Lani Wendt Young's Blog, page 8

Random Lies and Truths

      Me and the super fabulous and funny Gagaumalo Irene Nautu in Brisbane. 


I was at church and someone said, "You haven't blogged since April 19th. When are you going to blog again? I'm suffering from Sleepless in Samoa withdrawal symptoms." It's very nice to be missed, thank you Clint! So here I am back on the blog wagon with a quiz for everyone. A lot has been happening in the last month but ONE of the following items on the list is a LIE. Which is it? The first person to identify the lie scores a print copy of TELESA from me! (yay...)

1. I finished writing the second TELESA book, 'When Water Burns'. It's now in the capable hands of my editor and fingers crossed she doesn't hate it or find too many things wrong with it.
2. There was a p-lab in the house across the street from us. We were woken up at 5am by a SWAT team raid with guns, sniffer dogs going nuts, fire trucks, police everywhere and a decontamination unit for everyone who had to go in the house.
3. I met star rugby players Digby Ioane and Quade Cooper at the Brisbane TELESA launch and I felt like a giant next to them. A very large, very splodgy, very shiny green giant.
4. As a kid, I promised myself I would NEVER go to Australia because I'm psycho scared of snakes. And mildly psycho scared of sharks, crocodiles and killer spiders. But I went to Australia last week and I didnt see a single snake, shark, crocodile, spider. OR a single kangaroo either.
5. Big Son went on a three day mountain biking trip and crashed into every single tree, bush and curve on the route. And he had a very very sore butt. And he never ever wants to go mountain biking again.
6. I quit eating Eclipse mints. Finally.
7. Ezra Taylor told a crowd of two hundred people that "Daniel" is pretty much "perfect" and the only thing the two of them have in common, is that they both play rugby. Have tattoos. And abs. ( Ok, he didn't say the abs bit - the super cool MC doing the interview said that.) Ezra does deserve to get an award though, for being the mostest patient and accomodating cover model on the TELESA planet because not once did he get annoyed with the hyper-rabid-fan attention at the Brisbane Launch. (Security!)
8. The most amazingest cupcakes in the world have frangipanis on them and they're made by an amazing cook called Netta.
9. Big Daughter read the first few chapters of 'When Water Burns' and told me "this is not suitable for young readers. I think you should cut out a lot of things or else nobody will let their kids read it." Excuse me?! Like what stuff? "Like all the kissing. Do they have to keep kissing?!"
10. The Hot Man was embarassed because women in Australia kept exclaiming, "You must be the Hot Man! I read your wife's blog..."
11. I wore disgustingly high heeled shoes to a book launch and DIDN'T TAKE THEM OFF. At least not until the end when nobody was looking.
12. I had a Diet Coke Tower at a place called the Hog's Breath Cafe. And I wish I had one for my house. (hint hint to the universe...)
13. I think a GPS for your car is the stupidest thing ever. Especially when they get you lost for two hours on the way from the airport to your hotel.
14. I re-defined the word SLEEPLESS in the last few weeks of frantic writing. All night writing and writing for two days straight. I now, never want to write another book again. Ever. (Hopefully this feeling will go away soon. Or else book three in the series is in big trouble.)

