Archive for the ‘Living and Life’ Category

TQG cover

Ah, so many announcements about The Quiet Game, and so few hours in the day! If you haven’t heard already, I created a cover for my upcoming collection of short stories, The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones, earlier today and posted it all over the blogosphere, Facebook, and my Twitter account.

Now I have a second announcement: this Friday at my dorm, Jones Tower, there will be a huge Purim celebration. Yes Purim, the Jewish holiday that celebrates our deliverance from the hands of the Babylonian Prime Minister’s plot to murder every single Jew. During the celebration, there will be Hamentaschen, the traditional treat eaten during Purim, masks you can make (it’s basically our Halloween, if you didn’t know), and I’ll be doing a reading from some of my short stories at some point during the festivities. It’s going to be great; I plan on doing a whole lot to make sure it’s so spooky, they may not want to have me read again–

On second thought, maybe I should tone it down a bit.

I’ll try and make a video of the reading and post it on YouTube. Keep your eyes peeled for it.

And if you happen to be in Columbus on Friday night and have nothing to do at 10 PM, please show up. I’d appreciate the support.

Unless of course you’re crazy or want to kill me, in which case I’d like to warn you there are members of the audience who will be attending and who are a part of martial arts societies and groups on campus, and they won’t hesitate to hurt you.

Have a good night, everybody.

It’s just about halfway through Week 7 of the first ever spring semester at Ohio State University. How am I doing? Very well. I’m busy, but I’ve got a constant sense of optimisim that’s keeping me going, and this morning I woke up feeling well-rested! As you probably know, college students usually cut sleep out of their lives until they feel they absolutely need it, so I thought it was something else when I woke up this morning and didn’t feel like I needed another hour to be at my best.

As for grades, I’m doing well, though I’m going to study harder for the next two exams in Psychology and History. Speaking of which, I’ve recieved grades from a couple of classes. On my American Literature midterm, I recieved an A, only a few points short of a full one-hundred. On my Abnormal Psychology test, I recieved an 84%, which I hope to improve with the next midterm (a week from Friday, if I remember correctly). In World War II history, I recieved a ninety on the map quiz and an 84 on the midterm. For my creative writing class, I haven’t recieved anything but other’s short stories and feedback, but judging on the atmosphere of the class, it’s not hard to imagine I’m doing well. Especially with the teacher bringing in a different wind-up toy every class to use as some sort of metaphor for writing.

Speaking of creative writing, I’m turning in “Old Sid” tomorrow for my creative writing class. They’ll take a week to look over it and critique it, and then they’ll turn it in on Wednesday with their thoughts. I hope they like it and have some good suggrestions for it; I’d like to send it to a local literary magazine if possible.

As for social life, I hang out with my friends and go to OSU Hillel once a week for Sabbath services and kosher meat. I don’t have much time for clubs or organizations, but I make do when I can, like Buckeyethon a few weeks ago. I also work part-time, and I’m trying to do as much as I can as tax season is upon us, which means busy season is right  around the corner.

But I’m also trying to do a reading of some of my work at my dorm. In fact, I was emailing with the guy who’s the head of my dorm’s activity board, and he wanted to read some of my work. I hope he doesn’t get nightmares from it! In any case, if I can do a reading, I hope to film it and I hope to put it on YouTube. You’d be able to see just how creepy I can be!

Wish me luck with everything. I hope to have a cover for The Quiet Game out later in the next week or two, so keep your eyes posted for it (there’s a pun in that sentence, by the way. Did you notice?). I even took an evening photo for it. It’s going to be awesome!

I’m not big on Valentine’s Day. Not only is it Christian in origin and over-commercialized by the candy and card industries, but the whole thing started because an early Christian priest performing illegal marriages in pagan Rome got caught and was fed to the lions for his faith. How romantic.

But even if I don’t care very much for the holiday, and even though I’m not really into looking for a relationship, I thought I’d at least write a poem for the girl who might make me change my mind, settle down, and have a kid or two (though I’m still kind of gung-ho about adopting when I’m ready for kids). So here’s a little Valentine’s Day poem for that girl, wherever she may be. I hope you enjoy it, and Happy Valentine’s Day:

To the love I have yet to meet,
Where you are, I am unsure,
But you will be dear to me.
So dear in fact, that the thought of living without you,
Will take the breath out of my lungs.

Where are you, darling?
Since I am without you, I act like a monk,
Living in chastity without much interest in the opposite sex beyond friendship.
I wait for you to open my eyes, to make me aware of a world I only write about and see,
But never experience.

Oh, when will destiny bring us together?
When will I gaze upon your face,
Converse with you and laugh with you,
And realize that I’m crazy about you?
When will you show me that you love horror movies
(Or at least tolerate them for my sake)
And critique my work with a kind and loving smile?

