Guilie Castillo-Oriard's Blog

What'd I miss?

Quite a bit, it seems. The second half of the Trump fiasco — and a pandemic. And that's just on the widest-picture scale. Life has changed so much, everywhere, for everyone, since Saturday the 23rd of June, 2018 (the date of my last post), that it feels herculean to try and catch up. Which is part of the reason I've let so much time pass without writing here. Every time I thought of doing so, the sheer amount of information I felt I'd need to cover just... tired me out before typing a single word. 

(Disclaimer: I'm not sure I will be posting with any semblance of regularity, even now.)

A shame. I've missed writing here. I've missed many of the people I connected with in the blogosphere (is that still what it's called? I feel so out of it, haha.). Friendships forged through distance, without ever meeting, and yet so powerful, so close. Some of those people I have still on Facebook (I've also almost forgotten Twitter exists), but... it's not the same. The connection feels... well, different. So I'm looking forward to reconnecting with some of them, if they're still around. And if they still find something interesting in what Quiet Laughter will be.

Because things are going to change around here.

This is another — maybe a larger — part of the reason I've been 'away': those Trump diehards. Some of the people I interacted with on a regular basis back in 2018, and earlier, would've been not just delighted but honored to be at the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol — maybe they even were there. And that's not ok. Not on this blog. This blog is my space — mine — and I get to decide which voices (if any) besides mine are heard here. If you're one of those (or if you feel the need to speak out in favor of Trump, of antivaxxers, of QAnon, of lizard people, of...) please do that in your own space. Not here. And I'll tell you right now: any and all of those comments will be deleted. This is not a public forum. Not your cup of tea? Please unfollow / block / do whatever you feel you need to. For both our sakes.

My space.

(Aahhh, that felt good!)

About a year after I stopped writing here, I realized that I didn't actually miss blogging. And that kind of shocked me. I'd always felt I loved blogging; why didn't I miss it? Why did the thought of writing an update leave me so... well, indifferent? Back when I started blogging — 2011, if you can believe it — it held such joy for me. What happened to it? Where did it go?

I don't have the answers. Not all of them. But reclaiming this space as mine — where I don't compromise, where I can write if / when / what I want — feels like a good place to start if I'm going to find it again. Quiet Laughter began as a sort of journal... a writing journal, a life-in-Curaçao journal, an I-dreamt-this-last-night journal, a journal of milestones

Coming soon (ish): an update on this new crazy hobby that's been eating up all my time since 2019 — and the business that's sprung up, kind of like a weed after a surprise rainshower, from it.

Murder at the Marina: A Guest Post & Blog Fiesta!

Ellen Jacobson, of The Cynical Sailor & His Salty Sidekick fame, has just released the first of a cozy mystery series that revolves, much like Ellen's own life, around sailing, water, and boatyards, and I was thrilled to be included in the amazing roster she put together for what she's—rightly—calling not a blog tour but a blog fiesta!


Please join me in giving Ellen and her lovely new book the warmest of welcomes!

Thanks for hosting me on your site today to celebrate the release of my cozy mystery, Murder at the Marina . This is the first book in the lighthearted and humorous Mollie McGhie Sailing Mystery series, featuring a reluctant sailor turned amateur sleuth.
My own sailing adventures and misadventures inspired me to write this series. My husband and I bought our first sailboat in New Zealand in 2012. After a couple of years cruising in those beautiful waters, we returned to the States and bought a bigger boat which we moved onto in 2015. We've since cruised in Florida and the Bahamas, labored over endless boat projects, and worked to keep our cruising kitty (savings) topped up.I wanted to reflect my experiences learning to sail, cruising and living aboard a boat, and being part of the boating community in my cozy mysteries. You could say that there's a little bit of me in my main character, Mollie.
I thought I'd share one of the boating tidbits which I wrote about in Murder at the Marina—namely, marina rules. As you would expect, if you're going to stay at a marina in the States, there are certain things you can't do. Some seem pretty reasonable, like not dumping the contents of your holding tank into the water. That would be gross! Or, keeping an eye on children and not letting them run around the dock. It could be dangerous if they fell in the water. But some might not make sense if you're not a boater, such as being careful about electrical connections. Fresh water and electricity don't mix. If voltage is “leaking” from a boat and someone happens to be in the water, they could suffer from electric shock drowning.
When Mollie has to sign papers to store their boat at their marina, she's surprised by all of the rules they have to follow. She's not naturally a rule follower, so it will be interesting to see if she breaks any of them over the course of the series and what the consequences are.
If you'd like to learn more about Mollie and her sailing adventures, you can find details about Murder at the Marina below.

