and without any form of advertising or publicity, I've sold 29 copies. It's no money, but it's 29 copies among the thousands and thousands of novels and stories on Kindle. Not bad. Not bad at all. If I could only sell 3,000 more a month, I'd be set. LOL! Kindle takes a chunk of money but it's worth it if your intention is for instant publication.
What if I do my novels myself, publish and advertise them and see how that goes? Then when I get some volume going, I can approach an agent. I know few persons have succeeded at this and as a matter of fact, there are established authors who are going the self-publishing way and keeping the money for themselves. It's not easy and it means working remotely and finding the money for ads and a site, but it's certainly doable especially if I tackle one part of the project at a time. My only drawback is me thinking my stories are good enough. It takes the courage of a lion to fight off these nerves.
You know what? I think I'm going to do it. If it fails then I move on to something else.
Onward!
I admit that while I've had plenty business ideas in the past have been happy to pass them on to someone else, I know I can develop something and make it great. But everything I can think of requires lots of money, something that I have extremely little of. Lately I've been thinking of my writing and how I've only tackled it in a half-assed way. I've never seriously sought out an agent or a publisher. So these past two weeks that I've been on vacation I've been sending out queries and such. Nothing positive yet but at least 2 nice rejections and 2 promises. Believe me, it's hard work. It's like throwing darts blind folded -- you never know what you're going to hit. Already I know how impossible it is to understand the North American literary market from a country in the Caribbean. It seems like you have to be there in the thick of things in order to know whom to bug and when. Oh, that's another thing, if you don't understand the reading period during the year, forget it. I got one response from a publisher that said I am to check back in November to see if my story was accepted. November! By then I'll be on the street corner begging a change.
So I've been thinking of this self-publishing thing. I go back and forth with it and I've even tried it. I'm proud to say I loaded a bunch of short stories on Kindle and without any form of advertising or publicity, I've sold 29 copies. It's no money, but it's 29 copies among the thousands and thousands of novels and stories on Kindle. Not bad. Not bad at all. If I could only sell 3,000 more a month, I'd be set. LOL! Kindle takes a chunk of money but it's worth it if your intention is for instant publication.
What if I do my novels myself, publish and advertise them and see how that goes? Then when I get some volume going, I can approach an agent. I know few persons have succeeded at this and as a matter of fact, there are established authors who are going the self-publishing way and keeping the money for themselves. It's not easy and it means working remotely and finding the money for ads and a site, but it's certainly doable especially if I tackle one part of the project at a time. My only drawback is me thinking my stories are good enough. It takes the courage of a lion to fight off these nerves.
You know what? I think I'm going to do it. If it fails then I move on to something else.
Onward!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine's day
I think I forgot it was valentine's day. I am aware of it -- how can I not be with all the TV ads and shows reminding me -- but sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning I forgot, then I remembered and forgot again. It would be nice if my husband would have reminded me, but that fell out of his ability to plan years ago and we haven't done anything for valentine's day in years. Do I miss it? Yes, I think I do. I know what many persons think: it's a shameless commercial attempt at gaining sales through false claims of love. And I know that happiness doesn't come in a Kay jewellery box because not everyone can afford that. But it would be nice if we both could get into the theme of the day and at least make an effort. Oh well, the dangers of married life.
But come to think of it, not many stations on the cable are showing love shows, at least not the typical ones. In fact, we see them so often throughout the year that it's only Lifetime and Hallmark that are making any effort. Thank God for their crappy, sappy movies without which my life would be devoid of all things romantic. Lol! Yep, in my old age I've become a romantic. It's the only escape I have and if not, I think I may very well go mad.
Anyway, to all the happy couples out there, happy valentine's day! Make the most of it and I hope you see many, many more.
Love.
But come to think of it, not many stations on the cable are showing love shows, at least not the typical ones. In fact, we see them so often throughout the year that it's only Lifetime and Hallmark that are making any effort. Thank God for their crappy, sappy movies without which my life would be devoid of all things romantic. Lol! Yep, in my old age I've become a romantic. It's the only escape I have and if not, I think I may very well go mad.
Anyway, to all the happy couples out there, happy valentine's day! Make the most of it and I hope you see many, many more.
Love.
My writing life
I am at the point of total frustration and now truly believe that there is a certain amount of courage that's needed to write and publish. To do this successfully, you must know that your work is good and be willing and able to submit, submit, submit. I'm not sure I have any of that. I mean, I think my work is good. People say so, though I would feel better if I heard this from people I didn't know or people who were professionals. That I could get from a publisher which is next to impossible especially when you don't have much to publish my work in the Caribbean and I'm not quite sure which ones to approach. An email to a publisher is almost always met with promises or a rejection because you need an agent. And from browsing on the net, agents seemed to be so filled that they're not taking new writers and in fact, several sites I've seen imply that you must have something published first. Huh? That's what I'm trying to do!