Telesa - The Creation Story

There are many tellings of the Creation Story in Pacific mythology. To celebrate my birthday (yay!), I'm sharing this piece from 'When Water Burns': the Creation Story - according to Telesa legend. If you've ever wondered about the origins of these fierce protectors of the earth, then this will answer your musings!
In the beginning there was darkness, a great expanse. Tangaloa-lagi moved upon the face of the darkness  and after a time, the god grew tired and rested. And where the god stood, there grew up a rock. Then Tangaloa-lagi said to the rock, “Be thou split up” and hit the rock with one hand.  It split open and the earth was brought forth on the one side and the sea was brought forth on the other. And the earth glowed red with fire and the sea enveloped it and water burned at its edges. Tangaloa-lagi reached down and took of earth and mixed it with water, fashioning it with godly hands to make Man. And then the god breathed life on that which had been made.
“Let the Spirit and the Heart and Will and Thought go on and join together inside the Man.”
And they joined together there and Man became intelligent. And Tangaloa-lagi joined Man to ele-ele the earth, through the creation of Woman who would be the fatu, the heart. ‘Fatu-ma-le-Ele-ele’ meaning Heart and Earth. 
“Let Earth give nourishment to Man and let Man always treasure her as his heart beats with the red blood of life. Let Earth be the rock man stands on to give him strength. The trees that will shelter him. The waters that will sustain him. Let Earth’s fire be the heat that warms him. And in return, let Man be the protector. The guardian.”
But Tangaloa-lagi saw that as Man multiplied and replenished the earth, his heart grew cold and greed ate at it like the poison of the stonefish.  Tangaloa-lagi saw that Man trampled the earth beneath his feet and bowed Woman to his will. Earth’s cries moved Tangaloa-lagi. So again the god of all, took pieces of earth and mixed them with water. But this time, Tangaloa-lagi breathed upon this creation with the raging winds of the expanse. Touched it with the jagged fire that rains from angry skies and made a telesa. She was beautiful. Her name was ‘telesa matagi.’ Sacred one of storms. Air.
Then Tangaloa-lagi cast a fiery net upon the waters and drew forth ocean’s might. The crashing wave. The surging tide that speaks to Masina the moon. And all the living things that swim and creep in the midnight blue depths. All this Tangaloa-lagi fashioned with godly hands into another. She was beautiful. Her name was ‘telesa vasa loloa.’ Sacred one of ocean. Water.
But Tangaloa-lagi was not satisfied. Listening to the cries of ele-ele, feeling of her pain as Man’s heart spurned her, rage filled the god of all things. Reaching deep within Earth’s core, to where molten rock flowed and life pulsed, Tangaloa-lagi brought forth fire and melded it with earth, cooled it with ocean and made ‘telesa fanua afi.’ Sacred one of earth. Fire. She was beautiful. She burned with all the strength of ele-ele. Her heart beat with the fire that would eclipse man’s. He that had betrayed Earth. He that was meant to be the heart but had instead chosen to be the destroyer.
Tangaloa-lagi looked upon what had been created and saw that it was good. “My daughters, yours is a godly trust, an eternal birthright. You will covenant to watch over ele-ele and fill the chasm left by an unfeeling Man and be her heart. You will speak with the voices of wind, water and fire. You will stir man up to a remembrance of his sacred partnership with earth.”
Then Tangaloa-lagi fashioned with godly hands – a carved talisman. The Covenant Bone. Whale bone interlocked with shark tooth. Boar’s tusk encrusted with shimmering iridescent oyster-shell, adorned with black pearl and gleaming river rock. The fierce razor-bite of the swordfish. The soulful deep green promise of jadestone. All these Tangaloa-lagi  interwove to create a talisman of three distinct pieces, which was then washed in the blood of a god, imbuing it with the very essence of Tangaloa-lagi.
“The Covenant Bone will unite the three elements. It will allow the gifts of many to be woven as one, making it possible for the telesa who bears it to wield the gifts of her sisters into one supreme power. For it is only when there is harmony between earth’s gifts, that there can be peace. And life."
Tangaloa-lagi looked upon telesa fanua-afi. “One day, when earth’s greatest dangers threaten - you will be the one to unite your sisters into one covenant. You will be the one chosen to reach out to embrace man once again as the heart. So that all will be as it should. ‘Fatu-ma-le-ele-ele’ You will give your fire so that Man may live. And he will give his heart so that earth may live.”
And thus did Tangaloa-lagi create telesa.
To watch over earth and be the heart that Man refused to be.

An Author Meets a Gladiator.

