How Introverts Make Friends

 

Locky: I found this stick, can we bring it home?

I used to chuckle at this meme, thinking it was not true, I am capable of making friends!

How introverts make friends:

1. They don’t
2. An extrovert found them, liked them, and adopted them 

Then, a few days ago, I answered a question on X about stray dogs we befriended on the beach. I told someone I was happy I still had the chance to meet a stray who had been adopted by a kind-hearted person, and she asked me how. This stray, Molly, was adopted by a dog feeder who goes to the beach regularly, bringing Molly so I get to meet her and know she is doing well. When I recalled the story, I realized the above had happened to me. 

I like to stroll the beach with Locky, my dog. We meet many strays along the way. Each usually occupies a territory, so I meet them in their respective places and get to know them over time. We play with them, I give them treats, and I sit and walk with them (they love treats/food, but most of them crave companionship and stay with us until we go back). 

Over time, someone (human, in case clarification is needed!) initiated a conversation with me. I imagine it was not easy because I remember her smiling and waving several times from a distance when I just smiled back and moved along with my entourage, thinking it was just a passing, friendly gesture. One day, she was on my path and introduced herself. That was when I realized she also had a group of dogs. I found out she fed the dogs regularly, that was why she always stood in the same spot while trying to catch my attention. She noticed I had my way with dogs, so we bonded and shared stories and knowledge about the strays around. We became friends, and from her, I knew several others who care about the strays as well. There was no drama, no agenda, just people with similar passions. 

If you are curious about the stray situation, feel free to ask me. I know things can be different in different places, but before you feel judgmental, don’t feed strays, and don’t blablabla (it happens!). Please educate yourself about the situation first. I find it surprising that people are very quick to judge and ‘compare’ the situation with their ‘ideal’ ones. It only shows me how little they know and how close-minded they are. Every place is different. Every situation is different. 

Anyway, in a way, I looked back to my history and realized that I was adopted as a friend by many, and when I make my own, they are fellow introverts.

What is the moral of this post? Nothing! Maybe I’m just grateful for those who give me a chance.

I just want to keep in touch. I hope you are not bored with my ramblings.

Here is Molly!

 

BOOK REVIEW: GORY STORIES (JOEY WEBB)

 

This is an interesting short story collection. The tales are short and fast-paced. At times, I could see the endings and twists coming, others, not so much. They don’t always provide satisfying endings, and sometimes, they end abruptly, but for some reason, I don’t mind them. The stories feel classic from the way they are told and unfolded, which feels like narration. They never dwell too long on the characters and plots, and this works fine for short stories.

There are some typos, like missing punctuation and alphabets. I’m not sure if it’s because of the format since there are some limitations to the digital e-book, like the fixed fonts. I can’t change the size, and the contents are not linked/clickable. I’m reading this with Amazon Kindle apps since it’s not compatible with my Kindle, which is another question for the format.

Other than the technical hiccups, I enjoyed the stories. Some are not my cup of tea, but they’re easy to read and still provide some entertaining value. They are engaging, some are unintentionally funny, and there are snippets of real-life facts. My favorite story is Life Imitating Art.

If you enjoy a quick-paced, creative read without the need to feel attached to the characters, this is the book for you.

My One and Only Co-writer Circa 1995

Just a few days ago, I reached out to an old friend from high school. We haven’t been in contact privately for 30 years (gasp). It was only during COVID time we had a group Zoom call (it was a nightmare for me, and I had only done it once voluntarily) between several ‘close’ high school friends. Close as in, three decades ago. To be honest, I struggle to find similarities now because we all studied in different places, took up different majors, and grew up with different adult aspirations. The video call was awkward (to me, at least). Every question felt like interviews or strangers stuck in the same place trying to pass the time by asking basic but invasive questions.

I guess they all felt the same because no one suggested another Zoom call. Actually, maybe they do it regularly without including me, and I’m very fine with that! We also have a group chat, and again, it feels bizarre every time just to have birthday greetings, golf claps, standard replies, and small talk, and it dies down again. I skipped some birthday wishes because I couldn’t take the formality anymore, but they are very lovely people. I finally go along with it, say my wish, and get it over with. We never seem to go beyond the mandatory small talk and occasional jokes. I think the problem is too many parties in the group. Everyone would talk to everyone and ask generic questions because we don't want to alienate the others, so it’s hard to make actual connections after so long.

