Writing is Art

Navigating the self-publishing world has been an adventure. I am pushing myself beyond my known boundaries. The feeling is exhilarating and scary. I have not thought, not once, of failure and I am grateful that I am gifted with such a fierce optimism. That optimism has gotten me through some very rough patches and I know that it will carry me through the rest of my life.

People have asked me why I don't submit my manuscript to a publishing house. Here are my reasons:

1. TIME - I am not sure that they will move on it quick enough for me. They are looking for "trending" stories that are highly marketable. I think I am a great story-teller but I don't want to sit and wait for them to decide. I set a deadline for myself and I want to keep that deadline.

2. EDITING - Though I would appreciate feedback, I don't want my voice to be drowned out by an editor that wants my story to be "more marketable." The idea behind my writing is not just to sell books but to have my words and the stories make an impact on the reader.

3. CREATIVE FREEDOM - I have a clear vision of how I want the cover to be and how I want the text to be formatted.

I have not eliminated the possibility of pitching this manuscript to a publishing house. A dear friend of mine whose resume is quite impressive as a cultural expert (she was a consultant on Disney's Moana) has already put me in touch with Little Island Press located in Auckland, NZ. I don't want to wait though. I want to push this first novel into the print world. There are so many more that are coming after it.

People think that writing is cheap. And it is. It doesn't cost a thing for me to put my ideas on paper or here on the world wide web. But to bring it all to life costs money. Think of an artist that has sketched or has sculpted or has took beautiful photos. How do they bring it forward? They need the materials and then they need all the fluff to present their final product. Fluff = frames, columns and stands, printing costs, marketing -- it all costs money to present the end product to the world. And though sales and future commissions on their creative works might be a byproduct, that will not be realized for weeks or even months, sometimes years. Vincent Van Gogh probably had no clue the "value" of his work while he was alive.

I think of my writing just as an artist thinks of his or her pieces. I place my heart and soul into the things that I write and when I present it to the world, I make no apologies for the story that I tell. The best stories will change you, will push you to think of things differently.

So as I continue to weigh my options for bringing my first novel to life, self-publishing is still my chosen avenue. It is expensive -- from copyrighting the material to the actual publishing and the  marketing. I thank the people who have contributed to this first endeavor - donors who gave without hesitation. And though it is not enough yet, I am extremely grateful and humbled by their generosity.

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Video Podcast Episode 4: Who Influenced You?

In my pursuit of living my biggest dream of writing full time, I want to pay homage to the teachers and books that have influenced me and fostered my love of reading and writing. Children that attended Hau'ula Elementary in the 80's will certainly recognize the two teachers that I mention.

Mr. Ho, who retired a couple of years ago, was my third grade teacher. My parents kept all my report cards from grade school and I laugh when I read them. Mr. Ho would say things like, "She's smart but has a bad attitude." "She wants to be the teacher." I can't help it. I have this natural curiosity, even back then, and was and still am verrrrry impatient. I am not proud of my behavior but there would be times when my impatience made me look like a know-it-all. Mr. Ho would ask a student to read out loud. It drove me crazy that he would NEVER pick me to read out loud. So when the chosen student would read out loud, and he or she would stumble over words, I would blurt out the sentence that they were having a difficult time reading. I can see now why Mr. Ho NEVER chose me. I was not the one that needed help. I was so eager to read through the sentences that were so simple for me not realizing that I was probably intimidating the student that was actually reading. Sorry.

Mr. Ho also had story time where the entire class would sit down on the floor. He would be seated on a chair, front and center. He would tell us ghost stories. The Man With the Golden Arm was a favorite. I knew how the story would end but the way he told it was always so surprising. It is a cherished memory from Mr. Ho's classroom.

In the 4th Grade, I had Ms. Elly Tepper. There are only a few teachers throughout my years that had the ability to make EVERY student feel special. She is one of them. Not only did she inspire my love for reading and writing but she really pushed me to love my culture. I don't believe she is a Pacific Islander but the way she embraced our music, dancing, and cultural practices made me love it more.  4th Grade at Hau'ula Elementary back in the 80's was the designated grade for learning Hawaiian History. The whole year was spent learning cultural practices of my Hawaiian ancestors and it culminated in a week-long, end-of-year trip to Hawai'i Island (where the volcano is). While there we visited ancient heiau (temples) and visit important historical places that we learned about throughout the year. We visited Pele (the fire goddess) at Kilauea. Ancient fish ponds. Summer palaces of the royalty before the kingdom was overthrown by greedy Americans. We danced hula in hotel lobbies and at schools. It was really a beautiful experience and I wish I had my journals from that time but those were lost in a flood.

