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 :)