Murder at the Marina—A Mollie McGhie Sailing Mystery #1
Print ISBN 978-1-7321602-1-7
eBook ISBN 978-1-7321602-0-0
Mystery
A dilapidated sailboat for your anniversary—not very romantic. A dead body on board—even worse.
Mollie McGhie is hoping for diamonds for her tenth wedding anniversary. Instead, her husband presents her with a dilapidated sailboat. Just one problem—she doesn’t know anything about boats, nor does she want to.
When Mollie discovers someone murdered on board, she hopes it will convince her husband that owning a boat is a bad idea. Unfortunately, he’s more determined than ever to fix the boat up and set out to sea.
Mollie finds herself drawn into the tight-knit community living at Palm Tree Marina in Coconut Cove, a small town on the Florida coast. She uncovers a crime ring dealing in stolen marine equipment, investigates an alien abduction, eats way too many chocolate bars, adopts a cat, and learns far more about sailing than she ever wanted to.
Can Mollie discover who the murderer is before her nosiness gets her killed?
Available at:
Amazon (US) | Amazon (CA) | Amazon (UK)Kobo | Barnes & Noble | Apple iBooks | Google Play

Ellen Jacobson writes mystery and scifi/fantasy stories. She is the author of the “Mollie McGhie Sailing Mystery” series. She lives on a sailboat with her husband, exploring the world from the water. When she isn't working on boat projects or seeking out deserted islands, she blogs about their adventures at The Cynical Sailor.
For more about Ellen and her books—the next Mollie McGhie is due out later this year!—you can sign up for Ellen's newsletter and connect with her at any (or all) of these:
Author WebsiteAuthor Facebook PageGoodreadsThe Cynical Sailor BlogThe Cynical Sailor Facebook PageTwitter

Thank you so much, Ellen, for including Quiet Laughter in your amazing fiesta! I wish you all the success in the world for Mollie McGhie and her adventures, on and off the water, and we'll all be looking forward to the next book in the series. And thank you also for featuring me over at The Cynical Sailor today! (Ellen is a frequent visitor at one of the blogs who hosted the Dog Book Blog Tour last month, and after reading one of those posts she generously offered to have me over for her Saturday Spotlight series, in which she showcases select authors and book releases and cover reveals and other literary-minded activities. It's an honor to be included, and if you get a chance to hop over for a quick visit, we'd both love to see you there.)

Thank you all for coming by!

The May #WATWB Edition: A Loud & Clear Yes for Women! #IrelandReferendum

My original WATWB post was drafted and ready to go early this month, for a change—and then I found out somewhere that Ireland was due to vote Friday on a referendum for legalizing abortion, and on a whim I decided to hold the post until the results came in. I wasn't very hopeful, given Ireland's long history of religious bias against women (this is, after all, the country where divorce was not just impossible but unconstitutional up until 1996!), but... what if it did happen? Wouldn't that be the mother (pardon the pun) of all extraordinarily good news?

Against all odds, history was made. In a landslide vote, Ireland has repealed the Eight Amendment of their constitution to make abortion legal. The foremost Catholic country of the West has—finally!—recognized that a woman's body is her own, not a breeding machine over which the state, or anyone else, has any jurisdiction.

