Lumi Laura's Blog, page 4

On the Road at Christmas

Well, seems that I don't post very often. Doesn't mean that my life's been boring. Got a little money from my estranged mother. Can't say she was overly generous, not from the way she talks about her rich husband. But it was enough for the night train to see her for Christmas. A night train, a day train, and another night train. I hate going to the toilette in public utilities. Not that living with the Roma is any toilette picnic either when you we're on the road so much. My clothes make me look like a Roma, which made for some unhappy travel experiences while in still in Romania. Living with them has also given me a bit of an attitude about people. Doesn't bother me much when adults look away from me and don't want me sitting next to them, but it does hurt when little kids make fun of me. People were nicer when I got into Germany and France. I wanted to stay in Paris. Just had a couple of hours between trains, but those people. I speak a little French, and the young men there are not shy. Got a chance to see the Louvre. Couldn't afford to go inside, but got to see the glass pyramid out front and people watch. Lots of tourists, even this close to Christmas.

Cold crossing the English Channel. Can't say I liked being on a ferry much. Just a little seasick, but enough to make me feel bad all day.

London was dreary, but what a joy to speak English with people who really know how to use it. English is such an impossible language. I hated it when I first had to take it in school. Eight years old, I was. But I later learned to love it, particularly when I got to read Shakespeare in the original. Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore art thou Romeo? I have an old paperback that I carry in my purse always. I'm still bashful about my English, no one seems to mind.

But here's the problem with English, and I'd never have known if I hadn't taken a trip. It's like a different language in every country that speaks it. Met a couple of American men on the boat over, and it took a while for me to realize they were speaking English. Strangest thing. I've never cared much for American men, but they do love to flirt.

And then there's the Scotish. Like I said, a different language.

My mother met me at the station. I don't know how to say this. I wanted to be sophisticated and standoffish, but my arms had a completely different plan. They grabbed her without me know what they were going to do. I couldn't get them to turn loose of her. My god, the woman is still young and attractive. Nice clothes and a little tasteful jewelry. A diamond ring that made my heart stop. And my little brother, half0brother, yes, but still my brother. He likes to give kisses. Quick blue eyes, and a smile that breaks my heart. Mother gave him to me like he was my job now. He's still in diapers but runs around like he owns the place.

I don't know what to call the man she's living with. She didn't want to talk about it, but I'm not as dumb as she think. They are married. I got to thinking. In a foreign country with my father in prison back in Romania, I'm fairly certain she's managed a divorce somehow. They're married, I just know it. She put me downstair with the servant girl. Hurt my feelings a little, but it's nice to sleep in a proper bed for a change. And a hot shower. I love the feel of hot steam in a bathroom. She dressed me out in some jeans that are a little too tight, but she smiled when she saw me in them. Been a while since I was out of a skirt. That's all I wear with the Roma, skirts and petticoats. Roman are really into underclothes., even if they don't get washed a lot. Anyway, tight jeans and a white blouse without a bra.

That evening I got to meet her husband. Whatelse can I call him? A big bear of a man, a little gruff. Won't look at me direct either. Always looking at the wrong part of my body too, I tell you. Smiles too easy for me to like him a lot.

Everything's Christmas in Edinburgh. Love Christmas carols. Gail is the servant girl. I spent a lot of time with her. She's kid of pretty, actually. Brown hair that she keeps in a bun in back, quick brown eyes. She's a little chubby, but in a good way. Ted, my mother's husband, cant keep his eyes off her. Mother had me help her fix dinner and do the dishes afterward. I'm learning my way around the house. Not that it'll do me much good. I'm on my way back home the day after Christmas. Mother, Ted and Little Roger will be off to the south of France for the few days he has off work. He's in shipping, somehow. Whatever that means. He's a big burly man with a short black beard and heavy eyebrows. He's not from Edinburgh either, but a little town up north in the Scottish highlands. Came into his money through hard work and a little blind luck. Sounds like drug money, if you ask me.

But here's the exciting thing. I'm considering setting the second volume of Carpathian Vampire here in Edinbourgh. Gail, the serverant girl, tells me that Edinburgh has an underground city complete with ghosts, werewolves and vampires. Actually has shops and businesses underground in an old city that has been forgotten. Most people who live here don't even know about it. But Gail is really into that sort of thing. I told her that I'm writing a novel, and she got really excited. Wants me to tell her how to do it. She's a big reader, lots of trashy stuff, but when I told her that I'm writing a vampire novel, she just the threw a fit. I tell you, the girl is incorrigible. She has a desktop computer that's she's on every spare minute. She's a couple of years older than me but seems a lot younger.

