Literary Coming of Age

I'm a sucker for coming-of-age stories. I wrote my first book so I could explore the growing process of a gay Filipino kid. I'm not through with this topic. There's a little bit of that in my second book. Let's face it, childhood haunts me and I often wonder how we make it through those tough and tender years.

This evening I saw a cinematic coming-of-age story of a gay Filipino kid in "The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros." Nathan Lopez (right) as Maximo is simply wonderful. This charming movie has been getting great reviews from the Los Angeles Times to the New York Times. Friends from the Philippines were telling me about this flick for some time now. It unflinchingly looks at the life of this FABULOUS boy amidst the poverty and corruption of The Philippines. The locales in the film will not be seen in Philippine tourist manuals anytime soon. This boy's soul flies regardless of the circumstances surrounding him. If it's playing in your town, go quickly.

Literary Fitness

It hit me. My book will be out in six months and I feel like crap. I learned about the kind of stamina it takes to promote a book. When I was promoting "Letters to Montgomery Clift" I got sick more times than I was used to because my body was breaking down from the effects of book promotion. I'd have to speak about my book a million times, each time trying to make it sound fresh and interesting. I shook a lot of hands--a major way germs are spread--and ate a lot of fast food.

I learned the importance of staying fit and healthy. In the last few months, doing edits and rewrites, my workout regimen became non existent.

Okay, here's to becoming fit again. I went back to kung fu last night and I did another 8 miles this morning.

Literary Resignation

I did another round of edits. I sent it off this morning. My editor e-mailed me back and said from this point on, there will be no new writing. And I wanted to say, WAIT! Let me take one more look. Then I realised it's time to let this baby go. It'll never be perfect. It is what it is. It's been with me for five years and I should do other things, write other novels, maybe start dating again.

I began running more deligently. I did 8 miles the other day--something I hadn't done in a long time. I can get healthy again.

I'll see galleys--the roughcut in book form--make slight tweaks, then off to the printer. My editor thinks he'll have actual copies by December.

To tell you the truth, I'm kind of scared. I've wanted this journey to end for the last two years. Now, it's coming to a conclusion. Be careful what you wish for.

I feel like a knight in dimming armor, coming home.

Literary Blurbs

You know when you look at the back of a book and there are quotes (aka blurbs) from other writers saying nice things about the novel or author? It's part of a marketing strategy for you, the reader, to be convinced that this story is worth spending time and money on.

Well, those little blurbs may actually take some effort to get. A friend's publisher sent his book out to thirty writers to blurb. Not a single writer provided one.

At a luncheon, I met Michael Chabon. I asked him if he'd consider blurbing "Letter to Montgomery Clift." He said he only does it for friends. I wasn't his friend, so I slumped away.

I'd been asked to blurb books. I'm not asked to blurb a book that often, so I happily consented. Right now, we're looking for blurbs for "Talking to the Moon." My editor and I threw some names around. I personally asked two authors I really admire--I mean REALLY admire--to provide blurbs. They said they would, but I'm not holding my breath. I'm gritting my teeth believing that they'll read my novel and decide that they simply can't put their award-winning, bestselling names behind this mess of a book. Then they'll spread the word to their circle of writer-friends, booksellers, and literary critics that my second novel was a real stinker. This means my book is dead in the water even before its published. Then these writers I really admire avoid me at book fairs and writers conferences, whispering how I showed so much promise until THAT second book of his surfaced. And then--oh Gawd, Noel, get some sleep.

Literary Book Fair

People will often categorize my writing. Noel is an Asian American novelist. Mr. Alumit is a gay story teller. Noel Alumit is a post-modern west-coast writer. One title that I enjoy is being called a Los Angeles writer. Los Angeles is my home. It shaped my identity and art. On Sunday, the 17th, I get to moderate a panel on LA. It's at 1:15. I get to discuss Los Angeles as a character in fiction with the likes of Diana Wagman and John Morgan Wilson.

There will be much fun had by all.

Check out the website:

http://www.westhollywoodbookfair.org/Mambo/

Literary Lama

I spent the last three days in the presence of His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. I, and three thousand others, listened to His Holiness interpret ancient Buddhist text. It was on the second day that I looked up from my notebook and realised--holy cow! I'm getting instruction on compassion and altruism by a Nobel Prize Winner in Peace!

Let me tell you receiving Dharma, or Buddha's instruction, is no easy task. I confess that I was proud of myself. I only nodded off once or twice during the three days.

As the days passed, I noticed the audience would get slightly smaller each day. Some people had no idea of how hard it can be to learn Dharma. It was difficult wrapping your brain around text that went:

"Either within or likewise without
Or somewhere in between the two
The conquerors have never found the mind
So the mind has the nature of illusion."

There were a hundred and 12 of these stanzas we had to wade through. His Holiness would speak in Tibetan, then an interpreter would take over. I was reminded of old school days, having to interpret William Shakespeare's Sonnets. This task was far more exhausting.