Anyway, as I write this rant, I'm trying to work out how to get my feet in the door without actually being in the United States knocking on them all. It's very tricky and now I understand why Jamaicans who want to succeed feel they must leave in order to do so. It seems if you're not in the thick of things, then things can get pretty thin.
So what am I going to do about it? Submit, submit, submit. I have stories and I think I have a voice. I know that if I get an agent I will get published because my stories are good. I just need to get my foot or even my big toe in the door to make it work. And so I write.
Anyway, as I write this rant, I'm trying to work out how to get my feet in the door without actually being in the United States knocking on them all. It's very tricky and now I understand why Jamaicans who want to succeed feel they must leave in order to do so. It seems if you're not in the thick of things, then things can get pretty thin.
So what am I going to do about it? Submit, submit, submit. I have stories and I think I have a voice. I know that if I get an agent I will get published because my stories are good. I just need to get my foot or even my big toe in the door to make it work. And so I write.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
To market, to market
My sister, Ina and I went on an adventure Saturday before last. We went to Curry! (For those of you who have no clue, Curry is Coronation market, downtown Kingston).
You know me, I had to relay this tale as I always do with things I find interesting. This is sort of long, so if you don’t want to read, exit now. For my overseas pals, this is more for your reading pleasure.
Last week I heard and read that there was a glut in fresh produce and farmers were hard pressed to get rid of items. Produce was selling for $50 and $40 a pound in Coronation market. Carrots were $40 a pound and tomatoes that were $500 a couple weeks ago were now $100. Well, I just had to get some, despite my not going to the market in over 30 years! So I phoned up a couple friends who usually go. One was sick and the other was heading out of town, I didn’t want to inconvenience. Meanwhile I was emailing Ina to see if she was interested and if she could find someone. No luck, all her friends shopped on Friday. So we decided we would go together, but how to get there? Ina suggested the bus. Yeah, right. Taking the bus to Half Way Tree or even Cross Roads is one thing. Taking the bus to parade is another and may have been doable except how would we find our way to the market? And once there, how back? As I said for both of us it was over 30 years. Then we thought of taking a taxi but the thought of spending an equal amount on a cab to and back didn’t make sense. So we said we would drive. And there is where it got off the ground. We were adamant that we were going to the market. Ina got directions which seemed simple enough. Drive on Marcus Garvey, pass the new bus park, turn left, turn left, follow the road and viola, Curry. We were advised to get there for 5:30 because it got crowded after that. Parking is on the road so it’s not a problem.
We decided to dress down, carry no handbags and wear shoes for running. I wore my denim capri with a rip on the thigh, a grey t-shirt that would declare me Switzerland should things go bad, my yard slippers, didn’t comb my hair and swapped out the BB for a Nokia. Ina wore a black and white stripe tank and denim pants with slippers. She combed her hair.
Ina picked me up shortly after 5 and we made our way in the dark morning to Coronation market, both of us laughing and joking that we must be crazy. When she came, the front passenger section was filled with her shoes. I thought, not again. The time when Ina’s car was stolen, they got over 10 pairs of shoes and to date, not one was returned. This time they would probably get half of that but still I was worried. The loss of so many pairs of shoes would eventually have an effect on a person. (I still can’t believe they didn’t bring them back — thoughtless.)
We found our way along Marcus Garvey good enough because that’s a place a know well. Then we passed Seprod and it still looked good. When we saw the transport centre (well lit), we begun looking for the left turn. Things started looking grim then — open lots overgrown with weeds and old buildings. A minivan pulled out in front of us and we stayed behind. He turned left and we realised that’s where we were going, so we drove along, still in the dark. We made the next left turn and I carried up the window. Ina asked if I thought this was really the way. I said, ‘well, the bus is still in front of us and if anything, the road is wide enough for us to make a turn...sort of.’ I told her to follow the bus, although I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. I never knew 5:30 was so dark and any road could look so desolate and then I saw a sign ‘Welcome to the Edward Seaga Sports Complex’ and we turned a corner and there it was — a whole heap a car and bus and Coronation Market. We were at the entrance across from Tivoli. The bus stopped right across from it and people got out. Ina was right, after all, the bus would have taken us to the gate. Anyway, we proceeded to find parking, easier said than done. I couldn’t believe the amount of cars, we couldn’t find anywhere remotely close to the market entrance and so had to park quite a distance away and hike it back. We parked, set the alarm on the car, wish it well and decided we were still game.
