Lani Wendt Young's Blog, page 2
February 8, 2013
My Muscles are Busting out of my Shirt.
Big Son came to tell me that he had gotten Bigger. Over the holidays. He was wearing his school uniform. He stood in the doorway and flexed a muscle boy flex pose. "See Mum? I think I need new shirts. My chest, my back, my arms - they've grown and I cant fit these shirts anymore."
He is triumphant. Because the boy doesn't want to be Big Son. He wants to be Bigger Son. And to that end, he works out every day. Consumes disgusting protein drinks that his father bought for him. And eats way too many egg whites. (He also pesters me to buy steak and take him to Burger King everyday which is supposedly meant to be rocket fuel for big muscles in some teenager boy's fantasy universe - but dont worry, I'm not stupid. I dont fall for it. I tell him to eat cornflakes for dinner like all the rest of us. I mean, heck, its working for me. Look how much bigger Im getting?)
Want to read the rest of this scintillating tale of exploding musculature? Then you'll have to leave the comfort zone of Sleepless in Samoa and join me at my new blog hangout - click on the link below!
http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/my-muscles-are-busting-out-of-my-shirt/
He is triumphant. Because the boy doesn't want to be Big Son. He wants to be Bigger Son. And to that end, he works out every day. Consumes disgusting protein drinks that his father bought for him. And eats way too many egg whites. (He also pesters me to buy steak and take him to Burger King everyday which is supposedly meant to be rocket fuel for big muscles in some teenager boy's fantasy universe - but dont worry, I'm not stupid. I dont fall for it. I tell him to eat cornflakes for dinner like all the rest of us. I mean, heck, its working for me. Look how much bigger Im getting?)
Want to read the rest of this scintillating tale of exploding musculature? Then you'll have to leave the comfort zone of Sleepless in Samoa and join me at my new blog hangout - click on the link below!
http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/my-muscles-are-busting-out-of-my-shirt/
The Cable Guy Got me All Excited!
We needed something done to our cable connection. I called the SKY office and they sent round a very nice young man to do it. He was friendly, helpful and efficient - and quickly worked his magic on the cable connection. He was also white (think blonde n blue-eyed) and did I mention that he was male? In other words - nothing like the (stereotypical) demographic audience for my TELESA books (think female and most usually brown.)
Want to read the rest? Then you'll need to hop, skip and jump on over to my NEW blogsite by clicking on the link below. Thanks!
http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/the-cable-guy-got-me-all-excited/
Want to read the rest? Then you'll need to hop, skip and jump on over to my NEW blogsite by clicking on the link below. Thanks!
http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/the-cable-guy-got-me-all-excited/
February 6, 2013
Where are you Going?!
I think I'm moving house - from this blog address to another one. I've been avoiding the move for aaaages but thankfully an amazingly gifted woman called Talia Brown helped to set up a Wordpress Blog for me so it was relatively painless. Yay!
You can find me blogging over at this link - http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/
I hope you'll join me!
You can find me blogging over at this link - http://laniwendtyoung.wordpress.com/
I hope you'll join me!
January 30, 2013
Liar Liar - Pants on Fire (In Hell Probably)
I used to at least TRY to be a Domestic Goddess - bake up a storm, pickle stuff, re-arrange my living room decor every other day, color-co'ordinate my tea towels with my pot mitts... Until I started trying to write books to a deadline. Now, I'm not even worthy to wash Martha Stewart's dishes. I am officially taking myself OUT of the running for Domestic Goddess of the Universe. Instead, I'm aspiring to the: Faker-Pretender-Liar Throne.
Yesterday we had the missionaries over for dinner. There were three of them. They called the night before to remind us that we had signed up to feed them. They were arriving at 5pm.
In my family, hosting the missionaries is like having the Queen of England over for dinner. Or Mother Theresa. Or President Obama's wife. My mother would tell us about HER mother preparing for two days (at least) to serve the elders a meal. The very best dishes. The very finest ingredients. The very nicest linen. The very good'est manners. When we were growing up, us kids loved it when our mother fed the missionaries because it meant we got really nice food that we usually only got on annual holidays. But we also hated it because our mother would go psycho ( more than usual) and make us clean the entire house and help her in the kitchen. She would volunteer to feed the missionaries for all three meals in a day and then prep a four course meal for each one, even BREAKFAST. Serve it to them adorned with fresh flowers, artfully arranged sprinkles of garnish, in color-co'ordinated glory. And we kids got to have what was left and do the mountains of dishes.
I have continued this 'tradition'. We always sign up to host the missionaries and then go all-out to ensure them the very bestest. Not just because we are helping them with their very important work, but also because I'm always thinking of members of my family that have served as missionaries at some point in their lives - and many people were super nice to them and shared their food with them. People like my big brother who served in Samoa. My parents who were Senior missionaries in Siberia a few years ago. My nephew who just got back from his mission in Sydney. And every time I have missionaries over for dinner, I think of the hopeful future when Big Son might will serve a mission somewhere and I hope people will be nice to him.
So, I knew we had to do a good job prepping dinner for the Elders. But, I also have deadlines looming and other horrible stuff like that on my plate. The Hot Man is in Samoa, so he couldn't help. He did however, make a suggestion - "Just go to the store and buy ready made food for them. They won't care. Get takeaway." At first I was horrified by this idea. Get takeaway? Ready-prepped food bought from a store?! Take the LAZY way out?! What would my (long-deceased) grandmother think?! What would my (faraway mother in Samoa who isnt my quality control checker) think?! Shock, horror.
Writer working mother won out over Domestic Goddess Martha Stewart Acolyte. I was in my office until 3. Then I ran to get Little Daughter from school and walk her home. Appointed Big Daughter to supervise cleaning of house and Little Son to set table. Zipped to pick up Big Son from school. Dashed into grocery store. Purchased 4 roast chickens, 2 bags chopped coleslaw, 24 baps, drinks, 3 bags of grapes, 1 watermelon, 1 decadent red velvet cake and ice cream. Got home at 4.30. Everyone swung into action. We arranged everything in platters with artfully applied garnish, hid all shopping bag/wrapper evidence. Doorbell rang at exactly 5pm and VOILA - we had a fabulous feast ready for the missionaries.
But before I let them in, I did one more very important thing. "Listen here kids, nobody is allowed to mention that we didn't cook this food ourselves, do you hear me?"
Little Daughter was troubled, "You want us to tell lies?!"
I rushed to assuage her fears. "No, no of course not. Lying is bad. I dont want you to tell lies. If the missionaries say,'What a nice dinner!' - then we will smile and say, 'Thank you.' That's not telling lies. That's just keeping some information to ourselves." I smiled helpfully. "It's called omission."
Big Mouth Big Son interjected, "That's another fancy word for lying."
I snapped, "Shut up. It's not lying. If the missionaries ASK us if we cooked this food, then of course we will say, no we bought it. But we also don't need to go around screaming it at the top of our lungs when they walk in the door. Just keep that to ourselves, dammit." I turn back to the Little Trio. "Do you understand?"
Little Son asked, "So what if the missionaries tell us, We really like your cooking?"
I smile with steel at the teenagers as I answer, "We dont need to bother them with the details. We just smile and say thank you, I'm glad you like it. Everybody got it?"
