As I wrote in an earlier blog entry, I was starting the next set of revisions for Inventing Vazquez. And I was moving right along, until I got some feedback from my friend, Lisa Alvarado. We had a chance to discuss the first four chapters, and her critique really opened my eyes to something I might have lost sight of along the way: sometimes you really have to push yourself to get better at what you do.
After our chat, I went back, and started noticing all these little things she’d pointed out, and realized, holy crap, this draft really needs work! And so, I restarted my edits from scratch. And I do mean scratch.
One of the things I did was ‘sit down’ with my protagonist, Liliana, and had a nice chat about her past. It’s strange that, after two drafts and 900 pages (1800 if you count the drafts separately), I hadn’t given much thought as to why Liliana is so afraid to talk. I’d attributed her problems to self-consciousness about her mousy voice. And my girlfriend, bless her heart, had been clamoring (in her own unique way) for weeks about how Liliana needed more of a reason for her fear of talking. So Liliana and I performed a bit of historical psychoanalysis. And it turns out, she didn’t have as pleasant a childhood as I initially thought.
I took a couple of days to just map out her life’s trajectory, imagining a personal history for her that involved a three-year trauma named middle school. By the end of it, I was content that Liliana not only had the necessary vulnerabilities to round out her narrative, but that she had a new complexity of character that would benefit other characters as well (especially her obnoxious big sister).
Aside from Liliana’s character, Lisa also encouraged me to improve my descriptive writing, which relied too heavily on adjectives and adverbs. “Paint a picture for the reader,” she advised me. She’s pushing me to push myself, to work harder to make a more vivid, colorful narrative to engage and immerse the reader. And I think that's the best thing about someone taking the time to critique your work: a critique isn't about inflating egos or crushing them. It's about reminding you that there's always room for improvement, and that if you really value what you do, you'll work harder to improve what you do.
I have no doubt that Inventing Vazquez is going to be an infinitely better novel thanks to the input Lisa and my girlfriend have given. Because it’s one thing to have great ideas and transcribe them on paper (or a word processor document). But it’s another thing to have caring people make you realize that you can demand more of yourself, that you can work a little harder and improve the quality of your writing to make sure you’re writing the best book you can.
Moving forward, I’m about 10 percent into the new rewrite, and confident that the next draft will be very strong. And I’m jumping with excitement about starting the sequel, Electing Choi. I haven’t done too much work on that (aside from writing a brief intro), but I know it’ll be a project that will allow me to expand upon the Inventing Vazquez storyline while taking on another issue I think is important.
I’m not sure when I’ll start looking for an agent in earnest, but I guess I should start compiling a list.
Keeping busy on multiple fronts, as usual ^_^ While I’m still trying to be a film reviewer for Quiet Earth, it looks like I’ll also be a columnist for Urban Molecule. My first column should be up soon, and I’m already working on the next one. Having recently decided that my humorous, quasi-facetious, snarky writing is the style I’m most comfortable with, I’m running with it and having lots of fun in the process. Besides, laughter is good. And the world’s a depressing enough place without me writing about ending it, huh? ^^;
And, because I really don’t have enough to do, I’ve also joined a new band with some old friends. I’ll be playing bass again for a blues band here in Detroit, so there goes any prospect of sleeping anytime soon ^___^;
Showing posts with label Lisa Alvarado. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lisa Alvarado. Show all posts
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Feminism, Distribution, Contests, and a Book Review of Sister Chicas
Try saying that three times fast…
Anyway, this promises to be a long blog entry, so if you need a snack, now might be a good time to get one.
So what’s going on? Well, some good news: At long last, I finished my new draft of Inventing Vazquez! ^_^ And what’s the best way of making an 850 page novel better? Push it closer to 900 pages! Eep… And while it’ll still need another rewrite before its ready, I do think it’s a lot stronger. I’m hoping my two new test readers will agree. So now that I’m done with that, I’m taking the next two weeks off from working on it, to clear my mind, and get through my long list of to-do’s. And one of the first things on that list was…update my blog ^^
So something interesting materialized in the world of Solstice. A reader over on goodreads.com gave Solstice a good review, but had some very interesting things to say about the book’s feminist take. For example, she wrote: “I appreciate the rage that animates the book's central character, Itztli Okami, but the manner in which her anger is made manifest troubled me. Io's rage is born from structural violence and intense personal tragedies, but the novel introduces her rage through the trope of rape. Must a woman of color come into focus through violation?” (Quoted with permission.)
This was something I hadn’t considered during the writing process. I’ve always considered myself a feminist (part of the reason why all my main characters have, so far, been strong women), and yet, here was a reader pointing out that the book’s opening rape scene in a sense disempowers Io’s anger. I’d intended the opening to represent an inversion of the rape scenario—really, it’s Io who is out to bait and master her would-be rapists. But in expressing her rage by simply inverting the moment of violation, is Io grounded within the context of victimhood, albeit an inverted one? Is victimhood the only way I was able to define Io? It’s a troubling idea, for sure.
