Also on a totally unrelated topic, check out Why Erotic Matters? on a guest post in Kristen Lamb’s blog. She has so many amazing and helpful posts for writers. So follow her and if you’re romance kind of writer this article is perfect for you!
Most children do not come into this world as the child named Alize did. She was sparked into being on a quiet night a town know one knows the name of. The town was filled with judgements people. It was rigid old-fashioned place where people easily frowned and found the worst in each other.
The waning silver crescent moon was supposed to reveal her thin form that night, but a Gardener named Tarise, had been praying for years for a daughter. She whispered her prayers in hushed tones, so nosy neighbours outside of her thin cottage walls would not taunt her. Many a person in the town would laugh at her wishes for a child. They knew as Tarise knew, she was barren and no medical or naturopathic cure would aid Tarise; especially since two husbands had, in the town’s opinion, rightfully divorced her because she couldn’t have a child.
But still Tarise prayed each night; she had faith.
It was a surprise when the waning moon did not show that night in an almost starless sky. Instead around midnight, a blazing orange moon, round and full, heard the prayers of the Gardener. Luna felt empathy for Tarise and her sorrows. She quickly waxed to become a full bright-moon only for that night, to answer the young woman’s pleas. After this night she would return to her waning state.
The moon whispered mystical words in a seance with Mother Nature. She paused in her pregnant state, murmuring incantations with nature in a language time has forgotten. Luna’s magic with Mother Nature’s blessing planted giant green seeds in Tarise’s garden. Then the moonbeams faded into dawns tangerine and azure sky.
Although the seeds the moon and Mother Nature planted, were buried deep beneath the earth, the seeds sparkled and began glowing once planted. Their glimmering verte light was present in the day as Tarise worked in her verdant garden. They were particularly visible at night when the sky’s were ink black but for the silver sliver of the moon and the stars distant glimmers.
One night the Gardener could not sleep. She kept tossing and turning unsure what was bothering her peaceful rest. She went outside towards the glittering seeds in her garden as she had most nights since the shining green seeds first appeared. Tarise was baffled as she was every night, by the intense greenish-light.
She carefully walked through her garden on a stone path she knew by heart, then stopped and stared at the seeds, noticing they had risen above the ground and that vines and leaves protected a small round sac. She realized the giant pod was responsible for the shimmering green luminiesnce in her garden whatever the time of day.
The town’s people who walked by her cottage gave her harsh words when they noticed this light, calling her witch. However, she quickly explained it was special garden lighting. Not being extremely educated or practical, many of the town’s people believed Tarise’s lie or walked away giving her their usual perturbed gaze.
The Gardener wisely left the seeds in her backyard to bloom, anxious to see what the pod would become. It was her habit to go outside in the middle of night for hours to perceive what changes had occurred to the sac increasing in size.
In the day the pod was completely obscured by vines, roots, and leaves. But on one specific night, the pod had risen from the ground even higher, supported by thick roots. The vines and leaves had left most of the pod uncovered to absorb the moon’s radiant light. Tarise realized it was mainly the moonlight that caused the pod to flourish.
She stepped nearer to the pod, stroking it’s transculent outside layer that she knew was hard as a diamond. At the same time, the pods outside was incredibly soft, covered in small hairs that were akin to rabbits fur. To the Gardner’s surprise and joy she saw a small child, a fetus forming within the pod. Up close, and in the pods glowing light, the baby’s details were clear. The pod served as a giant womb.
Moreover, the shell was transparent enough that Tarise could stretch her hands to to touch the baby’s tiny fists and feet through the sac. She stood transfixed as the fetus kicked and turned. Tears dripped from Tarise’s tired eyes. She knew her prayers had been answered. Her wish for a daughter had come true and somehow God had blessed her with a baby from nature’s own womb since her own womb could not conceive.
Every night Tarise spent more hours watching her daughter grow in the transculeng pod. In the day, the baby was hidden by fiolage, but at night, as the months passed by, the Gardener cared for her child the only way she knew how. She cared for her as she would with any of the plants in her gardens and flower beds.
She watered the pod twice each night noticing how thirsty it was sucking up the moisture. She fertilized around the pods roots, to aid the baby’s growth anyway she knew how. She also researched and read her Grandmother’s old journals on gardening full of superstitious rituals to safely make plants grow.
The Gardener chose the name Alize for her daughter and one night as Talise sat observing the pod a giant cracked formed and the tiny cries of her daughter could be heard. Tarise jumped for joy and waited anxiously as the podsplit open and Alize was born, a perfect baby covered in aloe and plant juices. She could tell by the scent, that aloe was the key ingredient. The roots cradled the baby who had slid out and Tarise picked her up to calm her wails.