By then, they knew better to argue. Everybody got it. (Or else they were being sent to bed without any red velvet cake bought from the shop by lazy liar Writer Working Mother.)
We opened the door and allowed our guests to enter. The evening was a resounding success. The food was sublime. The conversation was divine. (divine, get it? haha...) Big Son in particular was really enjoying the conversation with the Elders - (and a lightbulb went off in my head because Im trying to deviously nudge him to WANT to be a missionary and what better way then for him to hang out with lots of awesome missionaries and returned missionaries and hopefully absorb their enthusiasm, right!?) so I invited them all to come back for dinner again next week.
Everybody was happy with this invitation. We said goodbye and the elders pedaled away on their bikes. We came back inside on a righteous high when I had a nasty thought. Oh no, what are we going to buy for their dinner next week that we can fake as homemade?
I'm also wondering if omitting useless information lying - kind of cancels out the blessings that are supposed to come from doing a service and providing meals for the missionaries?
Yesterday we had the missionaries over for dinner. There were three of them. They called the night before to remind us that we had signed up to feed them. They were arriving at 5pm.
In my family, hosting the missionaries is like having the Queen of England over for dinner. Or Mother Theresa. Or President Obama's wife. My mother would tell us about HER mother preparing for two days (at least) to serve the elders a meal. The very best dishes. The very finest ingredients. The very nicest linen. The very good'est manners. When we were growing up, us kids loved it when our mother fed the missionaries because it meant we got really nice food that we usually only got on annual holidays. But we also hated it because our mother would go psycho ( more than usual) and make us clean the entire house and help her in the kitchen. She would volunteer to feed the missionaries for all three meals in a day and then prep a four course meal for each one, even BREAKFAST. Serve it to them adorned with fresh flowers, artfully arranged sprinkles of garnish, in color-co'ordinated glory. And we kids got to have what was left and do the mountains of dishes.
I have continued this 'tradition'. We always sign up to host the missionaries and then go all-out to ensure them the very bestest. Not just because we are helping them with their very important work, but also because I'm always thinking of members of my family that have served as missionaries at some point in their lives - and many people were super nice to them and shared their food with them. People like my big brother who served in Samoa. My parents who were Senior missionaries in Siberia a few years ago. My nephew who just got back from his mission in Sydney. And every time I have missionaries over for dinner, I think of the hopeful future when Big Son might will serve a mission somewhere and I hope people will be nice to him.
So, I knew we had to do a good job prepping dinner for the Elders. But, I also have deadlines looming and other horrible stuff like that on my plate. The Hot Man is in Samoa, so he couldn't help. He did however, make a suggestion - "Just go to the store and buy ready made food for them. They won't care. Get takeaway." At first I was horrified by this idea. Get takeaway? Ready-prepped food bought from a store?! Take the LAZY way out?! What would my (long-deceased) grandmother think?! What would my (faraway mother in Samoa who isnt my quality control checker) think?! Shock, horror.
Writer working mother won out over Domestic Goddess Martha Stewart Acolyte. I was in my office until 3. Then I ran to get Little Daughter from school and walk her home. Appointed Big Daughter to supervise cleaning of house and Little Son to set table. Zipped to pick up Big Son from school. Dashed into grocery store. Purchased 4 roast chickens, 2 bags chopped coleslaw, 24 baps, drinks, 3 bags of grapes, 1 watermelon, 1 decadent red velvet cake and ice cream. Got home at 4.30. Everyone swung into action. We arranged everything in platters with artfully applied garnish, hid all shopping bag/wrapper evidence. Doorbell rang at exactly 5pm and VOILA - we had a fabulous feast ready for the missionaries.
But before I let them in, I did one more very important thing. "Listen here kids, nobody is allowed to mention that we didn't cook this food ourselves, do you hear me?"
Little Daughter was troubled, "You want us to tell lies?!"
I rushed to assuage her fears. "No, no of course not. Lying is bad. I dont want you to tell lies. If the missionaries say,'What a nice dinner!' - then we will smile and say, 'Thank you.' That's not telling lies. That's just keeping some information to ourselves." I smiled helpfully. "It's called omission."
Big Mouth Big Son interjected, "That's another fancy word for lying."
I snapped, "Shut up. It's not lying. If the missionaries ASK us if we cooked this food, then of course we will say, no we bought it. But we also don't need to go around screaming it at the top of our lungs when they walk in the door. Just keep that to ourselves, dammit." I turn back to the Little Trio. "Do you understand?"
Little Son asked, "So what if the missionaries tell us, We really like your cooking?"
I smile with steel at the teenagers as I answer, "We dont need to bother them with the details. We just smile and say thank you, I'm glad you like it. Everybody got it?"
By then, they knew better to argue. Everybody got it. (Or else they were being sent to bed without any red velvet cake bought from the shop by lazy liar Writer Working Mother.)
We opened the door and allowed our guests to enter. The evening was a resounding success. The food was sublime. The conversation was divine. (divine, get it? haha...) Big Son in particular was really enjoying the conversation with the Elders - (and a lightbulb went off in my head because Im trying to deviously nudge him to WANT to be a missionary and what better way then for him to hang out with lots of awesome missionaries and returned missionaries and hopefully absorb their enthusiasm, right!?) so I invited them all to come back for dinner again next week.
Everybody was happy with this invitation. We said goodbye and the elders pedaled away on their bikes. We came back inside on a righteous high when I had a nasty thought. Oh no, what are we going to buy for their dinner next week that we can fake as homemade?
I'm also wondering if omitting useless information lying - kind of cancels out the blessings that are supposed to come from doing a service and providing meals for the missionaries?
January 24, 2013
So You Want to Publish a Book?
An exciting part of this writing journey that I particularly treasure - is the opportunity it gives me to connect with lots of different Pacific writers and poets from all over the place. This blog post is for YOU, the writer and poet who has dallied with the thought of seeing your work in print and in digital format but have dismissed it as too fanciful and too expensive. If you dont have a writing dream then carry on about your business, this blogpost is not for you. (Its a really looooong blogpost too, so if youre going to read it, make yourself some popcorn first.)
Many Pacific writers/poets have asked me about publishing their work online. This is my attempt to answer some of their questions and encourage all those with a writing dream – to have the courage to take that leap of faith and do what is necessary to put their voices out there. I am passionate about seeing more of our Pacific stories taken to a global audience and believe that digital publishing is an exciting avenue to make it happen – it’s the fastest, cheapest and simplest way to get our stories to the world. Self-publishing makes it possible for the artist to be in control of every step of the creative process – from packaging, pricing, distributing, marketing to promoting their book. It makes it possible for the artist to be in control of the financial returns of that book. I do not see it as a replacement for traditional publishing – but rather, as another option – particularly for those of us writing for a “niche market”. More than 30 lit agents and publishers rejected TELESA. ( And yes, I’m well aware that there are those who would argue TELESA is crap and deserved to be rejected, LOL.) One year later and TELESA has sold thousands of copies worldwide – initially to its FIRST target audience of Samoan/Pasifika youth – and then to a much wider multi-ethnic demographic. Love it or hate it, the TELESA publishing story demonstrates what most of us already suspected, there is a hunger for stories from the Pacific. Contemporary, ‘fanciful, fun’ stories written by us, about us and for us. It’s a hunger fuelled by our Pacific people worldwide but it’s also a hunger in Western readers who are intrigued by the richness of our unique cultures and mythology. Albert Wendt has said, “ We need to write, paint, sculpt, weave, dance, sing, and think ourselves into existence. For too long other people have done it for us – and they’ve usually stereotyped us, or created versions of us that embody their own hang-ups and beliefs and prejudices about us. So we have to write our own stories .” A powerful truth, but I would also suggest - it’s not enough just to write our own stories, we must also take ownership of HOW those stories are shared and taken to the world, how they are packaged, produced and distributed. And yes, we must take ownership of the MONEY that our stories can generate. ( Yes, yes, I know that for many artists the "M" word is a very dirty word..kinda like poop. But let's be honest here. if you can't make money from your art, then you're going to have to go work at a 'real job' to survive which means you wont have as much time in your life to create art...I dont know about you, but I would rather do what I love for 40 hours a week and get paid for it.)