"This vote is about a rejection of an Ireland that treated women as second-class citizens."

"Women have found their voices. One of the fantastic things in this whole campaign has been it's been led by women, it's been led largely by young women, and they've been articulate, they've been honest, they've told about their own experiences, and that's made a huge difference."

A huge Bravo! to the people of Ireland for this landmark victory, and hats off to the bravery of everyone who campaigned for Yes. We're one country closer to a world where no woman ever need know the shame and stigma of being judged for making a choice which is uniquely hers to make.



This post is part of the We Are The World blogfest, the brainchild of Belinda Witzenhausen and aimed at spreading light in a world where darkness and negativity too often seem to have the upper hand. This month's co-hosts: Shilpa Garg, Peter Nena, Inderpreet Kaur, Damyanti Biswas, and Andrea Michaels.

Come join us, and help shine a spotlight on stories that showcase the power of empathy and respect.

On Body and Soul (Testr��l ��s l��lekr��l): Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival #ciffr

On Body and Soul (Testr��l ��s l��lekr��l), , Hungary, 2017Closing Film (Sun Apr 9, 2017, 22:00)
I was a little wary of this one; the description mentions "a slaughterhouse in Budapest is the setting of a strangely beautiful love story", and���well, watching animals die, let alone in a systematized, 'commercially viable' way is low on my list of things I find entertaining. But the festival people were pretty convincing, and we ended up getting tickets.

Yes, the slaughterhouse isn't toned down or disguised, and a good portion of it plays a key part in the development of the story. And since the film is in Hungarian, it wasn't like I could look away during those gory scenes; I tried to read the subtitles as fast as possible, to train my eyes to focus only on the subs and ignore the images (it's more difficult than you might think; the eye wants to follow movement, make sense of the colors and shapes), but there were some spots, maybe one or two, when I did look away completely, and subs be damned.

But it was worth it.


It's a love story unlike any other. And, like any good love story does (or should), it shows us a side of ourselves, this human species, something new, unexpected, maybe even surprising, but which, as soon as we see it, we recognize as truth.

This is a film about boundaries, about individuality, about alternative experience of the world. Above all, it's about that genuinely 'adult' or 'mature' kind of love that seeks not the fantasy���the Prince Charming, the ride into the sunset, the happy ending���but the reality, the messy flesh-and-blood, body-and-soul uniqueness of being human. Most love stories hinge on an element of completion: when Boy meets Girl, he completes her���and she him. This is how they know it's Love. Love, then, is postulated as the Great Merger: effortlessly, naturally, two become one: they belong together, they fit each other like a glove. And it's all going to be all right now. Because Love Heals All.

The reality, as anyone who's been in an adult relationship knows, is... well, not quite so clean-cut. But isn't that what makes love so interesting? So devastatingly wonderful? And, also, what makes these make-believe portrayals of Perfect Love so dangerous?

This is the first 'love' story I come across where the issue of 'connection' doesn't preclude that of 'individuality', where Love really is about loving the otherness in this new person in your life. The connection between the two protagonists here is strong, as strong as any of the giant lovers of literature. But they are not Richard Gere and Julia Roberts, or Mr. & Mrs. Gray (ye gods, spare me). These two people are flawed and quirky and far, far from perfect���and oh so very human. And the story of how they come together���especially that last scene, just before the fade-out to the credits���is steeped in intoxicating realness, in insight... and in beauty.



The 2018 festival started yesterday, with an amazing Danish film called The Guilty  (review will be forthcoming, yes). The intention was to publish this post yesterday; the 2017 closing film on the day of the 2018 opening film. But, alas, didn't work out that way. I've been putting in overtime on the blog tour for the upcoming book release. A lot of work, but also a lot of fun. (More on that later.)