This is one of the things I love about writing. When someone takes the time to write a thoughtful critique of your work, and when you get the chance to discuss it with them (as I’ve been fortunate enough to do so with this reader), you really learn some things, even things you thought you already knew. In this case, I thought the book was fairly feminist, but in discussing the matter with this reader, I realized I have a ways to go. As a guy writing feminist texts, I think it’s hard for me to sometimes fully understand things from a woman’s perspective. Things that I think are empowering to a female character might not seem to an actual woman. And considering Inventing Vazquez is a first-person narration as told by a woman, I’m guessing it’s a problem that will re-appear ^^;; So I’m glad this reader took the time to spell this out, because it’s forced me, once again, to try and be a better writer and think my ideas through more carefully.
Speaking of feminism in Solstice, right on the heels of this reader’s review, I found out that Solstice was nominated by a couple of people at the Feminist SF blog for one of the top 10 obscure feminist SF novels ^_^ Wow… Well, at very least, I can say the book was nominated for something like that before it was nominated for, say, top 10 worst novels of all time. But it’s still such a thrill and very humbling to think that some people thought the book was good enough, both as a story and a feminist text, to nominate.
Okay, so what else has been going on? Well, I nearly lost my mind this past week with my distributor. Ever since my old distributor got bought out by my current distributor, it has been a nightmare. The thing is, the acquisition couldn’t have come at a worse time, because this was when the returns were scheduled to start coming in, and boy, did they start coming in -_-; So now, my old distributor was receiving the returns, and holding on to a good chunk of money that was meant to refund these returns…but my new distributor was apparently paying off these refunds themselves…and charging them directly to me. It’s taken weeks of e-mails, non-returned phone calls, and general frustration over the utter lack of communication between parties for this matter to (apparently) be resolved. And I say that hesitantly, because I assumed the matter was resolved last month when my old distributor assured me that a check had been cut to cover my outstanding balance with the new one. And, come June, I get a note that I’m 60 days past due on my $1,000+ debt, and I’m basically, WTF? So if, after all this, I get another past due notice in July, I’m just going to scream. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the people hounding me for this money would at least have the courtesy of calling me directly, as I’ve asked them to do. Alas, no one seems to know what a phone is anymore these days. Anyway, that’s my rant about the current distribution drama. This whole problem is one more reason why, for Inventing Vazquez, I better find an agent and forgo self-publishing.
Okay, next item: a contest! One of my to-do items for the next week is updating my web site. I want to create a small contest through my web site and Quiet Earth, so please make sure to keep an eye on both sites. What’s the contest? Not sure yet, but probably some silly quiz on frivolous things, like zombies ^^; What’s the prize? I’m going to give out five free autographed copies of Solstice! So if you’re in the market for a copy of the book, but don’t want to shell out the cash for it (which you should, by the way, cos, you know…um…it’s what Frodo would have wanted), stop by either my web site or Quiet Earth to learn more. I should have that up and running by the end of the weekend.
And finally, because this blog entry isn’t long enough, I thought I’d include a book review. ^_^ One of my main to-do’s was finishing Sister Chicas, a novel written by my friend Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin. Well, I finally finished it, and loved it. And I decided to write a review of it. Which may or may not be a good thing, considering how I’m still kind of learning to do reviews over at Quiet Earth. But the short of it is, if you’re looking for a good read, and a wonderfully inspired glimpse into the life of young Latinas, give Sister Chicas a look. Anyway, without further ado…
My humble review of Sister Chicas
There’s a moment early in Sister Chicas where Graciela, the oldest of three closely knit Latinas calling themselves the Sister Chicas, has just been invited to a prestigious writing retreat. Always the responsible one—the one who juggles college classes, a part-time job at a Pilsen bookstore, tutoring, and being the model daughter for her loving parents—Graciela reacts to the invite with a mixture of surprise, joy, and guilt. Mostly guilt. Because in her mind, writing is a pastime, a divertido (an enjoyment). It’s not something a hard-working Latina intent on helping her people should waste her time with.
This moment had a lot of resonance for me, as a writer and as a Latino. Partly because I think most writers, at one point or another, ponder and brood over the social relevance of their chosen profession. But mostly because Graciela’s brief crisis of faith goes to the very heart of what it means to be a writer, especially a writer of color. Like her friend Don Ramiro helps her realize, writing isn’t just an enjoyment, because writing results in books. “Books that challenge and inspire, books that stir hearts and minds,” Graciela reflects. And such it is with Sister Chicas, an inspiring and insightful novel written by Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin.
Sister Chicas centers around an upcoming quienceañera (the Latin-American Sweet 16, a coming of age party for girls reaching their 15th birthday). The 15-year-old-to-be is Taina, a shy Puerto Rican girl being raised by her somewhat demanding single mom. Fortunately for Taina, she has two sisters—her non-biological Sister Chicas. There’s Graciela, the aforementioned no-nonsense Chicana and unofficial mother figure of the group. And there’s Leni, the ‘middle child’ among them, a half Puerto Rican girl who parades in full punk regalia, including orange/green/burgundy colored spiked hair. The three call themselves the Sister Chicas because of their strong sister-like bond, cemented every week over a warm café con leche at a little café called El Rinconcito de Sabor.
