Archive for the ‘writing’ Category
Reading and Writing Friday
Some news to share in my little world of reading and writing:
I. Winning!
My lion Leonardo and I won 4th place in both member’s and jury’s choice in The Shameless Lions Writing Circle awards for our poem, which you can find here.
You can also find Leonardo’s guest post about his father here.
I’m beginning to think that 4 is my lucky number!
I’d like to thank Seamus for all of his hard work, jury gathering, and vote counting, and also the jury and other members of the Circle who took the time to vote.
Warmest congratulations to my fellow winners and to all members of the pride (so many outstanding pieces, choosing my favorites wasn’t easy), and a special roar out to our good friends Wanderlust Scarlett and Viaggiatore who were awarded 1st place, Member’s Choice for Best Looking Lion. That *is* one stylin’ lion!
II. Writing!
There is a wonderful writing workshop going on over at author Rosina Lippi’s place called the Story Machine Workshop. Today will be Day 4’s exercise, but don’t worry about joining the party late. You can catch up rather quickly as I did yesterday.
There are prizes available for participants–it is called, after all, the I-read-your-work-and-give-you-feedback contest, which means that yes, one lucky winner will have Rosina Lippi, a widely successful author, read his/her work and give valuable feedback.
There are also prizes for each day as well, and you have until Sunday to comment on the week’s posts to be eligible for prizes–but I hope you’ll also try your hand at the exercises. So much fun and a lot of great advice!
III. Reviewing!
Fellow Shameless Lions Writing Circle member Dewey over at The Hidden Side of a Leaf is hosting this month’s Bookworms Carnival–the theme is novels.
The deadline to submit posts is today, and be sure to check back there for the round-up! There are bound to be some great summer reading list suggestions.
IV. Reading!
Speaking of summer reading…
One of my lovely Australian readers came and visited me yesterday with her Calabrian husband–they are here on holiday, but I’m so excited to learn we may have some more English speakers nearby on a more permanent basis!
We went on a gorgeous walk, taking in the natural beauty and precious silence surrounding my town (whenever we weren’t talking and talking and talking (in English!)), and then they left me with these:
Bet you’ll never guess what I’ll be doing this weekend.
V. Swapping
Many of you know about this and are already members, but for those who don’t, Jessica of In Search of Dessert and Shelley of At Home in Rome have gotten together and formed The Sisterhood of the Traveling Books:
This is a bookswap and a godsend for those of us without great access to books in English–but it’s not only for expats. Far from it, in fact, as we already have many members from all over the world.
If you like to read and you like to swap, head on over to The Sisterhood and check it out!
Buon weekend a tutti!
***UPDATE: ATTENTION WRITERS!***
I just saw an advertisement for an online magazine looking for someone
to write a piece about the Coliseum in Rome.
2000 words/$100
In bocca al lupo!
guest blogger leonardo: i am lion, hear me door
Hah! I knew she wouldn’t notice. She’s always so busy with that tiny dog of hers. When they went out for a walk this morning, I took my chance. I nicked the camera, went to Catanzaro, and I found exactly what I was looking for.
As a young cub, I remember curling up next to my father asking to hear The Story. When my father was much younger, he was beautiful, but he had always been in the shadow of his older brother, who was one of the best hunters anyone could remember.
One day as my father was roaming around the Kalahari hoping to stumble across a just-killed antelope to share with the pride, he came across a strange-looking creature playing in the sand. My father remembered his father telling him about such things–men–and that they would only harm us if we weren’t nice to them.
So my father asked him a question.
“What are you doing there?”
“I am creating,” the man responded, continuing to make large swirls in the sand without looking at my father. “What are you doing there?”
My father, seeing that this man was friendly, had decided to play a bit with him. “I am looking to kill. Roooooaaaaaaar!”
The man turned to my father, and his eyes quickly swelled with tears. He was quite thin with long hair and beard and his pale legs shook as he stumbled to his feet and stood before the lion at least twice his size. He gripped my father’s head between his hands, smoothed some sand from his mane, and kissed my father’s wet nose.
“It is you I have been looking been for,” said the man. “I am an artist, and I have been asked to design a door for a very important building in a place far from here. You must come with me. You must be my model.”
And so my father, who had not yet met my mother, left his pride for Italy, traveling with Leonardo for many years before returning to the Kalahari. My father’s face became a part of many of Italy’s most famous buildings, as well as some that aren’t so famous.
So imagine my delight when Sognatrice chose me to be her lion in the Shameless Lions Writing Circle. I was going back to Italy! I could finally see my father’s doors!
And this morning I had my chance.
For anyone who hasn’t been to the old part of Catanzaro, let me tell you, it’s confusing, and no one seems to know the names of the streets when you ask them. I wandered in and out of the tiny alleys for hours before I came to a little square, the exact place my father had once described to me.
And there he was. My father’s gorgeous eyes staring back at me after all these years.
Isn’t he beautiful? Can you see the resemblance?
My father so loved this artist and was so grateful for all of the good things he brought to him that when I was born, he named me Leonardo to honor him.
And now here I am back at home with Sognatrice. I tried to sneak the camera back to its spot, but of course my whole secretive plot was foiled when I realized that I needed her fingers to type this. She’s a good lion caretaker, though. She didn’t yell or anything.
Turns out she’s a sucker for a good story.
Lioningly yours,
Leonardo
(That’s me on the sidebar! I’m famous!)
P.S. Buon weekend!
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[tags]lions, shameless lions’ writing circle, writing, catanzaro, calabria[/tags]
june is…
We’re nearing the end of June which means that 2007 is just about half over. Can you believe it? Weren’t we just bringing in the new year a minute ago?
I don’t make resolutions at the beginning of the year, but I do find that the midway point is a good time to look back on the previous six months—and that’s pretty much what June means to me.