So this is it. The final post of the Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival. I hope I get 2018 done sooner... Although it was good, in a way, to have to sit and remember these films, remember how I felt watching them, the thoughts and insights they sparked. But I do feel that I lost a lot. I forgot a lot. So this year I'm jotting down my impressions as soon as the movie is over. And I promise���yes, seriously���I will upload and post these new reviews, at the rate of about one per week, starting mid-May (or sooner).

I thought you might be curious about the Cura��ao film festival, so I've provided some links here:

The CIFFR home pageThe 2018 film list (alphabetically) ��� Note that on this link, at the top of the page, there are also links to the film lists of previous years.If you're interested in the booklet, you can find a link to download a PDF of each year's at the top of the CIFFR page, under 'Festival'.
Thank you so much for all your visits and comments. The best part of this review project has been the chance to exchange thoughts on the films with you.

On Body and Soul (Teströl és lélekröl): Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

On Body and Soul (Teströl és lélekröl), I was a little wary of this one; the description mentions "a slaughterhouse in Budapest is the setting of a strangely beautiful love story", and—well, watching animals die, let alone in a systematized, 'commercially viable' way is low on my list of things I find entertaining. But the festival people were pretty convincing, and we ended up getting tickets.

Yes, the slaughterhouse isn't toned down or disguised, and a good portion of it plays a key part in the development of the story. And since the film is in Hungarian, it wasn't like I could look away during those gory scenes; I tried to read the subtitles as fast as possible, to train my eyes to focus only on the subs and ignore the images (it's more difficult than you might think; the eye wants to follow movement, make sense of the colors and shapes), but there were some spots, maybe one or two, when I did look away completely, and subs be damned.

But it was worth it.

It's a love story unlike any other. And, like any good love story does (or should), it shows us a side of ourselves, this human species, something new, unexpected, maybe even surprising, but which, as soon as we see it, we recognize as truth.

This is a film about boundaries, about individuality, about alternative experience of the world. Above all, it's about that genuinely 'adult' or 'mature' kind of love that seeks not the fantasy—the Prince Charming, the ride into the sunset, the happy ending—but the reality, the messy flesh-and-blood, body-and-soul uniqueness of being human. Most love stories hinge on an element of completion: when Boy meets Girl, he completes her—and she him. This is how they know it's Love. Love, then, is postulated as the Great Merger: effortlessly, naturally, two become one: they belong together, they fit each other like a glove. And it's all going to be all right now. Because Love Heals All.

The reality, as anyone who's been in an adult relationship knows, is... well, not quite so clean-cut. But isn't that what makes love so interesting? So devastatingly wonderful? And, also, what makes these make-believe portrayals of Perfect Love so dangerous?

This is the first 'love' story I come across where the issue of 'connection' doesn't preclude that of 'individuality', where Love really is about loving the otherness in this new person in your life. The connection between the two protagonists here is strong, as strong as any of the giant lovers of literature. But they are not Richard Gere and Julia Roberts, or Mr. & Mrs. Gray (ye gods, spare me). These two people are flawed and quirky and far, far from perfect—and oh so very human. And the story of how they come together—especially that last scene, just before the fade-out to the credits—is steeped in intoxicating realness, in insight... and in beauty.



The 2018 festival started yesterday, with an amazing Danish film called The Guilty  (review will be forthcoming, yes). The intention was to publish this post yesterday; the 2017 closing film on the day of the 2018 opening film. But, alas, didn't work out that way. I've been putting in overtime on the blog tour for the upcoming book release. A lot of work, but also a lot of fun. (More on that later.)

So this is it. The final post of the Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival. I hope I get 2018 done sooner... Although it was good, in a way, to have to sit and remember these films, remember how I felt watching them, the thoughts and insights they sparked. But I do feel that I lost a lot. I forgot a lot. So this year I'm jotting down my impressions as soon as the movie is over. And I promise—yes, seriously—I will upload and post these new reviews, at the rate of about one per week, starting mid-May (or sooner).