Good thing they’re close, too. Because the mousy Taina doesn’t even want a quienceañera, and needs her sisters to confront and get through that whole coming-of-age thing. And, as it turns out, she’s not the only one needing help in facing a daunting life change. Graciela, whose tireless dedication to her community borders on self-martyrdom, has to overcome her guilt and embrace the possibility that being a good writer and being a good Chicana aren’t mutually exclusive. Leni, partially alienated from her Puerto Rican roots, faces the challenge of reconnecting with them, no small feat given her full immersion in American punk counter-culture. Add to all of this their respective struggles with finding love—or more precisely, admitting that they’ve found love with their respective others, Yusef, Jack, and Carlos—and, well, these girls certainly have their work cut out for them.
And so, the novel takes on these many challenges through three separate but interwoven first-person narratives. Taina, Graciela, and Leni take turns telling their parts of the story, and each of their voices proves appropriately distinct. Taina, the mousy 14-year-old poet, speaks with the insecurity and wonder of a girl who has yet to find her own voice, especially when it comes to contradicting her mother (which she typically doesn’t). Graciela, the 19-year-old aspiring writer, maintains a façade of big-sister control even as she struggles with her own internal conflicts, and her introspective writing reflects this. And Leni, the 17-year-old punk girl, is the most in-your-face and funniest of the three narrators, and certainly the most cynical and least forgiving, even with herself.
These three distinct but similar girls are the Sister Chicas, and their story of mutual support on their way to the quienceañera is compelling and heart-warming. Considering the collaborative nature of this novel, I think Alvarado, Cardinal, and Coralin did an amazing job of creating a cohesive narrative out of three separate perspectives. Each part of the story flows into the next seamlessly, reflecting just how strongly interwoven the lives of these three characters really are. And the affection the girls share with one another seems well-conceived, sincere, and inviting. To the point where I find myself wanting the three authors to craft a prequel and share the story of how these three girls became the Sister Chicas over weekly coffee at El Rinconcito.
The segmented nature of the narrative did expose it to one problem. Each girl faces a crisis—both a coming-of-age crisis, and a love crisis. And while Taina’s crises seem the most consistent and central to the book, some of the other crises—including Graciela and Leni’s struggles to admit their feelings regarding their significant others—seem less so. Indeed, there’s almost a sense that a few of these later crises are added in to balance things out and give each girl their requisite suffering. And if the novel had been longer and been able to dedicate more time to each, this wouldn’t have been an issue. But the tense drama surrounding many of their challenges—Taina’s confrontation with her mom, Graciela’s confrontation with her dad, and Leni’s confrontation with her own sense of cultural displacement—seem to find quick, rushed resolution. More than once, as I reached the big moment of resolution expecting a drawn-out scene, the characters reached agreement quickly, almost painlessly. To the point where you almost want to tell these girls, “See? All that worrying, and your mom/dad/culture didn’t even put up that much of a fuss!”
And then there’s the liberal sprinkling of Spanish throughout the text. Now, granted, I’m a native Spanish speaker, and so the numerous interjections of Spanish phrases and words in the middle of English sentences didn’t slow me down. But I have to imagine what reading this book would seem like to a non-Spanish speaker. I think the repeated mixing of Spanish and English can be very demanding to someone who doesn’t understand Spanish, even with the help of the glossary of terms generously provided at the end. And as such, I think it makes the book less accessible to non-Spanish speaking readers.
Which is a pity, because Sister Chicas is a book that should speak to everyone, not just Latino/as. As a slice of the Latino/a experience in the United States (or Chicago, where the book takes place), Sister Chicas doesn’t speak with the didactic authority of a text claiming a uniquely authentic cultural insight (i.e., ‘This is what we Latinas are really like!’). Rather, it speaks softly but stirringly from the heart, engaging us with its touching story about three close friends with the earnest simplicity of a casual chat over at El Rinconcito. It presents an interwoven anecdote about three separate lives converging at a critical moment, and gives us poignant glimpses along the way of things from a Latino/a perspective. And so, the novel allows moments such as this: Leni at the quienceañera, feeling as if the whole thing is one big reality TV show, “Survivor Quienceañera! Three girls, three pairs of dyed-to-match high-heeled shoes, and eight dozen gawking relatives…at the end, who will be left standing?” Clever moments like this, where mainstream imagery is re-invented from a Latino/a perspective, demonstrate how the authors have effectively navigated the treacherous path between two very different but convergent worlds.
For Latino/a readers, Sister Chicas should resonate wonderfully. Because the things and people we have experienced are present in this book in one way or another. At least, I found myself nodding and laughing throughout, recalling instances in my life that rang eerily similar to some in the book, recalling people that seemed straight out of its pages. The portrayals aren’t necessarily representative (indeed, what is representative of an entire group of people as diverse as Latinos/as?), but they are real, and they speak to the vastness and diversity of our shared experience. And so, we meet versions of Latino/as that we haven’t seen too much elsewhere: the timid poet; the aspiring writer; the spiky-haired punk; the rock guitarist.
Which brings me back to Graciela’s insight about books being challenging, inspiring, stirring both hearts and minds. Sister Chicas may not be perfect (what book is?), but it is a wonderful, and necessary, addition to the literary canon, and certainly required reading for any children I might some day have. Because it paints an inspired portrait of the Latino/a experience without being preachy about it. It portrays our strengths, our struggles, and our flaws. And it answers its own questions about the validity of writing, not just as a divertido, but as an inspiration. Because we all have stories to tell, even if we’re not all writers. And it’s time we started telling them.