There are many entrances but we chose the main one with the remains of the wrought iron top and the remnants of a crown that I vaguely remember from a child. I don’t even know if it was really there or if I was remembering something from the other side of the market. At the entrance we took a breath and went in, ready to tackle whatever we met. But you know, all the apprehension was unnecessary. The section Digicel built is now opened and occupied and then there are the other areas that are covered by tarpaulin. We went to the Digicel section first. It’s right by the entrance on the left and it’s very, very nice. It’s all concrete base with stalls that come up as counters, made of concrete. The alleys have names and each stall a number. We went to the middle and started off at 385 Breadfruit Way, just a little beyond Lime Tree Lane. All the passageways are named off fruits, easily read. And, the place was very clean. The fruits and vegetables were pretty, clean and well laid out. Worthy of a kodak moment. It’s been a while since I’ve seen fruit that pretty and nicely laid out. At 385 we bought carrot, pumpkin and cabbage.
We were able to walk comfortably because while the market was crowded, it wasn’t so you were bouncing into anyone. There were no strange smells – only the smells of the fruits and vegetables and some seasonings. I liked it and I was very comfortable. We went across to one tarped section and saw this was where the ground provisions mostly were. Pretty yams, nice, nice carrots and beautiful potatoes.
So, in the end, it was great. I thought we got good bargains with prices at least half that of the supermarket. The only things that didn’t compare was the banana. You’re better off getting that at Price Smart. Together Ina and I spent just under $3,000. We bought for 3 houses and got a lot of items, most more than a pound: carrots, pumpkin, cabbage, tomatoes (salad and plummy), okra, escallion, thyme, lettuce, cauliflower, string beans, scotch peppers, sweet peppers, onion, sweet potato, Irish potato, yam, melon, ripe bananas, garlic, tangerine, lemon, melon and cucumber. I could never spend this at the supermarket and end up with the 2 Price Smart bags full of food and carrying about 4 items in our hand. I think we did well.
The people were nice and fair as everyone insisted on you looking at the scale and they let you select what you want and told you how to carry it. Like the lady who looked in my bag and said, ‘no,no, carry the lettuce in your hand.’ I didn’t even buy it from her and she helped me repack the bag. Clearly I was a novice. And I’m sure some prices went up on us, but it was good because it was so much cheaper than what I usually spent that I didn’t haggle with a soul. There was one old man, sipping something hot, who wanted to let us know that we were all had bottoms, in words not so nice, until the young lady who was selling, asked him kindly to move from her stall. I found it funny because I’m sure if we were not there she would have asked him in another voice. He obliged. But all in all there were no incidents, no moment of discomfort, no feeling of threat. We left at about 6:15 realising that we only saw about a quarter or less of the market because we didn’t see the people with the fruits like June plum, or the spices and the we discovered the big section with the ground provisions a little late. For the most part the Digicel section has all that you could need but next time, we are going to venture further. If I were a vegetarian, I could spend the same and shop for enough food for more than 2 weeks. There wouldn’t be a need to go to the supermarket as there was a woman at the gate selling fresh bread (still hot in the bags) including Harvest wheat. She had oil, tin foods, etc.
When we were leaving the place was getting more crowded with cars and people. The ones of a higher colour were coming in and I thought, lucky thing I went early because prices are surely gonna go up. But everyone looked comfortable and at home. Oh, one thing did happen when we were leaving, a guy was coming out with a hand cart, going at a rather high speed, suddenly he took the corner, rather close, frightening 2 ladies coming in who had to jump back. But then again, he was shouting a warning. Police were on guard over on the Tivoli side – strange they weren’t there when we were coming in...oh well...
So now we were ready to leave and when we got to the end of the road, it occurred to us that we didn’t know where to go. The directions didn’t include how to get out or where the one ways were. Ina, said ‘which way?’ I looked around and didn’t have a clue, there were no signs, no indications and the cars we saw were parking. So we stayed looking left and right and just about when I was about to say ‘gun’ it, two cars came up beside us and turned right. We followed them and found our way back to the section of Marcus Garvey that was at the end of the craft market and we knew where we were. Everything was all right.
I say you should go, especially since the prices are so good. One example, I didn’t buy brocoli because it was $250 per pound, only to go to the supermarket and see if for over $500 a pound. I didn’t buy it there either.
So, gather your friends, put on your ragamuffin clothes, leave the valuables and head on down to Curry at 5:30 a.m. It’s a side of Jamaica that you must experience.
You know me, I had to relay this tale as I always do with things I find interesting. This is sort of long, so if you don’t want to read, exit now. For my overseas pals, this is more for your reading pleasure.
