A story is a story, but a narrative is the story plus how you tell it.   Genette’s essay titled Narrative Discourse inspires all sorts of thoughts. Mostly, he has me thinking about time. He analyses mood and voice too, but what really makes me shiver is time. For example, a narrator can narrate past […]

“Rick was a bro, a gentleman seen few and far between, of a caliber unknown to the race of man, the headless baton twirler in a parade called Life, a backpacker extraordinaire, a counter-demon and Lord of the Pismire. Rick Callaghan.” (The Summer Abroad, Part III, Chapter 8.)   Thus we find Rick, one of […]

Have you ever wondered what makes a great piece of literature? Theorist Viktor Shlovsky believed that what a good story was was this, one that sticks around, plays with us, remains. However, to achieve that “long-lasting effect” in a work of art takes a specific set of devices. Like poetic speech. In our phonetic and […]

(Athena disguised as Mentor, helping the prince.) “Telemachus, no more shyness, this is not the time! We sailed the seas for this, for news of your father — where does he lie buried? what fate did he meet? So go right up to Nestor, breaker of horses. We’ll make him yield the secrets of his […]

It came to my attention that I should focus on deepening my characters. As it goes, things should actually happen in a story. Funny, because I have known for a while that my personages spend a lot of time thinking. What’s wrong with thinking. That some people don’t want to read it. While everyone wants […]

“I would like to be able to look Maitreyi in the eyes…” — Bengal Nights, 1933   For a powerful narrative set in postcolonial India, told by two powerful minds, one pair stands to be compared and contrasted. These are Mircea Eliade’s 1933 Bengal Nights and Maitreyi Devi’s 1974 It Does Not Die. Together, they […]

Together, time stops. Apart, time turns to bring us together. How many days and how many nights Have I held your heat to my chest, turned memory to immortal treasure, from one of your tiny corners gone down to count dawn’s sails about your sea? History upon history, endless history Ruins or trash, what’s the […]

Year: 2019.   Setting: Houston. This city wet, gray, and sunny, makes room as I write and write. A groove, to test readability, performs miracles. Why simple, when the poetic rests elsewhere in teacups. Meanwhile mate, pronounced mahteh, cools besides my hot computer. Can’t write about what happens, what is witnessed (I), but will write […]

It occurs to me that, were I to exaggerate, I have never needed to write. My writing comes from a place of want. I want to write. The struggle is, in this case, when one wants to write, that the quality of the work comes into question. Wanting, one invests time, writes from desire or […]

A good chorus can be happy, tragic, annoying but catchy.   Like the one that goes: And I don’t want the world to see me / ’cause I don’t think that they’d understand.   But I know that you will, you will understand. So I’ll show you, I’ll show you what happened in Sicily.   […]

(. . . the story of a magician and a sorceress.)   The magician dashed off stage. He had been ridiculed for his fast-sprouting carnations, yet again. No more flower tricks at these open mics, he begrudged, they don’t care for nature fast or slow. Not to mention, being booed for your favorite spell sucked […]

Lavender fields brushed the side of the island of Hvar. It made us feel calm, those handful of nights in paradise. Argentina had been knocked out of the Cup. Threatened were the vibes. But dinner would that night turn things around.   I couldn’t even tell you who won the World Cup without googling it […]

Why not get into the holiday spirit with some lines? These I wrote while traveling this past summer. They feel warm to me, silly, carefree, and yearning.  Skim them, or sit on a word for a long time. They are here to keep you company. Personally I like the last one the best.     […]

After interminable edits, formatting marathons, and emails during breaks between class to lay down the marketing bricks of this project, it is done. Everything that is not writing is finished. Anything that is left to be, will be left to be. The novel, ladies and gentlemen, is out now. You will find a cover, sexy […]

Last Friday night, in bed with a cup of chamomile tea, I finished the last chapter of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet. What a rush, I thought, staring at the wooden end of an exhausted incense stick on my desk; what a rush, despite the peace around me. I closed the fourth book, itself full of […]