Anyway, this promises to be a long blog entry, so if you need a snack, now might be a good time to get one.
So what’s going on? Well, some good news: At long last, I finished my new draft of Inventing Vazquez! ^_^ And what’s the best way of making an 850 page novel better? Push it closer to 900 pages! Eep… And while it’ll still need another rewrite before its ready, I do think it’s a lot stronger. I’m hoping my two new test readers will agree. So now that I’m done with that, I’m taking the next two weeks off from working on it, to clear my mind, and get through my long list of to-do’s. And one of the first things on that list was…update my blog ^^
So something interesting materialized in the world of Solstice. A reader over on goodreads.com gave Solstice a good review, but had some very interesting things to say about the book’s feminist take. For example, she wrote: “I appreciate the rage that animates the book's central character, Itztli Okami, but the manner in which her anger is made manifest troubled me. Io's rage is born from structural violence and intense personal tragedies, but the novel introduces her rage through the trope of rape. Must a woman of color come into focus through violation?” (Quoted with permission.)
This was something I hadn’t considered during the writing process. I’ve always considered myself a feminist (part of the reason why all my main characters have, so far, been strong women), and yet, here was a reader pointing out that the book’s opening rape scene in a sense disempowers Io’s anger. I’d intended the opening to represent an inversion of the rape scenario—really, it’s Io who is out to bait and master her would-be rapists. But in expressing her rage by simply inverting the moment of violation, is Io grounded within the context of victimhood, albeit an inverted one? Is victimhood the only way I was able to define Io? It’s a troubling idea, for sure.
This is one of the things I love about writing. When someone takes the time to write a thoughtful critique of your work, and when you get the chance to discuss it with them (as I’ve been fortunate enough to do so with this reader), you really learn some things, even things you thought you already knew. In this case, I thought the book was fairly feminist, but in discussing the matter with this reader, I realized I have a ways to go. As a guy writing feminist texts, I think it’s hard for me to sometimes fully understand things from a woman’s perspective. Things that I think are empowering to a female character might not seem to an actual woman. And considering Inventing Vazquez is a first-person narration as told by a woman, I’m guessing it’s a problem that will re-appear ^^;; So I’m glad this reader took the time to spell this out, because it’s forced me, once again, to try and be a better writer and think my ideas through more carefully.
Speaking of feminism in Solstice, right on the heels of this reader’s review, I found out that Solstice was nominated by a couple of people at the Feminist SF blog for one of the top 10 obscure feminist SF novels ^_^ Wow… Well, at very least, I can say the book was nominated for something like that before it was nominated for, say, top 10 worst novels of all time. But it’s still such a thrill and very humbling to think that some people thought the book was good enough, both as a story and a feminist text, to nominate.
Okay, so what else has been going on? Well, I nearly lost my mind this past week with my distributor. Ever since my old distributor got bought out by my current distributor, it has been a nightmare. The thing is, the acquisition couldn’t have come at a worse time, because this was when the returns were scheduled to start coming in, and boy, did they start coming in -_-; So now, my old distributor was receiving the returns, and holding on to a good chunk of money that was meant to refund these returns…but my new distributor was apparently paying off these refunds themselves…and charging them directly to me. It’s taken weeks of e-mails, non-returned phone calls, and general frustration over the utter lack of communication between parties for this matter to (apparently) be resolved. And I say that hesitantly, because I assumed the matter was resolved last month when my old distributor assured me that a check had been cut to cover my outstanding balance with the new one. And, come June, I get a note that I’m 60 days past due on my $1,000+ debt, and I’m basically, WTF? So if, after all this, I get another past due notice in July, I’m just going to scream. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the people hounding me for this money would at least have the courtesy of calling me directly, as I’ve asked them to do. Alas, no one seems to know what a phone is anymore these days. Anyway, that’s my rant about the current distribution drama. This whole problem is one more reason why, for Inventing Vazquez, I better find an agent and forgo self-publishing.
Okay, next item: a contest! One of my to-do items for the next week is updating my web site. I want to create a small contest through my web site and Quiet Earth, so please make sure to keep an eye on both sites. What’s the contest? Not sure yet, but probably some silly quiz on frivolous things, like zombies ^^; What’s the prize? I’m going to give out five free autographed copies of Solstice! So if you’re in the market for a copy of the book, but don’t want to shell out the cash for it (which you should, by the way, cos, you know…um…it’s what Frodo would have wanted), stop by either my web site or Quiet Earth to learn more. I should have that up and running by the end of the weekend.
