Victoria M. Johnson

“Here is the question: If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say? What advice, warnings, or encouragement would you give your younger self?”

Sixteen Things I Would Tell my Sixteen-Year-Old Self

1. Do you know how beautiful youth is?
2. There is more to discover looking out the window than in the mirror.
3. There’s an intellectual word called “agency” and it means our ability to influence our lives. Some say we don’t have any; others, that the entire responsibility is ours. I claim our agency is small, but powerful.
4. You’ll be so happy to remember the times when, in the midst of narcissistic agony, you were able to think of others.
5. One day you’ll appreciate your mother, when the bread you bake is nowhere near as good as hers, and you can’t seem to get your canning jars to seal.
6. One day you won’t have to worry so much about money. You’ll buy a hundred-dollar pair of shoes (but you’ll never take it for granted).
7. People don’t learn much from what’s spoken through a bullhorn. It might be necessary to speak through a bullhorn, but that’s a rare occasion.
8. Promoting good is better than fighting evil.
9. There are wonderful rewarding lives to be lived below the radar, niches upon niches, webs upon webs. Partake.
10. The extremely memorable moments are not the ones unique to you, but the universal ones: lovemaking, parenthood, natural splendor.
11. You’ll want to be a mother someday.
12. You’ll get to be a mother someday.
13. Small and beautiful dreams can come true. To be a published writer is not out of your reach.
14. For fifteen years you’ll be a runner, yes, you, my little bookworm.
15. Commitment is magical, just as Goethe said.
16. The ability to work continually and consistently may be one of the greatest gifts a person can have. Persistence leaves genius in the dust.

Lita A. Kurth

_____________________________________________________________© 2012 Lita A. Kurth

Lita A. Kurth’s Bio:  Lita A. Kurth teaches Composition and Creative Writing at De Anza College and in private workshops and regularly contributes to Tikkun.org/tikkundaily andTheReviewReview.com. She has published essays, poems, and short stories in NewVerseNews, Blast Furnace, ellipsis…literature and art, the Santa Clara Review, the Exploratorium Quarterly, Tattoo Highway, and Vermont Literary Review as well as erotica (under a pseudonym) in Cleansheets.com and Oystersandchocolate.com. An excerpt of her novel was published as a story, “Marius Martin, Proletarian,” and appears in On the Clock: Contemporary Short Stories of Work (Bottom Dog Press). A work of nonfiction, “Pivot” appears in the 2012 University of Nebraska anthology, Becoming.  Here are two websites where Lita’s work can be found: The Review Review and Tikkun Daily.   She holds an MFA from the Rainier Writers Workshop.

“Here is the question: If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say?  What advice, warnings, or encouragement would you give your younger self?”

Letter to Myself at Sixteen

I saw you on the street today

eyeliner planting little black seeds

in your tear ducts.

I picture you reading this

in one of your dreams, a jumble

of banned books, torn paper, frayed

blankets and advertising logos

where you work on your future

every rough or delicate detail

like the pieces in a child’s wooden puzzle:

shaped for incremental comprehension.

In this dream I have

your brief attention:

the past cannot be censored

and my archaeology is your future.

I want to protect you, bony girl

warn you away from what dazzles you

snatch the broken glass from your plate

but I’m just another

grown-up woman, creased brow

and a purse stuffed with middle-age

heading home to a quiet house

where paper sacks

filled with outgrown toys

wait by the door.

Erica Goss

_________________________________________________________© 2012 Erica Goss

Erica Goss bio:  Erica Goss is the winner of the 2011 Many Mountains Moving Poetry Contest. Her chapbook, Wild Place, was published in 2012 by Finishing Line Press.  Her poems, articles and reviews have appeared in many journals, most recently Connotation Press, Hotel Amerika, Pearl, Main Street Rag, Rattle, Eclectica, Blood Lotus, Café Review, Zoland Poetry, Comstock Review, Lake Effect, and Perigee.  She won the first Edwin Markham Poetry Prize in 2007, judged by California’s Poet Laureate Al Young, and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2010.  Erica is a contributing editor for Cerise Press, and writes a column on video poems for Connotation Press.  She holds an MFA from San Jose State University. Visit her website.

“Here is the question: If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say?  What advice, warnings, or encouragement would you give your younger self?”

“I want to be able to record every beautiful thing I see, so that when I look back on my life in a time of darkness, I won’t be able to say that I have never lived in light.”- From your diary, 1996.

The summer you turned 16 finds you in the mountains with your father. There is something I will tell you, but I cannot tell you yet. Right now, in August, the Teton Range is still capped in snow. You can see the mountains towering cold beyond the twisting of the Snake River. Once, this was the land of the Shoshones. Your father is not a Native American, but he often wishes he were. He admires them, you know, and tries to walk the woods like them. He tries to teach you to do the same. You won’t realize this now, but for all his extroversion (his quoting from the great works, his storytelling, his flit and flair for conversation, his occasional but torrential bouts of anger) he is a man who tries to live softly in the world. The mountains rise from the flat fields of sagebrush, and you name them because he’s taught you: Middle, Grand, Teewinot, Mount Owen, Mount Moran.

You will complain that there are only three radio stations you can get in Teton Park, and all of them play Country. I won’t tell you that in four years, you’ll be spending one of the best summers of your life listening to Country music while tacking up horses on a small island off the coast of Cape Cod. You will learn to herd sheep, and you will fall in love with a boy who will break your heart.

The climb up to the lower saddle is excruciating with a 75 lb. pack. You help set up camp. You wake up at 3 AM to begin the ascent and drop your contact lens in the dark. As you look up into the velvet sky exploding with stars, you realize you have been sleeping nestled closer to the heavens then you have ever been before. So much light. Hat, headlamp, expedition-weight long underwear, you are sixteen and you don it with precision, like armor, but there will come a time when you will no longer have that proficiency in the outdoors. A time when your mountains are made from skyscrapers and when you look into the heavens you can see no stars at all.

