Crazy Writers Life: Share Your Rejection

When self moved back to her home in Redwood City, a few months ago, she found a treasure trove of files, including one on ‘Nice Rejections.’

Here’s one from The Antioch Review. No idea who ‘RSF’ is, but it is so rare to get back a personal note that self saved it.

The piece was “Devotions.” It was eventually published by Used Furniture Review.

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Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Opening Page, an Old Manuscript (244 pp) About World War II in Bacolod

It was mid-April. Honorato was sent to the mountains. He had just turned 18.

His parents worried because he was tall, because he was good-looking, because he was the eldest and bore his family’s hopes on his slender shoulders. So, hide, his father told him. Get as far away from here as you can.

How long must I stay in the mountains, Honorato asked.

As long as the Hapon are here, his father said. And don’t try to come back, not until the war is over. We will get word to you, somehow.

It was still dark when the enkargado knocked softly on the door of Honorato’s room. “‘Toto,” he called softly. “Time to get up.”

 

Quote of the Day: MY ANTONIA

She married this unknown man from the West out of bravado. She was a restless, headstrong girl . . . who liked to astonish her friends . . .  Her husband’s quiet tastes irritate her, I think, and she finds it worth while to play the patroness to a group of young poets and painters of advanced ideas and mediocre ability. She has her own fortune and lives her own life.

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MY ANTONIA, by Willa Cather

Self finished reading The Door in the wee hours. Now she’s back to reading American novelists.

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From the foreword of the Penguin Books Edition of My Antonia:

  • In April 1883, when she was nine years old, Willa Cather was uprooted from everything she knew and loved at her birthplace near Winchester, Virginia, and taken to the prairies near the embryonic town of Red Cloud, Nebraska. The familiar green, closed-in Virginia countryside was replaced by a seemingly endless undulating landscape of shaggy red grass, “not a country at all,” says Jim Burden in My Antonia (1918), “but the material out of which countries are made.”

Beginning:

Last summer I happened to be crossing the plains of Iowa in a season of intense heat . . . While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright-colored and oak groves wilting in the sun, we sat in the observation car, where the woodwork was hot to the touch and red dust lay deep over everything.

Great.

Stay tuned.

 

Still Reading THE DOOR

Self doesn’t know why, she is still reading The Door. She thought she’d be through yesterday, she only had 10 pages to go. But here it is, over a day later. And she can’t’t even skim the last 10 pages. No, she has to laboriously work through each page, feeling all the time like dying.

She hates Magda Szabo.

Narrator to Husband: “We are all traitors.”

Husband: “Not traitors. Just too many things to do.”

Aargh, aargh, aargh.

Rare Sighting of Husband: THE DOOR

The husband in The Door is an ineffably mysterious presence: He is there but rarely speaks, somewhat like the father in Tove Jansson’s elegiac, beautiful novel set on a Scandinavian island, The Summer Book (Self discovered Jansson just this summer).

In The Door, while the narrator becomes increasingly emotional, and Emerence becomes increasingly unpredictable, the husband provides a tantalizing comfort. He is in bed with the narrator when Emerence bursts in one morning, singing a song. Once, he runs angrily out of the house, upset that Emerence has put a garden gnome in front of his English classics in the library.

He is ill in the beginning. The housekeeper tells the narrator he is going to die, which strikes self as cruel, but he seems to get stronger as the novel progresses.

He and the narrator visit a Greek island called Glifada. It’s Good Friday; they stop at a church. There’s a dead Christ on a bier by the entrance. The villagers invite them to “join them in mourning the Saviour.” They put a bell rope into the husband’s hands.

The narrator watches:

  • “I can still see him ringing the bell, his thick blonde hair, already shot with grey, tugged by the sea breeze.”

Wow.

This is almost the end of the book; will this be the last, the only time, we see him? Why is self so relieved that he does not die? (Although, she still has about 20 pages to go)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

 

More Vibrant Colors for Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge

Self went around her backyard today, taking pictures of her garden (in close-up), selecting subjects that matched Cee’s current Fun Foto Challenge: Vibrant Colors.

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Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Vibrant Colors

Colors. How self loves them.

To make it even better, Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge this week is VIBRANT Colors.

Here are a few pictures self took this past summer:

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One of self’s earliest rose purchases was this Fourth of July.

From Redwood City’s Annual Fourth of July Parade:

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Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

Meltdown: THE DOOR

Only 1/4 left of the book to go! Self is hanging on every excruciating word.

Still with the strangely ill husband:

  • My husband wasn’t allowed out in the cold; the dog howled all day long; the apartment had to be kept spick and span for the constant visitors.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Tech University, CA: Loaded

A month ago, Google made son an offer and moved him up from southern California.

Before Google, son worked six years for Blizzard, manufacturer of World of Warcraft. The Blizzard headquarters in Irvine is a sprawl of low buildings. Irvine even has a Blizzard way.

What young boy doesn’t play video games. Dream job! Son is the uber-nerd, going to San Diego Comi-con every year, reading science fiction exclusively, and attending Magic Card conventions.

Google put him up in fully furnished apartment in Palo Alto, biking distance from Google headquarters in Mountain View. Rent is free for three months. They sent him a real estate broker to assist in his hunt for a more permanent living arrangement. In the meantime, son signs up for free cooking classes held in his apartment complex.

Apple, Google, Facebook: the three big engines of Silicon Valley employment. During a brief stint living in the City, self shared a building with a bunch of Google engineers. Many of them had just moved to the Bay Area.

This past summer, her niece (19, studying in Michigan) got an internship for Facebook. They gave her an apartment in Palo Alto. AND she was driven to work each day by a Facebook car service. Her niece is still a teenager and she gets ferried to and from work in a Facebook car.

The Economist of 30 June 2018

“the headquarters of Western tech giants” as “typically horizontal affairs, in keeping with their supposedly flat hierarchies. Facebook’s Silicon Valley campus is a jumble of two-storey buildings connected by parks and bridges. Google is a collection of dozens of separate structures spread over an entire neighborhood in Mountain View. Employees commute between them on colourful bicycles.

So, yeah. Those tech giants are loaded.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

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