Ann-Christine Tabaka's Blog: Words Spill Out, page 30
June 21, 2021
Wash Me Clean - SONG
CLICK ON THE LINK TO LISTEN!
OMG! Thank, you Dale Adams for this beautiful song composed from my poem "Wash Me Clean" (from my book Everlasting / 2017).
https://soundcloud.com/dale-adams-272...
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OMG! Thank, you Dale Adams for this beautiful song composed from my poem "Wash Me Clean" (from my book Everlasting / 2017).
https://soundcloud.com/dale-adams-272...
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I Buried Her in Blue
I am ecstatic to have my poem “I Buried Her in Blue” published by Tangled Locks Journal. Thank you, editor Teresa Berkowitz!
https://tangledlocksjournal.com/2021/...
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https://tangledlocksjournal.com/2021/...
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June 18, 2021
Poetry Books
July 4th is coming up soon. If you are not into fireworks and big barbeques, consider a quiet evening enjoying a book. All of my 14 of my books are available on Amazon. Thank you for your friendship and support.
https://www.amazon.com/Ann-Christine-...
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https://www.amazon.com/Ann-Christine-...
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June 16, 2021
Author of the Month Interviiew
I am so excited to have my interview up as the Author of the Month with Spillwords. Thank you everyone who voted for me, and a special thanks to Dagmara and the Spillwords Team!
https://spillwords.com/interview-qa-i...
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https://spillwords.com/interview-qa-i...
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June 10, 2021
A Story to be Told
Here are the first few lines of my poem “A Story to be Told.” You can read the entire poem in “Pondering the Shoreline of Existence,” published by Impspired Magazine & Steve Cawte. The book is available on Amazon. Thank you!
https://www.amazon.com/Pondering-Shor...
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https://www.amazon.com/Pondering-Shor...
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June 3, 2021
2 Poems
I am overjoyed to have my 2 new poems “At Seventeen,” and “Slowly Exhaling Evil” (click on my name in the list of contributors) published by Poetica Review, Issue 10. Thank you, Editors Mark A. Murphy and Kieran Conway!
https://irp.cdn-website.com/45fb31cc/...
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https://irp.cdn-website.com/45fb31cc/...
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June 2, 2021
Being an American Poet is Harder Than You’d Think.
I am elated to be included in the second annual "Who’s Who of Emerging Writers 2021” compiled and published by Sweetycat Press, with the bios of 128 writers from all around the world. I am also honored to be the author one of the 8 essays in this book: "Being an American Poet is Harder Than You’d Think."
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09...
Being an American Poet is Harder Than You’d Think
I did not start out planning to be a poet or a writer. In fact, I did not even like to read when I was young. However, I did love to sketch and draw. Art was in my blood. It was only when I was in college that I realized, in America at least, it was close to impossible to have a profitable career in the arts, unless you were one of the gifted few. Oh, you could become an art teacher, commercial artist, newspaper editor, or, if you were lucky, work for a main stream magazine. But to be able to paint or write whatever you desired, and make a living from it was a daydream, a pure luxury saved for those with inherited wealth.
To start off with … “There's being a poet, and then there's being a Poet (with a capital P).” I personally like to say that “I write poems in hopes of becoming a Poet (capital P).”
So many people like to write poems. Many write sweet little rhymes and musings, and many others are actually very good at their craft. But, in the end, it leads to a lot of people trying to break in to the literary world. There is actually a glut of poets out there – everyone is a poet. This makes it difficult for any individual to make it to the top. It is like a fishery where there are thousands upon thousands of fish packed in, floundering about. It is not a pretty picture. Yes, and I am one of those trapped fish, flopping away with the rest of the pool.
