We definitely need to touch on issues less explored in SFF. 🙂
31 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
Those things. Those thorny things. Those papercut things.
Those difficult-to-explain things. Those minefield things.
Yeah. Those things.
Those thread-on-eggshells things. Those cut-and-bleed things. Those hurt-quietly things.
Those glass shard things. Those cross things. Those intense things.
Those burn-inside-like-a-star things.
Yeah. Those things.
28 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
Thank you for your patient wait – right now, it’s time to crunch numbers and re-think everything.
I have thoughts regarding this. I am not going back to crowdfunding, since I need a large readership or fanbase to make it work. I am probably a nobody in the larger scale of things. So, even though Kickstarter or Indiegogo looks tempting, I am not going there. Note: Crowdfunding will not work if you are a nobody or a small fry.
I am going to crunch numbers. Yes, you heard that, right. Out of my own pockets. And I have to sit down and think business, with business plans and schedules. No Singapore Writers’ Festival deadline, since I don’t think we could make it in time. It would be a rushed job if I tried – and it would be wrong, both to myself and to my readers.
Perhaps, it’s just me. I am just too stubborn to ask for money. It’s just NOT me. So, honest thoughts here. Hope you all would understand where I am coming from.
24 Aug 2012 1 Comment
There is movement at the corner of my eye. A blur of white, a frightened animal sort of white, skittish.
I concentrate on making paper ingots. Grandma has roped in all her sun zi for this tradition. My hands make tubes and fold in the corners and toss the ingot into the huge plastic bag. There has been an accident nearby, a few months ago. Spirits linger, they say and place plates of offerings, burn paper money to appease them.
It is a little girl, they also add.
I gaze down, careful not to step on the offerings. Grandma is often stern with that warning to all her grandchildren, even a grown-up like me.
Footprints. Like cat paw prints, circling the spots of white burnt ashes and paper plates with sweets. Smaller, though, like rabbit. I had a rabbit once and once it hopped through spilled flour.
She is here. She has been here.
My fingers fold the paper, my thoughts inward. There will be fire tonight, bright orange and red, sending money to the netherworld.
I will wait for the rabbit prints.
22 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
Thank you, Rachel. 🙂
21 Aug 2012 2 Comments
Check out “The Sound of Breaking Glass”. 😉
17 Aug 2012 Leave a comment
The bird man, Timothy, came again with the weekly supplies of food. It was near Seventh Month. He helped us lay out the offerings on the floor. Old Earth tradition. Our tradition.
He stayed for dinner, Varra resting next to our garden like the giant pelican she resembled. She preened her wings as we laid out the candles in a straight row. He watched respectfully and said that he celebrated something similar. Samhain. Sow-wen. The word sounded nice coming from him. He didn’t say anything when we burnt paper money in the bin. This close to the desert, we didn’t want to burn the offerings for long. Mama drilled me about fire danger.
Perhaps, dad would visit us tonight.
Timothy talked about Riding. I asked about the animal medical schools. He answered me thoughtfully and told me that there was a large school in the Agri-Seer City. But I needed to grow up first before I could attend the school. I think I liked Timothy.
Then he and Mama sat at the porch and watched the candles flicker in the breeze. This quiet and deep at night, I could hear the desert. It had its special sounds.
Varra’s huge form joined the curves of the nearby hills, surrounded by stars. She flapped her wings and the smoke from the offerings swirled around her.
We waited for dad’s visit.
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