When Ms. Tepper needed to calm the class down and get us to focus, or we were getting for a test, or we were about to meet an important guest in the classroom, or we were getting ready for a performance, or we were about to get off the bus on a field trip, she gave the most inspiring speeches. The emotion that she was able to pull from each and every student with her speeches will always stay with me. Even if your home life was horrible, when you entered Ms. Tepper's room you knew that she only saw us as little kings and queens. I cannot remember the words that she said but I certainly remember the feelings that she was able to evoke from me. She would walk around the room, between our desks, the heat of the day invading the classroom, and would remind us of our nobility. She was a big fan of the Hawaiian word, ha'aheo. It means proud, like how the mountains stand tall and proud. And she would use that word to remind us how to be. She would tell us to be dignified, proud, and remember always who we represent with our actions. I am a crybaby and there were times that my eyes were filled with tears from her pep talk. I don't ever remember being scolded. She was always firm and direct, not condescending at all. She is a bright light in the world of education in Hawai'i.

I hope that you sit back and contemplate the major influencers in what you are doing today. Maybe reach out to them and let them know the impact they made on your life. I looked up both Mr. Ho and Ms. Tepper and they are not on Social Media. But I am determined to find a way to reach out to them to let them know their impact on me. If you know them, send them a link to this blog post.

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Unravel the Emotions

The only empty seat was next to me.

A young gentleman sat down. In his hand he held a pen and a note-card size booklet. He was writing.

I was so intrigued that this young man was writing to pass the time.
He was not playing on a smartphone nor was his ears covered with BEATS.
He
Was
Writing

Not texting. Not typing.

He
Was
Writing!

I asked him if he writes all the time.

He said that writing is the only thing that gets him through his day. I can so relate. We had a short conversation about writing and about journals we have kept over the years. It was nice to run into a kindred soul and to connect on the love of writing.

I cannot quite pinpoint when I started my love affair with writing. It's like it was always a part of me. I learned to read when I was three and writing came soon after that. I feel so very deeply in my soul that I was made to tell stories, to tell my story, and to create art from all the pain and sadness I have experienced. I have a deep longing to feel joy again and yet, so much creative energy has arisen from the extreme grief I am experiencing.


When I journal, I bare my soul. Here, on this blog, I keep some bits of information private. But it is in the writing and the thinking through the events happening in my life that I am able to let go of some of the emotion that is pent up.
Rage.
Anger.
Fear.
Love.
Sadness.
Loneliness.
Joy.
Happiness.
It is on the pages of my journal that I unravel the emotions that would seek to destroy me.

I look through my blog and in my journals for hints as to how I find myself at the end of a second marriage. I can't call it. What I do know is that both relationships ended with the man walking away. Both of their monologues exactly the same.
"I haven't been happy for a while."
"I don't want to be married."
"It's not you. It's me."
"You're a good woman. A really good wife."
"The spark is gone."
I don't know what to do with this information but the fact that I have my writing to look back on it and compare what happened in both relationships is priceless.

What I know is also strewn across the pages of my journals is how much love I have to give. How utterly insane I am about feeling the butterflies when I'm in love. I read my old writings and the loyalty and devotion I give freely to my husband frightens me. I have come to realize that I lose myself a little too much when I'm in a relationship and I compromise too much of who I am to please my partner. That stops now. Every tomorrow will be about making ME a priority. I promise that to myself.

The Story Teller

My life is consumed by stories. There are stories in my head and all around me.
Stories on TV.
Stories in the movies.
Stories in the CD player on my way to work.
Stories in my iPod.
There is a story always around me. Fiction. Non-fiction. Mostly non-fiction but the non-fiction-every-day-activity is what produces the fiction.
I must write them all down.

The other day I watched Oprah interview Ayana Mathis, author of The Twelve Tribes of Hattie. I was struck by Ayana's clear confidence in stating that she was BORN to write.

Could I say the same of myself? I approach this writing with trepidation.
Fear of failure.
Fear of not succeeding.
Fear of offending someone I love by the things I may write.
Fear of success.
What am I so afraid of?

In the story of my life, I only see myself as the story teller.
The teller of stories
The orator that brings to life the imagination of those without dreams

Writing Exercise

In approaching the writing of a novel I have been doing several writing exercises to build my story properly. I don't suppose there's an actual "proper" way but using another person's template is proving to be very effective. Thus, my use of Book In A Month. You can find it on Amazon.