Last week I heard and read that there was a glut in fresh produce and farmers were hard pressed to get rid of items. Produce was selling for $50 and $40 a pound in Coronation market. Carrots were $40 a pound and tomatoes that were $500 a couple weeks ago were now $100. Well, I just had to get some, despite my not going to the market in over 30 years! So I phoned up a couple friends who usually go. One was sick and the other was heading out of town, I didn’t want to inconvenience. Meanwhile I was emailing Ina to see if she was interested and if she could find someone. No luck, all her friends shopped on Friday. So we decided we would go together, but how to get there? Ina suggested the bus. Yeah, right. Taking the bus to Half Way Tree or even Cross Roads is one thing. Taking the bus to parade is another and may have been doable except how would we find our way to the market? And once there, how back? As I said for both of us it was over 30 years. Then we thought of taking a taxi but the thought of spending an equal amount on a cab to and back didn’t make sense. So we said we would drive. And there is where it got off the ground. We were adamant that we were going to the market. Ina got directions which seemed simple enough. Drive on Marcus Garvey, pass the new bus park, turn left, turn left, follow the road and viola, Curry. We were advised to get there for 5:30 because it got crowded after that. Parking is on the road so it’s not a problem.
We decided to dress down, carry no handbags and wear shoes for running. I wore my denim capri with a rip on the thigh, a grey t-shirt that would declare me Switzerland should things go bad, my yard slippers, didn’t comb my hair and swapped out the BB for a Nokia. Ina wore a black and white stripe tank and denim pants with slippers. She combed her hair.
Ina picked me up shortly after 5 and we made our way in the dark morning to Coronation market, both of us laughing and joking that we must be crazy. When she came, the front passenger section was filled with her shoes. I thought, not again. The time when Ina’s car was stolen, they got over 10 pairs of shoes and to date, not one was returned. This time they would probably get half of that but still I was worried. The loss of so many pairs of shoes would eventually have an effect on a person. (I still can’t believe they didn’t bring them back — thoughtless.)
We found our way along Marcus Garvey good enough because that’s a place a know well. Then we passed Seprod and it still looked good. When we saw the transport centre (well lit), we begun looking for the left turn. Things started looking grim then — open lots overgrown with weeds and old buildings. A minivan pulled out in front of us and we stayed behind. He turned left and we realised that’s where we were going, so we drove along, still in the dark. We made the next left turn and I carried up the window. Ina asked if I thought this was really the way. I said, ‘well, the bus is still in front of us and if anything, the road is wide enough for us to make a turn...sort of.’ I told her to follow the bus, although I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. I never knew 5:30 was so dark and any road could look so desolate and then I saw a sign ‘Welcome to the Edward Seaga Sports Complex’ and we turned a corner and there it was — a whole heap a car and bus and Coronation Market. We were at the entrance across from Tivoli. The bus stopped right across from it and people got out. Ina was right, after all, the bus would have taken us to the gate. Anyway, we proceeded to find parking, easier said than done. I couldn’t believe the amount of cars, we couldn’t find anywhere remotely close to the market entrance and so had to park quite a distance away and hike it back. We parked, set the alarm on the car, wish it well and decided we were still game.
There are many entrances but we chose the main one with the remains of the wrought iron top and the remnants of a crown that I vaguely remember from a child. I don’t even know if it was really there or if I was remembering something from the other side of the market. At the entrance we took a breath and went in, ready to tackle whatever we met. But you know, all the apprehension was unnecessary. The section Digicel built is now opened and occupied and then there are the other areas that are covered by tarpaulin. We went to the Digicel section first. It’s right by the entrance on the left and it’s very, very nice. It’s all concrete base with stalls that come up as counters, made of concrete. The alleys have names and each stall a number. We went to the middle and started off at 385 Breadfruit Way, just a little beyond Lime Tree Lane. All the passageways are named off fruits, easily read. And, the place was very clean. The fruits and vegetables were pretty, clean and well laid out. Worthy of a kodak moment. It’s been a while since I’ve seen fruit that pretty and nicely laid out. At 385 we bought carrot, pumpkin and cabbage.
We were able to walk comfortably because while the market was crowded, it wasn’t so you were bouncing into anyone. There were no strange smells – only the smells of the fruits and vegetables and some seasonings. I liked it and I was very comfortable. We went across to one tarped section and saw this was where the ground provisions mostly were. Pretty yams, nice, nice carrots and beautiful potatoes.