In the weekend I was a guest speaker at a super awesome conference that targeted Pacific youth in South Auckland. Organized by Accelerating Aotearoa, their aim is to help connect young people with potential careers and training opportunities and other really useful stuff like that. I was honored to be invited and put a lot of time and thought into what I would say, keeping in mind that teenagers are the toughest audiences. Right after pre-schoolers. Because if you're boring, adults are good at pretending to be interested whereas teenagers - will roll their eyes, start texting, do their nails and basically tell you to get lost. 
I had learned my lesson from the Wellington Wardrobe Fiasco though - and dressed for comfort. I had a moment of panic when my GHD fried itself, leaving my hair in a shocking state of untamedness. But I whipped it into Pocohantas braids and was ready to go.
I went. I listened. I learned heaps. I was inspired. And then it was my turn to speak. And I don't think I sucked. Nobody snored. Or threw stuff at me. Or puked in the aisles. I was hopeful that my scintillating words of wisdom would be useful for the young minds of our nation.
And then the next speaker walked to the podium. He looked like this: And all the teenage girls in the room sighed. And sat up straighter. And there was whispering and muffled giggles. And then absolute INTENSELY RAPT AVID CONCENTRATION as he started to speak.  Why? Because they were all seeing this...                    Joseph Naufahu acting in Spartacus .And this,                 Joseph Naufahu acting in Go-Girls. And he talked about working hard to pursue your dreams. (Even in the face of challenges like busting up your knee and ending your sparkling rugby career.) And he challenged everyone to 'unleash your inner Gladiator' because he owns a gym with a gladiator theme. And all the teenager boys were going, 'damn, I wanna be like him...' (and of course the teenager girls were sighing some more.)   And even I was inspired by the 'unleash your gladiator' message. I wanted to run out and do some push-ups right away. And I wished that I had brought my teenagers with me to listen to his message ( and the other speakers as well.) 
BUT, do you think ANYBODY is going to remember a single scintillating word I said after seeing and listening to all of that?!
No. I must glumly concede that a boring writer cannot hope to be scintillating next to a rugbyplayer-turned actor-turned Gladiator. 
What do we learn from this?1. For all future speaking engagements, I must respectfully request, that NO gladiator actors are allowed to speak before me, after me, or anywhere near me. Not if I want to have a hope in hell that anyone will remember anything I say. 2. I must take some attention-grabbing props with me. Like a flame thrower. So I can turn it on for a fiery pyro show and  invite the audience to 'Unleash your creative fire! Just like in Telesa...'3. I really need to do some push-ups. And stop eating Doritos and donuts at midnight.  (Hmm...but then we already knew that one, didn't we?)

What is a Samoan?

                                 Samoans - there's lots of different kinds of us.
Something strange happened to Big Son when we moved to New Zealand. Something that involved a lavalava, the siva and 'real' Samoans. Our children have spent their entire lives in Samoa - interspersed with holidays in Auckland so even though they're technically multiracial mongrels like me and the Hot Man, they are pretty much supposed to be "Samoans."

When we lived in Samoa, Big Son never ever wore a floral lavalava. Not to bed, not to lounge around the house, not to hang out with friends in town. Not ever. He didn't dance the siva. Or speak Samoan where the cool kids could hear him. Or even call himself a Samoan. "What are you then?...Umm, I don't know. Does it matter what I am?"  (For the record, let it be known that I can dance a beautiful siva thank you very much. And I know all the important words in Samoan. And I love lavalava's and puletasi ...they can be very slimming outfits...)


Then we moved here and Big Son started attending a NZ public school. Where he was obviously...not an Asian. Not a white person 'palagi. Not an Indian. Not from the Middle East. Not South African. Not Maori. All of a sudden, Big Son was identified by others as being 'Pacific Islander' - and more specifically, "Samoan."  And other Samoan teenagers, particularly those born and bred here in NZ, have been excited to 'embrace' him as one of them. As a walking, talking expert on all things Samoan.

