Paterson: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Paterson, Jim Jarmusch, 2016

Friday, April 7th, 2017, 16:30

Meanwhile, on the Miracle front...

The Chit Chat Café at Mensing's Caminada, Curaçao's largest
bookstore. The café has graciously agreed to host us for
the launch.

The Miracle of Small Things has come home. Thanks to the wonderful people at Mensing's Caminada bookstore, the book is now for sale here in Curaçao, the island that gave it life. The official launch is planned for Saturday Feb. 13th, but we decided that—due to the long wait—it was a good idea to put a few copies up for sale pre-launch.

Why the long wait? Why not do the launch earlier—now, for instance? Or—as we'd originally planned—before Christmas and the big shopping season? Yes, that would've made sense. But living on an island that no one (including international postal services) can find on a map has its drawbacks.

New Year's Day (#BoTB)

"There's no stillness like the stillness of Curaçao on New Year's Day."

So opens The Miracle of Small Things, a line reminiscent of U2's "All is quiet on New Year's Day..." No song more appropriate, then, to start off a new year of Battle of the Bands.

I wouldn't even dream of pitting the original against... well, anyone. This is a sacred song for me—for us. My dushi and I have been singing this together, at the top of our voices,  thirteen New Years in a row, sometime around 7pm—midnight in Holland, and the first New Year's "bang" here in Curaçao: fireworks, hugs, phone calls, clinking of beer bottles, general uproar—and a fairly predictable playlist, whether by DJ or live band, that includes Auld Lang Syne and U2's New Year's Day.

We may not have a "world in white" here in the tropics, but...

I want to be with you, be with you

Night and day

Nothing changes on New Year's Day.

"... 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.

The Weekend #MiracleTour Stop: That Annoying Animal Advocate

I'm over at Michele Truhlik's awesome blog this weekend, on the next-to-last post for the MIRACLE tour, talking about the pitfalls of animal advocacy in fiction... And the work-around I found — at least I think I found. Readers will tell :) I'd love it if you came by to say hi, and to help me shower Michele with love and gratitude for being such a wonderful hostess.

Happy Saturday!

Driving Licenses: Mexico vs. Curaçao (+ The Metaphor of Prison, c/o @ArleeBird )

So. The Mexico trip. Man, that was a fiasco. I mean, it's not easy to travel anywhere from Curaçao. Even direct flights come with delays and cancellations and whatnot. But I've never had as much trouble going to and from Mexico as this time. I'm even down with a weird cold/flu virus since Sunday—and I blame the night I spent on the carpet at the Miami airport.

12:30 am Saturday morning, relaxing with a guilty-pleasure novel on the comfy carpet at MIA International.

Before I go into the gory details, let me tell you I'm over at Tossing It Out today, care of blogosphere's marvelous Arlee Bird, talking about prisons: of the mind, the soul, and the flesh. It's the latest stop for the MIRACLE tour in blogs, after a celebration of the book's quirkiness over at Corinne Rodrigues's place last week, and then the crazy author vs character interview argument that ended with me apologizing and Luis Villalobos in maudlin tears over at The Doglady's Den this past Monday.

Author vs Character @DebbieDoglady: Bring it on, Luis Villalobos!

This stop in the MIRACLE Tour in Blogs turned out a tad, uhm... emotional. It had to do with MacArthur Park, the song Debbie chose for her last Battle of The Bands—and one which has special meaning for Luis Villalobos, protagonist of THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS. Emotional, teary meaning. And we'd love to see you over there, if you have a minute.

So. Inquiring minds want to know? A guy that cries with a Disco song. Is he a wuss, or a darling?

On Quirks & Books, & Books With Quirks... #MIRACLEtour

The MIRACLE tour continues! I'm over at Corinne Rodrigues's blog talking about the quirks in THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS. Take a hop over, if you get the chance... I'd love to know what you think.

Thank you so much for hosting me, Corinne!

P.S. — I'm flying back home today, so I'll be back online by Saturday morning. I'm so, so sorry for the BoTB posts I missed... I'll find a way to make it up to you guys.

Live Interview All Weekend! #MIRACLEtour via @Desertwriter

This is a tour stop like no other... Author Bob Sanchez is interviewing me, live, all weekend. Take a hop over if you get a chance, drop us a question, and help me get the conversation roaring to thank Bob for his generous hospitality (and his creativity! LOVE this idea!).

