Posts filed under ‘READER’S OPPORTUNITIES’
REFDESK.COM, AN AWESOME WEBSITE FOR WRITERS AND NEWS JUNKIES
,’Refdesk,com is a website I check on a daily basis. It overflows with connection to other sites of varying interests and links to newspapers to name of few of the rewards it offers.
Here’s the link.
As a science fiction writer and also a reading addict, I thought I’d share three sites I always check.
The first is ‘Today In Literature’ which serves to provide a wealth of literary background.
http://www.todayinliterature.com/
The same can be said for ‘Writer’s Almanac’ hosted by Garrison Keillor.
http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
Finally, there’s ‘Science Daily’ chock-full of articles on up-to-the-minute scientific findings. I use this site as a source of ideas for stories. If the lead story in Top Science News generate a story idea for someone I’ll eat all my Arthur C. Clarke novels.
NEW MOON RISING ON SALE IN OXFORD
That’s Oxford, PA.
You can now find my novel, New Moon Rising, on sale a Bookplace, a delightful used book store owned by Virginia Beards. If you love books as much as I, and live in southeast Pennsylvania you owe it to yourself to visit this small treasure, not only for what great finds may come your way but to visit with Virginia.
Virginia taught literature at Penn and the depth and breadth of her literary knowledge is truly awesome. Pick up a book and there is a good chance she is familiar with the contents, or for one of the books I purchased, also knew the author. She is also an accomplished poet and her book of poetry, Exit Pursued By A Bear And Others, is available at the store.
Here is a link to the bookstore’s website.
Give it a try.
NEED A BEACH READ?
Need that book for the beach you won’t be able to put down?
Give New Moon Rising a try!
Here’s a taste.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pasadena
A phone ringing in the early morning hours is seldom a harbinger of good news. When Wade’s phone rang at two thirty-five in the morning, he came out of a peaceful sleep and with dread, reached for the receiver.
“Wade, this is Jeff at the lab.” The excitement in the young graduate student’s voice spoke of disaster before he revealed the reason for his early morning call. “It may have started. We have seismic activity along the whole Hawaiian chain. We have earthquake activity measuring 8.6 on the Richter scale. It’s the strangest earthquake, associated with the islands, anyone here has seen. The earthquake occurred at 4:20PM Hawaiian time. We cannot pinpoint the origin. It’s a series of earthquakes occurring simultaneously beneath the whole island chain. There have already been reports of tsunamis from Midway Island, the Marshall Islands, and the Samoan Islands. New Zealand, Australia, Central America, and China are all bracing for a giant wave. No one knows if the tsunami will be as bad as 2004.”
Jeff responded, “This is amazing! Earthquakes like this have never been described before. No one will know what to expect.”
“Jeff, try to calm down. Juliet and I will be at the lab as soon as we can.
Have the proper authorities been notified?”
“Are you kidding? Every lab in the world recorded this event. Damage reports are already coming in from Hawaii and the damage is widespread.”
“We are also getting signs of volcanic activity around the dormant volcano you instrumented on the island of Hawaii. There have been reports of ash spewing from several volcanoes on some of the islands that haven’t had activity for hundreds, or in some cases, thousands of years.
Wade’s thoughts instantly went to Foster on Oahu. “Is there any report of activity of Oahu?”
“Koolau volcano on Oahu is reported to be putting out ash and smoke.” Wade finished by saying, “We’re on our way, Jeff.”
Wade tried to control his own emotions as he turned toward Juliet. She had propped up her pillow and was listening to the conversation. Just from hearing Wade’s end, she knew that the news was not good.
With fear in his voice, he said, “It looks like it’s begun.” He went on to tell her all that he knew from Jeff as they hurriedly dressed and set out for the lab.
As they approached the Geology Building, every window was illuminated. Wade noticed that the parking lot was already half full as they pulled into his
organized and assigned specific tasks.
A group was told to keep track of earthquake damage and aftershocks. Another was told to track tsunamis, and a third group was told to monitor the Hawaiian Islands for volcanic activity. Constant contact was established with labs in Australia, New Zealand and their colleagues in Japan. There was an attempt made to contact the lab in Hilo at the University of Hawaii—but the lines were out.
With all the phones and computers manned, order began to emerge from the chaos. Wade had a chance to inspect the seismic tracings from the earthquake beneath the Hawaiian Islands. They represented not a single quake, but a long series of overlapping quakes. The location was difficult to determine. The earthquakes occurred at a series of points beneath the Pacific Ocean surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. The character of these quakes fit into the scenario along with the other events that occurred, supporting Professor Humphries’ theory. They were unprecedented in modern time.