I'm not getting to spend as much time with mother as I hoped. She's busy with her work also. She does some work on the computer that she wouldn't talk much about, and then she has to leave for a while to take care of things that she won't talk about either. I've been here a couple of days, and yes it's nice to see my mother and take care of little Roger, but I didn't come here to be one of the help.

So where am I with Carpathian Vampire? Well, I've been working on all the last fifteen chapters. I have a lot of Chapter 26 written. But I'm having trouble working on a continuous narrative. I write scenes, and I write descriptions of narrative, but the actual narrative has eluded me. Just bits and pieces. The story is getting really complicated, much more so than I ever planned, and I have to work out all the details of this vampire world before I can finalize the narrative. Still, it's exciting and I'm enjoying writing it. Just takes a while. In the meantime, I'm trying to enjoy Edinburgh, and seeing my mother and little Roger.

My mother had me when she was not yet twenty, much the same age I am now. I guess the way to say this is that she's not yet forty and he's not yet sixty. A little age difference, but then he's well established professionally, and it looks good to have a young wife. If you ask me, she's keeping pregnant to make sure he keeps her around. She let it slip that she's pregnant again, so I'm going to have another sibling. I just keep thinking about my father off in Codlea Prison. "Don't talk to me about him," is the way she put it. Wouldn't even call him by his name or mention him being my father. They never fought, don't even remember them ever having an argument, so it's difficult seeing her pushing back so hard. And here she is now with another man with a shady background in business. Well, birds of a feather. Guess she finds the same flock no matter where she goes.

"Think clothes," is what I told Mother about Christmas presents. I have lots of Roma stuff, but I could use a few things when I run off from time to time with my little translator boyfriend. "Think underclothes too," I told her. I might as well come away from here with something useful. The closer it gets to Christmas the more the carols sound sad.

I'm getting Gail to help me pick out a Christmas present for my mother. And then here's her husband, and little Roger. I don't know anything about my mother any more. What does it mean when your mother no longer has the same name you do? How can your mother not have your last name?

My problem with my vampire novel is that I have to create the vampire world. In my novel, the vampire world and the world of humans are quite distinctly different. My vampires have their own culture and the own history or mythology, if you prefer, that stretches back to primordial times. Not only do they have a culture separate from mankind's, but they also have a psychic life that is more vibrant and important to them than is mankind's. I have to build this modern day culture and also the mythology at the same time I'm wiring the story. This has slowed me considerably. I've been writing most of the time on the train coming to Edinburgh. What time I wasn't flirting with boys. But older men like to flirt more than do young men. I'm thinking that young men don't have the courage and know-how that older gentlemen do.

The one thing that writing this has made me think more about than I ever have is religion. Growing up an only child and going to church with my parents, I noticed that they didn't seem to take it very serious. They said a lot of things in church that didn't make much sense to me, but since I've been writing this vampire novel, seems like I should have paid more attention. Still, I'm trying to sort something out in my own mind about God. I'm not sure what I believe anymore, and here in Edinburgh, the whole religious thing seems so much more profound. This city seems to have an aura about it. It has a big hill right in the middle of town, and a cross on it that would stop a vampire's heart, and make his blood run even colder. Makes you wonder what vampires do on Christmas. Probably not their favorite holiday. Crosses of lights everywhere they turn at night. Can't be a pleasant experience. Since I've been writing this novel, I've noticed how apart I feel from mainstream Romanian life. I live outside it, living with the Roma. Is that why I'm writing about vampires?  This story goes a lot deeper within me than I've realized.

What??!!!

It's been a while since I've posted, again. So I have quite a bit of news. First the good stuff. I've finished Chapters 22 and and 23 of Carpathian Vampire. Really good news because it's been a struggle. I have my character in lots of trouble, and she's both sad and pissed off. I've been having problems with these things called plot points. I laid them out according to a scheme I've been reading about for free on the Internet, and it's worked beautifully, except that I also have a number of subplots which have to be plotted with their own plot points, and its all quite a juggling exercise. Plus I've been using the girl meets boy/girl, girl gets boy/girl, girl loses boy/girl, girl gets boy/girl back. Also a struggle, and I'm not sure I can ever get them back together again. Remember that this is vampires and regular people all messed up together, so things can get weird and tragic. Plus this is gothic, so all the good versus evil thing gets twisted, and who knows who is the real good guys. Every body likes to work their dirt. I am really surprised at how well knowing the underlying conflicts and conflict structure plots a novel. I've written a lot of stories when I was a kid, and they always turned out to be pretty funny, but this is coming up a little short on humor.

