Ally Malinenko's Blog, page 22

Meditation on Hope at Mad Swirl

Many thanks to the lovely folks at Mad Swirl for taking this poem Meditation on Hope.

It’s dedicated to my fellow subway riders - especially those on the R train.

Interview at My Paranormal Book Reviews

I’m over at My Paranormal Book Reviews talking about Lizzy and Shakespeare and research and we wound up touching upon an issue that  quite a few people have asked me about. What if Shakespeare wasn’t Shakespeare?

 I love the concept of Lizzy and Dmitri being descendants of William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe. Did this concept require a lot of research on your part? 

It did actually. When I first decided that I wanted to write about the descendant of Shakespeare I went out and picked up a couple bios on him. I mean, I had read Shakespeare before – he’s one of my favorites – but I knew I was going to need a lot more information. Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare by Stephen Greenblatt was the most useful. It was a fantastic look at a man for whom there is not a ton of biographical information on. When I decided that my bad guy would be descended from Marlowe I read the World of Christopher Marlowe by David Riggs which was also a fantastic bio. I wanted to avoid the “conspiracy theorists” who like to say that they were the same person – which in my opinion is pure nonsense.

Okay so seriously, these people really exist. There are Oxfordians who believe that Shakespeare was the Earl of Oxford. Seen the movie Anonymous anyone? I hear that is the bunk it’s pedaling. I’m far too much of a Stratfordian to watch it.

And then even worse are the Marlovians. They are the people who believe that Kit Marlowe faked his own death and then re-imagined himself as Shakespeare.

They claim his pseudonym comes from the following lines in Tamburlaine: “Thy words are swords. Shaking their swords, their spear.”

Get it? Shake? Speare?

Yeah…..and just for the record the Earl of Oxford died in 1604. The Tempest, Shakespeare’s last play included a famous shipwreck which took place in 1609 and in 1610 pamphlets were written outlining what happened which he probably used for source material. So I guess the Earl was writing from beyond the grave.

Cause you know that makes way  more sense than Shakespeare having just EXISTED.

All the same, thanks to the lovely Shar at My Paranormal Book Reviews for taking the time to talk with me. She gets some Starburst.

FREE BOOKS…n other stuff

Hi!

So I just wanted to let everyone know there are a couple giveaways going on right now in case you wanted to throw your hat in the ring and try to score a FREE copy of Lizzy Speare and the Cursed Tomb. I’m giving away both ebook and print copies.

A Thousand Wrongs: Giveaway – Print copy

and

Middle Grade Madness at Word Spelunking – 2 ebook and 1 print

The last link has an interview with Lizzy herself.

So go ahead – toss your hat into the ring and see what happens.

Many thanks to both Aeicha at Word Spelunking and Laurisa at A Thousand Wrongs for hosting the giveaways. As always, our Starburst of Thanks!

 

In other stuff, I’m currently working on both the second Lizzy book and a YA sci-fi book and I have to tell you, I’m in a REALLY good writing place. I’m writing this so that later, when I’m not in a really good writing place (which is bound to happen) I’ll see this and remember that I can get through it and get back to this good place.

Oh! And also Pen and Muse is going to run the post I wrote about getting rejected sometime next week so I’m feeling pretty good about that too cause it’s exactly the sort of piece I would have LOVED to read when I was getting rejected.

Man, I’m just airing all sorts of stuff here today. Isn’t this why I keep a journal? For all this blathering?

Signing off….

 

Happy Birthday Douglas Adams!

Happy Birthday to Douglas Adams! He would have been 61 today. Remember kids when it comes to flying “the knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.”

Also, 42.

That’s all you need to know.

Red Birds – Central Park at Jellyfish Whispers

On January 1, 2013 I went here:

 

and while I was there I saw this:

And then I saw one of these:

and then I went home and wrote a poem about it.

And Jellyfish Whisper (isn’t that the best name) published it.

So many thank yous to the wonderful A.J. Huffman. If you aren’t familiar with her sites, including Pyrokinection, I highly recommend  them.

A giveaway, a beautiful letter and me being pathetic.

Liam Shakes says Hi

So first off, before I talk about everything else I’m gonna talk about, the very lovely Mary over at Bookhounds has offered to do a giveaway of Lizzy Speare and the Cursed Tomb. 

What’s better than free books, huh? Toss your hat into the ring. Why not?

She was also kind enough to chat with me a bit and ask the question I know everyone wants to know:

What is the last thing you Googled?
Places in Vienna that Mozart lived

That’s a true story.

I have a trip planned this year and I don’t want to miss anything.

So in other news – it’s been really great to have this book out in print and to talk to people about it. See the thing is many of the characters in Lizzy are based on real people. One in particular is based on someone who I loved  dearly and who died back in 2003. He was my best friend’s father but also more than that because he was like an extra father to me too. He was one of my favorite people in the world and I miss him dearly.

One of his son’s sent me an email the other day saying that reading Lizzy gave him an entirely unexpected emotional sensation of having a conversation with his father. He went on to say that even though he thinks of him every day, it had been a long time since he felt his presence the way he did this evening.