I wait. I wait, and wait, and wait.
Someday we may meet.
Someday we will know that we are meant for each other and fall madly in love.
Until then, I sit at my computer,
My only lovers the written word and the darkest corners of the human mind.
Until then, my dear.
Au revoir.

While watching the State of the Union address (love you, Mr. President!), I worked on my latest short story, “Three Life-Saving Phone Calls”, a short story about a teenager trying to commit an elaborate suicide. The idea for the story came to me in one of my creative writing classes (apparently lots of people get great ideas for stories while around my teacher, or so I hear), and it was based on a really dark period of my life, when I actually did want to commit suicide when I thought that nobody loved me and I was all alone.

The story’s a little longer than five-thousand words, but I plan to see if I can slim it down a little during the editing stage. I also want to see if I can get this short story to win OSU’s English Department’s creative writing award for short stories. I won’t get that big a prize–only $250–but it’d be something to put on my resume and it’d be a prestigious award to have. Since the due date for submissions is in 10 days though, I need to edit quickly…after I edit my second short story for class.

Let’s hope I can handle it all and do well!

I’ll let you know how well things go. Wish me luck and hope for the best, okay? Thanks!

As many of you know, the Chinese New Year was celebrated recently, ushering in the Year of the Snake. As many of you also know, I recently wrote and completed a thriller novel called Snake, which is about a serial killer hunting mafioso. Since Snake will probably be published sometime before this time next year (hopefully), I thought it was a pretty strange but otherwise wonderful coincidence. Of course, the serial killer whom the novel is named after, the Snake, was probably born in the Year of the Rooster like myself, but still it’s a pretty cool coincidence.

And since it’s the Year of the Snake, I thought I’d give you a small sample of Snake, something to let you get a sense of one of my best written works to date (at least in my opinion). It’s from the first chapter, when one of the Snake’s first victims makes contact with the Snake over the phone. It’s creepy and I love it. Enjoy:

            Paul felt a buzz in his pocket and looked down. Through the fabric in his pants Paul could see the light from his phone shining through. Paul reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dove into a little alcove where he could take the call in peace. Without checking the number he pressed the talk button and brought the phone to his ear.

            “Hello?” said Paul; on the other end all he could hear was a deep breathing. Paul raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “Who is this?” He checked the caller ID, and saw only UNKNOWN NUMBER.

            Suddenly the person at the other end of the phone spoke. “Men in your line of business have no right to be in a church, Mr. Sanonia.”

            Paul stared at the phone, surprised. Glancing quickly around the church, he saw only three people, and none of them were on their phones. How did this person know where he was and how did he get his number? He looked back at the phone and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Who the fuck is this?”

            The man on the other end laughed, a rich, hearty laugh that for some reason chilled Paul’s skin. “When your cousin James Sanonia died, he was shot in the head.” said the man, his voice deep and affected with a heavy Russian accent. “Then several bones were broken all over his body. He was then taken from wherever he was killed and thrown in the Hudson. Dockworkers saw his body floating and pulled him up out of the water. By the time they got him though, there was nothing to identify your cousin’s murderer. Except for one interesting detail, that is.”

            Paul froze, his heart beating loudly in his chest. Who was this guy? How did he know all that? “And what was that detail?” he asked through gritted teeth.

            The man spoke, and Paul froze. “You killed my cousin.” he hissed angrily. “You killed Jamie.”

            “Horrible thing, wasn’t it?” said the Russian man. “I couldn’t get what I wanted out of your cousin. But I’m sure you’ll be much more helpful.”

            Paul was only half-listening; he was looking around the church, trying to find someone—anyone!—on a phone. One of the other worshippers, a teenage girl with a skirt too short for the cold February weather, walked out of the church while texting. Besides her, no one else seemed to have a phone.

            “Where the fuck are you, you crazy shit!” Paul whispered into the phone. “Come on out and face me like a man!”

            “But there is no fun in that.” replied the Russian man. “Besides, you’re so much more amusing to watch.”

            Paul stepped out of the alcove, looking around the church. “Watch?” he repeated.

            “Oh, didn’t I mention it?” asked the Russian man. “I’m right in the church with you.”

Last semester, I wrote how I continue to write about subjects I have no personal experience with, despite my creative writing class’s textbook’s insistence that I do so. It wasn’t that I thought anything from my own life wasn’t good enough for writing about, it’s just that I was more interested in writing about a demon causing a human to become a cannibal or a war between humans and werewolves than I was writing about my anxiety before a test or my sometimes stormy relationships with my sisters. When people like my dad would tell me to at least give it a shot, I would usually reply, “That’s too scary for literature.”