Second subject. I have a birthday coming up, the 29th. My last as a teenager.  Next year I turn the big two zero. Not looking forward to that. It takes all the air out of being alive when you are no longer young. Growing up seems to me just about the dirtiest trick life can play on you, except of course being really sick is a bummer. Yes, I've had my share of problems as a teen-ager, but at least you get to laugh a lot. I've had a taste of being a grownup because I've had to make my own way in the world for a while now, but I don't want to feel responsible all the time. I want to dump on people for a while yet.

Okay, the other news. I got a postcard in the mail. Eeeeek!! at first but then Noooo!! it wasn't from my mother. It was in response to the card I sent to my mother. The address my father gave me was to the sister of the new man in my mother's life. And this really sucks because she's still married to my father who's tucked away in Codlea Prison for life.

But here's the hard part. I have a new half brother. And get this, the kids is already two years old. The man my mother is sleeping with (they are not married, cannot be married cause she's still married to my dad) is Scottish, and they very well may be in Edinburgh. A long ways away. So I'm kind of excited about the little brother, and hating my mother for having him at the same time. Right now I'm ripped in two with my heart here in Romania with my father, me living with the hated Roma, and feeling left out with my mother off starting a new family in Scotland. I have an address. If I had the money, I'd just show up on their doorstep, but I barely make enough for Internet cafes to get my blog post online. Don't really want to send a letter. "Hi, ma, this is your old stinking runaway daughter who lives with the hated Roma. I've really done well for myself since I ran off. Could you loan me a few buck so that I could come to see you in your beautiful new home and family in Edinburgh?" Noroc!

And now my band of Romas are about to pull up stakes and move on to another part of Romania where it's warmer for the winter months. I hate to move. Every one gets testy when we move, and the dogs are in an uproar because they don't know the territory they are supposed to protect anymore, so they get nippy with everyone they see that they don't know. We move slow, so everyone on the roads is on our case. Maybe my boyfriend will come rescue me for a few days of love and good times in Bucharest. Sure would be nice to have a permanent home again.

I do love the fall, but the rain and snow of winter, I could do without. I've seen the skiers up at  Sinaia, where my novel is set, and I know everyone doesn't have my bad attitude about winter. Dark days ahead.

Yes, I’m Back Again

I’m afraid it’s been quite  a while since I last posted. But you see, I’ve been in a depression after seeing my father in prison. It brought home the reality of my situation and kept me from pushing it into the dark background, as I usually do.

I’m also having difficulty working on my vampire novel. I finished Chapter 21, but now I’m stuck on chapter 22. Been there for a month or so. Vampire lore is causing trouble. Not quite sure what to do about it. I lie in bed thinking over the various scenarios. When ever I get one thing settled, it affects something else and it has to change too. Writing a novel is hard. Perhaps Dragos Tatarescu can help the next time I see him. He can help me with some of my other problems also. I like sleeping with him.

I’ve also been thinking more of my mother. And I’ve been wondering why she left. Some of these things are so tough that I don’t want to deal with them, but I have to. I’ve been writing a letter to her, now that my father has given me an address. If I get an answer, I might try to see her. That’s what worries me. I don’t believe I could stand it if she wasn’t glad to see me. But how could she be? When I left, I always thought I could go back home, if I wanted. But when she ran off too, we lost track, or I lost track of her, I guess I should say. Seeing her again would mean coming to terms with what I did, running away that is. I’m not so sure I’m ready for that. I’m happy here with the Roma, or at least I thought I was until I saw my father. Mothers are important people.

Yes, I'm Back Again

I'm afraid it's been quite  a while since I last posted. But you see, I've been in a depression after seeing my father in prison. It brought home the reality of my situation and kept me from pushing it into the dark background, as I usually do.

I'm also having difficulty working on my vampire novel. I finished Chapter 21, but now I'm stuck on chapter 22. Been there for a month or so. Vampire lore is causing trouble. Not quite sure what to do about it. I lie in bed thinking over the various scenarios. When ever I get one thing settled, it affects something else and it has to change too. Writing a novel is hard. Perhaps Dragos Tatarescu can help the next time I see him. He can help me with some of my other problems also. I like sleeping with him.

I've also been thinking more of my mother. And I've been wondering why she left. Some of these things are so tough that I don't want to deal with them, but I have to. I've been writing a letter to her, now that my father has given me an address. If I get an answer, I might try to see her. That's what worries me. I don't believe I could stand it if she wasn't glad to see me. But how could she be? When I left, I always thought I could go back home, if I wanted. But when she ran off too, we lost track, or I lost track of her, I guess I should say. Seeing her again would mean coming to terms with what I did, running away that is. I'm not so sure I'm ready for that. I'm happy here with the Roma, or at least I thought I was until I saw my father. Mothers are important people.