So what happened? Big Son started speaking Samoan. A lot. Because he found that his fluency was miles better than the other kids and it was 'cool' to speak Samoan. I fell over in shock the day he asked to borrow one of my lavalava's to wear at school. You want to wear a floral piece of cloth around your waist? At school sports day? In front of hundreds of other teenagers? Are you ill? Did aliens eat your brain? No. He wanted to wear Samoan clothing because the other Pacific Islanders thought it was cool to show your identity that way. At RWC time, Big Son took a giant Samoan flag to school. So he could walk around waving it. Even when Manu Samoa lost. And then Big Son joined the Samoan Culture Dance group and comitted to hours of daily practises after school. And all day Saturdays. And overnight camps to practise. In this country, cultural dancing is taken super seriously. (Whereas in Samoa, the most important thing to parents and teachers and most kids - is working your butt off to pass School Certificate and PSSC exams. But then, hey, that's the islands for you...us laid back, underachiever islanders...) But here now, the boy who sneered at the siva when we lived in the land of the siva - now was giving up his precious gym time and afternoon sleeping time and Saturday X-box time - to practise the siva. We went to watch him perform the traditional sasa and slap dance and I was so  proud of him. And thankful that he was having this very cultural experience.

It got me thinking. Identity and belonging can be such complicated things. And what defines you as "Samoan" or whatever other race you may be, actually varies in different countries. Samoans in New Zealand are not the same as Samoans in Samoa. So shoot me for saying it. I have met Samoans here in NZ who have submerged themselves so completely in Samoan "culture and language" that honestly? They would be so out of place in Samoa. Because, umm, I hate to break it to you - we don't talk like that back home. Or even act like that back home.

I am learning new things every day here in NZ. About what it means to be a Pacific Islander in a supposedlly multicultural society. About what it means to be "Samoan" according to the NZ-Samoan definition. The differences and similarities with being "Samoan" in Samoa. And they are not definitions set in stone because culture and customs are an evolving thing. And one is not necessarily better or worse than the other.

But I digress. Back to Big Son. He has gone to Samoa for the school holidays. And he was super stressing out about clothes. 'I need new shorts...I dont have any nice ones to wear when we go places...blah blah blah.'

I said, "Excuse me, why don't you just wear a lavalava when you go out places? You know, like a Samoan does?"

He was horrified. As I knew he would be. "Mum! I cant wear a lavalava when I go out!  None of my friends wear lavalavas when they go to town."

Somehow I dont think Big Son will be dancing the siva in Samoa. Or waving a Samoan flag everywhere he goes. And he definitely won't be wearing a lavalava to town either. Because he's just not that kind of Samoan. At least not when he's in Samoa anyway.
Sleepless in Samoa hit a record 30,000 visits last month. Thanks for keeping me company! If you're looking for a Fantasy Romance read about strong, fierce and proud Pacific women - check out the free sample of TELESA:The Covenant Keeper available on Amazon.

Virtual Online Love

My mother is a powerhouse of creativity and I owe much of who I am - to her. It's no accident that my Telesa series centers around beautiful, strong, vibrant and powerful women because that's the kind of mother I've been blessed with. Both my parents are incredibly supportive of my writing efforts... in their own ways. My Dad tells me everything I do and everything I write - is wonderful. My Mum tells me what's wrong with everything I do and everything I write and then works hard out to help me "fix" things. (I'm always glad when she tries to 'fix' me because that usually involves her giving me something stunning to wear so I won't look so bedraggled.)

So yes, in their own unique ways, my parents are a great support for my writing. Even if the technological mysteries of the electronic book world make no sense to them. My mum only recently discovered how to use Facebook and I still get trans-Pacific-Ocean phonecalls from her, asking me how to upload a photo to her Facebook page...E-books are an enigma to my mother. "They are not 'really real' books, are they?" Case in point:

When I launched my first book, "Pacific Tsunami Galu Afi", my mum gave me a stunning set of silver jewelery that she had designed herself for her Pacific design store, Plantation House.
See here, the bracelet and ring? at the Auckland launch hosted by Auck University. (and ohmigosh, check out the perfectly manicured fingernails - that is a cataclysmic, universe-imploding thing. Rare...so rare.)
And the necklace! (and my beautiful cousin Sina Wendt Moore, President of Auckland PACIFICA.)
 I love my  silver accessories and wear them to death everywhere. Which is really saying a lot because I hate wearing jewelry of any kind. They are a sparkly reminder of my parent's encouragement and support.