You’ll forget how many days it took to drive from Ithaca, New York to Jackson Hole, Wyoming; years from now it will only be a blur of rest stops and the flat lands filled with corn, big sky country, and lightning that flashed in the distance. What you’ll remember is the icy expanse of the Western face of the mountain, how you reached the summit too late, how you had to free climb when your father realized he didn’t have a long enough rope to get you back down. Rock shoes slipping on black ice, you looked down into Idaho and knew that sometimes in life, there would be no room for mistakes. On the long drive you would remember your father talking about the Medicine Wheel, how it represented the four directions, and how people were made up of these directions, too.

“North, the way of the Buffalo, color; black. These people are directive, the leaders. South, the way of the Deer, color; green. These people are healers, the nurturers. West, the way of the Bear, color; sunset. These people are the doers, the hard-workers who pay great attention to detail.”

“You are of the East,” he’ll tell you. “The way of the Eagle. Your color; blue. You are imaginative, and you are creative. But you cannot follow through.” You can’t help but agree, and so all you can do is study his profile and hope that someday, you will learn how to follow through.

This is when I would lean in, a shadow of the woman you will become, accompanying you as the old car rolls across all those long miles. This is when I would tell you:

This is the last great mountain your father will ever climb.

In ten years, he will be gone. It will happen in his sleep. And what you will wish, is that you could have collected every moment you spent with him not only that summer, but for all the seasons before.

You will learn how to follow through, but it will be largely in part because of his death. His leaving will cause you to leave the land of the skyscrapers to find a way of living more softly in the world. And the adventures that you have will teach you something about mountains, too. You’ll learn that there is nothing so lasting as those granite giants. Not love, not sadness, not war, not humanity itself. Our footsteps fall into the land and they become a part of it.

Just as your father will always be a part of you.

Signe Pike

________________________________________________________ © 2012  Signe Pike

Signe Pike Bio:  Signe Pike is the author of the critically acclaimed memoir Faery Tale: One Woman’s Search for Enchantment in a Modern World. The memoir earned a “Best of 2010″ nod from Kirkus Reviews in addition to receiving glowing reviews from Harper’s Bazaar, Women’s Adventure Magazine, and New York Times bestselling author Marianne Williamson. She worked as a book editor at both Random House and Penguin before relocating to Charleston, South Carolina, where she now writes full-time. Her recent collection of poetry—Native Water—was a #1 Kindle Bestseller.

Pike has been featured on National Public Radio’s “To the Best of Our Knowledge” along with Salman Rushdie, Neil Gaiman, and A.S. Byatt.  Visit Signe’s website.

“Here is the question: If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say?  What advice, warnings, or encouragement would you give your younger self?”

I’m supposed to tell you I’d hug her.            

Sixteen and she’s swallowed three seasons of the year by a men’s black wool coat that she thinks makes her look mysterious and androgynous, Ally Sheedy in The Breakfast Club or Jimmy Smits in NYPD Blue. Bangs to hide her face, soft plum of a chin, then another chin. Her acne’s bad but it could be worse. A couple of months ago, it dented her cheeks like someone held her face too long.

She’s hiding in the attic, reading, always, or writing plays for movie stars that come back – return to sender – accompanied by lawyer stationery, disclaimers. Mr. Martin has not received or read this material.  It’s hard to think with the engine. Outside, her father’s driving a tractor in circles, chopping and spitting weeds. Her mother wants her to drink more milk.

On her elbows so long her hands go numb. There’s no screen in the attic window and the bees get in, fat and wobbly, and fly around the small of her back, their feathery legs dangling.

She doesn’t want a hug, doesn’t want anyone to touch her. She wants to know the future. Is asking me, ghost of thirty-four, of iPads and crow’s feet and trick knees, about the future.  And so maybe I tell her.

I am sorry to inform you that sixteen is the year someone will throw twenty-three spitballs at the back of your head while you’re in the library reading Norman Maclean’s Young Men and Fire. Twenty-three: you’ll count them. You’ll pretend it’s not happening because you think you deserve it somehow, will wish you were thirty-four and brave and could walk over and tell this person to go fuck himself. But it won’t matter because when you’re thirty-four, you’ll see a photograph of him and he’ll be hunched and bald, wearing sockless loafers, standing on a boat that’s supposed to make up for the fact that his high school years were the best of his life.

You’ll see. Little by little, the bandages will come off.

You’re going to go to college, you’re going to go to New York, you’re going to have sex, you’re going to cry a lot, you’re going to sit on a wet bench smoking cigarettes, watching strangers get married in a park, the bride’s dress sweeping through goose shit. You’re going to talk to your friends on the phone, tell them how miserable you are while snow blows on the foot of your bed. You’re going to put cinnamon in your coffee and you’re going to call your mother and ask her how to make scrambled eggs. You’re going to watch Juliette Binoche in Blue and decide that’s who you want to be, French and beautiful and widowed, wearing a new, more form-fitting black wool coat. You’re going to have a crush on a girl in your D.H. Lawrence class whose cheeks look like apples and cream and you’ll decide you’re a lesbian for three months until you develop a crush on this girl’s boyfriend who has a beard and wears flannel shirts and smells like wilderness. You’re going to be bored and foolish and scared and thrilled. You’re going to, for an indecent amount of time, live on mashed potatoes and bagels.

It’s not going to be what you want because you’re not ready for it. You’re going to be surprised.  This poor girl, she doesn’t even know.

The things you love, the things you hate, will basically be the same in twenty years, give or take. These questions will keep you up at night, irradiating you, a trembling skeleton in the bed. That’s okay, really. Your heart will gush, but you’ll sit up, dip your pen in the blood, and write it all down. You’ll write a whole fucking book.

The things you find funny now – that time rehearsing “Tom Thumb, Tragedy of Tragedies,” when somebody farted, when you squeezed each other into corsets, when you and your best friend were each other’s prom dates, when someone mispronounced a word and it became hilarious in its new incarnation, a word you’d carry around and pull out like a magic trick prompting cackle-laughter and snort-spit – all these things you will forget for a time, scattered and fallow in your skull. But they will come back, buzzing like locusts.