Happy weekend!

The NYC Chronicles: About the Book Launch

It went great. Really, really great — no thanks to me or my novice-ness and general lack of prepared-ness, no. This landmark moment and its success was due entirely to two groups of awesome people:

Dedication page,
THE MIRACLE OF
SMALL THINGS

The ones who helped make it happen: 

• fabulous publisher, 
• fabulous dushi, to whom the book is dedicated,
• fabulous Curaçao expats living in NYC who a) invited all their friends and basically shepherded them to the event, and b) introduced me to 
• fabulous La Casa Azul bookstore owner & staff, and
• fabulous PR people at the office of the Dutch consulate in NYC, who were beyond instrumental... Let me put it this way: without the DCNY, we would've had a book launch without books; and
• assorted sites who shared the event, among them an ultra-flattering mention in NYC's Village Voice.

But what's an event—any event, but especially a book launch—without an audience? And we struck gold there.

Our beyond-wonderful audience.

• friends who came in from as far away as Boston and Texas—and even Curaçao! And exclusively for the launch! Man... oh, man. Thank you doesn't even come close to beginning to cover it...
• decades-long friends who, having read zero-zilch-nada of my work—and who, given the distance in time, had no real investment in supporting me—showed up anyway, all smiles and enthusiasm and good wishes;
• ex-colleagues from that other life I once lived in the financial industry—and their friends, from as far away as SPAIN!
• aforementioned Curaçao expats—a director at the Huffington Post, a director of Sugar Hill Children's Museum, an anthropologist professor at NYU, and a marketing strategist—some of whom showed up with friends, and even visiting Curaçao family;
• perfect strangers who, somehow, heard about this book launch by an unknown author and not only gave it a shot but participated wholeheartedly in the conversation about this mystery island called Curaçao.

A blast, I tell you. No debut author has a right to expect a show of support at this level.

And then there were all the people who couldn't be there but wanted to, and sent awesome vibes of goodwill and confidence through the airwaves. I'm convinced all those positive thoughts conspired to create a bubble in space/time where nothing could go wrong.

Or, okay, not much could.

We had a moment of panic when the train we were on skipped the 103rd Street stop (a hundred meters from the bookstore). Maybe we got on the wrong train, we thought. The local vs the express or something. So we went on to the next stop (116th), crossed the tracks, and got on a train going back to 103rd — after double-checking this one did, actually, stop at 103rd.

BUT IT DIDN'T.

Outside the Dutch consulate
after picking up the books.
(We were still on track, time-wise,
which is why I look so relaxed.)

Instead, 103rd zoomed past our windows while a blurry voice on the intercom said, "We've received confirmation there will be no stops at 103rd due to ongoing construction. The next stop on the line is 86th street."

Shit. Shit.

86th street is seventeen blocks away from 103rd. And it was 5:15; no way we could walk that (even if we hadn't had a suitcase with 50 books to roll along) and make it to the bookstore before 6:00—and even if we did, I certainly wouldn't be in any condition to give a speech—or even say Welcome—before passing out.

(Oh, man. The Speech. Well, we'll get to that.)

So we did the only thing we could: the four of us—my Super Dushi, my friend from Texas and my other friend from Curaçao—piled into a taxi (only later we'd realize how lucky we'd been to find one at 5:15 pm on Lexington... Like I said, good vibes make a huge difference) and high-tailed it—as it were, given rush-hour traffic—to 103rd. Good we knew exactly where we were going (thank you, phone GPS—how did anyone ever get anywhere without you?) because the taxi driver spoke enough English to say thank you and yessir, but not much more.

So we made it, roller suitcase chock-full of books and all, to the bookstore at about 5:40. (Instead of 5:00, as I'd originally planned... What's that saying about plans and god and evil cackling? Yeah.)

And people were already there.

So instead of having a nice moment with Aurora, the bookstore owner, to meet and get to know each other a little bit, or to meet her staff—or even, dammit, to take in the beautiful space and the shelves packed with amazing Latino authors—it was a rush-rush "Nice to meet you. Where do you want the books?" "Yeah, me too. Do you have the consignment form?" "The price's missing." "Where do I need to sign?" "What genre do you want these listed as?" And in between people kept arriving; people I had only traded emails with but never met face to face, people I didn't expect to see, people who had come a long way—whether through time or distance, or both—to support me. So of course that turned into a mass session of interrupted catch-up and introductions and ICAN'TBELIEVEYOU'REHEREs and photos and group hugs...