So, in the end, it was great. I thought we got good bargains with prices at least half that of the supermarket. The only things that didn’t compare was the banana. You’re better off getting that at Price Smart. Together Ina and I spent just under $3,000. We bought for 3 houses and got a lot of items, most more than a pound: carrots, pumpkin, cabbage, tomatoes (salad and plummy), okra, escallion, thyme, lettuce, cauliflower, string beans, scotch peppers, sweet peppers, onion, sweet potato, Irish potato, yam, melon, ripe bananas, garlic, tangerine, lemon, melon and cucumber. I could never spend this at the supermarket and end up with the 2 Price Smart bags full of food and carrying about 4 items in our hand. I think we did well.
The people were nice and fair as everyone insisted on you looking at the scale and they let you select what you want and told you how to carry it. Like the lady who looked in my bag and said, ‘no,no, carry the lettuce in your hand.’ I didn’t even buy it from her and she helped me repack the bag. Clearly I was a novice. And I’m sure some prices went up on us, but it was good because it was so much cheaper than what I usually spent that I didn’t haggle with a soul. There was one old man, sipping something hot, who wanted to let us know that we were all had bottoms, in words not so nice, until the young lady who was selling, asked him kindly to move from her stall. I found it funny because I’m sure if we were not there she would have asked him in another voice. He obliged. But all in all there were no incidents, no moment of discomfort, no feeling of threat. We left at about 6:15 realising that we only saw about a quarter or less of the market because we didn’t see the people with the fruits like June plum, or the spices and the we discovered the big section with the ground provisions a little late. For the most part the Digicel section has all that you could need but next time, we are going to venture further. If I were a vegetarian, I could spend the same and shop for enough food for more than 2 weeks. There wouldn’t be a need to go to the supermarket as there was a woman at the gate selling fresh bread (still hot in the bags) including Harvest wheat. She had oil, tin foods, etc.
When we were leaving the place was getting more crowded with cars and people. The ones of a higher colour were coming in and I thought, lucky thing I went early because prices are surely gonna go up. But everyone looked comfortable and at home. Oh, one thing did happen when we were leaving, a guy was coming out with a hand cart, going at a rather high speed, suddenly he took the corner, rather close, frightening 2 ladies coming in who had to jump back. But then again, he was shouting a warning. Police were on guard over on the Tivoli side – strange they weren’t there when we were coming in...oh well...
So now we were ready to leave and when we got to the end of the road, it occurred to us that we didn’t know where to go. The directions didn’t include how to get out or where the one ways were. Ina, said ‘which way?’ I looked around and didn’t have a clue, there were no signs, no indications and the cars we saw were parking. So we stayed looking left and right and just about when I was about to say ‘gun’ it, two cars came up beside us and turned right. We followed them and found our way back to the section of Marcus Garvey that was at the end of the craft market and we knew where we were. Everything was all right.
I say you should go, especially since the prices are so good. One example, I didn’t buy brocoli because it was $250 per pound, only to go to the supermarket and see if for over $500 a pound. I didn’t buy it there either.
So, gather your friends, put on your ragamuffin clothes, leave the valuables and head on down to Curry at 5:30 a.m. It’s a side of Jamaica that you must experience.
I’m not ashamed to say I like Bollywood films, bad acting and all. Bollywood is second only to its namesake Hollywood in terms of film output and I’m not even so sure that still obtains as so many of Hollywood’s productions are remakes.
A few nights ago I saw The Mistress of Spices on the LIV cable channel. The movie starred Bollywood’s leading lady and 1994 Miss World, Aishwarya Rai with those commanding blue-green eyes and Dylon McDermott who is no little pip squeak himself. (Aishwarya is now married to Bollywood’s leading male actor Abishek Bachchan.) The movie follows Tilo (Aishwarya) who is taken from her home by rebels after they killed her parents. She escapes in a river and later washes up on the shore of the Goddess of Spice where she’s taught the secret of the spices. When she’s learnt enough and ready to go out and sell her spices and wisdom, she’s sent into the world (America, Los Angeles to be exact) where she is the curator of a spice shop. She’s told she must follow three simple rules: don’t leave the store, don’t touch human flesh and never betray the spices. Enter Dylan McDermott and so much for the three rules.
For me, the draw of any Bollywood movie or crossover Bollywood movie as Spices, is the ability to tell the most sensuous love stories without kissing, nakedness, sex or expletives. Wonderful! We get enough of that in ads, movies and even on the streets. In Bollywood, bad guys lose and good guys win – they may not end up with riches, but they do win. The simplicity of the Indian story and the lessons portrayed is a big part of the attraction. Like Slum Dog Millionnaire, The Mistress of the Spices is about love, choices, and self-sacrifice as are all Indian films. Tilo must make a choice and through her trials and error and the suffering she caused to those she intended to help, she must learn the hard way that love is best demonstrated through sacrifice.