You should thank your teachers. Tell them the truth, that you don’t understand everything – anything – but you know you want to be like them instead of like Juliette Binoche. Stop skulking. Your teachers have given you a gift, and the least you can say is, hey thanks, I’ll remember you. Because you will.

That man you’ve been looking for? You already know him. One day soon, out of the blue, he’s going to call you up and for no reason either of you can understand, you will whisper into the phone for five hours, until your throats hurt and your mother leans through the kitchen and shushes you.  You’ll lose him for a few years, keep bumping into him buying trash bags and talking about books in parking lots. Have you by any chance read – ? Yes. Yes. Yes.  

That your mother was right about the milk.

That terrible things will happen, and beautiful things will happen, and you will live them out but not work them out, for they are the things that pull at you and freckle you and make those parenthesis around your eyes. Dearie, your body is recording your life.

But maybe I won’t tell her any of this, because I don’t believe in straight lines, in inevitability, that there’s a high probability that she will become anyone.  I don’t know what would happen to her, what could happen to her, if she waits five more minutes, takes a different train. There she is now, shapeless and jittery, on a street somewhere, pretending she doesn’t need a map.

Oh hell. Can’t I give her a map?

________________________________________________________ © 2012 Elizabeth Eslami

Elizabeth Eslami

Elizabeth Eslami Bio:  Elizabeth Eslami is the author of the novel Bone Worship (Pegasus, 2010).  Her essays, short stories, and travel writing have appeared in numerous publications, including The Millions, The Nervous Breakdown, Matador, and The Literary Review, and her work will be featured in the forthcoming anthologies Not in My Father’s House: An Anthology of Fiction By Iranian American Writers and Writing Off Script: Writers on the Influence of Cinema.  Her story collection, The Hibernarium, was a finalist for the 2011 Flannery O’Connor Award for Short Fiction. She currently teaches at Manhattanville College.  For more information, visit her website at Elizabeth Eslami

“Here is the question: If you could talk to your 16-year-old self, what would you say?  What advice, warnings, or encouragement would you give your younger self?”

If I could talk to my sixteen year old self, I’d be silent. I’m not disposed to dispensing advice. And she isn’t disposed to taking it. Already she has begun to sense the fallibility of the advice dispensers in her life, so she will view me with suspicion. She isn’t happy to see me. I know her. I know all about her. Every single thing she ever thought and did – 100% of her life. She knows but a fraction of mine – nothing beyond what she is at the moment we meet. She feels at a disadvantage.

And I’m no longer what she is…

I look at her, with her Catholic school uniform (plaid skirt, very white shirt and saddle shoes), thin, ink-stained fingers and sunburnt California face, knowing that this is the summer she will spend mostly at the beach, reading 133 books in a mad quest to know everything.

And now she wants to know what will have happened to her by the time she is me-now. I can’t tell her. I can’t tell her a thing, because, the time-space continuum being what it is, if I do, her future might not happen and my sons won’t be born. I will protect their existence over hers. I’m not her mother.

But she doesn’t know about time-space continua. She doesn’t like science fiction and Star Trek hasn’t even aired yet. Her mind is full of Whitman and Eliot, Merton and Woolf. She doesn’t know that she will take Astronomy & Physics at foreign universities or that I will have changed her mind about this magnificent speculative literature – that it will become an enormous part of our life, that sometime in the 1990s, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Harlan Ellison, most of the Star Trek cast and other icons of that world, will have become her friends and colleagues. She doesn’t know that because of it, she will marry a man whom Variety calls “a Hollywood legend” in that world and beyond.

She doesn’t care, anyway. She wants to be a priest.

That’s the first direct question she asks me – “Am I – uh – are you – or we – a priest?”

I don’t know if it’s okay, in this timewarp, to tell her what hasn’t happened – but I risk it. “No,” I say. “It still isn’t an option for women, even in my now.”

I don’t look at her when I say this, not wanting to reveal by a single twitch of a muscle either what I feel about this; or that her current predilection has undergone considerable alteration in my life; that there are deeper priesthoods in her future.

But when I look up, her face is stricken. Her eyes are swimming with tears. My stomach tightens. My throat constricts.

“You’re sixteen,” I say, finally. “You would have had to have started seminary at eighteen. You didn’t really think the Church’s entire dogma on the priesthood would change in two years, did you?”

It doesn’t sound very compassionate to me, even as I say it, but I remember that shock, that bitterness so well – that day when I was sixteen and someone came to visit me and told me something like that. (Was it an aunt? I don’t remember. Someone who looked like me anyway.) The bitterness must have crept in from memory, changed the sound of my voice…

“I don’t know,” she says, squinting, looking up at the sky, “Maybe.”

I remember then how very young sixteen was then. Much, much younger than now.

Suddenly she says, “Is Brother Joachim okay? I mean in your time? Tell me.”

The intensity of youthful friendships in those faraway days, the loyalty, the honour, return for a moment. Innocence. Joy. I remember her – my  –  beloved Franciscan friar, close my eyes against decades of memory and grief, and nod almost imperceptibly, hoping the universe won’t notice.

She doesn’t press me for a verbal answer, but I see her body relax slightly.

“Do I get to go to university?” she asks. “Do I get a PhD?”

I can’t tell her any more, I say, but this time I tell her why. I tell her that her life won’t be like anything she has yet dreamt; that we are meeting in a brief aberration of time – a Temporal Paradox; and that anything she knows about her future could alter it.

“Then what are you here for?” she asks.

“To talk to you – to give you a little advice.”

“But hasn’t my future already happened?”

“Not for you.”

“Yes, but my future is your past, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Not all of it.”

“Well, up to this point it is,” she answers. “So what advice could you possibly give me that would actually work?”

I look at her squarely, face to face, right into the dark, dark eyes I know so well. It is then I realize what I’m really here for.  I give her the answer she already has:

“None.”

She smiles, then -  a clean, sweet, sad, sixteen year old smile, and turns away.

I begin to retreat into the unstable time vortex that seems to be forming around me but she suddenly turns back, takes my hand – and I return for a moment to hold her to my heart.

“Right,” she says, as I slowly release her into my past. “Because, of the two of us, it’s only your future that can actually change.”