One of the amazing Curaçao People photos—with, unfortunately, a couple of main players too far back
in the shadows to see properly (and with the Curaçao flag held the wrong way around... we were that excited).
Publisher Matt Potter of Truth Serum Press is the gorgeous guy on the left, back row.

And then Aurora gave me a nudge. "I think it's time."

To Be Continued.

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,

It's up. It's out. It's done.

 August 9th, 2015. Quiet Sunday, no plans other than lazying around the house, maybe do a bit of yard work later in the afternoon, when the heat goes down. My dushi in the kitchen, preparing me an avocado-and-tomato sandwich for lunch. Facebook spewing its inane entertainment. The dogs asleep around my desk chair, immobilizing me.

The ping of an email. I don't know it yet, but my comfortably ordinary Sunday is about to end.

The email is from my publisher. It's up, says the subject line.

No need to say what. Or where.

The book. My book. It's published. THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS. Out into the world, into the hands of whoever wants to have it, including perfect strangers. Including, most conspicuously, the people who've cheered me on. The people in my life.

Yikes.

It seems so stupid, after 9 months of prepping -- working -- for this, 9 months of knowing it was going to happen... But it still blindsided me.

It's up. It's out. For better or for worse, it's done.

My first book has been published.

The MIRACLE Saga of Unforeseen Obstacles (& Pleasures): The Copyright Melee

I'm lucky that my publisher has a sense of humor.

Somewhere in the revisions round for the first proof copy (which, like anything else ordered from abroad--abroad meaning anywhere, Curaçao being an island--took forever to get here), the publisher asks,

Oh, hey, your MC quotes a line of poetry in the second chapter. Shouldn't that be credited in the copyright page?

Yes. YES. How did that slip through the cracks? It's a fragment from T.S. Eliot. T.S. Eliot. Of course it needs to be credited. Easily fixed; a quick look inside my favorite Eliot volume, an email to the publisher, and phewalldone.

And then,

What about the lines of this one song the guy sings at the end? Who should we credit those to?

What am I, an idiot? How can I possibly forget about freaking attributions? First for T.S. Eliot, and now for one of Mexico's most popular mariachi singers... Seriously. Yes, please include a credit to Mr. Pepe Aguilar.

Just like that? Pepe Aguilar?

No, I guess--wait, let me check how exactly the dude's name is listed in the song's copyright info. And, also, whether the song is, in fact, his. It's a popular song. Many artists have recorded it.

Oooohboy.

What's taking so freakin' long??? (Part I)

Writing--no, scratch that; publishing is not for the impatient. And I am the mother of impatience. Which is why I'm kind of amazed that I haven't thrown a hissy fit yet. (Yet, I emphasize.)

No, actually I know exactly why I haven't. It's because I'm so damn busy. I don't have time to be impatient. As a matter of fact, days are going by like sand through toes at the surfline. Like, for instance, it's Tuesday already and--what do you mean Thursday? I NEED MY WEDNESDAY BACK!

I mean, how hard can it be? THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS had already been published in Pure Slush's 2014 A Year In Stories. Well, sort of. Last year, when Truth Serum Press (sister press of Pure Slush) agreed to publish it as a standalone book, we felt there was a piece missing from the original 12 stories, so--okay, I wrote a 13th story. Which turned out a tad longer than expected. And took longer, too, to finish. (I sweated blood on that one.)

But aside from that, I thought it was a matter of some small (fine, smallish) revisions. You know, quirky wording that somehow escaped both my and the editor's eagle eyes the first few times. And then there were the places where, due to the word count limit for the originals, I cut character arcs short or held back on information that actually did move the story forward. So these things had to be remedied for the standalone version. And then revised. And re-revised. And re-re-re...

The Miracle of Small Things -- #AtoZChallenge Giveaway Results!

Sorry for the delay, y'all... You'd think after 3 -- or is it 4? -- years of A-to-Z-ing I'd have learned not to underestimate the post-April burnout, but every year it's the same. Come May, I'm a useless blogger. (More than usual, I mean.)

I did, finally, get around to collecting the names of those who guessed right first in the Papiamentu guessing game, and writing those names on itty bitty pieces of paper...

The nine participating names, the twelve itty bitty pieces of paper
(Debbie, Bob, and Sabina had two correct guesses each, so they participated twice)