Regardless, it was special to witness His Holiness live. Reading sacred text and hearing the Dalai Lama's interpretation of them was a highlight in my life. It was even more amazing that His Holiness would say that these teachings from A Commentary of the Awakening Mind by Nagarjuna was difficult and that even he gets confused. I became more humbled--see, you don't have to know everything.

I was able to put these lessons of love and compassion to the test on the last day of the teaching. There were so-called Christians across the street from where the Dalai Lama was screaming at us, yelling epithets, and saying we're going to hell unless we choose Jesus.

Normally, I would have yelled back or atleast shot them the finger. Instead, I just started laughing. They simply looked ridiculous.

Literary Second

I finished another round of edits this weekend. I have another one to go. This book is dedicated to my late father. I hope I honor his memory well by it. It's been with me for a long time--over five years now--and I'm looking forward to closing this chapter of my life (sorry for the writing reference. I'm tired.)

I've had my head in my hands over this novel. I learned alot about myself writing it. I hope readers learn something about themselves when they read it.

Literary Outing

My editor sent me another batch of edits. They're not as intense. They're more t0uch-up changes really. I have the weekend to get them done.

In addition, I'll be doing a reading on Sunday, September 10 at the Festival of Philippine Arts and Culture at Point Fermin Park in San Pedro. I'll be on at noon. I enjoy doing these. I'm reminded that there's a readership out there. That's something I forget sometimes hunched over my computer.

I'll be doing it with Anna Alves, Evangaline Genaden, Evy Ibarra, and Irene Soriano. It'll be hosted by Alan Aquino.

Check us out, if you can.

Literary Readiness

The following is taken from an e-mail that my editor sent me. It'll give me an idea of what to expect for the next few months. I'm done with the major revisions. It goes to copyeditors now.

"Copyediting takes about a week; once I have edits returned, I'll email them to you for your approval. I'll explain how this works when we're there but in short what I'll need for you to do is email me back the document with any tweaks, revisions per the copyeditors instructions. I'm guessing that I'd send this to you on Sept 11, so the faster you can go through the edits (and they'll be fairly light) the faster I can get the book typeset.

"My hunch is that the book will be typeset by Sept 20 or 21. From there galleys get printed, taking another week. That said, we ought to have galleys in hand around Sept 27-Oct 2. These will be uncorrected, so while galleys are being mailed, I'm going to send typeset pages to you and to a professional proofer for one last round. This will be your last and final chance to correct or add anything. I stress this because after you retrun typeset pages, that's it, so you'll want to make sure we have everything including acknowledgements, dedication, etc.

"We'll collate your corrections with the proofers and this will be the book that goes to press. Actual printed books should be here about Novemebr 20. That's a lot to take in so let me know if you have any questions. Also, now is the time to consider blurbs. Depending on who the writers are and how well you or I know them, it might be ok to send manuscript pages. Things can get really rushed by year end so I want to warn you that the pace can turn brisk out of nowhere and the production dept might ask from out of nowhere to have blurbs turned in right away. Just an FYI"

Literary Gentrification

Someday I want to have a book of short stories published. It would be connected to my nieghborhood. It would be called "Music Heard in Hi-fi." Hi-fi being the nickname for Historic Filipinotown. I have three shorts stories--I'm short by atleast seven. It's been something that I'd be toiling with for years. I just can't seem to get it together to write short stories because novel writing takes up a chunk of time.

The need to revisit this goal came about after watching the wonderful "Quinceanera," a coming of age movie about the inhabitants of neighboring "Echo Park." One of the most striking things about the film was the obvious gentrification of the neighborhood. It's something that I see going on in Hi-fi. Who would have thought the crack house around the corner is now worth a million dollars.
Of course gentrificaton brings up alot for me. In one hand, it's sad seeing my neighborhood being turned into condos. On the other hand, it also means my mother has a better nest egg if she chooses to leave.

On one foot gentrification means darker skinned residents may have to go. On the other foot, gay people, a community I so identify with and who are a big part of this gentrification movement, are adding a much needed diversity to these streets.

On one thigh (I've run out of hands and feet), a hipster cafe (Tribal Cafe on Temple) means ridding the neighborhood of those charming mom-and-pop stores that I grew up with. On the other thigh, I love iced mocha lattes and love that I can order such a thing in the nieghborhood I grew up in.

As a friend of mine once said, "Noel, if they're selling lattes in your neighborhood, it's over." Meaning having to accept that the neighborhood is turning into something else. I better get to writing that book of short stories, so that even I can remember what Hi-fi was like.

Literary Collapse

I did it. I finished rewrites. I sent off my manuscript at noon today. There will be more edits. It goes to a copy editor now. I'll catch more stuff when galleys are made and I see it closer to book form. For now, I can rest. I go back to work next week. I might be able to go to a movie two and have some semblance of a vacatin. I have to sleep now.