A love story from Bollywood is one and a half hours of subtle foreplay. Anticipation is rife; desire is evident and words are unnecessary. It is apparent in body language, the glimpses of flesh around the woman’s waist, upper arms, shoulder and neck. And of course, because they’re Indian and hair is important, in the flow of their lovely mane. Now, now, I’m not worshipping long hair but just appreciating the natural beauty of eastern people. Anyone who saw The English Patient and the scene where Naveen Andrews’ character Kip loosens his turban and releases his long tresses for Juliette Benoche’s Hana to see, would totally understand what I’m saying.
Another favourite Bollywood-type movie that I can’t get enough of is Bend It Like Beckham starring the now famous Parminder Nagra, Keira Knightley, Jonathan Rhys Myers and Archi Panjabi, all appearing in ER, Pirates of the Caribbean, Tudors and The Good Wife; and many other popular shows.
Bend It Like Beckham is set in London and focuses on Parminder’s character, Jasminda and her desire to play football and the obstacles she faces through strict traditional parenting. Mixed in all of this is the relationship with her coach, Joe, played by Rhys Myers. Once again, the eyes take it. In one scene, Joe visits Jasminda’s home to convince her parents to let her play. Her father denies his request in a polite but not-so-polite manner, and he leaves. Joe and Jasminda are standing outside the house. It is dark and he is very close to her, telling her that she is lucky to have parents that care so much. She is not convinced. He’s wearing a pristine white shirt that fits perfectly across the shoulders and that highlights his eyes. He leans to her and a kiss is expected; instead, he tells her to go back inside to her parents and walks away. I wanted to drag him back and tell him to finish what he started.
Bend It Like Beckham is more modern than most traditional Bollywood movies and so the leading characters do kiss, once. But there’s no sex or expletives. From all that I’ve read, the movie is a very close accounting of the life of Indian immigrants to London and the complications caused by old-world traditions that children, born in a different era, find hard to follow.
In The Mistress of Spices, Tilo and McDermot’s character, Doug does not share a full-lip kiss. His lips touch her neck, arms, and eyelids. The scene fades the moment he moves to her lips. The enticement comes from the many tender scenes that lead up to this one. In another, Tilo is searching for Doug’s perfect spice. She goes to the back room, which has many, many jars nicely displayed as is the front. She skips the spice that would make him leave his girlfriend and tries to locate something special for him. Doug follows her. He comes to stand behind her. He is very close and for a moment, I think he’s going to take her in his arms. She is very aware of him and you know she wants him to touch her and he definitely wants to do more than that. And just as you think they will, they don’t. She steps back, slips away, and the scene changes.
There’s another scene where Tilo is hesitant because since meeting Doug, things have been going wrong. She blames herself and does not want to see him again. He visits her in the store and tells her, ‘I’m coming back for you tonight’. It’s a pleasurable threat that’s said with such tenderness that you want to tell him, no, not tonight, now, now, come back now! By the time they get together, there’s no need to see the sex. After, when the light fades on the screen, the scene continues in your head and your heart and you can’t help but feel the romance. It’s magic. (And oh, by that time in the show the girlfriend is dumped to prevent the leading-lady getting a two-timing reputation.)
I don’t necessarily think Ashwaya is a great actor; she’s not bad, but not great. However, she is a great beauty and nice to watch. Like Rhys, it’s all in the eyes and knowing this, the camera pans to the eyes at all opportunity. Likewise, not all Bollywood films are worth watching. The acting in some can be quite bad, bordering on ridiculous. I’ve seen scenes that are five minutes long and made up of loud mysterious music and harsh expressions as the camera pans from one person to the next seemingly in a contest of who will hold the stare the longest. I can also do without the Punjabi rhythm that’s synonymous of so many Bollywood movies. And it takes a certain tolerance to listen to the high-pitched female singing.
Also appearing in The Mistress of Spices are: Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje who plays Keesi a regular visitor to the store and a man desperate to snare the love of his life with the delectable spices and secret recipes that Tilo provides. Adewale is also known for The Mummy Returns, Oz, Bourne Identity and others. Shaheen Khan plays a troubled boy’s grandmother. In Bend It Like Beckham, Shaheen played Jasminder’s mother, Mrs. Bharmra. Anunpam Kher who played alongside Shaheen in Bend It, played a grandfather in The Mistress of Spices.