The one friend I reached out to privately was my best friend back then. We clicked well, we played together, and we were the only two who never used staircases to go down because we preferred to slide down through the railings (we still had to go up manually, dang gravity). Unfortunately, we grew apart during the significant phases of adult life and never caught up again except through the awkward group.

However, she holds a special place in my heart because she was my best friend and was and still is my one and only co-writer. Both of us developed a novelette together for fun. I wrote a part or a chapter, she continued, and we passed it back and forth without knowing what the other had in mind. Most times, we also had no idea about how to continue the story until we wrote it. It was handwritten, of course. It was 1994-1995.

The good thing about that time was that we didn’t have handphones, internet, or other entertainment that consumed time the way they do today. That was why we had a flock of fans, our schoolmates. We wrote that in the third year before we graduated. We were in different classes, so we could only exchange the story during recess time and took turns to bring it home. I still remember how the ‘book’ looked, a stack of torn (neatly) pages from books (with lines) stapled together. Many would read it during the day. Those schoolmates studying in the same class would pass it around and snuck it between textbooks to read them when the teachers faced the other way. It would get back to me or her so that we could continue the story.

We finished the novelette in a few months, with holiday and examination breaks. We ‘published’ it. Each fan got a copy, and I asked her to hold the original because she initiated the writing.

I can’t speak about other authors, to me, books are very personal. It sounds exaggerated and mushy, well yes, sometimes I feel like it’s like baring my soul, and I have to kill those who have read it. Don’t worry, I only feel this way for people who know me in real life. (I’d love for you to read my books. No harm will be done! Promise!) It took me years to tell a handful family and friends. Only after my latest book above did I reveal it to my two good friends, the current one who only knew I write but didn’t know my pen name or books, and the long-lost one mentioned above. How? With tremendous difficulty. I know I shouldn’t feel that way and make this more difficult than it should be, but I couldn’t help it.

After doing that, it feels liberating. I want them to like my books, of course, especially my one and only co-writer. We loved each other’s writing back then, so I hope the odd is in my favor. Whatever it is, I am at peace. I think I have done what I need to do. I have reached a point where I feel confident enough and have pulled the band-aid.

 

P.S. Locky is my current 'co-writer.' He always makes sure I get enough love and attention.

P.S.S. It's hard to type with a dog on the lap but not impossible.

My book A Scarred Drifter 

A heartfelt post-apocalyptic dystopian about human struggles in a world where almost everything has been replaced by automation. 100% human effort, with sweat, tears, and a tiny bit of blood.

I hope this is your cup of tea/coffee/beer/any beverage of your choosing.

If you pick up the book, thank you so much. It really means a lot and keeps me going. Again, a very special thank you to my beta readers.
And, of course, to you all, thank you always for being here.

Have I said too many thank you? NEVER!

 

Two Celebrations!

 

Two celebrations!

My buddy, sunshine, and best friend Locky celebrated his tenth birthday yesterday. We went to his favorite beach, named after him (Google magic), and I gave him a haircut, a hand-drawn birthday hat, treats and toys. Long may he reign and many happy returns. 

 

I'm also happy to announce that my newest book is ready for pre-order. I was too afraid (please keep this a secret, I want to be fearless in Locky's eyes!) I'd expect something by setting up a pre-order, but then again, I'd never know if I'd never tried. After all, this has been a challenging journey, and why not make it more torturous? I hope you'll give my book a chance. 

Here is the pre-order link, the blurb and the cover. I made the cover from scratch, it's not much, but 100% human. Same thing with the book, genuine human author's blood, sweat, and tears.

CLICK HERE FOR PRE-ORDER

A Chopped Index Finger

 

It's great to write about things without first-hand experience. Research, reading about them, just like today when my search history is full of questionable things like how to knock someone unconscious, collapsed lung recovery, which side is more damaging when you stab a neck… Yeah, I have asked around before, and this is the problem with every writer who doesn't write in normal, harmless genres. My search history is sparkling, totally not a serial killer's vibe. Definitely normal, move along, nothing to see here. Oh, besides the grim stuff, there are many light research topics as well, such as how to make a pencil a certain way, types of berries, etc.

It feels even greater to write about things I've experienced before. There are several of them in my upcoming book: a chopped index finger, riot, fish attack, and mountain climbing, to mention a few. I don't want to be dramatic, so I will write about the lamest one: a chopped index finger. It sounds fantastic as a title, too.