If you’re a Pacific writer with a dream to see your work in print – then maybe, self-publishing online is the answer you’re looking for.If you have a novel or a bunch of short stories or a lovely array of poetry that you would like to publish yourself then here's what I suggest (from my battle scarred experience.)
1. Have your manuscript edited by a professional editor. Somebody with a few clues about novels/poetry/short fiction. The longer the manuscript, the more essential an edit job is. Yes it will cost you money. But if you skip this part, you run the risk of your manuscript being total crap. Look around your networks first before you rush out to hire a scary editor stranger. Maybe there is an English teacher...or journalist type friend in your networks. If your collection is "just a little one" then at least make sure you have some awesome reader friends proof it for you. A fresh set of eyes will find lots of things you missed.
2. Get a cover design done. Yes you can pay hundreds and thousands for a stunning graphics artist designer company to make you a cover. OR you could again draw on your networks and collaborate on a cover with a lovely photographer friend...or a very clever computer wizz friend. Whatever you do, dont take a photo of your cat and make your own cover. Unless your book is only for your dear mum who is supposed to love everything you write. Even if it has a lame cover with your silly cat on it.
3. Print Copies: I get them done two ways.
- For the NZ, Samoa, American Samoa and Fiji audience, we have bulk print copies done with a NZ printing company. I convert my own Word document into a print template, send it to the printer in Tauranga via email and they send me the books when they're done.
Please note, the process of putting your Word file into a print template took me a long time (and lots of curse words) to learn. But its not impossible to master. Dont ask me to show you because I might curse at you. I'm VERY stupid when it comes to technology so figuring out how to do this step will probably take a normal person like you, half an hour tops. Basically, you choose the template you want from Amazon createspace, download it, insert your Word document and then go thru and clean up all the messy bits. Then you save it as a PDF file and voila! Ready for the printer. Sounds easy, doesnt it? Well it wasn't easy for me. There are formatter people you can pay to prep your file for you. A typical charge for this service is $90USD. I didnt know about formatter people when I first started but it wouldnt have mattered because I didnt have $90 USD anyway. If you're techno stupid like me and you DO have some money, then I recommend you hire a formatter and save yourself the time. And cut down on the curse words in your life.
The more books we order, the cheaper the print cost. We get 2000 copies printed at a time for the Telesa books. Its expensive and I dont recommend this option unless you already have an order for 2000 copies of your new book. Otherwise you will be stuck with boxes of books getting moldy in your garage. You can get printing done quite cheaply at various printing companies throughout Asia, (China comes to mind here) but I havent tried it yet. (Its on my List of Things to Do.) We now have a distributor for the print books here in NZ and at home in Samoa which means we only have to supply to them and they take care of orders for bookshops etc. Im very grateful for the companies and online school/library suppliers that stock my print books. I love Auckland Libraries because they are fabulous supporters of the Telesa Series, (and because I spend way too much time there reading books when I should be writing.)It is almost impossible to get a self-published book into a chain bookstore. This is where I tell you how much I hate Whitcoulls NZ and you listen with a very polite face but inside you are secretly rolling your eyes, sick to bits of hearing me bash on stupid mega bookstores that won't take a chance on a book that has sold more copies than many of the gleaming "artsy" books by other NZ authors - just because it doesnt have the magic stamp of a traditional publisher's approval. And if I'm really in a wild mood, I then tell you that according to the Booksellers NZ professionals, "good sales of a fiction title would be around 3,000 copies" and I stamp my foot and yell at the Whitcoulls NZ management, MY BOOK HAS SOLD WAY MORE THAN THAT, SO THERE! And you try not to show me how much you wish you could run away and not have to listen to my ranting. But indie bookshops are great. And Paper Plus NZ is WONDERFUL and I encourage you all to shop there. All the time. Because unlike stupid Whitcoulls they do stock my books. So please go into a Paper Plus today and hug somebody. Bake them cookies, tell them how fabulous they are for supporting Pacific literature, even when its self-published (and has words like 'dalashious' and 'aikae' in it. And too many descriptions of glistening, rippling brown boy muscles.)
When trying to decide on doing print books, consider your target audience. The initial audience for Telesa is of course, Samoans and then all brown/Pacific people in general and then fabulous white/multi-hued people who enjoy a paranormal romance that doesnt have vampires in it. This meant we needed print books for Samoa because most readers there are not getting e-books. The two Samoa's have been shamahzing when it comes to my books, so supportive and encouraging. In (the small town) of Apia alone, there are ten different stores which stock my books and the last time I did a book signing there, hundreds of people waited in line to shove past me and meet Ezra Taylor to get their book.
- To make your book available in print worldwide, you publish it through Creatspace Amazon. This is a print on demand company. You sign up for free. You upload your book and the cover, also for free. You click publish. (For free.) It then shows up on the Amazon sites for the USA, the UK etc. When a customer buys a print copy, Createspace prints ONE and posts it to them. You get a royalty cut. Did I mention all that was free for you the author? This means you dont have to invest money into printing lots of books (that will sit in your garage and get moldy.) Also, it means an author like me can write on a rock/in a coconut tree/lying on a beach/floating by a waterfall (and all the other silly places that silly people who believe in stereotypes assume that I write from) and still have her book available to the world and I dont have to pay crazy amounts to post it to people. All those people in Alaska/California/Utah etc that have print copies of my books, got them through Createspace. Lots of people in Australia got them there too. Which is why I cant sign them for you, no matter how nicely you ask me to.
The cool thing about Createspace is that you can purchase your own print books at the bare bones production cost, no matter how few you buy - and have them shipped wherever you want. If you only want to publish your book so you can get a few copies for your family or friends, this is a great way to do it. English teachers - its also a cool way to publish a collection of your student's creative writing and have each student put in five dollars to get their very own hard copy of their very own words in print. Big Daughter writes poetry and I'm going to help her get her collection up onto Createspace so we can get her words "in print". (Christmas present alert for all my family members...LOL)
4. E-books. I publish the Telesa Series digitally on Amazon but there are other places you can do it. Its a simple process. You convert your Word document to e-book format, upload it, upload your cover and then hit the publish button. Amazon pays you a 70% royalty for books that are priced over $2.99, so for every e-copy sold of Telesa, I get about $2.09. In my wild dreams, I sell hundreds...thousands of e-copies every week and dine on steak&lobster every other night with three different desserts to follow. (I also look like Naomi Campbell in my dreams and Thor is whisking me away to holiday in Asgard. Go figure.) But the reality is much different....*sigh*
E-books are wonderful though. And they are most definitely the fastest, cheapest and easiest way to take our Pacific stories to a global audience. You can pay a formatter to prep your manuscript. The most recent quote I got for this service was $15 USD. I learned how to do it all myself by studying this book:
Self-Printed, The Sane Person's Guide to Self Publishing by Catherine Ryan Howard.
