The #WATWB September Edition: On Earthquakes and the Soul of a Nation (#FuerzaMéxico)

Every year on the 19th of September, Mexico City commemorates the anniversary of the 1985 earthquake that leveled the city, and honors those who perished, those who survived, and—perhaps most especially—the millions who took part, over days and weeks and even months, in the search and rescue efforts to find the missing and, later, to rebuild not just the city but the lives devastated by those three minutes the earth shook.

Tlatelolco (Mexico City), 1985

The commemoration includes, every year, an evacuation drill that takes place at 11:00 am. The alarms of the early-warning system sound, and every building in the city empties, people stand in groups in the street until they're given the all-clear, and then everyone mills back up into their offices and cubicles to wait for the evacuation assessment. How fast did we do it? Where did we screw up? What can we do to make it faster, safer, better?

This year, when the alarms sounded again at just past 1:15pm, most people thought it was another drill. Or a malfunction.

It wasn't.

The Other Side of Hope: Film Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

The Other Side of Hope, a film from Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki about a Syrian immigrant in Finland and officially labeled a comedy (more on that below), was the opening film for the Curaçao film festival on Wednesday April 5th. When we were making our selections for the festival, I marked this one as a must-see: immigration, especially from Syria, has taken a prominent role in news and debates worldwide, and after my dushi spewed a few anti-immigration sentiments (on which I swooped down like a rapacious bird of prey, no mercy, no quarter, until I saw a dawning light of reason in his eyes), I thought a story such as this one might help elucidate some of the finer points in the refugee-crisis dispute.

2017 To-Do List

Lately I've been doing more visual "art" than writing... Not sure why. Maybe creativity not only comes in different shapes of expression but actually requires these different shapes to feed on, to renew itself, even to deepen itself. (Or maybe I'm just a five-star procrastinator and spin doctor.)

Here's one of the latest: the 2017 To-Do List. Hope you like it :)

The 2017 To-Do List, by Guilie Castillo
Created in Photoshop, January 2017

The Laughing Heart (Charles Bukowski, read by Tom Waits)

"That's a beauty," he says at the end. Yes... yes, it is. Enjoy.

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

-- by Charles Bukowski

#BoTB: The Christmas Special

If you grew up in the 80's, chances are you already have a favorite in this Battle of the Bands.

First up: 25 November 1984, Bob Geldof's Band Aid records Do They Know It's Christmas to raise funds for Ethiopia. (WARNING: tough, tough images.)

Elevate Your Pitch!

Now that November is over, it's time to start editing the hell out of that NaNo manuscript. Getting rid of all the plot bunnies, the useless (yes, even if fun) tangents, the darlings and the indulgently purple prose.

And nothing helps focus on—even discover—the core of your novel like a cut-'em-to-the-bone pitch. Which is why Samantha Redstreake Geary, spectacular author and freelance writer for the music industry, has opened the Elevate Your Pitch competition.

Got a novel? Whether it's this year's NaNo project or something you've been working for longer than 30 days (and nights), you probably know that it's going to get nowhere without a brilliant elevator pitch.

What is an elevator pitch?

The way writers convey the promise of what reading their book will deliver on.
(paraphrased from Chuck Sambuchino @ WD)

He follows that with a tidbit of magic to illustrate:

"An unforgettable novel about finding a piece of yourself in someone else."
~ And The Mountains Echoed, Khaled Hosseini

Think of the pitch as the teaser trailer to your book. You have 20 seconds to hook a potential reader; how will you do it?

The best part: for this contest, you get to do it with music (like the pros!). Sam's providing all tracks of the Elevation album on the contest page—and if these awesome pieces don't inspire you to take your pitch to the next level, nothing will.

So go for it. Take a listen to the Elevation tracks, choose one that feels right for your manuscript, polish that pitch (max 3 sentences!), and submit via the comments form. Remember to mention which of the tracks you chose, so the judges can listen to it while reading.