And finally, because this blog entry isn’t long enough, I thought I’d include a book review. ^_^ One of my main to-do’s was finishing Sister Chicas, a novel written by my friend Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin. Well, I finally finished it, and loved it. And I decided to write a review of it. Which may or may not be a good thing, considering how I’m still kind of learning to do reviews over at Quiet Earth. But the short of it is, if you’re looking for a good read, and a wonderfully inspired glimpse into the life of young Latinas, give Sister Chicas a look. Anyway, without further ado…
My humble review of Sister Chicas
There’s a moment early in Sister Chicas where Graciela, the oldest of three closely knit Latinas calling themselves the Sister Chicas, has just been invited to a prestigious writing retreat. Always the responsible one—the one who juggles college classes, a part-time job at a Pilsen bookstore, tutoring, and being the model daughter for her loving parents—Graciela reacts to the invite with a mixture of surprise, joy, and guilt. Mostly guilt. Because in her mind, writing is a pastime, a divertido (an enjoyment). It’s not something a hard-working Latina intent on helping her people should waste her time with.
This moment had a lot of resonance for me, as a writer and as a Latino. Partly because I think most writers, at one point or another, ponder and brood over the social relevance of their chosen profession. But mostly because Graciela’s brief crisis of faith goes to the very heart of what it means to be a writer, especially a writer of color. Like her friend Don Ramiro helps her realize, writing isn’t just an enjoyment, because writing results in books. “Books that challenge and inspire, books that stir hearts and minds,” Graciela reflects. And such it is with Sister Chicas, an inspiring and insightful novel written by Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin.
Sister Chicas centers around an upcoming quienceañera (the Latin-American Sweet 16, a coming of age party for girls reaching their 15th birthday). The 15-year-old-to-be is Taina, a shy Puerto Rican girl being raised by her somewhat demanding single mom. Fortunately for Taina, she has two sisters—her non-biological Sister Chicas. There’s Graciela, the aforementioned no-nonsense Chicana and unofficial mother figure of the group. And there’s Leni, the ‘middle child’ among them, a half Puerto Rican girl who parades in full punk regalia, including orange/green/burgundy colored spiked hair. The three call themselves the Sister Chicas because of their strong sister-like bond, cemented every week over a warm café con leche at a little café called El Rinconcito de Sabor.
Good thing they’re close, too. Because the mousy Taina doesn’t even want a quienceañera, and needs her sisters to confront and get through that whole coming-of-age thing. And, as it turns out, she’s not the only one needing help in facing a daunting life change. Graciela, whose tireless dedication to her community borders on self-martyrdom, has to overcome her guilt and embrace the possibility that being a good writer and being a good Chicana aren’t mutually exclusive. Leni, partially alienated from her Puerto Rican roots, faces the challenge of reconnecting with them, no small feat given her full immersion in American punk counter-culture. Add to all of this their respective struggles with finding love—or more precisely, admitting that they’ve found love with their respective others, Yusef, Jack, and Carlos—and, well, these girls certainly have their work cut out for them.
And so, the novel takes on these many challenges through three separate but interwoven first-person narratives. Taina, Graciela, and Leni take turns telling their parts of the story, and each of their voices proves appropriately distinct. Taina, the mousy 14-year-old poet, speaks with the insecurity and wonder of a girl who has yet to find her own voice, especially when it comes to contradicting her mother (which she typically doesn’t). Graciela, the 19-year-old aspiring writer, maintains a façade of big-sister control even as she struggles with her own internal conflicts, and her introspective writing reflects this. And Leni, the 17-year-old punk girl, is the most in-your-face and funniest of the three narrators, and certainly the most cynical and least forgiving, even with herself.
These three distinct but similar girls are the Sister Chicas, and their story of mutual support on their way to the quienceañera is compelling and heart-warming. Considering the collaborative nature of this novel, I think Alvarado, Cardinal, and Coralin did an amazing job of creating a cohesive narrative out of three separate perspectives. Each part of the story flows into the next seamlessly, reflecting just how strongly interwoven the lives of these three characters really are. And the affection the girls share with one another seems well-conceived, sincere, and inviting. To the point where I find myself wanting the three authors to craft a prequel and share the story of how these three girls became the Sister Chicas over weekly coffee at El Rinconcito.
The segmented nature of the narrative did expose it to one problem. Each girl faces a crisis—both a coming-of-age crisis, and a love crisis. And while Taina’s crises seem the most consistent and central to the book, some of the other crises—including Graciela and Leni’s struggles to admit their feelings regarding their significant others—seem less so. Indeed, there’s almost a sense that a few of these later crises are added in to balance things out and give each girl their requisite suffering. And if the novel had been longer and been able to dedicate more time to each, this wouldn’t have been an issue. But the tense drama surrounding many of their challenges—Taina’s confrontation with her mom, Graciela’s confrontation with her dad, and Leni’s confrontation with her own sense of cultural displacement—seem to find quick, rushed resolution. More than once, as I reached the big moment of resolution expecting a drawn-out scene, the characters reached agreement quickly, almost painlessly. To the point where you almost want to tell these girls, “See? All that worrying, and your mom/dad/culture didn’t even put up that much of a fuss!”
And then there’s the liberal sprinkling of Spanish throughout the text. Now, granted, I’m a native Spanish speaker, and so the numerous interjections of Spanish phrases and words in the middle of English sentences didn’t slow me down. But I have to imagine what reading this book would seem like to a non-Spanish speaker. I think the repeated mixing of Spanish and English can be very demanding to someone who doesn’t understand Spanish, even with the help of the glossary of terms generously provided at the end. And as such, I think it makes the book less accessible to non-Spanish speaking readers.