Its only $4.99 for the ebook on Amazon and I recommend you get it if you want to get your writing published.
There ya have it! That's my wannabe-helpful list for those of you with a publishing dream. What else would you like to know? Ask me in the comments section and I will try to answer or at least direct you to where I think you can find out.
Many Pacific writers/poets have asked me about publishing their work online. This is my attempt to answer some of their questions and encourage all those with a writing dream – to have the courage to take that leap of faith and do what is necessary to put their voices out there. I am passionate about seeing more of our Pacific stories taken to a global audience and believe that digital publishing is an exciting avenue to make it happen – it’s the fastest, cheapest and simplest way to get our stories to the world. Self-publishing makes it possible for the artist to be in control of every step of the creative process – from packaging, pricing, distributing, marketing to promoting their book. It makes it possible for the artist to be in control of the financial returns of that book. I do not see it as a replacement for traditional publishing – but rather, as another option – particularly for those of us writing for a “niche market”. More than 30 lit agents and publishers rejected TELESA. ( And yes, I’m well aware that there are those who would argue TELESA is crap and deserved to be rejected, LOL.) One year later and TELESA has sold thousands of copies worldwide – initially to its FIRST target audience of Samoan/Pasifika youth – and then to a much wider multi-ethnic demographic. Love it or hate it, the TELESA publishing story demonstrates what most of us already suspected, there is a hunger for stories from the Pacific. Contemporary, ‘fanciful, fun’ stories written by us, about us and for us. It’s a hunger fuelled by our Pacific people worldwide but it’s also a hunger in Western readers who are intrigued by the richness of our unique cultures and mythology. Albert Wendt has said, “ We need to write, paint, sculpt, weave, dance, sing, and think ourselves into existence. For too long other people have done it for us – and they’ve usually stereotyped us, or created versions of us that embody their own hang-ups and beliefs and prejudices about us. So we have to write our own stories .” A powerful truth, but I would also suggest - it’s not enough just to write our own stories, we must also take ownership of HOW those stories are shared and taken to the world, how they are packaged, produced and distributed. And yes, we must take ownership of the MONEY that our stories can generate. ( Yes, yes, I know that for many artists the "M" word is a very dirty word..kinda like poop. But let's be honest here. if you can't make money from your art, then you're going to have to go work at a 'real job' to survive which means you wont have as much time in your life to create art...I dont know about you, but I would rather do what I love for 40 hours a week and get paid for it.)
If you’re a Pacific writer with a dream to see your work in print – then maybe, self-publishing online is the answer you’re looking for.If you have a novel or a bunch of short stories or a lovely array of poetry that you would like to publish yourself then here's what I suggest (from my battle scarred experience.)
1. Have your manuscript edited by a professional editor. Somebody with a few clues about novels/poetry/short fiction. The longer the manuscript, the more essential an edit job is. Yes it will cost you money. But if you skip this part, you run the risk of your manuscript being total crap. Look around your networks first before you rush out to hire a scary editor stranger. Maybe there is an English teacher...or journalist type friend in your networks. If your collection is "just a little one" then at least make sure you have some awesome reader friends proof it for you. A fresh set of eyes will find lots of things you missed.
2. Get a cover design done. Yes you can pay hundreds and thousands for a stunning graphics artist designer company to make you a cover. OR you could again draw on your networks and collaborate on a cover with a lovely photographer friend...or a very clever computer wizz friend. Whatever you do, dont take a photo of your cat and make your own cover. Unless your book is only for your dear mum who is supposed to love everything you write. Even if it has a lame cover with your silly cat on it.
3. Print Copies: I get them done two ways.
- For the NZ, Samoa, American Samoa and Fiji audience, we have bulk print copies done with a NZ printing company. I convert my own Word document into a print template, send it to the printer in Tauranga via email and they send me the books when they're done.
Please note, the process of putting your Word file into a print template took me a long time (and lots of curse words) to learn. But its not impossible to master. Dont ask me to show you because I might curse at you. I'm VERY stupid when it comes to technology so figuring out how to do this step will probably take a normal person like you, half an hour tops. Basically, you choose the template you want from Amazon createspace, download it, insert your Word document and then go thru and clean up all the messy bits. Then you save it as a PDF file and voila! Ready for the printer. Sounds easy, doesnt it? Well it wasn't easy for me. There are formatter people you can pay to prep your file for you. A typical charge for this service is $90USD. I didnt know about formatter people when I first started but it wouldnt have mattered because I didnt have $90 USD anyway. If you're techno stupid like me and you DO have some money, then I recommend you hire a formatter and save yourself the time. And cut down on the curse words in your life.
The more books we order, the cheaper the print cost. We get 2000 copies printed at a time for the Telesa books. Its expensive and I dont recommend this option unless you already have an order for 2000 copies of your new book. Otherwise you will be stuck with boxes of books getting moldy in your garage. You can get printing done quite cheaply at various printing companies throughout Asia, (China comes to mind here) but I havent tried it yet. (Its on my List of Things to Do.) We now have a distributor for the print books here in NZ and at home in Samoa which means we only have to supply to them and they take care of orders for bookshops etc. Im very grateful for the companies and online school/library suppliers that stock my print books. I love Auckland Libraries because they are fabulous supporters of the Telesa Series, (and because I spend way too much time there reading books when I should be writing.)It is almost impossible to get a self-published book into a chain bookstore. This is where I tell you how much I hate Whitcoulls NZ and you listen with a very polite face but inside you are secretly rolling your eyes, sick to bits of hearing me bash on stupid mega bookstores that won't take a chance on a book that has sold more copies than many of the gleaming "artsy" books by other NZ authors - just because it doesnt have the magic stamp of a traditional publisher's approval. And if I'm really in a wild mood, I then tell you that according to the Booksellers NZ professionals, "good sales of a fiction title would be around 3,000 copies" and I stamp my foot and yell at the Whitcoulls NZ management, MY BOOK HAS SOLD WAY MORE THAN THAT, SO THERE! And you try not to show me how much you wish you could run away and not have to listen to my ranting. But indie bookshops are great. And Paper Plus NZ is WONDERFUL and I encourage you all to shop there. All the time. Because unlike stupid Whitcoulls they do stock my books. So please go into a Paper Plus today and hug somebody. Bake them cookies, tell them how fabulous they are for supporting Pacific literature, even when its self-published (and has words like 'dalashious' and 'aikae' in it. And too many descriptions of glistening, rippling brown boy muscles.)