Speaking of judges, I'm one of them—and I'm in excellent company, with author Amy Willoughby-Burle and Really Slow Motion director Agus González-Lancharro. Contest is open from now until January 8th, and prizes include:

— For the top three favorite pitches, digital copies of the Elevation album and of The Miracle of Small Things
— One lucky overall winner will receive a gratis license to one of the Elevation tracks for use in a book trailer, and a signed paperback of The Miracle of Small Things

Sound cool? Sign up here! (And check the contest site for guidelines.)

If, for whatever reason, you're not ready to participate, you might still want to follow along; several guests and judges will be providing pitch-rocking tips while the competition runs. (And Sam's blog is totally worth following anyway, for content and visuals. And music.)

"... in the grace of the world..." (and the close of the #MiracleTour)

Of course Wendell had to be a dog lover. Of course.

In the spirit of this month's gratitude zeitgeist, here is a tiny beauty from poet Wendell Berry:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

"... in the grace of the world..." That line gives me goosebumps. There is so much gorgeousness around us, so much to be grateful for, and so much of it we miss because we're too busy with larger concerns, with the big picture, worried about things that will never happen, things we can't control—and, yet, things that would never be a concern if we all devoted our time to "the peace of wild things".

This year has taught me a lot, far beyond what I expected, what I even imagined. Today is the close of the MIRACLE tour, and awesome friend and blogger Damyanti Biswas is hosting me on her blog to talk about these unexpected lessons—of which perhaps the greatest is precisely this: Gratitude. To you.

Thank you. You've made an enormous difference in my life. From now on, every day, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, you'll be in my thoughts. Because you cared, because you had a kind word for me, because you went above and beyond (even though you may not realize you did... even though you didn't really know me).

I will never forget that.

Spectacular Settings! (#WEP)

Hosted by wonder-women Denise Covey and Yolanda Renee, the WEP (Write - Edit - Publish) Spectacular Settings hop is all about the power of place -- and the part it plays (can/should play) in writing.

Got a spectacular setting from a favorite book? Join the hop (it runs from the 19th to the 26th) and share! (More info here.)

The setting I'm sharing here is not from fiction but from poetry. And not just any poet, either. If you've followed this blog for a while, you might know I'm a huge fan of T.S. Eliot. A couple of months ago a long-time friend -- one of those people from the past that sometimes pop up into the present, usually bearing extraordinary gifts -- got together a small group of poetry enthusiasts for a reading circle on Skype (we're scattered all over, geographically), and the first piece we read was Eliot's Four Quartets. 

It's a piece I know well, maybe more than well -- it was none other than this old friend who introduced me to Eliot some 20 years ago, and the Eliot collection I own is one he gave to me back then... twenty years almost to the day we began reading. Several bits from Four Quartets have, in these two decades, gained special significance. For instance,

#BoTB: July 1st results (Jersey Girl, Tom vs. Bruce)

Oh, wow. I never expected this to be so close. Cherdo's just-under-the-wire broke the 7-7 tie, putting The Boss above Mr. Waits. The tally looks like this:

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki -- Haruki Murakami (The B-Quotes Series)

I read this one, my second Murakami, back in January. Outstanding, beautiful book. Murakami is so hard to compare, even to himself... I read Kafka on The Shore last year, and while there's certainly a red thread unique to the author in, presumably, all his works, the beauty of each stands alone and singular.

Enjoy.

Not everything was lost in the flow of time. [...] We truly believed in something back then, and we knew we were the kind of people capable of believing in something--with all our hearts. And that kind of hope will never simply vanish.

[...] That if he intensely concentrated his feelings on one fixed point, like a lens focused on paper, bursting it into flames, his heart would suffer a fatal blow. More than anything he hoped for this. But months passed, and contrary to his expectations, his heart didn't stop. The heart apparently doesn't stop that easily.

p. 377

Our lives are like a complex musical score, Tsukuru thought. Filled with all sorts of cryptic writing, sixteenth and thirty-second notes and other strange signs. It's next to impossible to correctly interpret these, and even if you could, and then could transpose them into the correct sounds, there's no guarantee that people would correctly understand, or appreciate, the meaning therein. No guarantee it would make people happy. 