The most recent exercise called on me to answer the following question:
What keeps showing up in the stories I love to read?
Answering these questions requires me to think about all my favorite books and favorite authors.

My 4th grade Language Arts teacher read to the class The Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. Every Friday afternoon, she would take out the book and read one chapter to us. I remember looking forward to it every Friday. She was so good at bringing the story to life. I feel so sad when I think of how really good teachers have no significant compensation for their work and their ability to influence generations. Miss Ellie Tepper has truly been an inspiration to me because of the work she did in that 4th grade class room. What did my 4th grade brain and heart love most about the book? I loved that the main character was not Caucasian/Anglo-Saxon/White. In other words, the heroine was someone I could identify with. Because of her non-White heritage and her island upbringing, she and I would be more alike than not. I found that very endearing.

This, above all, shows up the most in the stories that I love... my need to read stories about non-White women or women that are more like me. If I must read stories about non-White women then so too must I write and tell the story about women like me. Going even further back in time I remember loving the children's story book about John Henry and the Native American story Arrow to the Sun. These stories are in addition to the many native Hawaiian folktales that I accepted as my identity. Stories about Maui, Kamapua'a, Pele, Hi'iaka, the menehune.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker blew my reading world wide open! The movie is as authentic as it can be to the essence of the story. What I loved the most about The Color Purple is the format she chose to tell the story. Her letters to God reveal the life she lives and the life that is around her.

My mother loved to read but she favored Danielle Steele and Harlequin romances and I... uh... didn't/don't care for any of it! As a result, I was limited to the reading that was suggested by my school teachers.
I remember reading The Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. I am not African-American but I remember feeling so fulfilled by the end of the story; so very bittersweet!

These are great books to think on and I can see the themes that continue to come up. So, I have concluded that I must write a story that has a female, non-Caucasian heroine.

Book In A Month

I started!

The writing of a novel has commenced and I feel so invigorated. Some of my inspiration comes from the people around me or from interesting TV shows that I watch.

I have said it often that I would love to get paid to write. That is my dream job. I have relinquished all types of responsibility and am finally making the time to do one of the things that makes me feel the most alive... writing.

I've started writing a novel before but never finished it. I suppose I could finish it now since I have actually made the time for this pursuit but... I think I will start with a blank, fresh page. I am going to hand-write a good portion of the novel. I was brainstorming last night and found that hand-writing helps with my creative juices.

A couple of years ago I picked up Book in a Month: The Fool-Proof System for Writing A Novel in 30 Days. I finally dug it out and have begun the creative process that will hopefully pull a story from the depths of my loins. I don't feel like I'm an ordinary person with an ordinary story. Nope. I am extraordinary and my story, the story I plan to weave, will be extraordinary.

Send me good vibes for the creative journey I am undertaking. God-willing, I will have a working manuscript within 30 days.

Story Dying to Come to Light

I think I'm ready to write a romance. It could be a story or a novel or it could be lifted from the pages of my journal. What I know is that I am beginning to come from beneath the heavy sadness of getting divorced (yes, I'm still talking about that nine years later) and losing my mother. I am discovering my heart again -- the thing that longs to love everything and everyone in an unconditional way.

Losing my mother has really put me in touch with my heart again. I interpret this experience as a call to take advantage of every moment with the people I love. Each moment with a loved one or even a stranger is the last and final moment; the one chance, the one second even if its a million seconds or a trillion seconds, that I get to express love.

Then there's the romantic love of my life; my husband. I don't know that there are many people who can deal with his bi-polarity. I joke about it often but really... there are no words to express the different tides that we ride together. We are the greatest of friends. Most times, I feel like he is my soul twin. He pushes me to grow in ways that I probably wouldn't have without his gentle nudges and outright shoves. I hope I push him to expand his horizons also.


Recently I read Beautiful Ruins. I still haven't quite figured out how I feel about it except that it's a story about many different love relationships unfolding/unraveling/coming together. It beckons one to see the similarities in his or her own life, that maybe you are part of a romance-in-the-making.

What I do know is that I'm ready to write Mr. Perfect into reality. I've talked endlessly about writing a book. I am leaning toward writing novels -- contemporary love stories with a Polynesian twist or a Polynesian adventure. Whatever it is, the story is dying to come to the light of day and one day soon I can say that I wrote a book.