Which is a pity, because Sister Chicas is a book that should speak to everyone, not just Latino/as. As a slice of the Latino/a experience in the United States (or Chicago, where the book takes place), Sister Chicas doesn’t speak with the didactic authority of a text claiming a uniquely authentic cultural insight (i.e., ‘This is what we Latinas are really like!’). Rather, it speaks softly but stirringly from the heart, engaging us with its touching story about three close friends with the earnest simplicity of a casual chat over at El Rinconcito. It presents an interwoven anecdote about three separate lives converging at a critical moment, and gives us poignant glimpses along the way of things from a Latino/a perspective. And so, the novel allows moments such as this: Leni at the quienceañera, feeling as if the whole thing is one big reality TV show, “Survivor Quienceañera! Three girls, three pairs of dyed-to-match high-heeled shoes, and eight dozen gawking relatives…at the end, who will be left standing?” Clever moments like this, where mainstream imagery is re-invented from a Latino/a perspective, demonstrate how the authors have effectively navigated the treacherous path between two very different but convergent worlds.
For Latino/a readers, Sister Chicas should resonate wonderfully. Because the things and people we have experienced are present in this book in one way or another. At least, I found myself nodding and laughing throughout, recalling instances in my life that rang eerily similar to some in the book, recalling people that seemed straight out of its pages. The portrayals aren’t necessarily representative (indeed, what is representative of an entire group of people as diverse as Latinos/as?), but they are real, and they speak to the vastness and diversity of our shared experience. And so, we meet versions of Latino/as that we haven’t seen too much elsewhere: the timid poet; the aspiring writer; the spiky-haired punk; the rock guitarist.
Which brings me back to Graciela’s insight about books being challenging, inspiring, stirring both hearts and minds. Sister Chicas may not be perfect (what book is?), but it is a wonderful, and necessary, addition to the literary canon, and certainly required reading for any children I might some day have. Because it paints an inspired portrait of the Latino/a experience without being preachy about it. It portrays our strengths, our struggles, and our flaws. And it answers its own questions about the validity of writing, not just as a divertido, but as an inspiration. Because we all have stories to tell, even if we’re not all writers. And it’s time we started telling them.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The best advice? Be kind to yourself…
It’s funny. Yesterday, I started a blog entry before I finally stopped and decided, “today’s not a good day to blog.” Mostly because yesterday was one of those days. We all have them. One of those days when you feel overwhelmed by everything that’s going on in your hectic life, by everything that still needs to get done, and by the feeling that the things you’re working on (e.g., a 900-page novel ^^;) are never going to get done. So yeah, I’m glad I didn’t finish that long rant of a blog entry.
This morning I just found myself feeling much more grateful about things. I mean, yesterday, I was stressing about the fact that my distributor was receiving a steady trickle of returns for Solstice. Today, I realized, “hey, we accomplished quite a bit, all things considered.” I thought about all the people at work who bought copies, not because they were avid sci-fi readers, but because they wanted to show their support. I thought about the folks like Lisa Alvarado and James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine who took the time to read and review the book, even though they had absolutely no obligation of doing so. And I thought about all the things that have happened as a result of publishing the novel: like becoming a regular contributor for and part of something as cool as Quiet Earth, being mentioned in my alma mater’s quarterly magazine (SUNY at Buffalo, in case you were wondering), and getting back in touch with my great friend Jim from college, who tracked me down through my web site ^_^ All in all, today I realized this whole experience has been a blessing, and so I shouldn’t ever feel like it’s overwhelming or in any way, shape, or form, bad.
But I guess I also thought of a little something someone said at grad school orientation. I don’t remember his name, unfortunately, but a grad student gave us incoming students this one piece of advice to get us through our careers: be kind to yourself. He said that the best way to cope with the stress of grad school was to always be kind to yourself. It’s something I’ve both embraced, and forgotten, as the years went by. But it really is true; you have to be kind to yourself.
You have to treat yourself well. You have to indulge yourself every now and then. You have to forgive yourself if you miss a deadline. You have to refrain from beating yourself up if you can’t seem to get through that ever-growing to-do list. You have to allow yourself to take a night off every now and then, even if it means falling a bit behind on something. You have to allow yourself to just sit back and relax without feeling like you’re being an unproductive slob. You have to accept that some things will require more time and extra work, and it’s not because you suck at what you do. You get the idea.
I had to remind myself of that whole ‘be kind to yourself’ thing as I continued to work through the rewrite of my new novel, Inventing Vazquez. There were a couple of instances these past few months where I felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the endeavor. There were two instances in which I genuinely felt like I was never going to finish the book. And when I made artificial deadlines for myself (i.e., “I have to have the rewrite done by mid-May”), it just compounded the sense of despair.
But what did that grad student say? Be kind to yourself. And so, I reminded myself that, hey, it’s better to take the time to make the rewrite as good as it can be, than to rush through it for the sake of meeting a self-imposed deadline and writing crap. And hey, why am I beating myself up? The novel is turning out a lot stronger because of the time I’m taking to rewrite it, so I’m doing something right! And, hey, the sooner I start being kind to myself, the sooner I’ll stop having conversations with myself!