When trying to decide on doing print books, consider your target audience. The initial audience for Telesa is of course, Samoans and then all brown/Pacific people in general and then fabulous white/multi-hued people who enjoy a paranormal romance that doesnt have vampires in it. This meant we needed print books for Samoa because most readers there are not getting e-books. The two Samoa's have been shamahzing when it comes to my books, so supportive and encouraging. In (the small town) of Apia alone, there are ten different stores which stock my books and the last time I did a book signing there, hundreds of people waited in line to shove past me and meet Ezra Taylor to get their book.
- To make your book available in print worldwide, you publish it through Creatspace Amazon. This is a print on demand company. You sign up for free. You upload your book and the cover, also for free. You click publish. (For free.) It then shows up on the Amazon sites for the USA, the UK etc. When a customer buys a print copy, Createspace prints ONE and posts it to them. You get a royalty cut. Did I mention all that was free for you the author? This means you dont have to invest money into printing lots of books (that will sit in your garage and get moldy.) Also, it means an author like me can write on a rock/in a coconut tree/lying on a beach/floating by a waterfall (and all the other silly places that silly people who believe in stereotypes assume that I write from) and still have her book available to the world and I dont have to pay crazy amounts to post it to people. All those people in Alaska/California/Utah etc that have print copies of my books, got them through Createspace. Lots of people in Australia got them there too. Which is why I cant sign them for you, no matter how nicely you ask me to.
The cool thing about Createspace is that you can purchase your own print books at the bare bones production cost, no matter how few you buy - and have them shipped wherever you want. If you only want to publish your book so you can get a few copies for your family or friends, this is a great way to do it. English teachers - its also a cool way to publish a collection of your student's creative writing and have each student put in five dollars to get their very own hard copy of their very own words in print. Big Daughter writes poetry and I'm going to help her get her collection up onto Createspace so we can get her words "in print". (Christmas present alert for all my family members...LOL)
4. E-books. I publish the Telesa Series digitally on Amazon but there are other places you can do it. Its a simple process. You convert your Word document to e-book format, upload it, upload your cover and then hit the publish button. Amazon pays you a 70% royalty for books that are priced over $2.99, so for every e-copy sold of Telesa, I get about $2.09. In my wild dreams, I sell hundreds...thousands of e-copies every week and dine on steak&lobster every other night with three different desserts to follow. (I also look like Naomi Campbell in my dreams and Thor is whisking me away to holiday in Asgard. Go figure.) But the reality is much different....*sigh*
E-books are wonderful though. And they are most definitely the fastest, cheapest and easiest way to take our Pacific stories to a global audience. You can pay a formatter to prep your manuscript. The most recent quote I got for this service was $15 USD. I learned how to do it all myself by studying this book:
Self-Printed, The Sane Person's Guide to Self Publishing by Catherine Ryan Howard.
Its only $4.99 for the ebook on Amazon and I recommend you get it if you want to get your writing published.
There ya have it! That's my wannabe-helpful list for those of you with a publishing dream. What else would you like to know? Ask me in the comments section and I will try to answer or at least direct you to where I think you can find out.
January 22, 2013
He's Taking Over the World.
I did something stupid and bought Big Son the latest Halo game. I told myself he would finish it in one week and that would be that. Ha. I should have done my research first. Because yes, Big Son finished every level in Halo4 in one week. But then he hooked up with the entire world that is playing Halo4 online and now he's lost in a world of gamers that involves him sitting there with a headset on, muttering to his Clan. Or his Tribe. Or his Secret Combination of Gadianton Robbers. Or whatever they call it.
If you're as ignorant as I was - let me enlighten you. Before you too are as dumb as me and get YOUR kid Halo4. And a broadband connection. Apparently, one can link to anyone and everyone who is playing Halo4, form alliances, play against other evil alliances and work one's way up the rankings so that one can eventually achieve WORLD DOMINATION. And be the King of Halo4. It means Big Son rushes to get all his chores done so he can put his war gear on, park his skinny butt in front of the giant screen and plot world domination strategies. (I find it personally offensive that this child can eat the way he does and SIT in front of the tv as much as he does and yet not gain an ounce. While all I have to do is look at a picture of a donut and have it go straight to my hips.) He has a gamer tag name. And converses with other gamer tag named individuals. And all of them are entered in the Halo4 Infinity Challenge. If you're awesome enough and make it to the top 200 in the universe, then you get to enter the finals with a bucketload of fantabulous prizes.
Big Son is overjoyed to inform me that, "Mum, I am in the top tier ranking of the Infinity Challenge!!!" He seemed disappointed that I did not fall to the ground in a stupor of amazement at this news.
Really son? I'm supposed to be excited and proud about this achievement? Are you for real?
Big Son is the very first child I ever grew which means he got the very best (and worst) of my parenting enthusiasm. I think about his SHAMAHZING Halo4 Infinity Challenge prowess and I remember the hours I spent with earphones stuck to my pregnant watermelon-belly so his unborn self could sprout genius brain matter by listening to Mozart. The sleepless nights I read him Wordsworth, Shakespeare and Keats while he consumed endless amounts of milk. The looooong afternoons dedicated to teaching him multiplication tables and spelling lists. The evenings I read him not one, not two, but the ENTIRE FREAKIN SEVEN BOOK SERIES of Harry Potter, one after the other. I remember all the days I volunteered as a Parent Helper in his Grade Two classroom - official explanation was because I was an enthusiastic mum who cared about education but the real reason was because I wanted to spy on the kids that were possibly bullying my shrimp'ish, overly bright, overly loudmouthed child. (And then maybe, just maybe I wanted to secretly whack one of those aforementioned bullying kids...just maybe.) I was the mum who forbade television and spent thousands on books. I was the mum who hoped for great, fantabulous things from her fantabulous child, taking over the world type things! Yay!
Yeah, I remember all these things as I see Big Son strategize with his invisible global Halo4 Alliance - and I'm so-NOT excited. This is not how I envisioned he would take over the world.
January 8, 2013
I am Enough.
I blinked and 2012 streaked naked through my life, my messy house. And then it was gone. Just like that. Hello 2013!
Right, so I'm going to do something revolutionary (for me) this year. I am not going to start the new year making a list of all the things I hate about myself and how to fix them. Lists for how to be prettier, nicer, smarter, skinnier, friendlier, wiser, neater and all the other kinds of stupid'er things I'm supposed to be in fantasy land. Ha. I am NOT even going to make any fitness and weight loss goals. I am not going to commit to running in any 102km relays. I am NOT going to visualize how happy I will be when I lose twenty pounds. Or get boob implants. Liposuction. A nip. Tuck. Botox. I'm not even going to waste a single minute cursing the science research/medical industry that wont invest money and effort into devising a pill that gives you instant boob implants, liposuction, plastic surgery and botox. A painless, simple, cheap pill. I'm not going to knock down Jenny Craig's door the minute they open after the New Year holiday for cardboard food I will hate eating. Or buy an insanely overpriced gym membership to a gym I will hate going to.
No. Not wasting a breath on any of that crap this year.
Because this is the year that I turn forty thirty-six. I am not a simpering, eyelash-batting, breathy-voiced teenager freaking out over acne and wondering whether some cute boy likes me. And I am not a self-obsessed, self-possessed, party-going, table-dancing, skank mini-skirt wearing twenty-something year old either. Or a people-pleasing yes-kid starving for affirmation.