It was late at night in my hostel. I needed to make a model for my design, which was the big task of that semester. With so many things to do, I didn't sleep for more than a couple of hours for days. We didn't have good facilities and resources, so I had to do everything on my floor and save on more cost-friendly materials, like real wood instead of fancy model wood (that is softer and much easier to cut but much more expensive). As you have guessed, after many slices, it happened. I was pushing my left fingers hard on a metal ruler on top of the wood. I needed multiple slices before I was able to break the wood, since, again, a saw would be a more appropriate tool instead of a box cutter (we call it a pen knife or just a cutter), but it would be difficult because of the small size, and a box cutter was all I had. I had done this countless times, and each time I got more confident and faster, increasing recklessness came with it, too, with the desire to get it done in less time. Every time I sliced, the position of my hand would move a little because of the pressure and movement. I had to adjust it, but there was a time when I sliced way too fast before proper adjustment, and the box cutter sliced through the top of my index finger. It had gone beyond its original position and protruded from the metal ruler. Since the knife followed the metal ruler outline, and the tip of my index finger was on the way, it took a good chunk of it.

They said (actually, it's my own theory) the pain in the fingers connects to the heart, while the pain in the mouth connects to the head. Think about the headache that comes with a toothache. Anyway, it was bloody painful, but I concentrated more on the missing tip, from where I could see a dancing mini fountain now. I don't know if it's anatomically or medically possible, but I swear the blood spurted from its centre pulsed like a tiny fountain (Apparently it's a sign of arterial bleeding, thanks to Google search). I don't know if my mind fooled me, but the memory of the sight was engraved into my mind. I had learned many shabby first aid courses and knew I had to put pressure, but there was so much blood and it didn't stop. So, I ran out of my hostel room, thinking of haunting some people and banging on their door asking for a bandage or whatever. Thankfully, one of the occupants was there watching late-night football, and he had some knowledge. It sounded ridiculous then, but we didn't have the luxury of a proper pharmacy or anything in the middle of the night (or day!). He tied those basic rubber bands (not the fancy ones, think of the only type that existed thirty years ago) on the middle of the finger, asked me to elevate it above my head so the bleeding would stop, and of course, abandoned the assignment that night.

So, I slept, pointing at the ceiling, and it actually worked. It took a while for the tip to grow back after I had resigned on looking forever at the slanted shape. To my delight, that assignment got an almost perfect score of 95 out of 100. Blood sacrifice? I guess so.

The next day, when I told my classmate about what happened, she shared a similar story, but it happened on her big toe. Like an empathetic person I was, I laughed out loud, thinking about the slanted big toe. To her credit, she laughed with me, and she became one of my good classmates.

Okay, this story is real, just like every ramble in my newsletter. My books are fictional, of course. The latest one is coming up soon. I finished drafting it in two months but took a year to refine and edit it. I'm very happy with it and want to try setting up a preorder. It's scary to hope because they say the key to happiness is low expectations. Argh! My target is to have the link by the next newsletter. I shall not fail to do so! However, there is no blood sacrifice. Just sweats, aching fingers, dark moments as I immersed myself with the character, and many edits with the help of my awesome alpha and beta readers.

 

Thank you always for being here.

I wish you a great life, no blood sacrifice required.

Grandma Is Mine!

Blogger is moody today and doesn't allow me to upload pictures.

Here is the complete post elsewhere: https://sotto.substack.com/p/grandma-is-mine

When I adopted Locky, I had given up my desire to have a dog because I traveled frequently. Then, a colleague who found out asked me to take him because they had too many dogs at home (with a new puppy litter). It came with a perk that Locky could stay with them anytime I traveled. I hesitated. I liked bigger dogs and almost adopted one from a shelter, but this perk and a pup that needed a home won the consideration. The arrangement is still ongoing, although all the other dogs (six of them, including Locky’s mom, siblings, half-siblings, and another dog) have crossed the rainbow bridge.

My colleague’s parents are always the ones who take care of the dogs. They are very kind, and although their way of caring for the dogs is more ‘traditional,’ they love those dogs unconditionally. They are always happy to see Locky, and Locky loves them all the same. Besides the lack of visual communication (they don’t keep up with technology), I feel safe leaving Locky to them when I have to. When all their dogs had passed not too long ago, I would bring Locky to the market where his ‘grandma’ works so they could meet for a while.