Literary Pressure

I'm working on the last 80 pages of my novel. It needs to be in by Wednesday. I thought this would be a breeze, but I just spent three hours rewriting three pages! I'm not a perfectionist, but I kept trying to get just the right feel to a scene. All because of an editor's note in the margins of the page, that read: "I guess I don't know where this is coming from." I thought the purpose of the scene was clear, but I was wrong. So, I'm clarifying. All last week was about cutting, now it's about fleshing things out. A simple comment from my editor like "This character needs more motivation for him to react this way" caused me to go into a late night writing fit finding more motivation for a character to do what he does. Ah, the writing life.

Literary Havoc

My novel feels like this torn up piece of parchment. I'm done with the small little edits. Barrel through, I kept telling myself. Now, onto the big stuff.

For the last coupla days I'd been struggling with restructuring the first part of my novel. It's been playing havoc with my head. I'd leave my apartment and think about: HOW THE DREK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX THIS?!?!

It got so bad that I began to vigorously clean. Anyone who knows me knows that things must have gotten really bad with rewrites if Noel turned to cleaning.

Just when I was about to crash my car into the nearest oak tree, it somehow came together this evening. Let me tell you that I felt this incredible lightness overtake me.

Rewrites are due by the end of this month--which ain't too far away. Back to cutting board.

Literary Vacation

You know what I like about this guy in the photo? He's seems to be having a great honest to goodness vacation. He's out in nature, proud at having caught a fish. He looks like he's known a good meal or two. A cigar in his mouth. Me? My vacation time is usually spent on my creative endeavors. Right now I'm using vacation time to do rewrites on my second book. In the past, I'd use vacation time because I had a show. My last two "vacations" were attached to creative projects. I vacationed in New England because I booked a show there. I vacationed in The Philippines because I was a journalist writing for a travel magazine. Someday, I'm going to have one of those vacations when I plan two weeks and just go away. (Then again, I'd have to pay for flight and lodging myself.)

Literary Dullness

I'm feeling dull about my rewrites. I'm happy to be doing them, but my head hurts working on them right now. I can't give them my full attention. I have a major report due at work. (Ah, the day job) All of my mental energies are going to that. My writing has been primarily technical ("For Objective One, the collabortive membership had not changed from contract year one...."). I want to get it done before I take my vacation next week. I'll have two weeks that will allow me to concentrate only on my novel.

At this time, I'm doing the easy part of rewrites like replacing a comma or fixing some bad word-choicing. I'm reserving the big changes (like cutting out a major character and making the story still hold water) for next week.

Literary Shreds

I had a very good discussion with my editor this morning. It was something I looked forward to and dreaded at the same time. I'd digested his comments and needed more clarification. After talking to him, I felt much better. I am more clear. Something we talked about was changing the beginning. I was beside myself when I read this suggestion. After talking to him, I understood. In one fell swoop, the first chapter went to the shredder. It's gone.

Chapter Two is the new Chapter one.

Literary Cover

Let me begin by saying that in most cases, authors don't have a say on their covers. My editor sent me the cover of my next novel. It's lovely, literary, warm, romantic. And it's another photo of a guy's back side!

I wrote an e-mail to my editor and actually said, "Can we cover his ass more?" I asked that the emphasis be focused on his upper back and face. Otherwise, I think the image conveys a beautiful sense of dreaming--something that I explore in the story.

The cover of my first book....
When I was unpublished I hated when I heard an author whine about his covers. In the back of my mind, I thought: shut up already--be satisfied you've got a book. Now, I'm that author. (Life Lesson: Be careful who you curse. You become who you cursed.)

Literary Breathing

Notes from my editor came in the mail for "Talking to the Moon." He wrote a three page, single spaced letter with his suggestions. He also sent back my 382 page manuscript with his mark-ups in red ink.

I was overwhelmed with his comments. It was like sending my beautiful child to school and having him return all beat-up, scarred, and told he doesn't play well with others. I had to call some novelist-friends of mine to calm me down.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.

I put in my request for vacation days.

Literary Calendar

This week I submitted a grant that I'd worked on for months. Finishing this grant opened up my calendar.

It opened it up just in time for my editor to e-mail me and say he'd finished editing my book. I should be expecting notes soon. I'm looking forward to doing rewrites, but I also have to be emotionally and mentally prepared. (You want me to change what? I can't get rid of those pages; I love those pages.) For the most part, I'd had positive editing experiences. Most of the editors have been kind in phrasing suggestions. However, there have been sh*theads who belittle your skill or talent.

I'm going to use some vacation time to do the rewrites. I'll need those few weeks in August to get this done.

Literary Refusal

I can't do this anymore. I can't be cheap about my work. I was asked to perform for almost nothing. I'd even have to pay my own airfare. When I was younger, I jumped at the chance to perform--anywhere. I was thrilled that someone--anyone--wanted to hear my words and watch me perform. Now, I know the time, effort, and money it takes to put on a show. In some venues, the fee offered would only have covered the cost of materials. I've had to say No to venues because it simply wasn't cost efficient for me to perform. In some cases, I'd lost money from my own pocket.