But lately–and I blame the workshops I’ve been taking for this–my writing has taken a more personal tone. Over break, I wrote “Enigma” (later renamed to “In The Lady Ogre’s Den”), which has an autistic child as the main character. I’ve worked with kids with autism before, and I’m even on the spectrum, though I’m very high-functioning. Later I wrote “Old Sid” for class (I’ll be turning that one in a week from Wednesday) and that story takes place on the Ohio State campus, where’ I’ve either been working, learning, or both for the past two years. And recently I’ve been working on a short story called “Three Life Saving Phone Calls”, which is based on some dark experiences in my life that for a time made me very depressed and even contemplated suicide. Sure, I’ve changed so much around that it’s now only very loosely based on my life, but if someone were to look closely, and if that someone knew a lot about me, they could see through the fictional veneer and spot what I’ve taken from my own life and put into the story.

Why the change? Like I said before, I think it might have something to do with the workshops I’ve been taking. The emphasis on literary fiction as opposed to genre fiction requires me to be more personal than I have been, and a lot of what those workshops have been teaching me I’ve assimilated into my writing. I guess finding ways to make my own life and experiences interesting is part of what I’ve taken away from these classes. I’m not exactly sure if it’s the best thing for my writing–after all, I’m still devoted to genre fiction, and I prefer to use imagination rather than confront an actual serial killer–but while I’m stuck with this new appreciation for things in my life and using them in my writing, I might as well take advantage of it to the fullest.

And besides, who knows? “Three Life Saving Phone Calls” seems to be just literary enough that I could submit it to a major literary journal, one that pays its contributors. That’s the hope, at least.

What about you? Do you use your own life in your writing, or is your work so strange that your life couldn’t find a place in your work?

I got back to my dorm not too long ago. I turn on the TV so that I can be ready for Saturday Night Live when it comes on, and I see the news program announce that at Ohio State University, the annual Buckeyethon just ended. I can’t help but think, I was just there. I helped make all that possible.

Buckeyethon is an annual event at Ohio State. Students work to raise money for pediatric cancer research. Those who earn enough money attend one of two shifts, each lasting twelve hours and featuring, among a ton of very fun things, a 12-hour dance marathon, concerts, school dance crews, games, and more! At the end of the second shift, all of Buckeyethon assembled in the Union–some 2,000+ students–to hear that this year, we raised $608,623.29. We went wild hearing that.

I enjoyed every minute of my being apart of Buckeyethon, from the raising money, to the dancing, to the getting colored in green paint and clothes and partying for the green team, to meeting some of the kids whom Buckeyethon benefited, to…oh you get the idea! It was awesome, and I had a ton of fun. And I made a difference, too. Imagine how many kids that money I helped to raise will help! Perhaps next year we’ll make a million and cure cancer too.

That’s the hope. Here’s a photo of me:

Those suspenders are going to the next bat/bat mitzvah I attend.

Those suspenders are going to the next bat/bat mitzvah I attend.

It’s not uncommon for people reading fiction or watching a movie to identify with a character and say to themselves, “I want to be like that character”, or “I so wish that could be me.” We’ve all done it at least once. For years, I waited for a letter to go to Hogwarts, and was a little disappointed that I never got one, even if I knew it wasn’t possible to get one. Teenage girls today look at the Twilight books and films and wish they were so lucky that two hunky, supernatural guys would fight over them, even if one of them has some personality problems and wants to bite you. And I think plenty of us have wanted to blow up the Death Star or use the Force (I know I want to be a Sith Lord).

But it may surprise some people that writers of fiction do this too. In fact, it’s not uncommon for writers to insert themselves in their stoires, sometimes in very heroic or very different roles that are unlike who they really are. Now, you may be thinking, why should a writer do that? Shouldn’t they be creating figures we ourselves want to emulate, not figures they want to emulate or wish to be? But if you think about it in a certain way, it makes sense:

Nobosdy ends up a writer by accident or by purpose. We end up as writers through the various events in our lives. Yes, some of us show talent early on, but we don’t end up becoming writers just because we display talent. I ended up a writer because I liked to create stories, and writing allowed me to take those stories and share them with others in a very efficient way. Not only that, but I had plenty of people over time who encouraged my writing and helped shape me into the person I am today.

Imagine what would happen if I had never learned to love writing though. What sort of person would I be? Well, maybe I’d be a psychology major instead of double-majoring in History and English. I’d be learning about psychopathy and trying to become an analyst for the BAU. Of course, I wouldn’t look forward to the Stats classes. Those are tough!

Or imagine if I’d never come to Columbus and made a fresh start, but instead stayed at the same school in my old town where I was bullied. I might get fed up with it and one day just snap. This would lead me to become a delinquent with anger issues, and eventually I might go to jail for all of my fighting and other bad behavior. Or maybe an intervention might occur, I’d repent my ways, and become a lawyer dedicated to reforming schools.