"[...] You don't lack anything. Be confident and be bold. That's all you need. Never let fear and stupid pride make you lose someone who's precious to you."

p. 342

"We survived. You and I. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect."
p. 334

In reality, though, none of this ever happened. In reality something very different happened. And that fact was more significant now than anything else.

p. 330

The beating of her heart kept time with the slap of the little boat against the pier.

"Important to me, perhaps. But maybe not to her. I came here to find that out."

"It sounds kind of complicated."

"Maybe too complicated for me to explain in English."

Olga laughed. "Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language."

p. 270

It was a different sense of isolation from what he normally felt in Japan. And not such a bad feeling, he decided. Being alone in two senses of the word was maybe like a double negation of isolation. In other words, it made perfect sense for him, a foreigner, to feel isolated here. There was nothing odd about it at all. [...] He was in exactly the right place.
p. 272-273

Mexico is a proud nation today

At the Oscars last night, back-to-back Mexicans stepped up to the stage to receive little gold men. Emmanuel Lubezki won Best Photography for Birdman, and Alejandro González Iñarritu, the same film's director, won Best Original Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Movie.

On his third visit to the awards stage, for Best Movie, Iñarritu dedicated the award to the Mexican people: to those living in Mexico, he said he hoped we'd be able to build the kind of government we deserve, and to those living in the US, those of the newest generation of immigrants, he wished that they be treated with the same respect and recognition that others before them found in "this nation of immigrants."

Bravo, señores. You make us all proud.

The whole thing, from envelope opening (by Sean Penn, whose prelude to announcing the winner is priceless) and all of Iñarritu's speech, including a cute intermission by Michael Keaton, below. (Or you can just watch Iñarritu's bit about Mexico and Mexicans.)

And the Birdman trailer. Just because it's so fucking awesome.

The Bone Clocks, David Mitchell (the B-Quotes Series)

I've been reading some really amazing, life-changing, perspective-altering books lately. Well, always, I suppose. But it recently struck me that most of the wisdom I find on the page, as powerful as it might feel to me at the moment of reading, will inevitably fall into oblivion. I make notes, sure; I have dozens of notebooks--big, small, tiny--scattered all over the house with quotes of exquisite truth jotted behind a grocery or a to-do list.

Like I said. Oblivion.

So I thought, why not put them into a blog post? With a clear label, they'll be easily retrievable at any time, anywhere.

I thus give to you the B-Quotes Series. And we begin with the wondrous turns of phrase, vocabulary choices, descriptions, and thoughts I found in The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell, read just last month.

"Love's pure free joy when it works, but when it goes bad you pay for the good hours at loan-shark prices."
p. 39

Power is lost or won, never created or destroyed. Power is a visitor to, not a possession of, those it empowers. [...] Power is crack-cocaine for your ego and battery-acid for your soul.

[...] and what's this prodding certainty that I'm in a labyrinth not only of turnings and doors but decisions and priorities [...]
p. 264  

P.S. -- Have you seen my Facebook page? It's still a fledgling thing of wet wings and iffy sense of balance, which means it needs all the Likes you care to give ;) Once that first solo book of mine comes out later this year (more on that later), I'll be returning the love via giveaways and stuff :D

Best 20 minutes you'll spend today

The Meaning of Cuernavaca

The city of memory, the city of nostalgia, of everything that's been lost, and found, forgotten, remembered.

We--my father, my mother, and I--moved from Mexico City to Cuernavaca in December 1975, when I was two months shy of three years old. I have fragmented memories of that December. For instance, walking around the pool wearing corduroy pants and a woolen sweater (yes, winters in the central altiplano of México can be cold), but my parents were wearing swimming suits, and I remember remarking on that, briefly, internally.

View of the house I grew up in, from the carport. The deep end of the pool is just off-frame to the right.
In the back you can see half of the sandbox I played in for hours, the tree where I had my treehouse
(long gone, rotted or something, before this photo was made), and a corner of the tennis court
(you have to look hard).
My father made this photo five months before he died.

Not dead, just...

Well... working, I guess. Yes, there's that new job--which I love--*love*--to bits (more on that below). But also the end of the Pure Slush 2014 Year In Stories project. I finally delivered my December story earlier this month--story which, by the way, was due at the end of May. Yep. Two months late. And I wasn't even the last writer to wrap up the cycle.