Today, with the Internet, it is easy enough to find magazines and journals that accept poetry submissions. All you have to do is an Internet search and hundreds of literary journals will pop up. Then comes the hard part. You have to go to each magazine’s site, and read the submission guidelines and follow them to a T. You also should read through the magazine to make sure that your work fits the style that they prefer: classical, free-verse, experimental, abstract, light, deep, dark, etc. When the magazine is an e-zine, this is highly recommended. But it is not always so easy when the magazine is in print, and it costs money to buy a copy. Consider this, you have 100 poems that you want to submit to 20 magazines, and each one cost $10 a copy. Now you have to pay $200 just to read the magazines to see if your deep abstract poem would fit. Nowadays many journals and magazines charge a reading fee. It is usually $3 to $5 dollars per submission. That might not sound like much, but when the majority of magazines do not pay for contributor’s work, and the contributor has to pay each time they submit someplace, it adds up to a lot of money down the drain. Most magazines have a 2% acceptance rate. Now go back to that huge pool of fish flopping around trying to get into that magazine. The rejection rate is 98%, and sometimes it feels like an absolute miracle when you do manage to get an acceptance. The fact is, the more accomplished poets there are out there, the harder it is to get in to a major publication because the editors have to read so many submissions and make a hard decision. Many really strong poems get rejected because the magazine doesn’t have the space, and has to thin out the pool.
So, you write your heart out, you edit and refine, you search venues, you put together submissions, you submit, many times you pay a reading fee, then you wait, and wait, and wait; sometimes 6 months, sometimes more. Finally, you send in query letters to see what is happening with your submission. In the end, you have a 98% chance that it will result in a rejection, and you have just worked, and waited a half year or more, and spent money, only to have your poems back sitting on your desk/desktop, and starting all over again with different magazines.
Publishing books is a whole other bird. Hmmm, fishes, birds, I seem to have my mind on things other than poems here, but I don’t. Poems are like a menagerie: “a strange or diverse collection of people or things.” Each poem, and each poet is it’s own diverse universe. Back to publishing poetry books. Again, because if the age of the Internet, it is fairly easy to self-publish on any of a number of sites that provide this service. Of course, you do have to know how to format a book, and create a cover, or pay someone to do it for you. It is a lot of work to format an entire book with Table of Contents, Prologues, editing, re-editing, and all the things that go into a finished book. It takes a lot of time and concentration to make it professional looking. And, on the other hand, it is always more prestigious to have a publishing company publish the book for you. There are many types of publishing companies. There are the big publishing houses that will only take well-read authors that will sell many books. They work through literary agents. There are vanity publishers that will publish anyone’s book for $3,000 to $6,000. And, luckily for most of us “birds” there are the small press publishers who are mostly easy to work with, very helpful, and generous with their royalties. In the end, not very many poets will ever make a living off of books sales. I always say that I spend more money than I will every make. If you want to sell, you have to market, advertise, and get out there with your book. Then you have to compete with the thousands of other emerging poets trying to hawk their books as well.
Don’t get me wrong, when you finally do get that acceptance letter, and get to see your work in that magazine, or hold that printed copy of your book in your hand, it is worth every bit of frustration and agony. But it is not easy.
Ann Christine Tabaka, poet & writer
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https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09...
Being an American Poet is Harder Than You’d Think
I did not start out planning to be a poet or a writer. In fact, I did not even like to read when I was young. However, I did love to sketch and draw. Art was in my blood. It was only when I was in college that I realized, in America at least, it was close to impossible to have a profitable career in the arts, unless you were one of the gifted few. Oh, you could become an art teacher, commercial artist, newspaper editor, or, if you were lucky, work for a main stream magazine. But to be able to paint or write whatever you desired, and make a living from it was a daydream, a pure luxury saved for those with inherited wealth.
To start off with … “There's being a poet, and then there's being a Poet (with a capital P).” I personally like to say that “I write poems in hopes of becoming a Poet (capital P).”
So many people like to write poems. Many write sweet little rhymes and musings, and many others are actually very good at their craft. But, in the end, it leads to a lot of people trying to break in to the literary world. There is actually a glut of poets out there – everyone is a poet. This makes it difficult for any individual to make it to the top. It is like a fishery where there are thousands upon thousands of fish packed in, floundering about. It is not a pretty picture. Yes, and I am one of those trapped fish, flopping away with the rest of the pool.