I thought you might be curious about the Curaçao film festival, so I've provided some links here:

The CIFFR home pageThe 2018 film list (alphabetically) — Note that on this link, at the top of the page, there are also links to the film lists of previous years.If you're interested in the booklet, you can find a link to download a PDF of each year's at the top of the CIFFR page, under 'Festival'.
Thank you so much for all your visits and comments. The best part of this review project has been the chance to exchange thoughts on the films with you.

Ar��bia: Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival #ciffr

Ar��bia (Araby), Jo��o Dumans & Affonso Uchoa, 2017 (Uruguay)Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 18:15
A story within a story, both of them riveting, this film is a journey of loss and nostalgia, of social injustice���but also, most poignantly, of hope and joy and the beauty of a simple life. It's a hard film with a soft heart; a story of love and poverty, of hope and its clash with reality.


Brazil has been producing some outstanding material in film of late. In the past three years, we've caught some unbelievably good Brazilian productions at the festival; different voices, different styles, very, very different stories, but all superb. Young directors, young writers, young actors: it's like a new generation has found its voice, and the story they're telling is one that resonates with the entire world 

This one is officially an Uruguayan production, but the themes and the setting, as well as, of course, the directors/writers, are quintessentially Brazil. I'm afraid, though, it probably won't be easy to find, especially outside of Latin America (it didn't make much impact in the big festivals, or maybe it didn't even play in them), but if you come across any Brazilian films, take a chance on them. It's well worth your while.

Arábia: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Arábia (Araby), João Dumans & Affonso Uchoa, 2017 (Uruguay)Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 18:15
A story within a story, both of them riveting, this film is a journey of loss and nostalgia, of social injustice—but also, most poignantly, of hope and joy and the beauty of a simple life. It's a hard film with a soft heart; a story of love and poverty, of hope and its clash with reality.

Brazil has been producing some outstanding material in film of late. In the past three years, we've caught some unbelievably good Brazilian productions at the festival; different voices, different styles, very, very different stories, but all superb. Young directors, young writers, young actors: it's like a new generation has found its voice, and the story they're telling is one that resonates with the entire world 

This one is officially an Uruguayan production, but the themes and the setting, as well as, of course, the directors/writers, are quintessentially Brazil. I'm afraid, though, it probably won't be easy to find, especially outside of Latin America (it didn't make much impact in the big festivals, or maybe it didn't even play in them), but if you come across any Brazilian films, take a chance on them. It's well worth your while.

Donkeyote: Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival #ciffr

Donkeyote, , 2017Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 14:15
To this day I'm still not sure whether it was a documentary or fiction, or a mix of both. It's catalogued as a documentary, but it feels like fiction. Something magical-realist here. A quirky film, certainly���but endearingly, maybe even wisely, so. And how could it not be? The wordplay in the title isn't just a tongue-in-cheek throwback to the Cervantes classic; this film is a subtle tribute to the Dreamer, a modern reminder, perhaps even a revival, of the Quijote and its magic: the mask of satire that slips and reveals nostalgia underneath, the whistle-in-the-dark laughter at the expense of old age, the self-deprecating dig at our own idealism���and the sudden spark of hope that maybe the impossible dream really isn't all that impossible.


(Why is Quixote spelled with an X in English? The correct pronunciation, in Spanish���and, being the epitome of Spanish Golden Age literature, I think it should be pronounced that way in any language���is kee-HOH-teh).

In lieu of rehashed or revisionist personal histories, the film beautifully illustrates the way a life can be shaped and reconfigured by intrepidly putting one foot in front of the other in stubborn forward momentum, even through the most inhospitable of landscapes.

~ Pamela Cohn, Filmmaker magazine, March 2017(read the full article & interview here)
This man, the love he feels for his animals, especially his donkey Gorri��n (but there's also a dog, and���well, you know me and dogs), the journey he embarks on, his stubborn commitment to a dream... it's s a beautiful thing to see.