So here is my June Monthly Musing with a special thanks to Leonardo, my lion and partner in crime as part of the pride at the Shameless Lions Writing Circle:
June is…
A melody of reflections
Accompanied by
Bright beams of light
Sneaking in through tiny cracks
You couldn’t have seen when it was dark,
Torturous heat
Making me nostalgic for
The days of two or more pairs of socks,
Crackles and pops
Choking billows of grey smoke
From the pungent, annual wildfires,
Summer peaches
Bursting with sweet innocence
Of childhood, bicycles, swimming pools,
Spotted night skies
Glistening with such knowledge
That I truly can see forever.
Where have I been? Where will I go?
Where are the answers?
Dream on.
How does June make you feel? What comes to mind when you think of June? Do tell!
*P.S. After I posted this, I went over to Cheeky’s place and read her post entitled “Remembering: Way Back.” So much of it reminds me of June and summer and good times that I wholeheartedly recommend your going over there to check it out. And tell Cheeky I sent you!
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[tags]june, poetry, middle of the year[/tags]
just lion around
My new friend Seamus Kearney of Shameless Words has begun a writing circle.
Blah blah blah, happens every day right?
Uh huh. Did I mention there are lions?
The one and only Shameless Lions Writing Circle, in the words of Seamus, “aims to bring a lion’s prestige and pride to some lucky creative writing and books blogs.” Seamus selected 48 lions for adoption, and as I type this, 28 have been adopted, so if you’re a writer and/or avid reader and want to be involved, go here to see what this is all about.
In short, you’ll be able to choose, adopt, and name your lion, and then you will be invited to write a piece of poetry or prose inspired by him or her, maximum 48 words, to post on your blog. It’s a great way to connect to other writers and wordlovers, so even if you won’t be joining the circle, I do recommend checking out the participants’ lion-inspired verses.
And now, without further ado, I am pleased to introduce Leonardo:
You never believe me,
but fine.
He stopped,
squished his nose against the glass,
blinked,
pulled back,
shook his mane,
and strutted away,
leaving me to wonder how his heart
ended up on his sleeve.Oh yeah?
Did to.
Then how do you explain that nose-shaped smear?
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[tags]shameless lions’ writing circle, lions, poetry[/tags]
sunday scribblings: simple
Prompt #61: Simple*
I pull out my notebook to jot down some thoughts because I want to remember these moments forever–simple pleasures of being tickled by cool water trickling through my toes, digging my hands in the sand until they are covered in damp black and gold specks, brushing wisps of hair out of my face put there by the constant, lovely breeze.I write the date in Italian without thinking, and I smile.
I didn’t bring my journal or camera because a trip to the sea wasn’t in the original plan. I have to give final exams in an hour or so, but I decide to head to the beach instead of straight to school–no matter that I have no swimsuit or towel (although always sunscreen).
At least I’m wearing flip-flops and a little sand on my jean skirt isn’t going to hurt anyone.
Despite summer-like temperatures, I am nearly alone on the beach. Two bikini-clad blondes, already sufficiently abbronzate if you ask me, lounge nearby, laughing and joking, switching easily from French to French-accented Italian and back again. We exchange buon giornos, but nothing more. I wonder what brought them to southern Italy, but they seem content in their world, so I don’t ask.
I look up from my notebook and see the back of a shiny black head pop up from the water. Just as quickly, the head dips back under and flippers peek out where it had been. The Ionian Sea is so clear, he can surely see to the bottom without all that gear, but he seems happy, and that’s what’s important. I am reminded that an amateur diver discovered the famous Riace Bronze statues just south of here in the early 1970s, and I wonder whether similar treasures lie just below this guy’s mask.
There’s a teenage girl a little ways down, standing in the water, her short navy blue skirt grazing the surface. She’s whipping her head from side to side, struggling to keep her long, black, curly hair out of her way as she furiously types a text message on her phone. She’ll spend the entire hour I’m here on the phone in one way or another, but no one joins her. I wonder if anyone came after I left, and I hope that someday she’ll appreciate her own company if she doesn’t already.
A sailboat eases by, two men on board casually steering the craft between the scuba diver’s periodically surfacing head and a rather large fishing boat anchored in the sea. I can’t tell what they’re saying from here, but they’re smiling and laughing. The wind is perfect for sailing as far as I know, but admittedly, that isn’t very much. They go back and forth, back and forth, and I think that it’ll soon be time to call home and tell their wives/mothers to put on the pasta, as the time for pranzo is approaching. I wonder if they’ll take a contented nap after they eat.
I put down my notebook and return to the water I had waded in up to my knees when I first arrived–earlier today, yes, but as my feet sink into the wet sand, I realize, also five years ago. I am back in virtually the same spot in which I had first experienced the Ionian Sea, when I had vacationed here what seems like a lifetime ago, when I had no idea that I’d end up making a life here, when P and Luna didn’t even exist, at least to me.
I am taken back to the thoughts that were occupying my mind at that time–my twenty-five-year old mind that started to play with a silly thought of making a major life change, of stepping off the fast-track and pursuing the passions that had always been in my heart but that had been pushed aside for more practical considerations.
The water is calm, refreshing, and oh so clean–cleansing, one could say. I regret that I can’t go in deeper as I have to play professional in half an hour. I laugh to myself as I glance back at the sweater I brought along in case it got chilly. The sweater will stay tucked in my bag for another time, though, because today, the weather is perfect, the breeze is perfect, and this moment is perfect.
And I don’t want to ever forget it.
_________________________
*I’m posting this early because I won’t be around tomorrow; First Holy Communion time round here, which means some family fun.
Have a lovely weekend everyone!
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[tags]sunday scribblings, sea, beach, ionian sea, calabria, soverato[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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