I am a WOMAN, dammit. A 5"10, CENSORED pound woman who's given birth to four children and tried to stay sane while raising five. A big, brown Polynesian woman with big hips, bold thighs, and lush curves in unwanted unexpected places. I've got centipede pattern stitch scars across my non-existent ab's from triple c-sections. And whispered tiger stripe stretch marks everywhere else that tell their story of baby growing. Breasts that have nourished life - and bled for it. Arms that have rocked a crying child a thousand times, a thousand nights. Hands that have labored over chocolate cakes, kids homework from hell, hair braiding, kids' eczema, cleaned up puke, poop, paint and parties, given hugs (and yeah, maybe these hands have pinched naughty kids a few times too...wielded a salu...possibly)
I am a mother with a loud voice who can laugh with her children, cry with them and fight for them. I am a wife with a patient heart who knows how to love through the good, the bad and the ugly times. I am a daughter who knows that the best way to love her parents - is from a distance - with carefully constructed fences of self-built self-worth. I am a sister who's made mistakes - and is learning from them. I am a teacher who knows how to make learning a journey of discovery with her students. I am an author who writes Pasifika love stories - and loves it. I am blessed. I am grateful.
I am all these things and more. I am me and I am not going to waste time on trying to be anything different. This quote from a very wise woman, Marjorie Hinckley is perfect, “We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives. We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us. We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something. We have to learn to be content with what we are .” I think I am finally ready to stop trying to prove myself.
This year, I will not be driven by self-loathing. This year I will endeavour to incorporate into my life - more of those elements that uplift, energize and inspire me. For example, I hate running (and dieting). With a passion. But I love love love dancing. (and eating.) With a passion. This year I'm going to sign up for fun stuff like Hot Hula and also finally learn how to tango. (hopefully the Hot Man will agree to sign up to be my Antonio-Banderas-dance partner!) I'm going to make the time to prepare the foods that I love and take a cooking class so I can stop eating cans of tuna for dinner followed by three different kinds of cake (since thats all I know how to make with any kind of skill...) Bring on the seafood extravaganza menu!
I want to (finally) learn to swim. Go to a Coldplay concert. Meet up with fabulous author friends at the RT Convention in the US. Write more books about lots of luscious, bold Pasifika women (and beautiful hot guys...of course) Take the Fab5 to Disneyland. Get my NZ driver's license so I can actually drive OUTSIDE West Auckland, see more of New Zealand with my family. Get out of my hermit cave more. I will try new things and search for new experiences that will bring joy to my life and the lives of those I love.
My resolutions for 2013? To be fierce, fiery and bold - in person and not just on paper. To love better, dance and laugh more. To be content with me.
To say, 'I am enough.' And mean it.
What do you hope for from YOUR 2013?
Right, so I'm going to do something revolutionary (for me) this year. I am not going to start the new year making a list of all the things I hate about myself and how to fix them. Lists for how to be prettier, nicer, smarter, skinnier, friendlier, wiser, neater and all the other kinds of stupid'er things I'm supposed to be in fantasy land. Ha. I am NOT even going to make any fitness and weight loss goals. I am not going to commit to running in any 102km relays. I am NOT going to visualize how happy I will be when I lose twenty pounds. Or get boob implants. Liposuction. A nip. Tuck. Botox. I'm not even going to waste a single minute cursing the science research/medical industry that wont invest money and effort into devising a pill that gives you instant boob implants, liposuction, plastic surgery and botox. A painless, simple, cheap pill. I'm not going to knock down Jenny Craig's door the minute they open after the New Year holiday for cardboard food I will hate eating. Or buy an insanely overpriced gym membership to a gym I will hate going to.
No. Not wasting a breath on any of that crap this year.
Because this is the year that I turn forty thirty-six. I am not a simpering, eyelash-batting, breathy-voiced teenager freaking out over acne and wondering whether some cute boy likes me. And I am not a self-obsessed, self-possessed, party-going, table-dancing, skank mini-skirt wearing twenty-something year old either. Or a people-pleasing yes-kid starving for affirmation.
I am a WOMAN, dammit. A 5"10, CENSORED pound woman who's given birth to four children and tried to stay sane while raising five. A big, brown Polynesian woman with big hips, bold thighs, and lush curves in unwanted unexpected places. I've got centipede pattern stitch scars across my non-existent ab's from triple c-sections. And whispered tiger stripe stretch marks everywhere else that tell their story of baby growing. Breasts that have nourished life - and bled for it. Arms that have rocked a crying child a thousand times, a thousand nights. Hands that have labored over chocolate cakes, kids homework from hell, hair braiding, kids' eczema, cleaned up puke, poop, paint and parties, given hugs (and yeah, maybe these hands have pinched naughty kids a few times too...wielded a salu...possibly)
I am a mother with a loud voice who can laugh with her children, cry with them and fight for them. I am a wife with a patient heart who knows how to love through the good, the bad and the ugly times. I am a daughter who knows that the best way to love her parents - is from a distance - with carefully constructed fences of self-built self-worth. I am a sister who's made mistakes - and is learning from them. I am a teacher who knows how to make learning a journey of discovery with her students. I am an author who writes Pasifika love stories - and loves it. I am blessed. I am grateful.
I am all these things and more. I am me and I am not going to waste time on trying to be anything different. This quote from a very wise woman, Marjorie Hinckley is perfect, “We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives. We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us. We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something. We have to learn to be content with what we are .” I think I am finally ready to stop trying to prove myself.
This year, I will not be driven by self-loathing. This year I will endeavour to incorporate into my life - more of those elements that uplift, energize and inspire me. For example, I hate running (and dieting). With a passion. But I love love love dancing. (and eating.) With a passion. This year I'm going to sign up for fun stuff like Hot Hula and also finally learn how to tango. (hopefully the Hot Man will agree to sign up to be my Antonio-Banderas-dance partner!) I'm going to make the time to prepare the foods that I love and take a cooking class so I can stop eating cans of tuna for dinner followed by three different kinds of cake (since thats all I know how to make with any kind of skill...) Bring on the seafood extravaganza menu!
I want to (finally) learn to swim. Go to a Coldplay concert. Meet up with fabulous author friends at the RT Convention in the US. Write more books about lots of luscious, bold Pasifika women (and beautiful hot guys...of course) Take the Fab5 to Disneyland. Get my NZ driver's license so I can actually drive OUTSIDE West Auckland, see more of New Zealand with my family. Get out of my hermit cave more. I will try new things and search for new experiences that will bring joy to my life and the lives of those I love.
My resolutions for 2013? To be fierce, fiery and bold - in person and not just on paper. To love better, dance and laugh more. To be content with me.
To say, 'I am enough.' And mean it.
What do you hope for from YOUR 2013?
January 6, 2013
Somebody was Killed in my House Last Night
Somebody was butchered in my bathroom. Hacked to pieces in gruesome fashion.
Or at least that's what it looks like. Red-stained gloves, red spatters all over the floor, the basin, the unlucky bathtub - even the mirror has got slaughter evidence on it. It's not pretty. And it's not coming off.
This is what happens when a woman is bored at ten pm. When she thinks, "New Year...New ME!" When she comes across a box of hair dye that she bought on sale over a year ago (because she saw a pic of Rihanna's violent red hair and asked herself, 'why can't I be bold and vivid like that? And then she came to her senses and stored the box in the cupboard and didnt think about it again. Until last night.)