Now, they have another dog. He is still a puppy, less than one year old, but unexpectedly a big puppy (they were misled), and when I called yesterday, I found out that Locky is a demanding bully. He would walk with a swag and give this Kiddo a yap whenever he felt like it (he is probably 1/3 the size). Kiddo is not allowed to walk in front of his space, which is basically everywhere he could see. He seems to emphasize that although Kiddo stays there now, Locky was there first, and Kiddo doesn’t want to mess with this small, cute, but grumpy old man. Then, my little aholish fluff demands that his grandma pay no attention to the Kiddo. He doesn’t want to share his grandma; she is ‘not allowed’ to do anything with the Kiddo, and he complains whenever his grandma even walks in the Kiddo’s direction, while his grandpa, whom he loves slightly less than grandma, is allowed. Grandma doesn’t mind, and we laugh about it. It makes her feel special in a way.

So, yeah, I am currently away for family health reasons and miss him so much. How I wish I had a way to travel through space to meet my loved ones at any time.

Enough dog story for a day; I have plenty for another day. Now, books!

I want to say thank you to my beta readers; you all have been wonderful. I really appreciate your time and effort. I read and consider all inputs, they really help in making this WIP a better book. This has been an ongoing, wonderful, and humbling journey. My cover is almost ready, and I have finally decided on the title. Woohoo! My schedule is still on track, and everything is shaping up great.

Thank you always for being here.

I hope that today, everything that troubles you will be resolved, and that everything that makes you happy will be cherished and stay with you. Take good care of yourself.

The Curse of the Left Staircase

 

My second job working abroad was with a big corporation. The first one didn’t really count, it was a start-up, and the company went bankrupt in less than a year. However, it gave me some credentials to apply for permanent residency in that country. This second job in this corporation was somewhat related to my field, but I wasn’t very good at it yet (It was a new skill). I had no idea why they hired me after multiple interviews, maybe because it wasn’t a common skill back then, and I was a fresh graduate, just obtained my Permanent Residency; therefore, they could pay me peanuts.

I lasted five years there, but my first year was torturous. I felt anxious; I had no one to ask, and the internet was not that common/readily available yet, so I couldn’t just google what I didn’t understand. I had to be able to do what they paid me to do. I acted confident, but behind that, I struggled like a duck paddling underwater while pretending to be calm and collected. I learned, practiced, and worked late on my own so that I could deliver results and survive another paycheck to pay for rent in the foreign land, or I would die!

Fortunately, I improved as time passed, and most of my colleagues and my boss were decent.  However, there were nightmarish times and restless days. Unhappy boss, unreasonable deadline that I wasn’t good enough to tackle, and uncooperative hardware and software.

Then, I noticed one peculiar thing.

I had to take the subway every morning. Just like that daily montage in mind-numbing movies, I would take the same-timing train, board the same car, and alight at the same station through the same door in the middle of the train. It was as mundane as it sounds. After alighting, before me was a wide stair that would branch into two sides, right and left, because there was a lift core in the middle. Both sides of the stairs led to the same exit platform, so it shouldn’t be a problem whichever side I took right?

Wrong!

Every time I took the left staircase, my day would be horrible. I wasn’t happy with my work, anxious time, had imposter syndrome, high stress level, computer crashing, unsaved work, my mug looking at me funny, my colleague trying to kill me, something along those lines. I started to notice and didn’t believe it at first, and of course, it must have been a coincidence, with a splash of logic. The left staircase was closer to the exit, which I chose whenever I was in a hurry. Sometimes, when we were in project competition season, the schedule would be very tight, so I wanted to get to the office faster. The irony! Those were the times when the stress level and demand were high; therefore, it linked to horrible days.

Still, why would I risk it? I started taking only the right stairs, and for some reason, my days were better. The logic was that I was getting better at my work and was able to juggle the tasks, schedule, and expectations better. But hey, the stair theory worked!

Am I a superstitious person? I don’t think so. I am not superstitious, but I am a little stitious. However, I grew up in a family that respected tradition, including ‘good days.’ This belief exists in many cultures, there are good days to do important things. My mom uses this practice as needed. She picked our wedding dates (it works well!). She doesn’t just open up the calendar and select a good-looking number (just like all volume levels should be even numbers or dividable by five or the world will end!), but there is a ‘calculation.’ Date of birth, time of birth, type of thing to do, etc.

I have been asking her to pick my book publishing dates. So far, it doesn’t work well because I could never get the dates right (yeah, that is the reason, not because I suck at marketing) because of the time zones. Amazon’s time zone was in a twilight zone because I swear, on my last book release, I stayed up late to sync the timing, the one I am alive in and the one in Amazon’s universe so they both would fall on the same date that Mom had picked for me. It still didn’t work and the date was still wrong!