When I launched my second book "Telesa: The Covenant Keeper", my mum gave me a pearl shell neckpiece.  Also from Plantation House.
You can kinda see it here with some lovely Telesa readers, at the Wellington launch hosted by the Pacific Studies Dept at Victoria Univ.

I released my third book last week as an electronic book on Amazon: 'Afakasi Woman', a collection of 24 short stories. I don't think my mother was counting on books getting released so quickly. She would probably prefer the more traditional approach where writing a book takes seven years and getting it published takes another seven...That would certainly save money where gifts of expensive Pacific jewelry are concerned.

My mum's response to my book launch news?""Well I'm not giving you any new jewelry for this one because it's not a REAL book, is it?"
Me - "Yes it is. It's got 120 pages and a cover and everything. I'll send you a link and a picture of it."

Her response, "Fine. And then I'll send you an e-picture of a new necklace from Plantation House."

Or maybe an electronic picture of some new rings and bangles. Like this. 
E-pictures of "virtual jewelry gifts." My mum may be new to the world of internet technology - but she's catching on pretty fast.

Sleepless in Samoa hit a record 30,000 visits this month. Thanks for keeping me company! If you're looking for a Fantasy Romance read about strong, fierce and proud Pacific women - check out the free sample of TELESA:The Covenant Keeper available on Amazon.

A piano fell on my head today.

I was sitting in church looking around ( from the depths of the back rows where I always creep in and hide) when suddenly it hit me.
I've been coming to this particular congregation for a year now. A whole year. And I don't even know who half of these people are. In fact, I dont even know who a QUARTER of these people are. There's that nice elderly gentleman who always smiles and shakes my hand. Don't know his name. There's that cheery, beautiful young woman who never ever forgets to say hello to me and all my assorted rabble. Don't know her name either. There's that very kind lady who teaches my very naughty child and still hasn't tried to run me over in the parking lot as punishment for raising aforementioned naughty child. Don't know her name. There's the Youth Leader who organizes super fun activities for my teenagers every week and ensures they get a ride home. Couldnt tell ya a single personal thing about her. Everywhere I turn there are people who have gone out of their way to be nice to me and my (far from) fabulous children - and yet, I have no clue what their names are. I wouldn't be able to pick them out of a police lineup. Or nominate them as "people I would most like to survive the zombie apocalypse with". Or ask for their help if I was locked out of heaven in the last days. Because I know zippity-doo zilch about them.

It was like a piano had fallen on my head. This is just not good enough.  I know I'm a hermit. I know I'm rather anti-social. I know that I have loser interpersonal skills. But after 52 weeks worth of Sundays with very welcoming, friendly, supportive and fun people - I should be better at this. But I'm not. Because I keep thinking that "I'm going home soon. I'm not going to be here for very long. This is not my REAL church/neighborhood/community. I don't REALLY belong here. My REAL church/neighborhood/community is at home in Samoa." So therefore I don't REALLY need to make an effort. Because why bother?

I realize that I have to accept the facts. Right here, right now, I live in Auckland, NZ. And even though Im constantly plotting and conniving for ways to move home to Samoa next week, I have to deal with the reality of my NOW.  I need to stop moping and using homesickness as an excuse for (rude) hermit-ness.

You watch me. Next Sunday, I'm going to be a changed woman. The sign I usually wear that says, "GET AWAY FROM ME" will be left at home. I'm going to radiate cheerful friendliness, hug everyone and give them air-kisses. I shall smile more than a toothpaste ad. Engrave people's names and faces in stone. Or at least write names down unobtrusively in the back of my scriptures. I will invite strangers to my house for dinner so that we can make friends. And have my new life's mantra tattooed on my forehead - "Hi, I'm Lani and I know how to be nice. I promise."

When I started writing this blog post about the New and Improved Me, I was feeling very enthusiastic. But now that I've reached the end of it, I just feel tired. The very thought of being cheerfully friendly is exhausting.