So there I was. Tired of looking like me. Tired of being sensible and practical. So what did I do? I (a total hair-dye novice who has NEVER colored her hair before) decided to live on the edge and Just Do It. Bring on the magic.
Big Son was the only child awake to witness my exciting adventure. He told me I was being stupid."Don't do it mum. All your hair will probably fall out. Or the color will look hideous on you."
Big Son doesn't get it. Living life on the edge REQUIRES a little stupidity. Heck, if it doesn't work, I can just shave all my hair off and be exciting and bold in a Vin Diesel kinda way. So I ignored him. (That's why we have children anyway. So we can ignore them.)
I read the instructions carefully. I followed them. I sat for 30 minutes with that stuff on my head. Waiting for magic. Big Son was in hysterics. Taking pictures. "You look like a zombie! Like Darth Maul with hair! Like you work at Spookers! blah blah."
I ignored him. I was waiting for the magic.
Then it was time to unleash the new me. A vivid, violet red-haired new me. I washed my hair.
And then I wanted to sue the Schwarzkopf Hair company because they neglect to tell novice idiots that:
1. This dye will stain your skin. Try your bestest NOT to get it on your scalp. ( Or your face, your forehead, your neck, your fingers, your feet...) ONLY put it on your hair.
2. This dye will also stain your house. Try your bestest NOT to get it on the floor, the basin, the mirror, the bathtub, the floormat, the wall... ONLY put it on your hair.
Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking - you're thinking 'but Lani, its permanent hair dye, didnt you think of those things before you slathered it all over your head and splattered it everywhere in your bathroom?' No, I wasnt thinking, okay? Because I was being exciting. Bold. A daredevil. Unleashing the new me.
I washed my hair. I dried it. And there's something freakishly wrong. The dye has stained my head. And there's red marks on my neck and my back (that may or may not look like nasty skank love bites). There's violent red stuff all over the bathroom that is stubbornly refusing to be scrubbed off.
But my hair?
Is still brown.
Conclusion? The New Me is an idiot. That looks like Darth Maul with hair.
Or at least that's what it looks like. Red-stained gloves, red spatters all over the floor, the basin, the unlucky bathtub - even the mirror has got slaughter evidence on it. It's not pretty. And it's not coming off.
This is what happens when a woman is bored at ten pm. When she thinks, "New Year...New ME!" When she comes across a box of hair dye that she bought on sale over a year ago (because she saw a pic of Rihanna's violent red hair and asked herself, 'why can't I be bold and vivid like that? And then she came to her senses and stored the box in the cupboard and didnt think about it again. Until last night.)
So there I was. Tired of looking like me. Tired of being sensible and practical. So what did I do? I (a total hair-dye novice who has NEVER colored her hair before) decided to live on the edge and Just Do It. Bring on the magic.
Big Son was the only child awake to witness my exciting adventure. He told me I was being stupid."Don't do it mum. All your hair will probably fall out. Or the color will look hideous on you."
Big Son doesn't get it. Living life on the edge REQUIRES a little stupidity. Heck, if it doesn't work, I can just shave all my hair off and be exciting and bold in a Vin Diesel kinda way. So I ignored him. (That's why we have children anyway. So we can ignore them.)
I read the instructions carefully. I followed them. I sat for 30 minutes with that stuff on my head. Waiting for magic. Big Son was in hysterics. Taking pictures. "You look like a zombie! Like Darth Maul with hair! Like you work at Spookers! blah blah."
I ignored him. I was waiting for the magic.
Then it was time to unleash the new me. A vivid, violet red-haired new me. I washed my hair.
And then I wanted to sue the Schwarzkopf Hair company because they neglect to tell novice idiots that:
1. This dye will stain your skin. Try your bestest NOT to get it on your scalp. ( Or your face, your forehead, your neck, your fingers, your feet...) ONLY put it on your hair.
2. This dye will also stain your house. Try your bestest NOT to get it on the floor, the basin, the mirror, the bathtub, the floormat, the wall... ONLY put it on your hair.
Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking - you're thinking 'but Lani, its permanent hair dye, didnt you think of those things before you slathered it all over your head and splattered it everywhere in your bathroom?' No, I wasnt thinking, okay? Because I was being exciting. Bold. A daredevil. Unleashing the new me.
I washed my hair. I dried it. And there's something freakishly wrong. The dye has stained my head. And there's red marks on my neck and my back (that may or may not look like nasty skank love bites). There's violent red stuff all over the bathroom that is stubbornly refusing to be scrubbed off.
But my hair?
Is still brown.
Conclusion? The New Me is an idiot. That looks like Darth Maul with hair.
January 5, 2013
NZ Telesa Readers Only - Get in Quick
NZ readers can pre-order a limited number of SIGNED copies of Daniel's Novella here. They will be available in New Zealand on January 30th and posted out to you. The novella is in paperback format and 146 pages. Please indicate on the order form what name you would like your book signed to.
Cost - $20.00 NZD (This includes postage within New Zealand.)
Cost - $20.00 NZD (This includes postage within New Zealand.)
December 23, 2012
Christmas - Moments of Joy
In two more sleeps it will be Christmas 2012. Bella has been counting on her fingers and reminds me every half hour. Her Dad took her to buy presents for everyone and she can't wait for people to open them. (Even though each person already know what she's bought for them because she accidentally whispered it super loud when that person was standing right there...) She keeps reminding me what Santa needs. What his reindeer need. She wants to know when are we going to bake Christmas cookies and deliver them to all our friends? (Yes, yes I am aware that this family has yet to bake a damn thing this December and very soon, if I'm not careful - the Christmas Baking Gift Delivery will become the Happy New Year's Baking Delivery....or the Valentines Day baking Gift Delivery...So whats your point?! ) She is excited and happy. And that is the way it should be. Because she's five years old and that's what a child should feel at this time of year.
But I'm not really feeling excited and happy. I'm still sad that families in Connecticut, USA are having funerals for twenty children the same age and size as my Bella because somebody shot them in their elementary school with a military style assault rifle. And lots of other children the same age and size as my Bella who were in that same school that day had to endure that experience.
And I'm sad that at home in Samoa, so many families are still camping in evacuation centers because their homes got wiped out in Cyclone Evan. Some are mourning the loss of loved ones. Some are trying to salvage their personal belongings - and have to see neighbors walking past wearing their clothes, making off with their tools and appliances. 'Finders keepers, losers weepers.' I'm sad that so many small businesses are still cleaning out the mud and sewage from their stores, racking up all the losses from this disaster and trying not to go bankrupt, trying to decide whether or not they have the resources, the will to rebuild. To try again. Businesses like Coaches Corner, Pacific Jewell, JN Woodworkers and so many more. I'm sad that some homes still have no running water or electricity and I'm worried to hear about the growing number of typhoid cases.
So yes, two more sleeps to Christmas and there is much to be sad about. This will be a more restrained celebration this year. No excesses. Or over-the-top frivolous stuff. It doesnt feel right to drown in food and gifts and festive gatherings - when so many are facing great challenges. Instead, I am sad, and in that sadness, I am reflective. I am grateful.
Why?