Today, with the Internet, it is easy enough to find magazines and journals that accept poetry submissions. All you have to do is an Internet search and hundreds of literary journals will pop up. Then comes the hard part. You have to go to each magazine’s site, and read the submission guidelines and follow them to a T. You also should read through the magazine to make sure that your work fits the style that they prefer: classical, free-verse, experimental, abstract, light, deep, dark, etc. When the magazine is an e-zine, this is highly recommended. But it is not always so easy when the magazine is in print, and it costs money to buy a copy. Consider this, you have 100 poems that you want to submit to 20 magazines, and each one cost $10 a copy. Now you have to pay $200 just to read the magazines to see if your deep abstract poem would fit. Nowadays many journals and magazines charge a reading fee. It is usually $3 to $5 dollars per submission. That might not sound like much, but when the majority of magazines do not pay for contributor’s work, and the contributor has to pay each time they submit someplace, it adds up to a lot of money down the drain. Most magazines have a 2% acceptance rate. Now go back to that huge pool of fish flopping around trying to get into that magazine. The rejection rate is 98%, and sometimes it feels like an absolute miracle when you do manage to get an acceptance. The fact is, the more accomplished poets there are out there, the harder it is to get in to a major publication because the editors have to read so many submissions and make a hard decision. Many really strong poems get rejected because the magazine doesn’t have the space, and has to thin out the pool.
So, you write your heart out, you edit and refine, you search venues, you put together submissions, you submit, many times you pay a reading fee, then you wait, and wait, and wait; sometimes 6 months, sometimes more. Finally, you send in query letters to see what is happening with your submission. In the end, you have a 98% chance that it will result in a rejection, and you have just worked, and waited a half year or more, and spent money, only to have your poems back sitting on your desk/desktop, and starting all over again with different magazines.
Publishing books is a whole other bird. Hmmm, fishes, birds, I seem to have my mind on things other than poems here, but I don’t. Poems are like a menagerie: “a strange or diverse collection of people or things.” Each poem, and each poet is it’s own diverse universe. Back to publishing poetry books. Again, because if the age of the Internet, it is fairly easy to self-publish on any of a number of sites that provide this service. Of course, you do have to know how to format a book, and create a cover, or pay someone to do it for you. It is a lot of work to format an entire book with Table of Contents, Prologues, editing, re-editing, and all the things that go into a finished book. It takes a lot of time and concentration to make it professional looking. And, on the other hand, it is always more prestigious to have a publishing company publish the book for you. There are many types of publishing companies. There are the big publishing houses that will only take well-read authors that will sell many books. They work through literary agents. There are vanity publishers that will publish anyone’s book for $3,000 to $6,000. And, luckily for most of us “birds” there are the small press publishers who are mostly easy to work with, very helpful, and generous with their royalties. In the end, not very many poets will ever make a living off of books sales. I always say that I spend more money than I will every make. If you want to sell, you have to market, advertise, and get out there with your book. Then you have to compete with the thousands of other emerging poets trying to hawk their books as well.
Don’t get me wrong, when you finally do get that acceptance letter, and get to see your work in that magazine, or hold that printed copy of your book in your hand, it is worth every bit of frustration and agony. But it is not easy.
Ann Christine Tabaka, poet & writer
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5 Poems
I am delighted to have 5 poems published by Synchronized Chaos Magazine. Thank you, editor Cristina Deptula!
1. The Importance of a Daughter
2. I Am Where I Need to be Right Now
3. I Faded in Your Dream
4. Life is a Cliché
5. His Name was Depression
http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-chr...
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1. The Importance of a Daughter
2. I Am Where I Need to be Right Now
3. I Faded in Your Dream
4. Life is a Cliché
5. His Name was Depression
http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-chr...
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Not of this World
I am elated to have my fiction piece “Not of this World” published by Short Story Avenue. Thank you, editor Joseph Reilly!
https://shortstoryavenue.com/2021/06/...