I think writers, especially young and aspiring writers, have to be especially kind to themselves. Writing is such a labor of love, and it requires so much perseverance and discipline. But above all, it requires acceptance that not everything you write will be good, especially the first time around. I know people who get discouraged because they start their novels, get a few pages in, hate what they wrote, and decide they’re no good. But that’s the point where you need to be kindest to yourself. That’s when you should say to yourself, “you know what? This is a first draft, so it’s okay if it’s crap, I’ll fix it later,” and then just keep plugging away.
Wow, this is a really preachy blog entry! @_@
Anyway, I’m really happy with how the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is going. The new draft is a lot funnier, I think, and the character development for some of its major characters is a lot stronger. I’m about 50 pages away from completing the draft, although I still need to go back and change one of the earlier chapters. Oh, and…um…rewrite…the…sex scene. Ahem. But regardless, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I’m really looking forward to getting a couple of new test readers for it, too. Including my crazy girlfriend, whose input and feedback is always so amazingly helpful and insightful. The gods know she really helped Solstice become what it eventually became.
Anyway, I’m babbling. Just wanted to say ‘thank you’ again to everyone who read Solstice! And remember to get your father a copy of Solstice for Father’s Day. Because nothing says “Dad, you’re the best!” better than a book about the end of the world! ^^;
This morning I just found myself feeling much more grateful about things. I mean, yesterday, I was stressing about the fact that my distributor was receiving a steady trickle of returns for Solstice. Today, I realized, “hey, we accomplished quite a bit, all things considered.” I thought about all the people at work who bought copies, not because they were avid sci-fi readers, but because they wanted to show their support. I thought about the folks like Lisa Alvarado and James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine who took the time to read and review the book, even though they had absolutely no obligation of doing so. And I thought about all the things that have happened as a result of publishing the novel: like becoming a regular contributor for and part of something as cool as Quiet Earth, being mentioned in my alma mater’s quarterly magazine (SUNY at Buffalo, in case you were wondering), and getting back in touch with my great friend Jim from college, who tracked me down through my web site ^_^ All in all, today I realized this whole experience has been a blessing, and so I shouldn’t ever feel like it’s overwhelming or in any way, shape, or form, bad.
But I guess I also thought of a little something someone said at grad school orientation. I don’t remember his name, unfortunately, but a grad student gave us incoming students this one piece of advice to get us through our careers: be kind to yourself. He said that the best way to cope with the stress of grad school was to always be kind to yourself. It’s something I’ve both embraced, and forgotten, as the years went by. But it really is true; you have to be kind to yourself.
You have to treat yourself well. You have to indulge yourself every now and then. You have to forgive yourself if you miss a deadline. You have to refrain from beating yourself up if you can’t seem to get through that ever-growing to-do list. You have to allow yourself to take a night off every now and then, even if it means falling a bit behind on something. You have to allow yourself to just sit back and relax without feeling like you’re being an unproductive slob. You have to accept that some things will require more time and extra work, and it’s not because you suck at what you do. You get the idea.
I had to remind myself of that whole ‘be kind to yourself’ thing as I continued to work through the rewrite of my new novel, Inventing Vazquez. There were a couple of instances these past few months where I felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the endeavor. There were two instances in which I genuinely felt like I was never going to finish the book. And when I made artificial deadlines for myself (i.e., “I have to have the rewrite done by mid-May”), it just compounded the sense of despair.
But what did that grad student say? Be kind to yourself. And so, I reminded myself that, hey, it’s better to take the time to make the rewrite as good as it can be, than to rush through it for the sake of meeting a self-imposed deadline and writing crap. And hey, why am I beating myself up? The novel is turning out a lot stronger because of the time I’m taking to rewrite it, so I’m doing something right! And, hey, the sooner I start being kind to myself, the sooner I’ll stop having conversations with myself!
I think writers, especially young and aspiring writers, have to be especially kind to themselves. Writing is such a labor of love, and it requires so much perseverance and discipline. But above all, it requires acceptance that not everything you write will be good, especially the first time around. I know people who get discouraged because they start their novels, get a few pages in, hate what they wrote, and decide they’re no good. But that’s the point where you need to be kindest to yourself. That’s when you should say to yourself, “you know what? This is a first draft, so it’s okay if it’s crap, I’ll fix it later,” and then just keep plugging away.
Wow, this is a really preachy blog entry! @_@
Anyway, I’m really happy with how the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is going. The new draft is a lot funnier, I think, and the character development for some of its major characters is a lot stronger. I’m about 50 pages away from completing the draft, although I still need to go back and change one of the earlier chapters. Oh, and…um…rewrite…the…sex scene. Ahem. But regardless, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I’m really looking forward to getting a couple of new test readers for it, too. Including my crazy girlfriend, whose input and feedback is always so amazingly helpful and insightful. The gods know she really helped Solstice become what it eventually became.