Wade stood in the lab, holding the tracings, and wondered about his brother and all the rest of the population of Hawaii, people in love with their paradise. So in love were the residents, that it may have cost countless lives to enjoy heaven on Earth just a little longer.
* * * *
Oahu
Foster continued to work at the surf shop and Heather at the bed and breakfast although each had little to do. Heather took her baby to work with her and found time to feed and care for him while she accomplished her tasks. The working conditions were ideal for caring for the baby. In fact, Lulu gave him so much attention, that if it weren’t for the fact Heather was breast-feeding; he would need no care at all.
Although life went on, there was a pall hanging over the islands knowing that its days might be numbered. Foster had become close friends with most of the surfers who congregated on the beach and shopped at the store. A few that were originally from the mainland returned home but all the native surfers chose to stay. For the most part, they were young men who loved the surf and sun and little else. When asked about their future, almost to a man, they talked about quality of life—not quantity.
Foster was working behind the counter one day while Joe was grabbing some lunch when his friend Rich Loana entered the shop.
“What can I do for you, Rich?”
“Just wanted to see if you’d be interested in doing some surfing later this afternoon. The waves are supposed to be great today.”
“I should be able to get away around four. I’ll meet you on the beach in back of the shop.”
“Sounds like a plan, Foster. I’ll see you then.”
After Rich left, Foster thought about a conversation he had with Rich months earlier, when the news of what might happen to Hawaii was released.
He had had similar conversations with a lot of the surfers he had gotten to know. One conversation with Rich stuck in his mind.
He’d asked Rich, “What will you do now, Rich?” “What do you mean—I’m going to surf.”
“No, you know what I’m talking about. When are you leaving?” “I’m not.”
“You can’t stay here, it’s not safe.”
“Listen Foster, I was born on this island, it’s my home, the only place I’ve ever lived. And surfing is the only thing I know how to do. I don’t have an education. I don’t have a skill. If I moved to the mainland, what would I do? I’d be a bum the rest of my life. I’m a bum here, but at least I have a chance to do what I love. If this theory is wrong – no harm done. If its right, I’ll be doing what I love doing right to the end.”
Foster found that most of the native-born Hawaiian surfers he talked to had a similar attitude. They were determined to embrace their ‘hang loose’ attitude of life right to the end.
* * * *
Traffic through the shop was light, had been for months. Three-thirty arrived and Foster told Joe he was thinking of riding some waves until Heather came home. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle this crowd all alone,” Joe said as he looked around the empty store. “Go ahead; get your butt on the beach.”
Foster got a couple good rides before Rich showed up. They rode together for a while until Rich caught a wave that Foster missed. Foster paddled back out to deeper water turned toward the beach and was preparing to get up on his board
It was 4:20.
He could see Rich on the beach taking a breather, when his friend suddenly fell to the sand. Foster thought to himself, “What the hell is he doing now?” Then he noticed branches falling from the palm trees. In quick succession, the roof of the shop caved in leaving a pile of rubble where the shop and apartment had been. He quickly paddled to shore, and as soon as his feet made contact with the sand, he fell to his knees in the shallow water. He looked up and down the beach and the few people still standing were holding onto a tree or other stabilizing object with looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
The trembling lasted minutes, but it seemed like hours. Time slowed as the Earth shook. The violent shaking subsided, settling down to series of lesser and lesser ripples of movement. Foster ran around front and found Joe sitting on the grass clutching a blood-soaked towel to his head.
“Is this what we’ve been waiting for?” asked Joe. Foster pointed to the south. “What’s that Joe, a fire?” “If it is, it’s one hell of a fire.”
Then they noticed pillars of smoke dotting the horizon.
“I think some of our dead volcanoes have come to life. Come on, we need to get to the B&B. Although the trembling had ceased, the trembling of both
men had not. A mixture of adrenaline, fear, and awe fed emotions waiting for months to be released. Both men knew in their hearts THIS WAS IT.
They hopped into Joe’s jeep and began the short drive to the bed and breakfast. A drive that should have taken minutes, took nearly an hour. The narrow road was littered with tree branches and debris from collapsed buildings and clogged with people walking, stumbling in a state of shock, and not knowing where to go or what to do. Screams could be heard from some of the partially collapsed structures, but for now, aid was nonexistent.
Joe could see the column of smoke issuing to the sky before his business came into view. As they turned the last bend in the road, there stood the B&B, or at least what was left of it, engulfed in flames. The men felt relief when they saw Lulu and Heather standing in the parking lot holding the baby. Their clothes were torn and they were both covered in soot, but they were safe.
They parked the jeep a safe distance from the fire and approached the women. Lulu was in hysterics, sobbing and could not be consoled.