NOT OF THIS WORLD
My mother and father arrived on earth shortly before I was born. Their planet was overpopulated, and the wars that ensued were destroying the land and the atmosphere. It took them close to two years to transport across the galaxy searching for a new home. Earth seemed like a likely candidate. Since they appeared humanoid, they fit right in. And with their universal translators and advanced intelligence, they learned the language quickly. They changed their names to fit into the culture. My mother Talliman became Tillie, and my father Yawen, became John.
It was in the early 1900’s and no one would ever expect an alien being to exist, much less come to earth to live. The land was still vast and the water was clean, and everything looked like our planet did hundreds of years ago. I was born in that tiny town in western Pennsylvania, on a continent called North America. Of course, I was given a human name at my birth. Greetings Earthling, met Jessica Jones, that’s me! My family chose Jones, which happens to be a very common Earth surname, so I am told! Everyone called me JJ, and they still do today, in 2021.
Everything was very peaceful in the town where we lived. Everyone was hard working and polite. My father soon became the science professor at the small-town college, and my mother became a teacher who taught grades one through five. My father, with his creative ability, had produced an official looking document with his degree on it, from a far-off university in western Canada. Telling everyone that they were Canadian also made a good excuse for their accents. No one in this small town was familiar with the towns and cities in western Canada. It all seemed to be working out as planned.
No one seemed to notice that my parents didn’t age at the normal rate. They appeared perpetually young. And, I grew faster than normal earth children. I was soon walking and talking, and attending first grade, even though I was only three years old in human years. I was also quite the troublemaking imp. I was always giving my parents concern about my actions and whereabouts. I was having fun on my new planet, never having known what my home planet was like. My mother and father often told me stories of Celtar where we originated from. I always imagined traveling back there someday to visit and see all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Unfortunately, it probably would no longer be inhabited by the time I reached maturity. It was deteriorating fast when my parents left five years ago. That is right, I was conceived in a space ship! How fascinating is that? I would say “how cool is that?” except that phrase wasn’t in vogue yet back then. Besides, my father dismantled the space ship to use the parts in constructing our new home. I had no interplanetary transport available to me. I would remain earthbound for my entire life, all two hundred plus years of it!
The first time I discovered one of the unusual traits of my race of people I was about two earth years old. It is unusual for earthlings, but not for Celtarians. As I previously mentioned, I loved getting into mischief. I had developed a sweet tooth. My parents were not used to cakes and candies since that was not something that was available on their home planet. But, since I was born on earth, this was now my planet and I was going to enjoy all the wonderful new tastes that this world had to offer. I remember vividly the day that our next-door neighbor made a big batch of chocolate brownies. Brownies had become a craving for me since the first time I ate one. I begged my mother to make them, but being true to her upbringing, she would not budge to make anything that was just fun and not nutritious. I decided to sneak in the back door and help myself to a few delicacies from the neighbor’s kitchen table where they were cooling. The smell of warm brownies fresh from the oven was divine and irresistible. I was drooling with anticipation.
The older boys who lived next door noticed me standing there shoveling in the brownies that were meant for them. They became crossed with me and they started after me. I ducked under the table when I saw them coming. I knew they were after me. I remained quiet as they searched. Then it happened, I was afraid so I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard, then poof, I immediately disappeared from their view. I was so excited. Being invisible makes everything easier. They had no idea who they were dealing with. They were startled by a small giggle as I slipped out the back door and silently disappeared into the void.
After that, I became invisible whenever I wanted to hide from anyone, or wanted to play a funny prank on someone. I never did anything really bad, but I sure did knock a lot of hats off of people’s heads, and tap a lot of people on the back then start giggling. They would become terrified and run away. I had fun playing Ghost whenever I got bored of my studies and chores.
I also have the ability to jump higher and run faster than most humans can. I can change the color of my skin at will, and I can also pick up any language just by listening to it for a short time. Having the ability to change the color of my skin was a great asset for Halloween, an earth holiday that I fell in love with because of all the wonderful sweets that I was able collect and indulge in. It was also a great way to freak people out. “Freak” is another term that only came into common use in the 1960’s. I love my super powers, which would just be normal on Celtar, how boring!