________________________________________________________  © 2012 Harrison Solow

Harrison Solow Bio:

Dr Harrison Solow

American writer Harrison Solow has been honoured with multiple awards for her literary fiction, nonfiction, cross-genre writing, poetry and professional writing, most notably winning the prestigious Pushcart Prize for Literature in 2008.  A writer and strategic consultant of rare experience, her work spans Hollywood, Academia, Business, Law and Literature. Harrison Solow is one of the two best-selling University of California Press authors of all time (at time of publication), a Notable Alumna of Mills College where she earned an MFA, and holds the rare distinction of a British PhD in English (Letters) with a critical and creative dissertation “Accepted as Submitted: No Changes” from Trinity Saint David in 2011.

She lectures in English and American Literature, Creative, Nonfiction and Cross Genre Writing, Specific Authors, Science Fiction and American Culture, Professional Writing, Philosophy and Theology at a number of universities, colleges, arts and cultural institutions in the United States, Canada and Great Britain.

A former faculty member at UC Berkeley, she accepted a lectureship in the English Department of the University of Wales in 2004 and was appointed Writer in Residence in 2008. She returned to America in 2009.

Dr. Solow is a strong proponent of the traditional Liberal Arts, the Fine Arts and the Utilitarian Arts as separate and equally respectable entities, an advocate for Wales and a patron of literary endeavours.

She is married to Herbert F. Solow, the former Head of MGM, Paramount and Desilu Studios in Hollywood and has two sons.

Her latest book is Felicity & Barbara Pym: Amazon and WordPress Page

Harrison Solow is available for interviews, lectures and workshops. She can be reached through her manager, Simon Rivkin at simonrivkin@solowtwo.com

Harrison Solow’s Web pages: Red Room and Academia   Follow Harrison on Twitter: @harrisonsolow and on Facebook

Cinco de Mayo—the fifth of May—commemorates the Mexican army’s 1862 victory over France at the Battle of Puebla during the Franco-Mexican War (1861-1867).  And 2012 marks the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Puebla.  Cinco de Mayo is not considered a major holiday in Mexico. However, in the United States Cinco de Mayo has evolved into a celebration of Mexican culture and heritage. Cinco de Mayo traditions include parades, parties, mariachi music, Mexican folk dancing, traditional foods, and street festivals in cities and towns across the United States.

Some mistakenly believe that Cinco de Mayo is a celebration of Mexican independence, which was declared more than 50 years before the Battle of Puebla. That event is commemorated on September 16, the anniversary of the revolutionary priest Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla’s famous “Grito de Dolores” (“Cry of Dolores”), a call to arms that amounted to a declaration of war against the Spanish colonial government in 1810. 

According to David Hayes-Bautista, a UCLA Professor, historian, and director for the Center for the Study of Latino Health and Culture, a fascinating story lies behind Cinco de Mayo.  He told the Huffington Post that as a demographer and epidemiologist, he was investigating why Hispanics, despite having less income and education and meager access to health services, are both less prone to certain diseases and live on average five years longer than non-Latino whites.

“I was investigating the level of health of Latinos during the Gold Rush and the Civil War. But there was no easy way to get that data; until 1880 there were no birth certificates, and until 1896 there were no death certificates,” he said.

The professor turned to Spanish language newspapers from the mid-19th century that served Latino communities in the U.S.  “The news of the Mexican victory over the French Army in Puebla were celebrated, not only immediately after it happened, but every year during the Civil War. That is the origin of why we celebrate the Cinco de Mayo,” said Hayes-Bautista, author of the new book The Cinco de Mayo: An American Tradition.  ”Latinos here supported [President Abraham] Lincoln. They supported freedom, and democracy. The French invaded Mexico to remove democracy, and to impose over Mexico a treaty with the Confederation,” he explained.

Let us all continue to support freedom and democracy!  And let us continue to celebrate tradition.

Interesting Children’s books about Mexico and delicious Food Network Cinco de Mayo recipes.

I am pleased to announce that my novel and fiction debut, The Doctor’s Dilemma, is a finalist in the 2012 Booksellers’ Best Award. (A Published Author’s Contest for books published in 2011 sponsored by the Greater Detroit RWA)

It finaled in two categories, Best Traditional Romance and Best First Book!  I am thrilled to share this exciting news with you.  The Doctor’s Dilemma, set in rural Mexico, is truly a book of my heart.  It tells the story of a doctor and nurse who work at La Clinica Pediatrica, and the villagers whose lives they touch.  The lead characters have their own personal issues to resolve but they are forever changed by their time in this small village.  I’ll anxiously await hearing the results.

I’m participating in a group novel written by several Avalon Books authors. Each of us is writing one chapter and I think it’s off to a great start.  I was assigned Chapter six and my chapter was posted this week.  Here’s the link to read it.  The idea behind the novel, ALONG FOR THE RIDE, was that each of the thirteen authors would write their chapter after having received the previous chapter.  In other words, a pre-arranged plot did not exist and we had no rules to follow.  Each author is in control of where she takes the story.

I thought it would be a fun and challenging project, so I signed up.  Little did I know what I was in for.  First of all, the Chapter One author, Beate Boeker created great characters, provided an interesting backdrop, and set-up suspense.  The next authors set the tone for a fast-paced romantic suspense story.  As I read each chapter, I gulped.  I expected impressive writing since these were all multi-published authors, but the cliffhangers were getting more and more complicated as the story led to my chapter.  And the style of each author made each chapter wonderfully unique while still maintaining cohesiveness.

Then came Chapter Five by Elisabeth Rose.  Holy, moly can that girl write!  She really stepped up the stakes and I was so pleased to have followed this chapter.  Well, at first I may have said, “No way, how could she do that to me?”  But I gathered my decorum and got to work.  In addition to the creative aspects of the story, I had to deal with the technical elements.  I didn’t want to forget clues that were previously planted, but I obviously couldn’t address all of them in my one chapter.  I had to choose which elements of the story felt right to act upon and which to leave for the next author.  I can honestly say that I enjoyed participating in this project and I look forward to reading the upcoming chapters.

 You can read all the chapters at this link.