“Thank God you’re all safe. It’s only a building,” Joe said as he embraced his frantic wife.
All Lulu could say over and over was, “Oh no, no, no.”
Foster noticed Heather was also crying. He hugged her and his son. Through choked-back tears, she explained what had happened. “Lulu and I were in the kitchen. Thank God we had the baby with us. We were preparing tomorrow’s breakfast when everything began to shake. Things fell off the shelves and the ceiling started coming down. We made it out just in time before the whole place came crashing down and began to burn.”
Lulu stood listening, clutching herself and moaning.
“A few hours ago we had the first guests we’ve had in a long time check in, a young couple from California, along with their five year old son. They went upstairs to get some rest before they began their tour of the island. They never came out.”
They all watched the burning structure as it caved in further. As the flames singed the nearby palms, they knew it was also a funeral pyre. Both women sobbed as the men stood helpless. Oahu and the rest of the Hawaiian Islands were also helpless, caught in the grasp of a power that was no longer a theory.
Here’s where you can buy it.
Thanks.
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/triznanewmoonrising.html
MY POEM PUBLISHED IN ‘STILL CRAZY’
The literary journal, Still Crazy, has published my poem, Sunday Park Bench, in their July 2014 issue.
They describe their publication as, ‘A literary magazine written by and about people over age 50 but designed to appeal to thoughtful people of all ages’.
If you want to give it a try, here’s a link.
REVISITING MY MEMOIR
Around the year 2000, I began writing my first prose in the form of a memoir. Sections of that effort have appeared in this blog and now I thought I’d post a few more. You may have to hunt if you want to read past entries. My blog needs better organization, but I guess I’m limited by the ability of the organizer.
The title of my memoir, if it ever sees the light of day as a published work, will be You Had Hot Water? This title is derived from the fact that the house where I lived until the later part of my undergraduate college education which I pursued far from Newark, New Jersey where the house was located, did not. Come to think of it, our kitchen sink was the only sink I can ever recall seeing which sported just one faucet.
Our family resided in the Ironbound section of Newark, given that name because of all the industry located in the neighborhood. It was also referred to as ‘Down Neck’ by the locals and is still to this day although I don’t know and I’m sure the vast majority of its residents don’t know the origin of that name.
I began writing my memoir after making observations of the world around me as an adult and seeing what people had and the lives they lived and how the conditions and attitudes were so different from those I experienced growing up. People live in conditions far better than I could ever imagine growing up in Newark, yet bemoan a life I would have given anything for while growing up in Newark during the 1950s and 60s. And I bet they all have hot water.
I realize that these are ‘blanket statements’ and there are many living lives in this country which are miserable existences, but there are more safety nets available now than there were back in the 50s and 60s. Back then, it was a time when you appreciated what you had rather than what the other person had. In reality, no one had a great deal, but we lived life as best we could.
With this introduction, I shall begin posting more memoir pieces offering a glimpse of live in Down Neck Newark when I was a boy.
FIRESTORM AT PESHTIGO by DENISE GESS AND WILLIAM LUTZ
I don’t often reread books, yet I hold onto every book I’ve read. I sometimes wander into my study and study the spines of the volumes that make of my many stacks and recall fragments of the stories they contain. One book I decided to revisit is Firestorm at Peshtigo, the true story of an unprecedented tragic event.
Peshtigo, Wisconsin, north of Green Bay, and 262 miles from Chicago experienced the worst fire in American history. The fire burned and grew slowly for some time, but reached its full destructive force on October 8, 1871, the same time that Chicago was experiencing its famous conflagration.
The Chicago fire cost approximately 300 lives. Peshtigo’s death toll, from the town and surrounding countryside, will never fully be known. Estimates reach 2500. The population of Peshtigo was 2000, only 200 survived. Many victims simply disappeared, reduced to a pile of ashes and the ashes dispersed by the wind. People seeking refuge in clearings either suffocated in the oxygen-deprived atmosphere or simply burst into flame from the unbelievable heat.
The cause of the fire was multifaceted. The weather had been extremely dry. Farmers were in the process of clearing land using the most common method at that time, fire. The winds in the area were known to be treacherous. Twenty-four thousand square miles burned.
The book will captivate and hold your interest and cause you to wonder at the pain and suffering of the victims and survivors.
THE NOVEL by JAMES A. MICHENER
Just finished reading The Novel by James A. Michener. I’ve read many of his works, my favorite is The Source, a book dealing with the excavation of a well in the Middle East and detailing the life of the people surrounding the well from ancient times to the present.