I finished all my schooling and graduated with a Post Doc degree in science. I worked for NASA and became one of the top aeronautical engineers there. Maybe I was hoping to someday build a rocket that could reach the star system where my parents’ home was. Throughout my life I dated several nice men, but I never did marry. I knew our biological systems would never be able to produce children. I guess that is another reason that I wished to find others of my species. I did miss having the closeness and love that my parents have. But I was happy with the life that I had.
The years and decades past, and my parents became sad as they saw the wars and pollution destroying their new home as it did their mother planet. They tried to warn the people around them, but no one would listen. My father, now being a noted established scientist even went to Washington DC to speak with government officials. Sadly, he could not tell them the reason he knew what he knew, he could only tell them that he speculated the outcome from his observances and calculations.
There was no way for him to build another spaceship that could travel between galaxies, there was not the resources nor the experienced engineers to do so. Besides, he and my mother were now growing older, and did not have the energy to go searching through the galaxies for a new inhabitable home. Earth was in trouble but they felt that there was still hope. There were good people who listened to the science and wanted a better life for all living things, not just humans.
My parents still live in the same small town, in western Pennsylvania where they first settled over a hundred and twenty years ago. The town has grown and advanced, and none of the same people live there any longer. They have all passed away. I find it strange, that no one seems to question my parents still being alive, and looking as young as they do after all these years. Many of the people who live in the town now are the grandchildren of our original neighbors, and they know my parents from when they were little toddlers.
I am now one hundred and ten years old. I live outside of Washington DC and still work for NASA. I still continue to be mischievous, but only rarely do I use my Celtarian powers. In fact, just the other day … never mind, you really do not want to hear about it.
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https://shortstoryavenue.com/2021/06/...
NOT OF THIS WORLD
My mother and father arrived on earth shortly before I was born. Their planet was overpopulated, and the wars that ensued were destroying the land and the atmosphere. It took them close to two years to transport across the galaxy searching for a new home. Earth seemed like a likely candidate. Since they appeared humanoid, they fit right in. And with their universal translators and advanced intelligence, they learned the language quickly. They changed their names to fit into the culture. My mother Talliman became Tillie, and my father Yawen, became John.
It was in the early 1900’s and no one would ever expect an alien being to exist, much less come to earth to live. The land was still vast and the water was clean, and everything looked like our planet did hundreds of years ago. I was born in that tiny town in western Pennsylvania, on a continent called North America. Of course, I was given a human name at my birth. Greetings Earthling, met Jessica Jones, that’s me! My family chose Jones, which happens to be a very common Earth surname, so I am told! Everyone called me JJ, and they still do today, in 2021.
Everything was very peaceful in the town where we lived. Everyone was hard working and polite. My father soon became the science professor at the small-town college, and my mother became a teacher who taught grades one through five. My father, with his creative ability, had produced an official looking document with his degree on it, from a far-off university in western Canada. Telling everyone that they were Canadian also made a good excuse for their accents. No one in this small town was familiar with the towns and cities in western Canada. It all seemed to be working out as planned.
No one seemed to notice that my parents didn’t age at the normal rate. They appeared perpetually young. And, I grew faster than normal earth children. I was soon walking and talking, and attending first grade, even though I was only three years old in human years. I was also quite the troublemaking imp. I was always giving my parents concern about my actions and whereabouts. I was having fun on my new planet, never having known what my home planet was like. My mother and father often told me stories of Celtar where we originated from. I always imagined traveling back there someday to visit and see all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Unfortunately, it probably would no longer be inhabited by the time I reached maturity. It was deteriorating fast when my parents left five years ago. That is right, I was conceived in a space ship! How fascinating is that? I would say “how cool is that?” except that phrase wasn’t in vogue yet back then. Besides, my father dismantled the space ship to use the parts in constructing our new home. I had no interplanetary transport available to me. I would remain earthbound for my entire life, all two hundred plus years of it!