Anyway, I’m babbling. Just wanted to say ‘thank you’ again to everyone who read Solstice! And remember to get your father a copy of Solstice for Father’s Day. Because nothing says “Dad, you’re the best!” better than a book about the end of the world! ^^;
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Chicago, Cloverfield…and Carrots
Sorry, trying to go for some alliteration there…
So it’s an exciting weekend coming up. My girlfriend and I are going to Chicago for many fun reasons. We’re primarily going to see Margaret Cho at the State Theater. We’re both huge fans of her. Not to mention, one of the main characters in Inventing Vazquez is inspired by her ^^; So we’re both really excited about that.
Another big part of this trip is research. Yep, since Inventing Vazquez takes place in Chicago, we’re going to be doing some onsite research to figure some of the book’s details. We’ll be looking at neighborhoods, for example, where some of the characters live, and we’ll be going to the Navy Pier to map out the novel’s big chase scene. Yes, a chase scene ^_^; Really looking forward to going to the Pilsen neighborhood, too, and seeing the National Museum of Mexican Art.
But perhaps best of all, we’ll be meeting Lisa Alvarado, author of Sister Chicas and regular contributor to La Bloga. You might remember that she wrote a wonderful review of Solstice a while back. Well, I wanted to meet up with her to thank her for her review, and just touch base with a fellow Latina writer. So I’m really looking forward to that…and getting her to sign my copy of Sister Chicas ^_^;
So what else is up? Inventing Vazquez is coming along. I now have less than 150 pages to go before the next draft is done, and I’m pleased with the results so far. The rewrite is definitely funnier this time around, as well as more profane. Ugh, that’s one thing about this novel: it will NOT be for anyone who can’t stand profanity or vulgarity. Maybe it’s a bit too profane thanks to the antics of this one character, but time will tell whether that’s a detriment or not. I figure I’ll start looking for an agent by the end of May, but we’ll see, I guess.
So what else is going on? Nothing much. Cloverfield finally came out on DVD yesterday, and of course, I had to buy a copy. How do I feel about that movie? Pretty much the same way I felt when I reviewed it for Quiet Earth ^_^; Loved it, and it’s probably my favorite monster movie of all time. It won’t be for everyone, obviously, but I think there’s just something so H.P. Lovecraft about the way the film hides the monster from view throughout most of the film. And I think the film’s portrayal of the military struggle against it is the grittiest I’ve ever seen. There’s no dramatic score to augment the tension, no heroic guns-blazing charge by some super-soldier, no cheesy model planes and tanks taking pot shots at the creature. The military struggle is scattered, desperate, and appropriately futile.
So that’s what’s going on right now. Chicago. Inventing Vazquez. Cloverfield. And, hopefully, new laminate hardwood flooring for my study soon, because I ripped out the carpet only to find that the existing hardwoods were in crappy condition. ^_^;
And, oh, remember to buy Solstice. It’s what Frodo would have wanted…
So it’s an exciting weekend coming up. My girlfriend and I are going to Chicago for many fun reasons. We’re primarily going to see Margaret Cho at the State Theater. We’re both huge fans of her. Not to mention, one of the main characters in Inventing Vazquez is inspired by her ^^; So we’re both really excited about that.
Another big part of this trip is research. Yep, since Inventing Vazquez takes place in Chicago, we’re going to be doing some onsite research to figure some of the book’s details. We’ll be looking at neighborhoods, for example, where some of the characters live, and we’ll be going to the Navy Pier to map out the novel’s big chase scene. Yes, a chase scene ^_^; Really looking forward to going to the Pilsen neighborhood, too, and seeing the National Museum of Mexican Art.
But perhaps best of all, we’ll be meeting Lisa Alvarado, author of Sister Chicas and regular contributor to La Bloga. You might remember that she wrote a wonderful review of Solstice a while back. Well, I wanted to meet up with her to thank her for her review, and just touch base with a fellow Latina writer. So I’m really looking forward to that…and getting her to sign my copy of Sister Chicas ^_^;
So what else is up? Inventing Vazquez is coming along. I now have less than 150 pages to go before the next draft is done, and I’m pleased with the results so far. The rewrite is definitely funnier this time around, as well as more profane. Ugh, that’s one thing about this novel: it will NOT be for anyone who can’t stand profanity or vulgarity. Maybe it’s a bit too profane thanks to the antics of this one character, but time will tell whether that’s a detriment or not. I figure I’ll start looking for an agent by the end of May, but we’ll see, I guess.
So what else is going on? Nothing much. Cloverfield finally came out on DVD yesterday, and of course, I had to buy a copy. How do I feel about that movie? Pretty much the same way I felt when I reviewed it for Quiet Earth ^_^; Loved it, and it’s probably my favorite monster movie of all time. It won’t be for everyone, obviously, but I think there’s just something so H.P. Lovecraft about the way the film hides the monster from view throughout most of the film. And I think the film’s portrayal of the military struggle against it is the grittiest I’ve ever seen. There’s no dramatic score to augment the tension, no heroic guns-blazing charge by some super-soldier, no cheesy model planes and tanks taking pot shots at the creature. The military struggle is scattered, desperate, and appropriately futile.
So that’s what’s going on right now. Chicago. Inventing Vazquez. Cloverfield. And, hopefully, new laminate hardwood flooring for my study soon, because I ripped out the carpet only to find that the existing hardwoods were in crappy condition. ^_^;
And, oh, remember to buy Solstice. It’s what Frodo would have wanted…
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