Daily Archives: November 28, 2012

Shortlisted… there’s a sweeter term to “Did not Win” :)

Isagani Cruz, in his article in the Philippine Star writes:

REMINDER for non-winners of the National Book Award: If you go to a bookstore and look at the covers of foreign books, you will see labels such as “Finalist, Booker Prize” or “Short-listed for the Pulitzer Prize.” Foreign authors and publishers are proud to be finalists of a major book award. Needless to say, winners are even more proud, but there is nothing to be ashamed of about being a finalist and not a winner. After all, even movies are advertised as “Nominated for an Academy Award.”

I should show this article to my publisher. Give them hope that maybe the next book will get it. haha. 🙂

 

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A poem and a wish

Today, two personal items.

I was gladly surprised to see that a poem of mine, “My Brother Lives on the Other Side,” got selected as a finalist at the monthly Goodreads.com poetry contest. If it gets the most votes from readers, it will appear in the newsletter which apparently reaches millions. To be read is perhaps one of the greatest joys of a writer.

I can say I am promoting my own work. I can also say I am trying to reach out to others, perhaps show a perspective that others have not seen before, start a conversation.

One reader asked me what my poem means. I can only say what my poem hopes to mean.

This blog doesn’t have a lot of followers, admittedly. But should you read this – whether it leads you to vote for my poem now, or just happen to read the poem long after 1 December 2012 – I would love to hear from you. Tell me if the poem reached out to you or not. Start a conversation. (I used to just do that practically anywhere with anyone when I am on the road. I miss that. )

 

HERE is the link to the Goodreads.com Poetry Contest.

 

Second item.

It is painful to know that things change no matter where you are. People you love succumb slowly to the ravages of aging. Eyes clouding over. Hearing fades. Sometimes the misfiring of brain cells make you see something that isn’t there, like a group of children who are not yours, not your children’s either, just children you don’t know. You tell them to go away. But they won’t. And those around you feel uneasy. There is nothing there but an empty living room, not a sound from a single child, not a shadow.

My mother, I wish I could hold you in my arms.

-o-