Visit to Codlea Prison

Today I got a Roma with a car to take me to see my  father. He's in the Codlea prison. It was not such a scary place as I thought it might be. I told them that he was my uncle, but they didn't have a record of him having niece. I sure wasn't going to tell them that I was his fugitive daughter. They had to talk to him first. He'd never had a visitor. Been in prison three years and no visitor. He's in for life, or at least that's what I thought.

At first I didn't recognize him. We were in a room with a bunch of people, and then he just walked in like it was the most usual thing. I didn't know what to say. He thought I was someone one else. Then he grabbed me and hugged me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I came to see you, Papa," I said.

"My goodness, ChaCha, I never thought I'd see you again." He had tears in his eyes. He used to call me "ChaCha". "Where's your mother?"

"I don't know, Papa," I said, and then I started to cry. I wish he hadn't asked about Mother.

We sat in two chairs facing each other. He held my hands. His were rough. "I've been working in the prison garden," he said. "We grow vegetables and get some of the money. What's in the box?" he asked.

"I brought you something, Papa," I had bought him a new pair of shoes, a pair of pants and shirt, some under clothes. He cried harder. "How did you know what I needed?" he asked.

"Everybody needs clothes," I said.

I wouldn't tell him that I was staying with a band of Romas. He kept asking, but I just said, "With a family." Finally he quit asking.

He said he got one letter from my mother, and that he'd written to her but she hadn't written back. He gave me the address. My father is an educated man. He has a couple of years of college. Many people in Romania do, but there are no jobs.

"They told me I might be able to get out in another fifteen years." he said. "They are reviewing my case."

"They better not look too close," I said. My father did a bad thing in killing a man. He says it was just an argument gone wrong, that he was defending himself. Still, he killed a man who had money, and the system turned on him. But the government doesn't like to keep people in prison. It costs too much. So maybe some day he will get out.

We talked for a half hour and then he had to go back.

He was sheepish about the shoes and clothes. "You've become the parent," he said to me. I had a strange feeling all the way back to the Gypsy camp, like I'd done something important.

I don't feel at home here in the Roma camp any more. Makes me wish I hadn't seen him. Now I want my family back. I want to see my mother. Her being gone hadn't bothered me in a long time, but now I want to see my mother. I was almost feeling like a grown person, but now I feel like a little girl again.

Life with the Roma

Sometimes I lie awake at night listening to the noises of the Roma camp, our camp, my camp. I tend to both think of myself as Roma and to realize that I'm not. I laugh a lot about my predicament, but at night I get to thinking about how serious it really is, my father in prison and my mother off who knows where? I worry about both of them all the time, but at night it's much worse. Frequently I wake in a cold sweat.

I wonder if my mother knows how much I love her? When we were all together, life was so wonderful. I had a stray cat that had kittens. I'd play with the mother, and watch her let them nurse. My mother would smile at me, the way I loved baby animals. And then she'd tell me  about when I was a baby.  Learning to crawl, learning to walk. I'd hold on to her leg while she walked about the kitchen cooking.

But that's all past. All gone.

Last night we had a commotion in camp. Something entered camp, an animal or someone, no one was quite sure. It caused a row among the dogs. They tied into something. Everyone in camp was awake. Women shouting at their husbands, "What is it?" Roma are a superstitious people. They talk of things that most people would laugh at. They talk of something called a changeling. It's a human being that can take on different shapes, not necessarily human or animal. What is something if it isn't human or animal? It's some being out of mythology. Or perhaps even something that no one has ever seen before. Last night they were talking about a person that was part human and part spider. One old woman told them to keep their mouths' shut because talking of such things attracts them. She got mad. After something came into camp, she said that she'd warned them.

The old woman who got on to them is the one I live with. It's just the two of us. She took me in to help her. She is  a fortune teller. She uses  tarot cards. I like to watch her tell fortunes, but she shoos me out. Some people who's fortunes she's read will come all the way from across Romania to see her. Of course, they never know for sure where she is because Romas never stay in one place long. That's the reason she needs me. She has a bad leg, and I do the heavy lifting. We sleep in her wagon. And it really is only a wagon. She has a donkey, where the other three families in our band have horses that pull the wagons.

At night in the wagon, when I wake and can't go back to sleep, I listen to the sounds of camp, watch the play of campfire light on the wagon canopy. I listen to Drina snore. She has such troubled sleep. Sleep is work to her. She says she had t has to struggle with demons during sleep. It's a result of her gift of prophecy. Not everything in the other world wants her divulging the future. I won't let her read my fortune. I don't want to know what's going to happen to me.