So what does all this March Madness mean to us?  Have you ever worked in a situation where every action you took mattered?  Not just your physical actions but also your emotional state of mind mattered too?  Now imagine TV cameras on you, your coach shouting, a ref watching your every move, and a stadium full of screaming fans—half hate you and the other half is rooting for you.  (There’s so much more going on, but I don’t want to get distracted from the topic).  My point is this: these young players come to The Game with a certain amount of training, preparation, mindset, fans who believe in them, and negative forces working against them—just like writers.  And when the whistle blows, it’s all on them.  They either have it or they don’t.  Here’s what they do, and I believe it’s what makes the madness so riveting:

1. They give it everything that they got

2. They don’t leave anything on the table

3. They know they have one shot to show what they’re made of

4. They step it up—they play to the level of the competition

5. They stay focused, brushing off the distractions and setbacks

6. They have a team—they’re not in it alone

What if you only had one shot to show what you’re made of?  Would you write differently?  Would you choose the project you’re working on now?  Are you putting everything you got into your project?  Are you leaving anything inside you that should be on the page—in other words, are you holding back?  Are you still writing for the love of it?  Are you stepping up your game?

March Madness is full of suspense and drama.  Some dreams come true and other dreams are shattered.  But one thing that I admire of all the basketball players is their heart and desire to win.  Every game means something.  If you are lacking enthusiasm and drive, turn on a March Madness game and get caught up in the infectious intensity.  See the fire in the players’ eyes.  Feel the passion and camaraderie.  You can’t help but be inspired.  And ask yourself this: would my game change if I wrote with this kind of relentless intensity?

Click to read Part I

Duke University March Madness

Ever wonder what all the March Madness hype is about?  Are you surrounded by basketball fans that seem crazed and single-minded? Instead of running in the other direction, I’m suggesting you take a moment to assess what’s at the root of the madness.  I’ll admit I’m one of those fans who may seem possessed at times.  But I think writers (and everyone else) can benefit from a closer study of this annual phenomenon.  Let’s examine the behavior of the basketball players, not the zealous fans, and maybe we can find a way to harness some of this enthusiasm.

First a brief background: As you know, college basketball players don’t get paid to play b-ball.  They are there for the love of the game.  (Only a few get scholarships).  By the time we get to the month of March, the regular season has just ended and we go in to conference play.  Everyone wants to win their conference title. Everyone wants to go to the big dance—also known as the sweet sixteen.

Conference play is when all the television cameras are on.  Teams that never get any airtime have the opportunity to make a name for themselves.  There is the chance that a modest, unknown college can win the title.  These are known as Cinderella teams—teams that come out of nowhere to beat a favored college.  And they don’t just beat one team—they keep on winning, moving up in the bracket.  This possibility is part of what makes the madness exciting.  Fans know it is always possible.  Possible that a team with little hope can pull it together, find their mojo, and win.  It also means a beloved team can lose at any time.  In other words, E-V-E-R-Y game matters! 

Click to read Part II.

March Madness

We all claim we need more time.  If I just had an extra hour or two I would…  Or, if only I had half a day I would have been able to…  Well guess what people?  Today is that day!  Today is Leap Day, giving you an extra 24 hours—a whole day—to do whatever you want.  Leap Year adds an extra day to the calendar on February 29 once every four years.

I’m using my time wisely.  I’m writing this blog post, sharing my thoughts, and I’ve added a beautiful earthquake poem on one of my other web sites, Fierce Planet.  Lately I haven’t had the time to blog as often as I’d like.  What with the grand opening celebrations of the new Los Gatos Library (I’m on the Friends of the library board) and becoming president of Scriptscene (the screenwriting chapter of the Romance Writers of America), Poetry Group meetings (I’m on the April Poetry Month committee), speaking engagements, and February being a busy month anyway, I just needed a day to get caught up.  I’m taking down my Christmas tree, too.  Don’t be alarmed.  I usually leave my tree up until Valentine’s Day, so I’m only a couple weeks behind.  I’ll have time not only to write, but also to read.  Yay!  Reading is a luxury these days.  A friend is writing a memoir and I look forward to seeing her progress.  I also have plans for tonight.  I’m making a special dinner for my special husband.  Candlelight?  Yes.  Wine?  Yes.

So if only for one day I’m slowing down, decompressing, getting caught up on a few things, and enjoying the good things in my life.  What about you?  What will you do with your extra 24 hours?

I’m excited to announce the debut of my first eBook, The Substitute Bride!  This eBook is a collection of three intertwined short stories.  The thing they all have in common is one very special wedding. The eBook contains the lead story, The Substitute Bride, as well as The Best Man’s Secret and The Wedding Planner’s Apprentice.

The Substitute Bride

I’m a romantic and I’ve always loved attending weddings; partly because of the festive atmosphere, the romance, and of course all the bling. And, like millions of people worldwide, I got caught up in the excitement of the royal wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton and I was inspired to write these stories. While royals aren’t the stars of The Substitute Bride, I think you’ll enjoy these everyday characters and their engaging stories. (The Bride on the cover kind of looks like Kate, don’t you think?) Another difference is that the royal wedding went off without a glitch, whereas in these stories, things don’t quite go as expected.

The eBook is available at Smashwords.com in several formats for most e-reader devices or just to download on your computer, and also at Amazon.

I am a huge fan of thrillers. I am particularly drawn to short thrillers of the Twilight Zone type. In fact, I believe that is where my love of thrillers began and I still watch the Twilight Zone TV series whenever I can. Today’s books and movies are lengthy, and while I enjoy them, I don’t have the free time to consume as many of them as I would like. And it has certainly taken me over a year to write and revise my own thriller novel. So what’s a writer to do to satisfy that need to tell scary, thrilling stories?

What I did was sign up for the 48 Hour Film competition.  As you may know, entrants have no idea what genre they may get, nor do they have control over rules of the “city” imposed elements regarding the required character, dialogue line, and prop item. And just as the name implies, you only have 48 hours to write, shoot, and edit a short film. From 7 pm on Friday to 7 pm on Sunday, to be exact.