This time, hopefully, I will get it right, although I have no idea how to do that since I did everything right the last time. Yes, all these rambles are just a long-winded way to let you know that I’m happy to announce that my new book is coming out soon. It was supposed to come out in 2024, but my and my dog’s operations occupied us too much. Yeah, I’m stubborn and will continue to write if there is another person who likes it.

BOOK REVIEW: THINKING WITH RHYTHM (CECILIA ANASTOS)

A tricky book to read. The stories are both all over the place and never going anywhere, about everything and about nothing. They jump from real and fictional characters, back and forth, from different periods without warning, from another love of her life to another love of her life. Then the book switches to current political affairs, then something about movies, then a long preach about things that, I have to say, underestimate readers’ intelligence, drawing shallow conclusions, and poorly informed research, basing on theories that had been challenged multiple times. One of the examples is about TV influence.

I like non-linear time frames if they’re done well. I’m sorry this is not the case. There are incomplete words and a story that stops mid-sentence and changes to another chapter (end of Chapter: Abram) with different elements: another POV, now first person, non-fictional, about something else unrelated.

Overall, I don’t feel this is a coherent book. It’s like a diary entry with a plethora of names, mixed with writing ideas, opinion pieces about current news and entertainment, and social media level of analysis thrown and bundled together.

I failed to relate to the characters and there is barely any plot. Some of the stories are entertaining, like when the author went on a road trip with her brother and cat. Unfortunately, most of the content is dominated by Alessandra’s endless love affairs, told like one-dimensional weather forecasts and chapters about anything and everything else.

Please don’t count on my review; books are subjective, and I’m sure some readers might appreciate this unusual piece.

2 stars out of 5

Authors' Drama

 

I don't go to Twitter daily. I tried to, but I must be in a good mindset to log in. It used to be miserable; I would 'sit' in the corner because I had no one to talk with, and my posts were not seen. Well, now my posts are still mostly unseen, and I am crawling, barely existing, but at least it's more enjoyable now. I've made some connections with other genuine authors, and although only a few of them see my posts, it's okay. I prefer quality over quantity, thankful my circle is decent and supportive. At least I feel more confident about just putting my thoughts out there (with many restrictions because some people might be offended merely by others' breathing).

I usually log in at odd times because of the time zone, when almost everyone sleeps. Then, of course, I always missed all the dramas (this is not a complaint).

I thought the writing industry was peaceful, but nah. There are so many writing dramas. If I missed them, I didn't really try to find out, but most of the time, I would get the context, or someone would explain it somewhere. To my surprise, most of the time, the dramas are between authors or by authors.

Dramas about what?

So far, an author faking reviews to thrash other authors because she saw them as competitors (this one blew up everywhere), authors criticizing other's writing styles they don't like (constructive criticisms are good, but the ones I saw were not those), authors spewing curses on some writing methods/formats, authors criticizing reviewers (rating, review style, review length), author attacking other authors for something not related to books, something related to books, and many more.

Apparently, some think their styles are the best, others are wrong, reviewers should abide by them, and other authors are competitors. I thought this should be a somewhat educated and intelligent industry. Apparently not. Why would other authors become competitors? Readers don't read one book, call it quit and stop reading. They are not betrothed, married, or surgically attached to ONE author and can only read one author because otherwise, the earth will open up and swallow everyone, Krakens will rule the land, and T-rex will come back with muscular and properly-sized hands. Most likely, if they like a style or a genre, they will seek something similar. We need other authors to keep the industry alive! To fight the Terminators!

For me, as much as other authors' negativities do ruin my day sometimes (the harshest words and reviews mostly come from authors), I take the positive of the community. There are many great, supportive authors and readers out there, and I cherish them because the industry is hard enough. Some criticisms are good, and some are harmful, so IMHO, the most important thing is to write for yourself and your readers, don't be discouraged. If you haven't and want to start writing, don't be discouraged. If you are a reader and/or a reviewer, thank you, and don't be discouraged. Most authors appreciate you and don't let a few ungrateful ones ruin what you do.

As far as I know, all industries have their ugliness. I usually expect the ugliness to come from other sides, not those who are supposed to be on the same side.

You are here. It means you are awesome. Thank you.