And then there's the cinematography. Yes, the Spanish landscape makes an extraordinary setting even in the most amateur production, and this one, true to its documentary vibe, lacks any special effects or any construed dramatic device. Pereira, the director is known for his austere approach, his talent for telling brilliant stories by making use of "the moments when nothing is happening" (Filmmaker article, 2017). Like his previous feature-film, Pablo's Winter , this one also showcases that talent beautifully.

Donkeyote: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Donkeyote, To this day I'm still not sure whether it was a documentary or fiction, or a mix of both. It's catalogued as a documentary, but it feels like fiction. Something magical-realist here. A quirky film, certainly—but endearingly, maybe even wisely, so. And how could it not be? The wordplay in the title isn't just a tongue-in-cheek throwback to the Cervantes classic; this film is a subtle tribute to the Dreamer, a modern reminder, perhaps even a revival, of the Quijote and its magic: the mask of satire that slips and reveals nostalgia underneath, the whistle-in-the-dark laughter at the expense of old age, the self-deprecating dig at our own idealism—and the sudden spark of hope that maybe the impossible dream really isn't all that impossible.

(Why is Quixote spelled with an X in English? The correct pronunciation, in Spanish—and, being the epitome of Spanish Golden Age literature, I think it should be pronounced that way in any language—is kee-HOH-teh).

In lieu of rehashed or revisionist personal histories, the film beautifully illustrates the way a life can be shaped and reconfigured by intrepidly putting one foot in front of the other in stubborn forward momentum, even through the most inhospitable of landscapes.

~ Pamela Cohn, Filmmaker magazine, March 2017(read the full article & interview here)
This man, the love he feels for his animals, especially his donkey Gorrión (but there's also a dog, and—well, you know me and dogs), the journey he embarks on, his stubborn commitment to a dream... it's s a beautiful thing to see.

And then there's the cinematography. Yes, the Spanish landscape makes an extraordinary setting even in the most amateur production, and this one, true to its documentary vibe, lacks any special effects or any construed dramatic device. Pereira, the director is known for his austere approach, his talent for telling brilliant stories by making use of "the moments when nothing is happening" (Filmmaker article, 2017). Like his previous feature-film, Pablo's Winter , this one also showcases that talent beautifully.

Neruda: Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival #ciffr

Neruda, , 2016Sunday, April 9th, 2017, 11:45
Pablo Larra��n was the only director to have two films at the festival: Jackie , and this one. Both extraordinary, as different from each other as oil and water, both clear evidence���maybe even more so taken like this, together���of Larra��n's exceptional talent for narrative and conceptualization.

If Larra��n's name sounds familiar, it might be because his latest production, Una Mujer Fant��stica (2017), won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film at this latest edition of the Academy Awards. Or perhaps you saw No back in 2012, which also starred Mexican actor and activist .

In Neruda, Garc��a Bernal plays the bad guy. Well, sort of; he is the main character (arguably���and they do argue this in the film), in the sense that the film depicts his journey from 'bad' guy (the police inspector chasing Neruda, who's become a fugitive in his native Chile after joining the Communist party) to... well, if I tell you that, I'd be spoiling the entire film for you.

Suffice it to say this: Neruda is as far from Il Postino  as one can get. (And, as far as 'poetry' films go, it's an entirely different universe from Paterson .) I don't mean just in the context of filmmaking or cinematography or narrative style���although, yes, there is that. But the Neruda we see in Larra��n's production is the politician, the activist, the figurehead for social upheaval, as much as he is The Poet���and in the process of portraying this 'other' side of the man, Larra��n's achievement is to give this Poet, a mythical, almost ethereal, creature, a dimension of humanity and reality that makes him���Neruda���all the more indelible as a historical figure. And���perhaps most importantly���translates his poetry into the language it was always meant to speak: the political.