People like me should never move countries. Neighborhoods. Or church congregations. We should just stay in our caves, write books and invent people to be friends with.

Sleepless in Samoa hit a record 30,000 visits this month. Thanks for keeping me company! If you're looking for a Fantasy Romance read about strong, fierce and proud Pacific women - check out the free sample of TELESA:The Covenant Keeper available on Amazon.

I got Clamped. And I Didn't like it.

                        What I wish I did today...
I am so mad that I could spit flames.  This morning I rushed into town to deliver a book order to a local store that stocks TELESA. I parked my car where I always do. In the Parking Lot marked PRIVATE PARKING ONLY. Because its always empty. And it's the only parking available for miles. And because I'm only running inside the shop for five minutes. And I always park there, dammnit.
As I got out of my car, I noticed a man sitting in another car some distance away, giving me shifty eyed looks. My paranoia radar beeped. Car jacker. Mugger. Thief. Weirdo. I double checked my car was locked and ran into the store extra fast. Delivered the books. Ran out again.  What the hell?!
I had been clamped. And not in a Fifty Shades Christian Grey kinda way. In a big ole steel lock on my tires kinda way. A bright orange card told me off for parking illegally, gave me a number to call and be ready to pay $200 cash to get my car unclamped. Double dammnit. If I'd had a steel cutting blade on me I would have used it. Instead I  had to sprint up the road to withdraw cash. Then I called the number. Two seconds later, the shifty-eyed creep drove up and smiled at me. This time he was wearing a badge and carrying an official looking receipt book.  I wanted to kill him. So bad. Anger and evil outrage was at war with my deeply ingrained sense of Samoan respect and need for deference to authority and ticket issuers.
"I can't believe you did that. You sat there and watched me park here, waited for me to go inside and then you clamped my car! That's so…mean!""Ma'am I'm just doing my job.""But you could have been nice. You could have said, hey lady, don't park there. Or you could have been a little more obvious about your parking official uniform instead of hiding it and pretending to just be a shifty-eyed stalker. You're just so...MEAN!"He shrugged. "This is how I earn my money. I work on commission." He smiled and took his easiest two hundred dollars ever.
I ranted and raved in my car all the way home about the evils of mean jerks who work mean nasty jobs that require them to be mean jerks to nice, busy, minding-their-own-business people. People who just needed to park in a stupid empty spot for FIVE FREAKIN MINUTES. This is why my kids need to work hard at school. So they never have to cross over to the dark side of Satan and work as a wheel clamper, ripping people off. I came home. Ranted and raved at the Fab5. 
"What do we learn from this? 
Little Daughter looked bemused. "Umm, we learn that we should never park illegally in private parking spaces?"
That is SOOOOO not the answer I was looking for.
Sleepless in Samoa hit a record 30,000 visits this month. Thanks for keeping me company! If you're looking for a Fantasy Romance read about strong, fierce and proud Pacific women - check out the free sample of TELESA:The Covenant Keeper available on Amazon.