As for my book, I need more time to sort it out. I had a family reunion last month in my hometown; I slept on the floor, many interactions stressed me out, I didn't have privacy and couldn't concentrate on writing. It was tortuous but the food was good, I was properly fed. I love them.

The Ultimate Price of Growing Old

 

I’ve just tidied up some of my book collection, reminiscing the days I bought them home and devoured them. However, just like any other normal sensical reader out there, there are many that I haven’t read yet.

When words started to get blurry, and I had to get my first glasses, I gradually enjoyed reading and other meticulous hobbies less. I thought that was the price of growing old. When I breathed and sprained a muscle instead of being immortal when I was young, I thought that was the price of growing old.

They are not. The ultimate price of growing old is watching my parents and loved ones do the same. My dad is no longer the strong man I know, capable of almost anything. It pains me to see him taking longer and longer to get up from the floor (he loves playing with Locky) and how his back hunch, how my mom has less and less ability to do her hobbies, but regardless of that, both are still the first one to be there whenever we need them. It’s hard to hold Locky in my arms and know that the more I prepare for the imminent day of losing him, the harder it will be.

I wrote about humans being fragile and full of flaws because of our attachments to others and the what-if options of not having them. A projection, much? I think it’s fair to say that it’s a very real fear for many forever.

Somewhere, if you are not in a good place because you are missing someone or harboring the same fear as me, I wish you peace and strength.

I'm at another editing round of my new book and will be looking for beta readers soon. As long as one person likes my book, I'll continue writing. (Oh yeah, myself included) (I'm not as strong as my younger self, but I'm more stubborn and spiteful, and those keep me going :)

BOOK REVIEW: JOANNA JAMES' JOURNAL (TRISH HENRY GREEN)

 

What I like the most about this book is the earlier few chapters. The reality is gripping, and I feel for the character. The fear of growing old, getting out of the familiar and comfort zone, and watching something she has built over decades crumbling down. It's heartbreaking to see the indifference when someone closest to her slowly becomes a stranger, especially when she has given him her best younger years.

 

The almost drama-free separation also works well, and I can see it happening between two responsible adults. I'm grateful for it because I had become the shoulder to cry on and ears for the ugly and childish similar processes in the past. There were many moments when I wondered how something beautiful turned into an empty shell of itself, sometimes crushed and withered without a trace. So, I find the book's first quarter very powerful and realistic.

 

Regrettably, everything goes in another direction from there. It feels cringey and meta when every character the MC meets loves her book. The story turns into a mundane diary entry style with many fillers, but fair enough, it's a journal, after all. I understand the nature of slow burn in this kind of story, but nevertheless, I feel a bit lost, and unfortunately, it never picks up for me again. I sincerely hope these kinds of stories happen in real life somehow, somewhere, and often, but it gets fairy-tallish, which is the path many romance stories take as the ending. From the gripping emotional and realistic character's life, it turns into Melrose place strings of events.  The book sends the message that the character manages to overcome her fear, insecurities, and the biggest turn in her life, which I applaud. Unfortunately, it's hard to get the point across when everything comes that easy, and the MC has everything cut out perfectly for her financially and romantically with every support imaginable. I get that there are still 'ups and downs,' but I really think only a tiny percentage of ordinary people can relate to all those because it turns into a fairy tale that is loved by many daytime TV viewers and becomes unrealistic. I love being wrong and wish many people had this kind of life.

 

Moving past my nitpick, I think the book is well written, there are many likable characters, and the dialogues are believable. There are many funny snippets here and there, and I also like realistic characters like the fireman and the con artist who conducts the worst writing class ever. It's easy to continue reading, and I actually finished the last 60% in one sitting.

4 out of 5

 

BOOK REVIEW: WHEN THE MIND AWAKENS (OBINNA ONWUGBENE)

 

When I was young, I read How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. To be honest, I barely remember what I read now, and I'm not sure it would work the same now that it has been almost three decades later. Still, I can safely say I learned several things from it, mainly because there are concrete ways to implement the strategies in realistic situations, not merely theories.

Personally, this book is exhausting to read. The points are repetitive, and it almost feels like, for each point, I would read multiple permutations that say the same thing, some theories also tend to repeat in another chapter. The book feels like a prolonged preaching without offering real insights or solutions. True, there are many good bits of advice here and there, but they are apparent points that barely add any skill or more profound understanding. Sometimes, the authors are a bit out of touch. These are not the actual quotes but the impressions I got. Do you feel stressed about bills? Then, pay the bills. Is there an obstacle? Overcome it. Be motivated. Surround yourself with influential people. Crank your self-esteem. Save your money. Believe in yourself. If you do these, you will succeed.