Michener, who died in 1997 at the age of 90, published The Novel in 1991, but it was far from being his last book. The work, divided into four parts The Writer, The Editor, The Critic and The Reader explores the publishing world of a different era. The world of publishing has changed a great deal since Michener wrote this book and continues to rapidly change with self-publishing and social media becoming important tools for today’s authors. In Michener’s story, the editor plays a significant role in the life of the author and the progression of his career. Having never been published by a major house, yet, I don’t know if that portrayal holds true today.
The section of this novel which I found most interesting was that of the critic, Karl Streibert. He finds the work of the main author in the book, Lucas Yoder, shallow and not worth reading. The funny thing is that the work of Lucas Yoder reminds me of Michener’s. The critic judges Yoder’s work as to accessible, fit only for the common reader, and is of the opinion that writers should write for the reading elite, intellectuals who demand the highest quality and deepest thought.
This lofty insight reminds me of a comment I once read in Poet & Writers where the poetry of Billie Collins was considered mediocre because it was too accessible. I happen to find Collins’ poetry extremely enjoyable. I wonder what that says about me.
A difference in values is what makes life interesting, and at times argumentative. I strongly suggest reading James A. Michener’s The Novel.
LOLITA by VLADIMIR NABOKOV
Some time ago I decided to straighten up my study, a Herculean endeavor to be sure. The picture I’m using for my blog was taken after that effort.
While accomplishing this, I came across books I did not know I possessed, some classics, some not so classic. These books were given to me some time ago. I never pass a chance to own a book, especially a free one.
One of these finds was a paperback copy of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. My copy was published in 1959 with the price of 50 cents. This is truly a classic of the last century, and I just finished reading it.
Surprisingly, it’s quite funny with a tongue-in-cheek humor throughout. The language is exceedingly mild especially compared to today’s literature. It’s the subject matter which stops you in your tracks, making you uncomfortable at times. The author has done a fine job in accomplishing this atmosphere.
He has a gift for entering the mind of the character and defining his high level of perversion. Although perverted, along the way you begin to feel some sympathy for the character for he fully understands what he is doing and, towards the end of the novel, is aware of what he has done to his ward’s life.
If you don’t mind the discomfort, I recommend you give this novel a try. Don’t be put off by the book’s reputation or age. It is an excellent read.
AND SO IT GOES KURT VONNEGUT: A LIFE by CHARLES SHIELDS
If you’ve read Slaughterhouse – Five: A Children’s Crusade and enjoyed the hell out of it as I did, you owe it to yourself to read this biography and get to know the man behind the work. Reading about Vonnegut’s life and his journey on the rocky road to fame gives you a background into the birth of his novels and will encourage you to read more. I plan to seek out Breakfast of Champions and Cat’s Cradle to my to-read list. One event described in the book that deeply affected Vonnegut’s family life was the death of his brother-in-law in 1958 and I have a vivid memory of that tragic accident for I visited the site shortly after it happened. A train bound for New York was about to cross the Newark-Bayonne Bridge over the Newark Bay. The bridge was open for a passing barge, and as the train approached to open bridge the engineer suffered a heart attack. The fireman tried to stop the train but couldn’t. Two engines and three passenger cars plunged into the bay with the loss of 47 lives. I still recall pictures published in Life magazine taken while the cars were being raised from the water with bodies hanging from the windows. Published photos were more graphic back then. Perhaps it was the next day when, after school, I walked to the local library annex, one of my favorite places. I was eleven. The library was a short distance from school and it feels like kids had more freedom then, even in a rough town like Newark you were able to wander on your own. After settling in, my sister found me and said my family was outside in our car and that I should come along. They were heading for the train wreck. As were approached the bridge there were cars parked all along the road. Coming upon the scene I remember one car still dangling from the track and partially in the water. Everything else was still submerged. Sorry for the digression. Vonnegut’s brother-in-law’s wife, the writer’s sister, died the same day and Vonnegut wound up supporting their four sons. I took a little detour with the above memory, but once again, this is a biography worth reading.
VISIONS OF GERARD BY JACK KEROUAC
If you’ve never read anything by Kerouac do yourself a favor – begin with On the Road and work your way through his works.
I’ve read a few of his books, but that was some time ago. I’ve now reentered Kerouac’s world with Visions of Gerard. It’s the first book in his series, The Duluoz Legend, and I guess I’m now along for the ride. The series is fourteen books long with Dr. Sax as the next in line and I’m lucky enough to own a copy I bought years ago.
But first, back to Visions of Gerard. This short novel is on long stream of thought with a story line of the narrator’s brother’s death woven in. I’m not an authority, but I don’t think there is anyone currently using this technique.
To be in the mind of Jack Kerouac would be as if you were the silver ball in a pinball machine. You know you’re on the move but not sure of the destination.
Walttriznastories's Blog 