Alize had bright emerald eyes and a great deal of matted strawberry blond hair. Her eyes were odd for a child just born, but Tarise didn’t care if her daughter was similar to every other newborn. Alize was both wonderous and healthy and the plant she was birthed from continued to feed Alize when the Gardner took her outside three times each night.
The night she was born, Tarise gently washed the baby in plant-based babywash and softly rubbed her matted strawberry hair until it was clean. She covered Alize with cashmere blankets swaddling her as she slept nearby in a bassinet, next to Tarise’s bed.
As well, Alize was a deep sleeper. She quickly bloomed and grew into a typical human child. Her green hued skin faded when she refused to continue sucking on the pod’s juices for sustence. She easily began eating fruits and cooked vegetables, ones that were soft or blended until Alize had teeth and began to eat whatever the Gardener ate herself.
Tarise smiled as her beautiful girl as she became a toddler with auburn-hued hair. Her cherubic cheeks and her wonderful laugh were all Tarise needed to feel elated. Alize’s miniature beauty was astonishing and the color of her hair had also been the color of Tarise’s last ex-husband’s hair. This meant the town’s people couldn’t accuse her of adultery or having loose morals. Instead, they ran her ex-husband out of town with his new wife, for leaving his pregnant ex-wife for false reasons.
As a child, Alize had a great adoration for things both grotesque and lovely. She loved wriggling worms in dirt but also caring for plants such as her prized bright purple orchids. The Gardener fashioned Alize a doll from her favorite movie, “The Nightmare Before Christmas.” She loved the doll and never left anywhere without it until she was at least twelve years old.
Alize continued to grow, both in beauty and knowledge of caring for plants and nature. Tarise taught Balize well how to make tflowers blossom and not to water them too often. Tarise taught her not to let plants burn in the sun or wither in frost. What the girl didn’t discover herself about greenery and flowers, Tarise tirelessly shared. She taught Alize to read and write so she could buy and borrow books learning more about gardens, herbs, and botany. Alize eventually knew more than Tarise herself and even the knowledge from that Tarise’s Grandmother’s journals taught.
They both planted and tilled and worked their hands raw, until one day Alize and her mother created what they called their own Eden. However, a gate of hedges mysteriously formed at front of the garden, a gate they hadn’t planted there. Once Alize and the Gardener entered their ideal garden and saw with awe that truly what they’d been driven to make was paradise, they never returned home. Both Alize and her mother disappeared into the garden, past the gates, never to be seen again.
Welcome to almost September and a look back at some of past interviews in my ‘Rewind Interviews.’ On my own blog and on the Go Dog Go Cafe, a writer’s community! I anyone wants to be a regular member of the Cafe as a Barista once a week or even every two weeks, please let us know. Also, you can submit questions about this or your own writing to the Contact Page.
I’m excited to share with you a ‘Rewind Interview‘ of my good friend, talented writer, wonderfulperson, and wise woman:Rosema Gonzales from the Philippines. You can explore her blog at the following link: A Reading Writer .
1. Rosema, Please Share With Us Some Things About Yourself?
I am my blog’s name: A Reading Writer. I read and write and in-between, eat cake and/or drink coffee.
I currently work for a small Public Relations firm as a Public Relations Associate and also a Public Relations Writer. I have a degree in journalism and I dream of becoming a newswriter someday; abonafide journalist. Although, I feel this goal could be a bit impossible, realistically speaking, but who knows?
When I’m not working, I’m blogging and writing. My blog, A Reading Writer , is my fortress and it has changed my writing-self dramatically. I used to only write bookreviews and thoughts on books I was reading (wanted to read). Now, I write both poetry and fiction. I never thought I could write poetry or fiction until I joined the WordPresscourse: Writing 101, last year. Writing 101 changed my perspective on my writing abilities.
When I’m not writing or blogging, I have a thirst for reading. Mitch Albom who is my favorite author. I love all the novels I have that Mitch Albom wrote, but it would take too long to name them all :D)
When I am not reading I am drinking a cuppa of dark coffee and wishing I could be eatingcheesecake! 😀
2. When Did You First Start Writing and Blogging?
Technically, my first post was published on August 28, 2014, close to three-years-ago now. My first post was only the beginning of my ‘existence’ as a blogger. My ‘real’more thanexisting as a blogger, began when I joined Writing 101 in September 2015. For me, this course offered by WordPress, somehow signaled the ‘rebirth’ of myA Reading Writer blog.
