I started out with the intention of writing another fun snippet, but I'll confess that I've also been preoccupied with world-building for the work-in-progress that somehow I ended up writing something that is quite different from the first two pieces that I posted for my Clarion West sponsors. I want to say thanks to Susan Gossman and Eileen Gunn ( Read more... )

I've signed up for the Clarion West Write-a-thon and I hope to be more successful at blogging about my progress than I was last year. Of course, last year I had a spotty internet connection--so this year I have no excuse.

My Write-a-thon page is here and thanks to the repeated rt's, we've achieved the goal of 200 participating writers and in so ( Read more... )

Bannawag -- one of the oldest magazines in the Ilocano language


( Read more... )

I managed to get myself signed up for the Clarion West Write-a-thon inspite of the fact that our internet connection was wonky and wouldn't let me on the Clarion West site. My thanks to the Clarion West people, to my classmates (Vicki and Todd) , to nisi_la , to Jocelyn Paige Kelly, and to Erin Cashier who all encouraged me when I was on the verge of ( Read more... )

Intermittent Transmissions from the Diaspora is now up at Ecstatic Days. I enjoyed writing this one. In the first part, I talk about hearing Anak by Freddie Aguilar being played in a supermarket in the neighbourhood. Thinking back, I remember hearing it too when we went to visit my father when he was stationed in Yemen. The taxi driver, proudly ( Read more... )

In which I battle my short story mind. Ha, ha... Well, I managed to meet my promised weekly wordcount done. But I've encountered a place in my novel where I need the oral histories for which I need my brother to confer with the storyteller as I really don't trust my memory that much when it comes to the oral history. This means that I am leaping ( Read more... )

I want to remember, the go-back, go-back. Back in the day. Back in the day when we were new. When we were our own.  Back when we belonged to  the land. Back in the day when we were beloved of Maknongan.

Go-back, go-back. Travel the spectrum. Engage the spirit. Not of this flat land. Not of this place where the wind carries the foul smell of decay ( Read more... )