Because this week my little sister had a baby. There were some complications after the birth and my sister required surgery but she and the baby are home now, resting and recovering. I haven't met my new niece yet because they live in the Cook Islands, but as I look at the photo of this child, so perfectly beautiful and serene in her newness - I am grateful. For the reminder that even though lots of bad things happen, life can still be entangled with moments of joy. Sacredness. For the reminder that Christmas (for many) is about honoring the birth and precious gift of another baby, born long ago with a divine mission. So yes, there may not have been any herald angels singing over the Cook Islands for Emaraina - but she reminded me of celestial glory.
Because shortly after finding out that his daughter Emilie was one of the victims in the Sandy Hook shooting, Robert Parker, made this statement of love and compassion, "I'd like to offer our deepest condolences to all the families who were directly affected...this includes the family of the shooter and I want you to know that our love and support go out to you as well...my daughter would be one of the first ones giving her love and support to all of the victims because that's the kind of person she is." I don't know if I could have that kind of strength, testimony and forgiveness had that been Bella. His example moves me. Reminds me that in the face of darkness, it is still possible to see the light - if one is looking for it - with faith and an eternal perspective. A grassroots campaign started this week on Twitter and has spread to many parts of the world called #26Acts of Kindness where individuals commit to rendering 'random' acts of service and generosity in memory of the slain, with only the plea to "Pass it Forward". I've been tracking some of the service acts as they are posted online and they are diverse and widespread. Meaningful. Parker made an emotional plea for that spirit to be the legacy of this tragedy. "Let it not turn into something that defines us, but something that inspires us to be better, to be more compassionate, and more humble people." I am grateful for this reminder.
Because after they lost everything in the cyclone and only escaped with their lives by climbing on the roof with their small children - Vanessa Nieuwenhuizen wrote, "We are starting to feel that Heavenly Father has a better plan for us. We so appreciate all your prayers....love and concerns. We really do. We no longer cry over the things we have lost...instead...we cry because of the immense support from all of you. So thank you. In return, I express great love and continue to pray for Heaven's blessings to be upon each of you. Here's us Wishing you all the happiness in this Festive Season!" It is this kind of spirit that weathers storms, carries one through trials and makes it possible to still hope for the joy of a Christ-focused Christmas. I am grateful for this reminder.
Because of these things, I will rejoice in my daughter's happiness this Christmas as she hangs up stockings and puts out carrots for reindeer. I will watch her eyes light up when she helps her brother open her gift to him - because she cant stand to wait another minute for him to (pretend) to be surprised and super-gleeful about the deoderant she bought for him. And I will smile a lot when children make a mess opening presents and make lots of noise playing with them.
But most of all, in two more sleeps, I will be grateful for the sacred opportunity to be a mother and to have my husband and children with me in peaceful, safe surroundings. Grateful for the gift of the Savior. Grateful for all that reminds us to be better, more compassionate and more humble people.
It is my hope and wish that your Christmas be the same.
Manuia le Kerisimasi.
O Holy Night - A Song for Your Christmas
But I'm not really feeling excited and happy. I'm still sad that families in Connecticut, USA are having funerals for twenty children the same age and size as my Bella because somebody shot them in their elementary school with a military style assault rifle. And lots of other children the same age and size as my Bella who were in that same school that day had to endure that experience.
And I'm sad that at home in Samoa, so many families are still camping in evacuation centers because their homes got wiped out in Cyclone Evan. Some are mourning the loss of loved ones. Some are trying to salvage their personal belongings - and have to see neighbors walking past wearing their clothes, making off with their tools and appliances. 'Finders keepers, losers weepers.' I'm sad that so many small businesses are still cleaning out the mud and sewage from their stores, racking up all the losses from this disaster and trying not to go bankrupt, trying to decide whether or not they have the resources, the will to rebuild. To try again. Businesses like Coaches Corner, Pacific Jewell, JN Woodworkers and so many more. I'm sad that some homes still have no running water or electricity and I'm worried to hear about the growing number of typhoid cases.
So yes, two more sleeps to Christmas and there is much to be sad about. This will be a more restrained celebration this year. No excesses. Or over-the-top frivolous stuff. It doesnt feel right to drown in food and gifts and festive gatherings - when so many are facing great challenges. Instead, I am sad, and in that sadness, I am reflective. I am grateful.
Why?
Because this week my little sister had a baby. There were some complications after the birth and my sister required surgery but she and the baby are home now, resting and recovering. I haven't met my new niece yet because they live in the Cook Islands, but as I look at the photo of this child, so perfectly beautiful and serene in her newness - I am grateful. For the reminder that even though lots of bad things happen, life can still be entangled with moments of joy. Sacredness. For the reminder that Christmas (for many) is about honoring the birth and precious gift of another baby, born long ago with a divine mission. So yes, there may not have been any herald angels singing over the Cook Islands for Emaraina - but she reminded me of celestial glory.
Because shortly after finding out that his daughter Emilie was one of the victims in the Sandy Hook shooting, Robert Parker, made this statement of love and compassion, "I'd like to offer our deepest condolences to all the families who were directly affected...this includes the family of the shooter and I want you to know that our love and support go out to you as well...my daughter would be one of the first ones giving her love and support to all of the victims because that's the kind of person she is." I don't know if I could have that kind of strength, testimony and forgiveness had that been Bella. His example moves me. Reminds me that in the face of darkness, it is still possible to see the light - if one is looking for it - with faith and an eternal perspective. A grassroots campaign started this week on Twitter and has spread to many parts of the world called #26Acts of Kindness where individuals commit to rendering 'random' acts of service and generosity in memory of the slain, with only the plea to "Pass it Forward". I've been tracking some of the service acts as they are posted online and they are diverse and widespread. Meaningful. Parker made an emotional plea for that spirit to be the legacy of this tragedy. "Let it not turn into something that defines us, but something that inspires us to be better, to be more compassionate, and more humble people." I am grateful for this reminder.
Because after they lost everything in the cyclone and only escaped with their lives by climbing on the roof with their small children - Vanessa Nieuwenhuizen wrote, "We are starting to feel that Heavenly Father has a better plan for us. We so appreciate all your prayers....love and concerns. We really do. We no longer cry over the things we have lost...instead...we cry because of the immense support from all of you. So thank you. In return, I express great love and continue to pray for Heaven's blessings to be upon each of you. Here's us Wishing you all the happiness in this Festive Season!" It is this kind of spirit that weathers storms, carries one through trials and makes it possible to still hope for the joy of a Christ-focused Christmas. I am grateful for this reminder.
Because of these things, I will rejoice in my daughter's happiness this Christmas as she hangs up stockings and puts out carrots for reindeer. I will watch her eyes light up when she helps her brother open her gift to him - because she cant stand to wait another minute for him to (pretend) to be surprised and super-gleeful about the deoderant she bought for him. And I will smile a lot when children make a mess opening presents and make lots of noise playing with them.
But most of all, in two more sleeps, I will be grateful for the sacred opportunity to be a mother and to have my husband and children with me in peaceful, safe surroundings. Grateful for the gift of the Savior. Grateful for all that reminds us to be better, more compassionate and more humble people.
It is my hope and wish that your Christmas be the same.
Manuia le Kerisimasi.
O Holy Night - A Song for Your Christmas