“My ‘real’ more than existing as a blogger, began when I joined Writing 101 in September 2015. For me, this course offered by WordPress, somehow signaled the ‘rebirth’ of my A Reading Writer blog.” – Rosema Gonzales
3. What Does Your Writing and Poetry Mean to You? Why Do You Write and Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation?
For me, writing is like breathing with words. No one can survive without breathing; that’s how vital writing and poetry arefor me. My motivation and inspiration can come from anywhere. I had a writing piece which was inspired by a garbage truck once. Seriously! But the majority of my poetry and fiction are written while I’m riding thebus. I think my brain churns more when I’m commuting. Reading and music alsoinspire andmotivate me, and have recently given birth to some unpublished poems, too. 🙂
4. Do You Find There Is A Time of Day You Most Enjoy Writing?
Hmmm. As I said before, I usually write on a bus so it’s either early morning or at night when I write. Although, I think there is something about the silence and darknessof night that inspiresmore creative pieces as compared to when it’s daytime.
“For me, writing is like breathing with words. No one can survive without breathing; that’s how vital writing and poetry are form me. My motivation and inspiration can come from anywhere.” – Rosema Gonzales
5. Do You Have Any Current Writing Projects or Any Hopeful Writing Projects?
If hosting a writing challenge is a project then, I would say my most recent project called: Word-High Julyhas been my focus. #WordHighJuly featured thirty beautiful Filipinowords as word prompts. Many poets and bloggers have written impeccable pieces inspired by these Filipino words such as halakhak, a noun which means loud uninhibitedlaughter, or kaulayai, a noun which means a pleasant and intimate companion. In terms of future projects, I’m dreaming of publishing my own poetry book in the future.
Note: Rosema has done just that and published her first book on Amazon.com, earlier in the summer. It’s called Between My Bleeding Lines by R.C. Gonzales and is available as a Kindle ebook and in Paperback!
Below is also n example of an image and word prompt used in Rosema’s #WordHighJuly writing challenge last year
6. Have You Published Any Of Your Writing Or Are You Planning to Publish Works of Writing In The Future? Can You Briefly Describe Your Publishing and Writing Process?
All my written works are published on WordPress onlyfor the moment. It’s part of my future plan to publish them soon maybe on my own, because scouting for a publisher is a tough task. I’m still building up the courage to finally, begin writing my own book.
Because I’m not even one step towards publishing my work beyond my blog, I think I’m not a good writer or blogger to describe the process of publishing my writing. HOWEVER, I have great blogging friends who have successfully published their books and I’m sure they will willingly help people who like me, will eventually need tips on the entire publishing process. I have been reading some online material about self-publishing. So, I have gathered a ton of information there.
(See above Rosema self-published her poetry book!)
7. What Is Your Writing Process Like?
I have an erratic writing process.I write anywhere and anytime, because story ideas sprout unexpectedly. There are times for instance, when I am just walking and I come acrosssomeone who I don’t know and a poem is born! It’s an unpredictable process so I always have my phone handy because it’s my stockroom for poetry and fiction.
“I have an erratic writing process. I write anywhere and anytime, because story ideas sprout unexpectedly.” – Rosema Gonzales
8. Do You Prefer Certain Areas of Writing or Reading Styles and/or Genres?
I prefer reading in bed. I’m a certified librocubicularist. 🙂
When it comes to reading genres, I love Young-Adult, Mystery, Thrillers, Contemporary Literature, Historical Fiction, Poetry, and Faith related books.When it comes to writing, my most chosen genre is Romance; love, and more so, unrequited love. I also write realisticfiction and about tragedy. My blog friend Mel, of In Media Reshas been joking about putting a death toll counterin my blog. HAHA. I’m close to considering it !
9. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers?
First, I must say write for yourself not for anyone else. It is blissful to have many peoplefollow and read your work, but it is unusual to have many followers and readers as a writer or blogger starting out. So, do not be discouraged by a lack of other peoplereading your writing; write for no one but yourself.
Second, I you cannot compare yourself to other writers. Other writers maybe talented but you are talented in your own way as well. Such as fingerprints, each author has their own individual perspective and niche in the writing world. So, be yourself;find your own voice and style, then improve on it.
Lastly, I believe you should always be the first person who believes in your characters, in your poems, in in all your writing. This advice, I often give myself, and is a lessonI’m still trying to learn.
“[Y]ou cannot compare yourself to other writers. Other writers maybe talented but you are talented in your own way as well. Such as fingerprints, each author has their own individual perspective and niche in the writing world. So, be yourself; find your own voice and style, then improve on it.” – Rosema Gonzales
10. Do You Have Anything About Yourself You’d Like to Share With Fellow Writers?
Honestly, I’ve only just found my true writer-self. I think this year is the first, I’ve finally embraced creative writing. My focus before this year, was on writing straightnews, real-life nonfiction, becoming a genuine journalist. Now, I am loving what I’ve been discovering about myself through creative writing.