I'm fifteen chapters into my vampire novel, about a third of the way to being finished. I've done a lot of planning, so I know what's going to happen in each chapter. I'm still not sure about the ending.

Drina doesn't like it when I leave with my boyfriend. She has difficulty coping. But I"m young. I need my time in the city, in the other world. Roma life can be really boring. I crave this man, my boyfriend, like a disease. I won't let a Roma touch me, So by the time he comes for me, I'm wild for love. I crave it like a disease. I lie awake at night thinking of new things for us to do together, in bed. And then I think of the places he'll take me. Out dancing, that's what I love most. Wild dancing. But we also go to coffee shops during the day. We'll get a little fast food now and then. I love American fast food. French fries, mmmm.

 

I can't answer questions on my blog. I rarely have power or an Internet connection. I upload quickly. On and off, like a shot. Finding a WiFi hotspot not always easy.

July 16, 2011

As I've said before. I travel with a band of Romas. They took me in two years ago, and I'll be forever grateful for their help. At first I was just going to spend a few days with them but a few days turned into months which turned into years. I thought maybe my mother would come get me but that didn't work out.

Even though I say I've been reading and writing in English since I was five, I'm still really bad at it. I write in both Romanian and English actually. I'm not going to publish my writing in Romanian because that's not where the money is. I must publish in English. Perhaps some Hollywood agent will see my novel when it comes out and they'll make a movie out of it. Big dreams. Dreams are all I have.

I send all my work through my translator Dragos Tatarescu. He even translates for my blog. He doesn't charge me because I spend a week or two with him now and then. The Romas don't care for that much. At first they threw a fit when I'd leave with Dragos, but they got used to it. It works out for both Dragos and me. A girl has to have her fun too. He takes me to Bucharest where he lives. He makes me soak in the tub for a couple of hours before he'll touch me. We don't have a lot of bathing facilities on the road. Big city life! We spend a lot of time in the sack, but I get to go to a discotheque now and then. We go wild dancing. I like all the bodies so close together.

The Roma band I'm with has two, sometimes three, wagons we haul our things in. We have three horses that do the pulling. We generally stay on the outskirts of small towns. People are pretty good until we get close to big cities. I don't mind that people shout obscenities at us and show us obscene gestures. That's kind of funny. But I don't like it when people spit on us. Show some restraint people!

I'm Writing Some Vampire Short Stories

Cover image for Tales of the Carpathian Vampire

Prior to completing and publishing Carpathian Vampire, …when you've never known love…, I plan to publish a set of short, short stories associated with the novel. I've used the creation of the stories to help me flesh out my characters and define the vampire mythology I'm using in my novel. I originally thought writing these stories would be a chore, but they have actually turned out to be quite interesting. And at times, a little sexy. Although my novel is set in and around Sinaia, Romania, and is from my protagonist's point of view, my short stories are all written from several different POVs and set in different locations, even some foreign countries. I like to use a little Greek mythology from time to time, and that's because my family genealogy does contain a couple of Greeks, although they are quite a ways back. My father used to tell me stories from Greek mythology at bedtime. I love my father and miss him terribly.

It takes a while for me to get my posts published because I write in a mixture of Romanian and English, and it takes a while for my translator, Dragos Tatarescu, to straighten it out. Please be patient with me.

 

All right then, let's do it.

My name is Lumi (Luminita) Laura. I'm the author of the soon to be published book Carpathian Vampire. I was born somewhere in Romania, probably Victoria but possibly Fagaras. I have no record of birth, and my parents never seemed concerned about it. I attended public schools until I was to enter high school, but when I didn't pass the entrance test, they were going to ship me off to a craft school for a couple of years, so I bolted. That was four years ago when I was fifteen. Now I'm on the run and have been since then. Lately, I've been staying with a gypsy or Roma family, as we call them. Although we don't claim to be, I sometimes wonder if I'm not at least part Roma. I look Arabic, or at least so I'm told, but I'm not that either.

Being a fugitive is nothing new to my family. My father killed a man, and we were on the run for two years before they caught up with him. Now he's in Codlea Prison for life. Sometimes I believe my life is more interesting than my character's, but then she's a vampire, so how cool is that? I'm not sure anyone is actually after me. My mother has moved since I was last with her. Not sure where she lives now.

I've been reading and writing in English since I was five. I'm not that good at storytelling, but it's what I do to pass the time. The Roma family picked up a laptop computer for me. I didn't ask where they got it, and they didn't say. That was a couple of years ago, and I've not put it down since. Don't always have an internet connection, and when I do it's usually slow. On the message boards they always get it wrong: "Luni bin Laura" is what they call me. Not very fond of that.