Made the Longlist

Found out today that my story made the longlist of LitMag’s Virginia Woolf Award for Short Fiction.

It was speculative fiction. I took a chance!

That is all.

Opening, Self’s Camarote de Marinero

What do you think?

  • On the last day of November, on the feast of Saint Andrew the Apostle, the Genoese pilot of the Santa Maria found a current.  It led to a vast and peaceful ocean, an ocean whose purring sighs and amber warmth held us firmly in its liquid embrace. The weather was mild, the sea an unbroken stretch of glass. Suddenly, we forgot scurvy and exhaustion, and even the last dreadful sight of the men put ashore in Guam, the ones slain by the cannibal Chamorros.  The terrible screams from the beach had carried across the water to the black ships.  Oh, the horror!

I think this is READY.

Stay safe, dear blog readers. Stay safe.

Sentence of the Day: CAMAROTE DE MARINERO

  • If only our pilot had not found the current that led us to the shining archipelago! — p. 15, Camarote de Marinero, self’s (experimental, 16th century, mostly epistolary) novel of the Philippines

Synopsis Is Hard to Write

Self keeps re-reading Camarote de Marinero, and so far she really likes it (lucky!) It’s written mostly in epistolary form, in very florid language. For example:

Letter to El Adelantado Miguel Lopez de Legazpi from His Royal Catholic Majesty Philip II:

  • If indeed they were turned into slaves, ourselves shall rescue them. Lest we give our cousins the Portuguese and our enemies the Dutch and the English occasion to lose their respect for Spain.

Stay safe, dear blog readers. Stay safe.

Now to Write a Synopsis

There was the glaring sand, and the fringe of coconut trees.  Hovering above the trees was the spine of a mountain. And beyond? Only a profound and mysterious silence.

— self’s novel of 16th century Philippines, Camarote de Marinero

Western Humanities Review, Spring 2020

Self has a story in the latest issue of Western Humanities Review. She based it on a true story about a ferry disaster in the Philippine Sea. And it all began with the first sentence:

I didn’t like the blind woman.

#amwriting: a new short story

Illness (Working Title)

Sometime in the night, the sound of her eight-year-old’s coughing woke her. She went to his room and found, upon touching his head, that it was bathed in sweat. But her son bounced up, bright as a bird, his eyes shining merrily.

Link of the Week: FIVE SOUTH

The best hygiene for beginning writers or intermediate writers is to write a hell of a lot of short stories.Ray Bradbury

Just Published: The Wolf Wife (Story)

One cold February night, his wife began to howl.

The becoming was a long process. His wife had been a small woman, barely a hundred pounds. The wolf she became was massive, almost double her human weight. She had thickly furred ears and a long, dense, whitish coat

Read the rest of the story in Spacecraft 13, a literary magazine edited by Gillian Parish

In Progress: The Philippines, April 1942

In mid-April, Honorato was sent to the mountains.  He had just turned 18.  Don Geronimo worried because he was tall, because he was good-looking, because he was the eldest and bore the hopes of his parents on his slender shoulders.  Hide, his father told him.  Get as far away from here as you can.

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