A House To Herself

I signed up as a Team Leader. It was only one weekend and I could come away with a thriller.  There were a few things working against us—primarily the luck of the draw. Would I get a genre I could work with? I could make a drama/thriller, or an action/thriller, or most of the other genre combinations. Just about the only genres out of the possible 20 that wouldn’t work was comedy or musical. I didn’t want to draw either of those.  What about all the other important ingredients of a good thriller—casting, music, and setting? I got to work, doing the stuff that we are allowed to do in preparation of the 48 Hour kick-off. I assembled a team.

With the experience of my prior two short films and assisting on a feature horror film under my belt, I was all business recruiting the cast and crew, and about finding the perfect location. Flexibility is key in making a 48 Hour film. But the one thing I wanted set in stone was the location. That way I could spend my time and creativity on the important things.

Of all the things a director does to bring a script to life, and there are literally hundreds of things, I found the three key elements are: story—story—story. No surprise there. But I only had a few hours on Friday night to write the script. It certainly wasn’t going to win any Oscars.  On the other hand, I learned there are other important factors in making a film in a weekend: a phenomenal cast, a resourceful crew, and the ability to go without sleep.

Making a movie is much more collaborative than writing a book. Even though I was also the director, I couldn’t possibly have the final say in every detail (not in a 48-hour film).  I wanted my team to use their creativity, too, and I think the end product turned out pretty good.  We had a blast making ‘A House to Herself’ and I hope it gives you a shiver or two.

See the short film on my web site: Mi Casa Su Casa Productions and read the full three-part blog entries.

While attending the 2011 Thrillerfest last month I heard a famous author say he began his writing career by writing fake interviews for teen fan magazines. Two emotions overcame me with this revelation. First, was horror that all those magazines I’d read as a pre-teen, you know, the ones with interviews of David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman, and The Monkees, were not real interviews! At the time I believed I was getting intimate peeks into the celebrities’ lives. And I believed the photos were taken at the time of the interview. All that has been shattered. J The second emotion I felt was curiosity. Are today’s celebrity magazines interview’s real? Could a modern writer make a living writing fake interviews? If so, I want the job. How cool would that be—you take the information you already know—to invent a convincing ‘never told before’ interview. Below is my first ‘exclusive’ fake interview with Goosebumps author, R.L. Stine. Tell me if you think I have potential for a new career.

R.L. Stine

VMJ: It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Stine.

RLS: You can call me Bob.

VMJ: Thank you, Bob. I know your books are popular around the world and have been translated into 35 languages. But how many books have you written?

RLS: 330 that includes Goosebumps, Fear Street, and other book series.

VMJ: Wow! And how many copies of your books have been sold?

RLS: Over 400 million.

VMJ: Amazing. That’s just phenomenal.

RLS: (blushes) Thanks.

VMJ: Let’s back up for a minute. Where did you attend college?

RLS: Ohio State. I graduated with a B.A. in English then was a social studies teacher before I moved to New York to become a writer. Actually, I had a magazine background when I arrived in New York.

VMJ: So you moved and became an overnight success in New York?

RLS: It took me 20 years to become an overnight success. I wrote joke books, educational books and a humor magazine for Scholastic.

VMJ: What was your first novel?

RLS: My first novel was a Young Adult book in 1986 called Blind Date. We launched the Fear Street series in 1989. That was about the time my son was a teenager.

VMJ: Hmm… I see an interesting correlation there, Bob.

RLS: Uh-huh. You have teenagers?

VMJ: I do. When did Goosebumps come about?

RLS: 1992

VMJ: How many books do you write a year?

RLS: At this time, maybe seven books a year. I used to write 24 a year, so that’s a relaxing schedule.

VMJ: Holy moly. That’s scary. How was that possible?

RLS: I’m lucky never to have writers block. I create outlines and character sketches before I begin each book.

VMJ: Aha—the secret to your success revealed! Are you only writing Goosebumps books now?

RLS: Six Goosebumps and other projects.

VMJ: And you also write adult thrillers?

RLS: Three so far: Superstitious, The Sitter, and Eye Candy. The Sitter is currently being developed for a feature film and in July of 2012; I’ll have a new adult horror novel published.

VMJ: I’m still awed by the number of books you write year after year.

RLS: It’s discipline. Also, I love it.

VMJ: And that discipline is no doubt responsible for the impressive awards you’ve accumulated.  Let’s see, you’ve won the Nickelodeon Children’s Choice Award, the American Library Association Award, and the International Thriller Writers’ Thrillermaster Award.

RLS: Not bad for a kid who used to type out jokes on a typewriter and hand them out to classmates in elementary school, wouldn’t you say?

VMJ: Not bad at all, Bob. But can you set the record straight? I heard a rumor that you started out your writing career in New York by writing fake interviews for fan magazines. Is that true?

RLS: Uh, I hear my wife, Jane, calling me from the kitchen. You’ll have to leave now. Bye!

1) Los Gatos Poet Laureate Parthenia M. Hicks treats the crowd to an original poem she wrote especially for the event. 2) I’m holding the famous iPad that was buried (several items, maps, documents, and videos were uploaded into the iPad). 3) Kids reveal their art for the time capsule. 4) The plaque includes a quote from Thomas Jefferson: A morsel of genuine history is a thing so rare as to be always valuable.

The Time Capsule ceremony was far more exciting than I had anticipated. Parthenia M. Hicks, the Los Gatos Town Poet Laureate, read a beautiful poem, The Ground Breaks Open, that she’d written just for the ceremony. A group of children presented an art piece they created for the capsule. Town officials hope that these children will be part of the unearthing event in 76 years.

The artifacts selected for the capsule impressed me. Everything was “so” Los Gatos. For example, a bottle of wine donated by Fleming Jenkins Vineyard (Peggy Fleming’s Los Gatos vineyard); A red Netflix envelope, containing the DVD of The Social Network; An Apple iPad (Los Gatos is home to Apple’s co-founder Steve Wozniak and Netflix headquarters); Menus from local restaurants; and scrolls with personal notes from town residents along with messages from 50 selected community leaders—my message included.

I had a blast, as you can see from the above photos.