The first time I discovered one of the unusual traits of my race of people I was about two earth years old. It is unusual for earthlings, but not for Celtarians. As I previously mentioned, I loved getting into mischief. I had developed a sweet tooth. My parents were not used to cakes and candies since that was not something that was available on their home planet. But, since I was born on earth, this was now my planet and I was going to enjoy all the wonderful new tastes that this world had to offer. I remember vividly the day that our next-door neighbor made a big batch of chocolate brownies. Brownies had become a craving for me since the first time I ate one. I begged my mother to make them, but being true to her upbringing, she would not budge to make anything that was just fun and not nutritious. I decided to sneak in the back door and help myself to a few delicacies from the neighbor’s kitchen table where they were cooling. The smell of warm brownies fresh from the oven was divine and irresistible. I was drooling with anticipation.
The older boys who lived next door noticed me standing there shoveling in the brownies that were meant for them. They became crossed with me and they started after me. I ducked under the table when I saw them coming. I knew they were after me. I remained quiet as they searched. Then it happened, I was afraid so I closed my eyes and concentrated really hard, then poof, I immediately disappeared from their view. I was so excited. Being invisible makes everything easier. They had no idea who they were dealing with. They were startled by a small giggle as I slipped out the back door and silently disappeared into the void.
After that, I became invisible whenever I wanted to hide from anyone, or wanted to play a funny prank on someone. I never did anything really bad, but I sure did knock a lot of hats off of people’s heads, and tap a lot of people on the back then start giggling. They would become terrified and run away. I had fun playing Ghost whenever I got bored of my studies and chores.
I also have the ability to jump higher and run faster than most humans can. I can change the color of my skin at will, and I can also pick up any language just by listening to it for a short time. Having the ability to change the color of my skin was a great asset for Halloween, an earth holiday that I fell in love with because of all the wonderful sweets that I was able collect and indulge in. It was also a great way to freak people out. “Freak” is another term that only came into common use in the 1960’s. I love my super powers, which would just be normal on Celtar, how boring!
I finished all my schooling and graduated with a Post Doc degree in science. I worked for NASA and became one of the top aeronautical engineers there. Maybe I was hoping to someday build a rocket that could reach the star system where my parents’ home was. Throughout my life I dated several nice men, but I never did marry. I knew our biological systems would never be able to produce children. I guess that is another reason that I wished to find others of my species. I did miss having the closeness and love that my parents have. But I was happy with the life that I had.
The years and decades past, and my parents became sad as they saw the wars and pollution destroying their new home as it did their mother planet. They tried to warn the people around them, but no one would listen. My father, now being a noted established scientist even went to Washington DC to speak with government officials. Sadly, he could not tell them the reason he knew what he knew, he could only tell them that he speculated the outcome from his observances and calculations.
There was no way for him to build another spaceship that could travel between galaxies, there was not the resources nor the experienced engineers to do so. Besides, he and my mother were now growing older, and did not have the energy to go searching through the galaxies for a new inhabitable home. Earth was in trouble but they felt that there was still hope. There were good people who listened to the science and wanted a better life for all living things, not just humans.
My parents still live in the same small town, in western Pennsylvania where they first settled over a hundred and twenty years ago. The town has grown and advanced, and none of the same people live there any longer. They have all passed away. I find it strange, that no one seems to question my parents still being alive, and looking as young as they do after all these years. Many of the people who live in the town now are the grandchildren of our original neighbors, and they know my parents from when they were little toddlers.
I am now one hundred and ten years old. I live outside of Washington DC and still work for NASA. I still continue to be mischievous, but only rarely do I use my Celtarian powers. In fact, just the other day … never mind, you really do not want to hear about it.
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5 Poems
I am thrilled to have 5 poems published by The Academy of the Heart and Mind. Thank you, editor Thomas Page.
1. The Traveling Circus Show
2. Who We Are
3. The Last of the Last of the Last
4. The Fruitfulness of Motherhood
5. Summer’s Last Breath
https://academyoftheheartandmind.word...
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1. The Traveling Circus Show
2. Who We Are
3. The Last of the Last of the Last
4. The Fruitfulness of Motherhood
5. Summer’s Last Breath
https://academyoftheheartandmind.word...
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Words Spill Out
Poetry, rhymes, and musings by Ann Christine Tabaka
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