And that right there, is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. It was all happy/sad/happy/sad/happiness. I swear, it won’t get any better than that. Now, I’m humming Lost:

No one’s ever lost forever

When they die they go away

But they will visit you occasionally

Do not be afraid

No one’s ever lost forever

They are caught inside your heart

If you garden them and water them

They make you what you are

-Amanda Palmer

I also wrote a piece recently for Pen and Muse about getting rejected by 16 major publishers. I realize this isn’t something that I should be particularly proud of but hey, it’s been a strange and winding road and THIS is my story. The good, the bad and the fugly.

Also, I told myself a long time ago – when I was in the midst of getting rejected by 16 major publishers that if this whole thing turns around and works out  and I get this book published and if anyone ever asks me about how it went down, I will be honest. Because that was a pretty low point in my life and I REALLY could have used to hear a story about someone who got rejected by 16 major publishers and still managed a way to share their story with people.

Cause that’s what it’s all about. Sharing.

If they decide it’s far too pathetic for words, then I’ll blog it here. Cause why not? Dignity is totally overrated. Also, I value the truth.

Lizzy in 3D

Look what I got! 

So after waiting what felt like forever

I’ve got  my physical copy of Lizzy Speare and the Cursed Tomb

and you know what, it feels pretty damn good.

And even better than that today

I mailed out all my review copies

to all my lover-ly little blogger friends

so they can read and share and tell people what they think.

(Fingers crossed!)

And on top of that, the very cool Henrietta over at Leisure Reads chatted with me a bit about my book.

4. If you must summarize Lizzy Speare and the Cursed Tomb  in one sentence, what would you share with the audience?

It ain’t easy being a Shakespeare.

We thank Henrietta with our official (I’ve just decided it was) Starburst of Thanks!

 And on tippy top of  THAT, today is my niece’s 3rd Birthday.

She’s a lil stinky monster and I love her tons! Happy Birthday Neve!

Even June is excited!

Poems and Philosophy

First off, there are poems –  actually a poem – over at The Blue Hour about boys and basketballs and my June who thinks she’s one tough kitty.

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So many thanks to them. Small presses rock.

That covers the poetry part – now to the philosophy part.

I was riding the subway the other day, thinking about a book I want to/sort of am writing. It’s about when I was in high school and I fell off a waterfall cracking my noggin open. But really it’s about the people who I spent my time with then, people who meant the world to me – that even today, still do. And I was stuck with a particular thought:

I’m so incredibly thankful I grew up when I did because now I know how to be alone and still.

Hear me out:

During twilight, in the winter or summer, I used to go on walks with my best friend Dan who lived around the corner. We would walk and talk or sometimes we would walk and not talk. We would go down to the basketball courts in my old neighborhood and lay there, staring up at the stars. We would just be together. But also, alone.

Do you know what I mean? The way you can be with someone but also be by yourself?

So that got me thinking about that time, about being in high school during a time of mix tapes and duct tape that held your bumper on and stealing beers from the garage.

And what it made me think about the most was the quiet. Because we had no cell phones. We had no internet. There was no technology that kept us all together. Now clearly we all know the danger of cyber bullying and the heartbreaking stories like that of Amanda Todd - something that extreme is not even what I’m getting into here. It’s something smaller. Something that might be eating us up slowly.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I feel really lucky to have been in that horribly amazing time before all this “connection.” Because it let me be ALONE.

And there’s a lot to be said about being alone.

About knowing what the crunch of gravel sounds like under your feet in the summer evening.

About laying in your room, alone, making a mix tape for the boy you secretly like.

About just being still.

About knowing that after school – after that horrible fight I had with my friend, after all the horrible things I said and she said – that it’s over. It’s not going to continue in this other world where other people can watch. It’s just me now, and my feelings, alone in my room where I can sort them out and remember that I love her. And she loves me. And now that we can calm down I can see that again.

I just feel really lucky. And not to sound too old or anything but I worry about the kids who are texting and skypeing and tweeting their way through high school. I worry they don’t know how to be alone. That they might not even understand the CONCEPT of alone, truly alone, truly unconnected.

That singular moment when you can feel the blood cells race through your veins.

The realization that you are here, in your room, in this house, on this street, in this town, in this country, on this planet, floating out there in all that dark empty space.

That the chance that you would EVEN exist is minuscule and yet, here you are – alive and still and alone.

Alone is a good thing. And it’s not the same as loneliness. Because I wasn’t lonely. I had friends I would jump off waterfalls for. And I wasn’t afraid of the quiet. Of being with me and only me.

It is its own form of peace. One that we should be careful not to lose.

….And the smoke came out our mouths On all those hooded sweatshirt walks We were a stroke of luck We were a goldmine and they gutted us…

 - Conor Obrest

Interview and Giveaway at A Thousand Wrongs

I’m over at A Thousand Wrongs today for Marvelous Middle Grade Monday (like Francisco that’s fun to say!) talking about Lizzy and writing and my favorite villain.

Who is it, you ask? I’ll give you a hint:

Likes: Winter. Being in charge

Dislikes: Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve

Also you can win a free copy of Lizzy Speare and the Cursed Tomb through the giveaway and we all love free things.

As always, my Starburst of Thanks to Laurisa who rocks.

Paris, Second Time Around at The Blue Hour

I’m been to Paris twice in my life. The first time I was 16. The second 32. Paris changes in sixteen years. Still beautiful, but different.

Many thanks to the lovely ladies at The Blue Hour review for accepting this poem.