Tattoo Time:Natasha Kai

We've had six Tattoo Time Tributes here on Sleepless in Samoa and today marks a historic first in the series - our first female feature! (Because we are an equal opportunity and non-sexist blogosphere.) We like to pay tribute to tattoos and the Polynesians who rock them because they play a huge part in  my YA fantasy books. Which got me thinking because sisterhood and girl-power are key themes in the TELESA series. The main characters are strong, fierce, powerful women who must make important choices about the elemental powers they have been gifted with. So I went in search of a strong, fierce and powerful woman who has worked hard to achieve great things with her talents. And has kick-butt tattoos as well -  Natasha Kai.
Natasha is of Hawaiian, Chinese, Filipino and Caucasian heritage. When she was 5, she cut her foot badly on a glass bottle and doctors warned she may never walk properly again but she overcame the odds with tenacity and hard work. She is an American soccer forward currently playing for Philadelphia Independence of Women's Professional Soccer. She is a superb athlete and holds numerous records during her standout soccer career. She is the first player from Hawaii to play for  the U.S National team and to make the Women's World Cup team and helped take the US to the quarterfinals in the Beijing Olympics. She also plays rugby and was on the US rugby women's team at the IRB Womens Sevens Challenge in Dubai, 2011. Natasha has over 55 tattoos,  including two sleeves...I'll let the visuals speak louder than words.
Natasha Kai shows us that "lean, mean machine" is beautiful. I think she's got more ab definition than any of the other Tattoo Time features....
Some neck tattoos as well as a few piercings...What the heck, let's just profile all 55 tattoos, shall we?!
Right ladies, I dont know about you - but I'm now inspired to get my lazy blogging butt off the sofa and go for a run. Kick a soccer ball. Do some sit-ups. Maybe get a tattoo. OR just go write some more of my TELESA books about strong, fierce, independent, powerful and kick-butt inspiring women. (Like Natasha Kai.)
(See more of Natasha's shoot with ESPN 'The Body' issue here.)
Sleepless in Samoa hit a record 30,000 visits this month. Thanks for keeping me company! If you're looking for a Fantasy Romance read about strong, fierce and proud Pacific women - check out the free sample of TELESA:The Covenant Keeper available on Amazon.

A New Book from Me.

Bone carving art piece by Samoan Master Carver: Beau Rasmussen. Photography: Leone Samu
QUICK UPDATE: I'm excited to announce the release of my first short fiction collection - 'AFAKASI WOMAN'. Available now on Amazon.com as an electronic book download, there are twenty-four stories in this award-winning collection. Many of them were written because I was a high school English teacher frustrated by the shortage of stuff that I could read with my Pasifika students that they could actually relate to. Sometimes funny, often poignant and always honest, these stories are one woman's insight into life as a contemporary Pacific woman. 
'AFAKASI WOMAN' - A Collection of Short Stories from a 'Real Samoan Woman.' 
Thank you for your continued support and encouragement of my writing. Because of you, my first novel - 'TELESA: The Covenant Keeper' continues to feature on Amazon's Top Rated Fantasy Romance List and slowly but surely is finding more and more readers as it goes truly global.  I know that many of you are looking forward to the second book in the TELESA series which will be released very soon. ( I promise...) In the meantime, I hope that you enjoy these stories. Remember, you do not need to own a Kindle to read books from Amazon. You can download the free Kindle Application to your phone or computer and then get started reading today!
Fa'afetai lava,Me.

Taking it All Off...

The thing about being a full-time writer and domestic slave to too many children, is that it means the only work clothes you own are sweats and pyjamas. Which can be a problem when you get invited to fly to another city to do a book thing at your old university. Somehow, I didn't think that a 20yr old high school sweatshirt and the Hot Man's very comfy trackpants were going to go down very well at Victoria University. So what's a fashion clueless and kinda overly luscious fat woman to do?

Consult with the fashionista maestro for larger sized woman everywhere - Oprah.

According to the experts at the Oprah website, there are a few essentials when trying to look your bestest. The first is something like this.
 (Why is it that the women who model these things are always skinny already anyway?)
1. A "body shaper." Otherwise known as a fat-squeezing, stomach-sucking, air-defying, pain-inducing, hallucination-causing instrument of torture. If the experts are to be  believed, then every skinny woman you've ever seen in Hollywood, is secretly wearing stuff like this underneath her skimpy, skin-revealing dress. (And all the loopy smiling and plastic waving they do must be caused by the shortage of blood flow to the brain.) Oh, and you must make sure that the body shaper helps your assets to defy gravity and raises them up to hi heaven. I quote from one pair of experts on YouTube, "It's very important that a larger woman wear a well-fitted bra that really lifts 'the girls' up. The skinniest part of your body is directly underneath 'the girls' and so you need to accentuate it with a great boosty bra." (My fashion research is teaching me new biological terminology. Who knew one's assets were referred to in fashionable New York circles, as 'the girls'? Not I.)