I am a bit different than the others who’ve been asked to contribute their observations of daily life to the time capsule. I am a writer and I naturally want to give the citizens of the future a taste of what life was like for a writer.

Do I talk about my upcoming debut novel being released in hardcover? Certainly hardcover books will be relics in 76 years. Readers will likely use some sort of reading device far more advanced than our e-book readers and they won’t understand what a huge deal it is for authors to see their words in print. Will they think I’m crazy if I say I spent 20 years learning the craft of writing so that a publisher will buy and publish my book and pay me a fraction of what the book earns? I’m sure future writers will simply self-publish when their works are complete. Do I talk about blogging and how I toiled to drive traffic to my website and pursued comments to my blog posts since that helps writers become ‘discoverable’? Would they ‘get it’ if I explain that writers strive to be at the top of the rankings when someone ‘Google’s’ their name? Will Google be around in 2087? What about the other social media tools we writers of today spin our wheels engaging in—hoping to gain followers, friends, fans, and of course readers? If I describe how writers eagerly anticipated booksignings in bookstores, could they visualize it? Surely these will all be foreign concepts in 76 years.

Even if the readers don’t understand what a book, blog, website, or Google is, I think they should know how we writers sought to connect with people, not just audiences for our book, but people in general. We made every effort to share our ideas, stories, and experiences. We didn’t want our words to languish on a shelf. I guess ultimately we just want our words to have relevance. All the above activities were not the end goal. The goal was to touch readers and make a difference in their lives. I imagine that writers will always seek to do the same regardless of the year. Whether informing, inspiring, or entertaining, we want our writings to have mattered.

Okay, now I think I know what I’ll say.

If you were given the opportunity to make history with your words—what would you write?

Time Capsule Ceremony

I’ve been invited to be a part of history.

The Town of Los Gatos is holding a Time Capsule Ceremony this week.  Construction of a new town library is underway and the time capsule will be buried in the garden terrace. Instructions will inform residents of the future to unearth the time capsule in 76 years, on the town’s bicentennial. I’ve been asked to submit a message about my life today, a message that will be read by people living in a completely different world.

A collection of photos, articles, and memorabilia will be placed in the capsule, along with an iPad loaded with interesting information that tells the story of daily life at this moment in time (and an iPad recharger of course). My personal note will be one among many others of those who were invited to submit. This is quite an honor and I’m stressing over what to write about. Several thoughts come to mind.

Signs of the economy worsening were everywhere. But being a busy wife, mother, business professional, and moonlighting writer kept my mind occupied and my calendar full. One afternoon, while I was putting away dry dishes from that morning’s champagne brunch with my writer girlfriends, my husband came home and dropped a bombshell. We were downsizing… to a trailer park.

Trailer Park Diva

AOL has published my story about how the bad economy has turned my world ‘upside-down’ and how a diva like me ended up in a trailer park. Located in the ‘It Happened To Me’ section, you can read the full story here: My Daily.

Can a woman still be a diva if she lives in a trailer park? Follow the continuing journey on my just launched blog at TrailerParkDiva.com

It’ll brighten your spirits and show you that just because there’s a recession doesn’t mean you can’t look good, feel good, and have fun.

If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant’s life, she will choose to save the infant’s life without even considering if there are men on base.

~Dave Barry

For me Memorial Day is a time to appreciate this fantastic country we live in. Sure, we’re experiencing a rough economy right now and millions of Americans are feeling the pinch, myself included. But we’ll get through this.

When I think of Memorial Day, I think of freedom. That’s one trait that makes this country special. Of course there are many amazing attributes to cite but for me, it’s freedom baby!

Freedom is the one thing I hope we, as citizens, never take for granted. As a writer I suppose the freedom I value most is having the ability to express my thoughts and ideas and stories; and likewise, the ability to read uncensored thoughts and ideas of others. But as a woman and mother I most value free will. That is, having the ability to make our own choices. In other words, the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

I am grateful for the patriotism and sacrifice of the millions of soldiers, airmen, marines and sailors who fought to give us that freedom. If you’re serving in the military now, or ever have served, thank you!!! If you have loved ones serving, I wish for their safe return.

I’m thrilled to announce that I sold my first romance novel! After many years of writing, and many more years of reading, I finally sold a romance story, The Doctor’s Dilemma, to Avalon Books. I traveled to New York and met my remarkable editor, Lia Brown, and Avalon Books publisher, Ellen Mickelson, and all the staff at Avalon Books. They warmly welcomed me into the Avalon family and I toured the Avalon offices. It was a memorable day.

Editor Lia Brown & Victoria at Avalon Offices

The Doctor’s Dilemma is a contemporary romance set in a remote village in Mexico. Being a romance novel, we of course know that the dilemma the doctor faces has something to do with his nurse. You can safely assume that romance is the last thing either the hero or heroine want at this point in their lives and that they’ll do everything to resist their attraction to the other. And rest assured there are surprising twists and turns in the story to make it a satisfying read. The book is my fiction debut.

Pre-order the book today at Barnes and Noble. Don’t wait!

The most talked about hat at the royal wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton sold at a charity auction for $132,000! While the striking hat, designed by Phillip Treacy and worn by Princess Beatrice to the wedding of the century, received ridicule as well as rave reviews, who expected it to raise so much at auction?

As an ambassador for Children in Crisis, an organization her mother, Sarah Ferguson, helped found, Princess Beatrice auctioned the hat on EBay and watched as the bids continued to rise over the ten-day bidding period. The proceeds will be split between Unicef and Children in Crisis.

How did the princess respond to the winning bid? “I cannot believe the amazing response to the hat, it has its own personality, and I am so happy that we have raised the most incredible amount of money and can make an even bigger change for the lives of some of the most vulnerable children across the world. I am so lucky to be nearly finishing my university life and I know that this money will help make it possible for others to do the same,” Princess Beatrice said. You go, girl! The identity of the auction winner has not been revealed. Perhaps we’ll see him or her wearing it sometime.