Keeping on that side of the world, somewhat, I was fortunate enough to watch all three Girl With the Dragon Tattoo movies starring Noomi Rappace as Lisbeth Salandar. These are the original adaptations of Stiegg Larsson’s bestsellers. (Pity he didn’t live to see his success.) The movies were recorded in Swedish and subtitled. If you do nothing else, you must see these films and please watch this before you see the American remakes. There are no special effects and no dramatics but the acting is very real. The movies have received numerous nominations and awards on the European continent and at BAFTA. Some critics were surprised Rappace wasn’t nominated for best actress in the recently announced Oscar lists, but that’s how these things go. I must say though that I’ve seen a shot of Rooney Mara – also in Social Network – who will act as Salander and it looks very close to Rappace’s character. Hopefully, they’ll do it justice.
If you mainly watch American films, I’m suggesting that you broaden your mind and look to other cultures. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised.
A few nights ago I saw The Mistress of Spices on the LIV cable channel. The movie starred Bollywood’s leading lady and 1994 Miss World, Aishwarya Rai with those commanding blue-green eyes and Dylon McDermott who is no little pip squeak himself. (Aishwarya is now married to Bollywood’s leading male actor Abishek Bachchan.) The movie follows Tilo (Aishwarya) who is taken from her home by rebels after they killed her parents. She escapes in a river and later washes up on the shore of the Goddess of Spice where she’s taught the secret of the spices. When she’s learnt enough and ready to go out and sell her spices and wisdom, she’s sent into the world (America, Los Angeles to be exact) where she is the curator of a spice shop. She’s told she must follow three simple rules: don’t leave the store, don’t touch human flesh and never betray the spices. Enter Dylan McDermott and so much for the three rules.
For me, the draw of any Bollywood movie or crossover Bollywood movie as Spices, is the ability to tell the most sensuous love stories without kissing, nakedness, sex or expletives. Wonderful! We get enough of that in ads, movies and even on the streets. In Bollywood, bad guys lose and good guys win – they may not end up with riches, but they do win. The simplicity of the Indian story and the lessons portrayed is a big part of the attraction. Like Slum Dog Millionnaire, The Mistress of the Spices is about love, choices, and self-sacrifice as are all Indian films. Tilo must make a choice and through her trials and error and the suffering she caused to those she intended to help, she must learn the hard way that love is best demonstrated through sacrifice.
A love story from Bollywood is one and a half hours of subtle foreplay. Anticipation is rife; desire is evident and words are unnecessary. It is apparent in body language, the glimpses of flesh around the woman’s waist, upper arms, shoulder and neck. And of course, because they’re Indian and hair is important, in the flow of their lovely mane. Now, now, I’m not worshipping long hair but just appreciating the natural beauty of eastern people. Anyone who saw The English Patient and the scene where Naveen Andrews’ character Kip loosens his turban and releases his long tresses for Juliette Benoche’s Hana to see, would totally understand what I’m saying.
Another favourite Bollywood-type movie that I can’t get enough of is Bend It Like Beckham starring the now famous Parminder Nagra, Keira Knightley, Jonathan Rhys Myers and Archi Panjabi, all appearing in ER, Pirates of the Caribbean, Tudors and The Good Wife; and many other popular shows.
Bend It Like Beckham is set in London and focuses on Parminder’s character, Jasminda and her desire to play football and the obstacles she faces through strict traditional parenting. Mixed in all of this is the relationship with her coach, Joe, played by Rhys Myers. Once again, the eyes take it. In one scene, Joe visits Jasminda’s home to convince her parents to let her play. Her father denies his request in a polite but not-so-polite manner, and he leaves. Joe and Jasminda are standing outside the house. It is dark and he is very close to her, telling her that she is lucky to have parents that care so much. She is not convinced. He’s wearing a pristine white shirt that fits perfectly across the shoulders and that highlights his eyes. He leans to her and a kiss is expected; instead, he tells her to go back inside to her parents and walks away. I wanted to drag him back and tell him to finish what he started.
Bend It Like Beckham is more modern than most traditional Bollywood movies and so the leading characters do kiss, once. But there’s no sex or expletives. From all that I’ve read, the movie is a very close accounting of the life of Indian immigrants to London and the complications caused by old-world traditions that children, born in a different era, find hard to follow.
In The Mistress of Spices, Tilo and McDermot’s character, Doug does not share a full-lip kiss. His lips touch her neck, arms, and eyelids. The scene fades the moment he moves to her lips. The enticement comes from the many tender scenes that lead up to this one. In another, Tilo is searching for Doug’s perfect spice. She goes to the back room, which has many, many jars nicely displayed as is the front. She skips the spice that would make him leave his girlfriend and tries to locate something special for him. Doug follows her. He comes to stand behind her. He is very close and for a moment, I think he’s going to take her in his arms. She is very aware of him and you know she wants him to touch her and he definitely wants to do more than that. And just as you think they will, they don’t. She steps back, slips away, and the scene changes.