As well, it would not be possible for me to have had such personal growth through writing if I did not have a great bunch of supportive and lovingwriters in the bloggingcommunity on WordPress. I would like to highlight the need for a friendly, honest, andinteractive writing community.
11. Any Advice for Other Writers or Bloggers Starting Out?
Bloggers and writers (online and in general), need to be kind enough to read the work of the writers who read your own posts. Let’s be supportive enough to correctgrammar mistakes or provide tips on how a writer can improve on his or her work. Leave thoughtful comments on other bloggers and writers posts.
I know life happens and we do not always have a lot of time. But if we have the time and make the time, we need to somehow harness the power of our words to encourage ourfellow writers. High praises are not always needed, you can also give constructivecriticism or disagree with what another writer wrote. What’s important is to let writersknow how their work affects you, how you feel about their work.This is helpful, to all writers.
Writers should be the first to realizecompletely, the power of their words. I hope we can agree to use words to create an encouraging community. Let’s not underestimate the power of our comments. Comments on a writer’s work can change lives; I’m proof and I can testify to the truth of comments changing my own life and writing.
“I know life happens and we do not always have a lot of time. But if we have the time and make the time, we need to somehow harness the power of our words to encourage our fellow writers. High praises are not always needed, you can also give constructive criticism or disagree with what another writer wrote.” – Rosema Gonzales
11. Please Share With Us Some Pieces Of Your Fiction And Poetry:
Thanks so much Rosema for filling out interview questions and writing themwith yourheart. It always comes through in your work, fiction, poetry, or talking about yourfavourite books. I’m encouraged you will make wonderful strides in creative writing and in your career aspirations.
“Dreams are always possible, sometimes we only have to believe they can be a possibility!” – A.E.
Once again, here is the link to Rosema’s blog: A Reading Writer. Many thanks for reading along. If you would like to be interviewed as a blogger, poet, writer, or blogger or a cause, please let me know. You can reach-out to me through my Contact Page.
Yves here! Were are looking for assistance with the Saturday Mix. Teresa has been absolutely wonderful but will be unable to continue with us. We are looking for someone who can be a permanent addition to our team. If you are only able to assist for a specific period please specify the length of time you can help out. You may be responsible for weekly posts until Bastet returns.
Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt. For the prompt I have chosen the theme “a trip behind the looking glass,” the male Z name “Zenith,” the female Z Name “Zephira,” the instrument of a “mandolin,” the scent of “vanilla,” and the verb “surrender.” Also, I’m combining the Prompt with Grace from Poetic’s Pub #dVerse on boarders.
Mirror divides, boarders in this place from next,
She’s a second Alice, in blue, much perplexed.
Her name, Zephira, born in distant lands.
Fingers graze lookingglass, ripples expand,
Beyond here she knows lies Wonderland where —
She’ll meet talking creatures, rabbits, hares.
Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life.
She’s read of Alice’s journey; though glass,
So she enters, vanilla an aroma that lasts;
Invades her lungs as she breathes it in,
This new reality, chance to explore freedom.
Not to be forced to surrender to life’s —
Hypocrisy, marriage games played with spite.
Alliance (loveless) to wealthy prospects,
Zephira forgets, enticed with perspective.
Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life.
Notes of the mandolin strummed lead her bare feet,
To places wondrous where flowers her greet.
Rising high, to top of mountain peeks, finds,
Zenith, who’ll not control her, so she shines.
Zephira surrenders to him, her choice glad,
Holding hands in boarders of Wonderland.
Through the looking glass, Zephira finds new life.
” Nurado’s sonnets have no rhyme scheme, are meter-free, and are 14 lines, with a volta when you go from the two quatrain into the the concluding tercets. This is consistent with an Italian (or Petrarchan sonnet). ”
Here he sells his wares, the sidewalk his shop,
He’s weary of unlookers, keeping his clay jar’s burning incense.
I stand nearby, asking myself, “For what reason,
Do these fires burn? What wares has he purloined today?”
And stones gathered against the burnt sienna fence,
Mark that, this is his place, where he works and lives.
Hocks his wares, keeps the fire’s in the jars stoked,
Tiny stoves remain lit from dawn until midnight.
His goods move quick, I’m quite surprised,
To me they’re nothing much, yet, I buy a wood carving.
With a crumpled bill and pocket coins, freely given.
My fingers slide over dips and ridges, measure his small carving,
Such intricate, minute detail; but never have I found —
Why the clay fires forever burn, incense floating to the heavens.