I’ve been an avid royal watcher for many years. My interest truly deepened when Lady Diana Spencer entered the scene. Her mystique, her style, and her charm had me hooked. I’ll admit I awoke at 5 am Pacific Time to watch Prince Charles and Lady Diana’s wedding live. And I’ll certainly awake at 3 am to see the nuptials of Prince William to Kate Middleton.

Prince William and Kate Middleton (BBC America)

I love attending weddings anyway, but a royal wedding, I wouldn’t want to miss that. First of all, they don’t come along that often. Secondly, I like William and Kate. They make an adorable couple and I wish them the love and happiness that eluded William’s parents. As a confirmed romantic, I hope they live happily ever after. But at their wedding I want to see The DRESS, and lots of BLING, and all the PAGEANTRY. It’s been a long year after all and I’d like a little escape about now. By witnessing the wedding celebration it’s a pleasant reaffirmation that fairytales can come true. If you’d rather sleep in, don’t worry; there will be plenty of televised highlights and Web Sites that will cover all the fascinating details.

Stefan and Erika Svanstrom of Sweden planned a perfect honeymoon… but Mother Nature intervened.  The couple wed on November 27, 2010 and decided to celebrate their wedding on a four-month long honeymoon. With their infant daughter in tow they set off for a 16-country adventure. “Our plan was to get a lot of sun and beach-life early in the trip, and experience nature and culture later in the trip. Some of the destinations were chosen for the diving, as we are both keen to go scuba diving,” Stefan said, “leaving plenty of time to explore.”

Stefan and Erika Svanstrom

The Svanstroms left Stockholm a week after getting married and became stranded for a night in Munich, Germany due to a severe snowstorm, one of Europe’s worst snowstorms. The newlyweds enjoyed China and Thailand, but in Bali, Indonesia, a relentless monsoon kept them indoors for days. Another natural disaster awaited in Cairns, Australia where a catastrophic cyclone forced them to join a group shelter with thousands of people. “Trees were being knocked over and big branches were scattered across the streets,” Stefan said. Once the family arrived in Brisbane, massive flooding had put much of the city underwater. The Svanstroms then narrowly escaped bush fires in Perth.

Moving on, the family arrived in New Zealand, just after the 6.3 quake hit Christchurch on February 22. Their last ordeal was in Tokyo, where they experienced Japan’s largest quake ever recorded and the resulting calamitous tsunami. “The trembling was horrible… we saw roof tiles fly off buildings,” Stefan said. (He also survived the devastating tsunami that hit Southeast Asia in 2004).

The couple said the most emotionally upsetting experience during the trip had been the Japanese earthquake and its consequences. “Oh – we’re very grateful that nothing happened to the family and we think a lot about the people, particularly in Japan,” Erika said.

The Svanstroms returned to Stockholm on March 29, 2011 after an uneventful final stop in China. “Although we’ve had some bad luck, we still have our lives. Our thoughts are with those who couldn’t escape these disasters. In the end, we are very fortunate to be alive,” Stefan said. The family plans to continue their travels in the future. I’m hoping they don’t visit California. : )

My heart goes out to the people of Japan, and to all those who have loved ones who are still missing. I’ve been blogging about the unfolding disaster on the Fierce Planet web site. The devastating destruction of the 8.9 quake and tsunami has been catastrophic.  So many lives lost and so many still unaccounted for. With aftershocks, fires, and nuclear power plant malfunctions added to the chaos, Japan is in absolute turmoil. Officials are still assessing the damage and sadly the death toll continues to rise.

Japan 2011 Quake and Tsunami (AP) JAY ALABASTER and TODD PITMAN

The USGS reports that more than 124 aftershocks of magnitude 5 or higher have rattled Japan since the big one. Thousands have been evacuated and sent to temporary shelters. I’ve also blogged on my Grant Whisperer web site about Network for Good, the organization accepting online donations for those of you interested in making a contribution to one of the many emergency responders such as the American Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders.

I’m excited to announce that my book, Grant Writing 101, has finally arrived! I wrote this book because so many of my friends who volunteer at, or work for, nonprofits would ask me for grant writing advice. While I could offer them a few tips, I realized they needed to know more if their organizations were to have long-term success. With this book I could give them more than advice, secret tips, and encouragement. I could share my guerilla tactics for grantwriting survival. And now any nonprofit or community group can have this knowledge for their organization, too! This guidebook covers all the basics of writing a grant proposal to help nonprofits raise much-needed funds. It takes you step by step and explains terms, gives real world examples, and talks in plain English.

While there’s plenty of advanced tips and techniques for veteran grantwriters, the book is also meant to simplify the grant process for first-timers. Want to know where to begin? Want to know what to do while you’re waiting to hear? I even include what to do if your proposal is rejected, and equally important, what to do if your proposal is approved. Click on the Grant Writing 101 book image to order your copy today. Or stop by your favorite bookstore in person. Pass it on to your favorite charity organization.

I had the honor of meeting a Maasai warrior during his recent visit to Silicon Valley. Sabore Ole Oyie, made an impression on me with his humor, storytelling ability, majestic qualities, and quiet strength.  Enjoying the conversation of our small gathering, I felt in the presence of royalty. He told us about growing up in his village in Kenya, and his mission to preserve the Maasai culture while advocating for the tribal villagers, particularly girls, to receive education.

Sabore, Victoria, and Hellen

As an ambassador, he helps promote tourism in Kenya and has traveled to Japan, Germany, Czech Republic, Sweden and the United States. However, Sabore continues to live in the traditional ways, including wearing the traditional Maasai clothing, carrying hand-made weapons for hunting and self-defense against lions and elephants, and living in a hut made from sticks and dung.

Sabore brought with him, Hellen, another ambassador of their tribe. They both talked about the importance of education and learning so that their community can be stronger and healthier. Hellen was in the Bay Area raising funds for her charity organization, Asante Africa.

I thought about Sabore and Hellen long after the visit ended.  I was struck by both the simplicity and complexity of their lives.  Their stories had enchanted me but I worried about the tribe’s challenges and wondered what I could do to help.  Spreading the word about Asante Africa and the work this organization does is one way I can make a tiny difference.  Click on the link above and see if you are touched as well.