They sound good, but what do I learn? Elaborate theories. There are examples given in story format, which, in my opinion, is the more effective way to do it, but most are very basic and don't inspire much; they are also far between.

As mushy and predictable as they could sometimes be, the Chicken Soup for the Souls series actually provides many inspiring stories and ways to face realistic difficulties and challenges. They are good at opening the mind to looking at things from different perspectives.

I'm very sure the author is a very wonderful and optimistic person, and he means to help people with this book. I genuinely believe and applaud that. Unfortunately, challenges in life are not black and white. Theories are good (maybe), but I think most decently motivated people already know most of those; the challenge is how to fit them into specific circumstances, which is the area in which we need the most help. And unfortunately, it is hard to find a good fit without adjustments, and in reality, nicely polished advice doesn't apply to everyone.

This is my personal opinion though. It might fit into what others are looking for.

3 out of 5

BOOK REVIEW: Dogteeth and Other Tales of the Paranormal (Gene Kendall)

 

Rounded up from 4.5

This book is a collection of short stories, full of imagination and creativity. One can jump from one story to another and be amazed at how the characters and world have changed. Some endings are abrupt, but that is the charm of short stories. Some leave us wanting more, while the rest feel incomplete.

Some elements made me chuckle, like how the author pokes at many questionable things in our current society. For example, the absurdity of social media that continues to exist because there is a demand for it, and the willingness to go into ‘character’ when portraying and investigating something beyond common sense in Judith Rintaro and Fatty Blue. These topics are entertaining in a sad way. There are stories that are touching and intriguing in different ways, like Easy Peasy and Temptation.

Ironically, my least favorite story is the one picked as the title. Perhaps because I checked out the performed audio version pointed out by the author. Maybe it’s just not my thing because it is a very high-quality production. I grew up during the time when radio drama was a thing. We listened to stories performed by multiple actors without any visuals, and that was sometimes the only entertainment we got. This is something similar. However, I found it overacted, and the pace is a bit off, making the story feel so slow that I still barely had any idea what creatures they were and how the world worked with fifteen minutes left, which, sorry, I gave up and switched to the book. The background noises are too loud and distracting and sometimes become headache-inducing. The narration style also takes away the fight scene; it’s like I’m hearing the story recited by my grandpa, not by someone experiencing it like the protagonist. Again, this is my personal view; I believe others would appreciate it more because, as said, it’s a high-quality production. Besides this, which shouldn’t affect my review of the story, I found it’s not as compelling as others.

Overall, this is a good short story collection for fans of the supernatural and paranormal genres. I am not one, but I can appreciate the creativity, storytelling, characters, and world-building.

Fake Author Plague

 

One day, I got a follower on Twitter. Whenever I get followers, I check them out, and if they look genuine, I follow back. Sadly, those sexy profiles who are calling me sexy are bots. I know that because I can’t be that sexy.

Anyway, this one is from an author. I created Twitter to market my book. Obviously, I fail to do that because I don’t want to flood others’ feeds with unsolicited advertisements. I only mention my books when it feels natural and fits into the topic, which is not often. Fortunately, while starting as a miserable existence, I enjoy Twitter now because I get to connect with authors and readers. So, imagine my delight that this follow came from a well-established author—or so it seemed.

With a lot of books and an avatar with a face (I don’t even have that!), she has an underwhelming number of followers ratio. It didn’t flinch me at all because I know how sucky it could be to exist on social media. I followed back, and ding, a few seconds later, there was a DM from her. Wait, what? I get to chat with a famous author? She has many successful books with more than thousands of ratings while I almost sold my left toe to get one review. It started with a simple ‘Hello.’

At that time, I had these influxes of book marketers pestering me to use their service by flooding my DM without bothering to check on my work. The process was similar: they followed, and I followed back; since they were not sexy bots (I was a sweet summer child), I thought they were genuine users who were there for their businesses. (After all, I am, too!). However, a second later, I'd get a DM. They would then ask questions about what kind of books I wrote, etc., mostly things they could find out by checking my profile if they really cared. Of course, they didn’t. I assume they use algorithms or some kind of premade responses because if I engaged with them, the conversation would feel weird yet not totally detached. If you watch any video about scam baiters, these are similar kinds of conversations: trying to sound interested, but the conversation is all over the place unless they offer their services.