Or imagine I was a girl. Would I still write? Might I instead be interested in a different lifestyle? Perhaps I’d be a friendly rival of Lady Gaga in terms of fashion and singing! Or perhaps I’d have done some stupid stuff in high school and I’d be a single mother working her way through college. How would I find time to write with all that going on?

You see what I’m doing here? I’m imagining myself in different roles and under different conditions. And as each person is the star of their own story, I’m basically imagining myself in a story where I’m the star and I’m very different from who I am. It’s not too hard after this to apply myself in a different character role for a completely different story.

And the examples above are only the start. It could get wilder, especially since I write fiction with horror/sci-fi/fantasy elements. Imagine what I would be like if I grew up in a world where psychics were a real phenomena, and about 10% of babies were born with it. Imagine that I was born with psychic abilities. What would my life be like? Or what if one of my siblings was a psychic and I wasn’t? Would jealousy make me do strange things?

Or what if we lived in a world where South Africa was the dominant superpower on Earth? How different would our culture be? Would I still be living in the US, or would I live in Johannesburg?

What if humans weren’t the ruling species of Earth, but some other creature was? Would the relationship between humans and this ruling species be symbiotic or would we be hunted by them? How would I feel about the relationship?

Or imagine if the Kingdom of Israel had never fallen, but had lasted for centuries, expanded beyond its original borders, and Islam and Christianity were minority religions like Judaism is today. Would I live in Israel? What would I be doing there right about now? What other countries, faiths, and cultures would exist? What sort of technology would be available, and would the religious establishment allow or ban certain types of technologies?

Or imagine that humans never aged beyond fifteen, died at sixty-three, lay eggs instead of gave life birth, and turkeys were considered divine symbols? What would the world look like, and what sort of strange comedic science-fiction story would I be living?

You see how this is for writers? We put all these possibilities into motion when we sit down to write and we insert ourselves into the story in some capacity. It’s weird, but it’s what we do, and as you can see from above, it’s a lot of fun to do. I actually do it a lot. And if anyone tells us that we could never be military captains or wizards or the pop divas with supernatural abilities, we just say, “It’s fiction. Besides, who says if things weren’t a little different, I might actually be these things?”

What’s your favorite role to imagine yourself in when you insert yourself in a story? Do you think you could be any of those things if life were a little bit different?

Okay, so today I stopped by the school library to see about copyright laws (if you’re going to self-publish something, might as well be protected by law from people using your work illegally and without permission). According to the woman whom I talked to, it’s actually much easier than I thought to copyright your literary work. A little costlier than I thought, but only by twenty dollars. Compared to tuition money, it’s not too bad. And hey, if this is a success, it’ll be worth the investment.

By the way, I’ve been thinking of releasing a short story not in the collection as a little promotion for The Quiet Game: Five Tales To Chill Your Bones. What do you guys think? Would you buy one of my short stories if it was priced at ninety-nine cents? Oh, and if you’re uncertain, I’m choosing between a kidnapping thriller and a scary story involving neo-Nazis. What say you?

The Reality Blog Award

Posted: February 5, 2013 in Living and Life
Tags:

Thanks to tazeinmirzasaad of The Transcending Borders Blog (http://transcendingbordersblog.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/reality-blog-award/) for nominating me for the Real Energizing Amazing Lovely Inspiring Yippee (REALITY) Blog Award, one of those Internet meme awards so common to the blogosphere that always bring a warm glow to our hearts when we recieve them.

For this award, I have to answer 5 questions. Here are the answers I made up:

1. If you could change something, what would you change? I think I would create peace in the Middle East, especially in terms of Israel and her relationships with her neighbors. Of course, this would be the top of a very big list; there’s a lot in this world that I would like to change that I shouldn’t need a genie for (*cough* gun problems *cough*).

2. If you could repeat an age what age would that be? I don’t think like that; I begrudgingly accept my mistakes and move on. That’s just how it is with me. If you dwell on the mistakes of the past, you can’t expect to move forward, can you?

3. What is something that scares you? Oh, you know I can’t reveal that? I’m a horror writer; we’re not supposed to be afraid of anything.

4. What is one dream you have not completed and do you think you will complete it? I want to be a successful author, and with God’s Grace, I’ll achieve that dream. Just got to keep writing, one word at a time.

5. If you could be someone else for a day, who would you be? I’d be a sorcerer with the power to stop evil in the world. But unfortunately, I didn’t get a letter to the equivalent of Hogwarts is in America, so I’ll need either a genie or a wizard to give me his book of spells right as he dies in my arms. Anyone got a genie they don’t need? I think the second one has to happen by chance for it to work.

And now for the 3 bloggers I’d like to nominate for this award:

1. Caitlin Kelly of Broadside Blog.

2. Pat Bertram of Bertram’s Blog

3. Cristian Mihai of Cristian Mihai.net

Thanks for the awards, and congratulations to the nominees. You are all my inspiration to keep writing.