2. A very sleek black pencil skirt. Black of course. Because anyone with half a brain knows that black is a slimming colour. Indeed, for maximum slenderizing effect, one should wear all-black. Like Goths. Bats. And ravens. Vampires. (Real ones, not the sparkly variety.) And sky-scrapers.

3. High heels and sheer stockings. If you want to look sleeker and have a kind of vertical optical illusionary impact, then stunning heels are the way to go. You know, it makes people look up and down. As opposed to side ways...blobby blubbery tire sideways.

My exhaustive research dictated that I should combine all these things with a killer confident attitude and then I would be guaranteed to look NOTHING like myself at all. I would be transformed into this Goddess Author of Chic Elegance. And NOBODY would know that I was nervous. Freakin out. Or that I ate Doritos in between writing every paragraph of my book. And celebrated every new page with donuts.

So how did it go then? When I left my house that morning, I was stupidly convinced sure that I looked like "The Shizz." I strode thru Auckland Airport slaying people left and right with my glamourous shizz-ness. Our departure gate was really really really far away. By the time I got to my seat on the plane, my new shoes were a little uncomfortable. Sitting scrunched on those silly airplane seats that only Barbie dolls could be comfortable in was making my body shaper a little bit uncomfortable too. But I was a Goddess Author of Chic Elegance so it didn't matter.

My Dad had come all the way from Samoa to go with me. ( And to make sure that I didn't embarass the family by crying, fainting, vomiting or getting mad at anyone who dared to say bad things about my book.) We flew to Wellington. We walked a really really long way outside the airport to the taxi stand. We got to Victoria Univ three hours before the book party was supposed to begin. I had to carry bags. And a box of books. We sat in a cafe to relax over hot chocolate for a while. Which is when I began to realize that "body shapers" and "relaxing" don't go together. I couldn't breathe properly. I couldnt sit properly. I couldnt even eat a muffin properly dammnit, because my salubrious stomach was so squished. I started to get very anxious. Not about my book speech. But about whether or not pieces of my innards were going to start seeping out my ears.

It was time to walk up the hill and up loads and loads and loads of stairs to the Univ library. I realized that buying a new pair of black high heeled ankle boots THE DAY BEFORE I had to wear them for seven hours straight - was a really dumb thing to do. Every step felt like I was shoving my feet into jagged rusty herring cans. And in spite of the rain and the fog and the Wellington wind, I was getting really sweaty. And out of breath. And I remembered why I was a skinny lissome thing when I was a student at Victoria Univ. Because of all those *@^#&$% hills and stairs everywhere. By the time we got the library, I was gasping for air. Which is very difficult to do when one is squeezed into a steamroller squish-shaper garment. There was imaginary blood seeping out of my stupid shoes.

Which is when I decided to accept the facts. I'm NOT a Goddess Author of Chic Elegance. I'm just me. The fat chick who wears sweats and pyjamas all day. So what did I do?

I went to the ladies' room and stripped off the body shaper. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh. The sweet relief as air reacquainted itself with my lungs. As fat molecules dispersed and did a happy dance.

Back in the lobby, I took off the shoes. Aaaaaaaahhhhhh. Feet rejoiced. Crushed toes uncurled and realigned.

My Dad frowned. "I don't think you should take your shoes off. Your mother wouldn't like it."

But I was beyond caring. Even the threat of my Vogue magazine mother's disapproval did not faze me. By the time Telesa readers had arrived and the panel discussion had well and truly begun - I was barefoot, shapeless,  sloppity and slouchy.

And comfortable.

I had a blast. Even though I wasn't a Goddess Author of Chic Elegance.The Telesa book panellists were witty, funny, incisive and insightful. The discussion and questions from the audience were interesting and enjoyable. Meeting with readers afterwards was the highlight. The Pacific Studies organizing team did an amazing job.  Thank you all so much!

My next book trip is to Brisbane at the end of April. There's a very real possibility that I will wear sweats. Or pyjamas.
Strategical cropping of the photo so you can't see the shoe-less evidence...