Anyway, I eagerly wrote back to reply to her hello, and with my gullible behind, I also included ‘I am so glad you are a real author. I was afraid this was a DM from another persistent marketer. I had too many of them lately’. She lol-ed and proceeded to ask what I wrote (fair enough btw, but I assume one would check before initiating contact, just like when I checked her profile and books before even following back). I answered and complimented her books (which indeed look impressive) and where she was from (Japan, a country with many things I’m impressed with). She replied, although she sounded a bit odd (again, detached but trying to keep me on), and gave me links to her book, throwing hints about how awesome they were. It went on for a bit.

Okay, I started to feel weird and unnatural. The conversations are mostly one-sided, and I felt like we were talking about different things that reset every time she DM-ed. So, like the civilized anti-social ahole I am, I spaced out and stopped responding. Nothing happened for a few days, and then it started again. ‘Hello.’ I recognized this pattern with all the marketers and shady characters who had DM-ed me. The conversation with the fake Japanese author probably took longer than usual because imagine being fake and my first conversation was, 'I am glad you are not fake.' They had to attempt to recover from that first, which also makes me think, most likely, that these fakers are mixtures of bots and humans.

During this time, there were more and more posts on Twitter from genuine authors about fake authors. These fakers personate famous/successful authors, even adopting their links, bios, and avatars. They then initiate chats with unknown authors like me. What is the purpose? Apparently, they will offer their services (I am not even sure) because they are awesome and successful, and we suck, basically, so we have to 'learn' from them. This sounds idiotic and obvious, but sadly, most authors appreciate others' input, and we didn't think there would be fake authors out there for this purpose. We are also over the moon thinking successful authors are engaging with us. Look, I worship no one, but I would probably shake in my boots if I had that kind of connection. I haven’t experienced it that far, but some authors said these fakers would go on to criticize and berate their work ‘nicely’ about their covers, statistics, sales, marketing efforts, etc, and that we are in dire need of advice. It might sound trivial, but most of the time, we question ourselves and our books daily. Most of us are treading on shaky foundations because it’s hard to justify doing this. We don’t need these craps.

Since then, I have ignored all similar DMs, especially from those who would DM in seconds after I followed back (marketers, fake authors and artists are flooding Twitter now). This industry continues to amaze me because I thought struggling authors were already at the bottom of the barrel, yet there are elaborate scammers out there still. Dang it.

Fortunately, after a long drought, I got a wonderful review about my book, The Bet of the Monsters. It gives me the spark to remember I should never give up. To think that there is someone who likes my book besides me is exhilarating, especially when they really understand my story.

Review for The Bet of the Monsters

As always, thank you for being here. I hope that for every doubt you have about what you do, there is something that will restore your faith.

BOOK REVIEW: Black Hole Radio (Furilani) by Ann Birdgenaw

 

3.5 out of 5

I was hoping to read some deeper character developments or improvements to the main storyline; after all, this is the fifth book I have read in the series. However, everyone remains the same, and the plot remains the same: little mentions about the characters’ school lives, sucked into the black hole radio, meeting alien species, bad ugly, good cute, and characters do some elaborate things to save the oppressed aliens, all the while barely have any sense of danger or worries, and everything always goes in their way, regardless of how elaborate the challenges and threats they face. I also have more struggle to like the characters; they still feel detached and annoying at times, and the implication of cheating in their sports game is a bit hard to brush off.

However, maybe I’m reading and wanting it to be a more mature book that doesn’t simplify issues that much, and that must be the wrong way of reading it because this book is definitely not intended for me. Most likely, the target audience would like it the way it is. Furilani is a fast-read, entertaining book, with the idea of sploot being the winner. I like their uniqueness and their camouflage ability. Besides that, world-building is creative and fun.

The main storyline is for the characters to take pity and try to free these sploots, who have become merely fashion, hanging onto the owners as part of accessories. Although thankfully, they don’t have to be dead for that. I feel that with this plot, a big loophole hasn’t been answered. For their ability and intelligence, it becomes questionable why sploots can’t save themselves because they are clearly very capable of doing so. Something is missing about why they ‘oblige’ when they can easily escape. It doesn’t have to be extravagant; maybe the bad guy has some other control over them instead of just questionable physical control. In that way, the ending would work better, that the sploots want to entertain, not have to, and maybe they can still become ‘fashion’ by being happy pets and bring out the colors without being forced because, after all, the evil characters and community changing their minds, habits, and cultures over a parade is just too magical.