It's official: Matt Potter, Pure Slush editor, is a saint.

It was hard, wrapping up. I didn't expect it to be that hard. Saying goodbye to characters is always sad; "The End" is a production achievement, sure, but it's also The End--of a creativity moment, of a period of our lives, of our shared story with these characters.

Perhaps if I wrote happy--happier--endings I'd have more feel-good afterwards. From a creative production standpoint I'm pleased when I achieve the perfect ending for a story. In terms of craft it gives me a boost of satisfaction to wrap things up, to bring the story to its crescendo, to let the notes crash and bang and make their statement, and then fade.

#atozchallenge: Xipe Totec, (my) God of Literature

You probably know the pre-hispanic cultures of America weren't shy about extensive pantheons: it must take an army, after all, to keep the universe going in all its complexity, all its diversity. These multiple gods--sometimes even, because it wasn't already complicated enough, multi-faceted gods--have one universal quality in common:

Goriness.

To make the sun rise? And you'll be wanting this every day? Right, then. A few bloody, still-beating hearts should do it, old chap. 

The Mexica (Meh-SHEE-kah, though you probably know them as the Aztec) are most famous for goriness. But like the Romans, they absorbed the religious practices of the peoples they conquered; most of the grisly rituals they shocked the Spanish with were in use long before the Mexica ever rose into the horizon of Mesoamerican power. Xipe Totec, for instance, has his origins in the Olmec civilization, the oldest one in México; so old, in fact, that by the time of Christ it had been gone for centuries.

Xipe Totec (SHEEP-eh TOH-tek). The god of Spring. Renewal. Seeding. The elemental force of rebirth. The shedding of the husk that frees life.

Xipe Totec himself. (Image credit)
Note the "extra" skin on his face and arms.
The "extra" hands.
Yep, they actually did this.

Also called "Our Lord the Flayed One." And always depicted as a man wearing the skin of another man. During the celebrations dedicated to him, prisoners--men, women, and children--were flayed, and others would wear their skins. Their "husks."

(Trust the Mesoamericans to goryfy the Easter bunny.)

I like to think that, among the diversity of blood in me, a bit of pre-hispanic DNA might have survived. (My great-grandmother was a Purépecha indian--I have hope.)

Perhaps this is why I find so fascinating this idea of Shedding The Husk. 

Transformation. 

Becoming.

Emerging.

The 2014: A Year In Stories project embodies this in a very literal sense: a year in the lives of. Think of your own year: on January 1st, where were you? Who were you? It's the end of April; where are you now? Who are you now? Where will you be by December? What marvelous things might have happened in your life? What wonderful people will you have met? How much will you have changed, what will you have learned?

Who will you be?

2014: A Year In Stories
A twelve-volume anthology published by Pure Slush Books

Good literature is about this Shedding of The Husk. 

So is a good life.

~ * ~

Thank you for the visit, and for your patience with the delay in posting. 

Y and Z coming soon.

Happy last day of A-to-Z-ing!

#NoBystanders -- Would you? Will you?

I found this brilliant video on Upworthy. Maybe you've already seen it. Maybe it's old news. But it's worth sharing, and saving on the blog.

So. Are you a bystander? I know I am--but I won't be anymore. You?

Introducing Life in Dogs: How the Valentine Grinch Celebrates Feb 14

Originally posted in Life in Dogs

Feb 14, 2014

Life In Dogs

I'm a Valentine grinch. It's pre-fab and commercial, and it turns peer pressure up sky-high. If you're with someone, V-Day turns a relationship into a checklist that grows longer--and more unsatisfying--with every other couple you see. Is my partner good-looking enough? Are we, as a couple, romantic enough? Did I get flowers? A card? Handwritten? Did I get jewelry? Was it the real stuff?

If you're single, the twenty-four hours of February 14th are proof time is relative. No day lasts longer.

The Watcher of Vowels

A bit of inspiration goes a long way, especially on Monday morning. Enjoy.

The Watcher of Vowels from Catalina Kulczar-Marin on Vimeo.

“Literature gains its universality by being very specific.” ~Junot Diaz