There’s another scene where Tilo is hesitant because since meeting Doug, things have been going wrong. She blames herself and does not want to see him again. He visits her in the store and tells her, ‘I’m coming back for you tonight’. It’s a pleasurable threat that’s said with such tenderness that you want to tell him, no, not tonight, now, now, come back now! By the time they get together, there’s no need to see the sex. After, when the light fades on the screen, the scene continues in your head and your heart and you can’t help but feel the romance. It’s magic. (And oh, by that time in the show the girlfriend is dumped to prevent the leading-lady getting a two-timing reputation.)
I don’t necessarily think Ashwaya is a great actor; she’s not bad, but not great. However, she is a great beauty and nice to watch. Like Rhys, it’s all in the eyes and knowing this, the camera pans to the eyes at all opportunity. Likewise, not all Bollywood films are worth watching. The acting in some can be quite bad, bordering on ridiculous. I’ve seen scenes that are five minutes long and made up of loud mysterious music and harsh expressions as the camera pans from one person to the next seemingly in a contest of who will hold the stare the longest. I can also do without the Punjabi rhythm that’s synonymous of so many Bollywood movies. And it takes a certain tolerance to listen to the high-pitched female singing.
Also appearing in The Mistress of Spices are: Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje who plays Keesi a regular visitor to the store and a man desperate to snare the love of his life with the delectable spices and secret recipes that Tilo provides. Adewale is also known for The Mummy Returns, Oz, Bourne Identity and others. Shaheen Khan plays a troubled boy’s grandmother. In Bend It Like Beckham, Shaheen played Jasminder’s mother, Mrs. Bharmra. Anunpam Kher who played alongside Shaheen in Bend It, played a grandfather in The Mistress of Spices.
Keeping on that side of the world, somewhat, I was fortunate enough to watch all three Girl With the Dragon Tattoo movies starring Noomi Rappace as Lisbeth Salandar. These are the original adaptations of Stiegg Larsson’s bestsellers. (Pity he didn’t live to see his success.) The movies were recorded in Swedish and subtitled. If you do nothing else, you must see these films and please watch this before you see the American remakes. There are no special effects and no dramatics but the acting is very real. The movies have received numerous nominations and awards on the European continent and at BAFTA. Some critics were surprised Rappace wasn’t nominated for best actress in the recently announced Oscar lists, but that’s how these things go. I must say though that I’ve seen a shot of Rooney Mara – also in Social Network – who will act as Salander and it looks very close to Rappace’s character. Hopefully, they’ll do it justice.
If you mainly watch American films, I’m suggesting that you broaden your mind and look to other cultures. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Sunday morning
My favourite time of the week is Sunday morning. I like waking early and puttering around the house alone, fixing breakfast and eating in peace while I watch whatever I want on TV or fool around on the Internet. It's the best time.
Jo's in St. Kitts and via BB she's sending messages about where she's going and what she sees. Since she left on Thursday, I must have gotten a hundred or more messages and I have a fairly good idea of the places she's gone and the things she's seeing, unless she's making it all up. Still, that has me thinking of how different it is now with cell phones and computers. Years ago I would have to rely on a letter or a phone call. Mostly, it was the phone call because even prior to the burst of technology, letters were fast becoming obsolete. Now, everything's instant and immediate and there's less mystery. While it can be overwhelming, it's also good for security as it reduces the worry of knowing where anyone is at any one time. This, of course, while calming to the nerves, reduces privacy greatly. In this modern technological world, there's little privacy if any at all for persons such as those, who spend their lives on Facebook. But, for now, I'm grateful for BB messages as it keeps the worry at bay....for now.
Jo's in St. Kitts and via BB she's sending messages about where she's going and what she sees. Since she left on Thursday, I must have gotten a hundred or more messages and I have a fairly good idea of the places she's gone and the things she's seeing, unless she's making it all up. Still, that has me thinking of how different it is now with cell phones and computers. Years ago I would have to rely on a letter or a phone call. Mostly, it was the phone call because even prior to the burst of technology, letters were fast becoming obsolete. Now, everything's instant and immediate and there's less mystery. While it can be overwhelming, it's also good for security as it reduces the worry of knowing where anyone is at any one time. This, of course, while calming to the nerves, reduces privacy greatly. In this modern technological world, there's little privacy if any at all for persons such as those, who spend their lives on Facebook. But, for now, I'm grateful for BB messages as it keeps the worry at bay....for now.
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