Emma Palova, born in Czech Republic, is an author, a writer, a screenwriter, a journalist, a photographer, a designer and the founder of Emma Blogs, LLC, based in Lowell, Michigan.
Currently, she is working on her memoir "Greenwich Meridian" which she intends to turn into a screenplay.
Palova started her blog EW Emma's Writings at http://emmaplova.com in support of the publication of her memoir in January, 2013.
The blog has grown into a passion and a company that designs blogs for other people under the umbrella of Emma Blogs.
Palova is a prolific online publisher open to new ideas and to new horizons. A natural innovator, Palova loves to create progressive brands into the future. Check out her inspirational post "Desert epiphany" and the authors page on About_me and on Facebook.
I am looking forward to seeing you around the greater Grand Rapids area and on my blog.
I am seeking an agent or a publisher for the memoir that I intend to publish for my mom Ella's 80 birthday on Aug. 23.
I celebrated my fourth anniversary on the WordPress publishing platform on Jan. 15th, 2017 with more than 1,000 followers and 500 plus posts.
Love always,
Emma
May Day is a big day in Czech Republic. Today all the beer gardens officially open. It is also known as the day for love, as well as the entire month of
May.
It has been the subject of many poems, books & other works of art.
The most famous anthology dedicated to love in May was written by Czech poet Karel Hynek Macha.
May Day pole with ribbons in Bannister, Michigan
Copyright (c) 2014 story and photo from Bannister by Emma Palova
This sign designates the preserved farmland along the eight-mile long Parnell Corridor in northeast Kent County, Michigan. The farmland preservation was led by philanthropist Peter Wege of Grand Rapids.
Here is a quick solution that I call the healthy carousel salad with detox elixir from beets.
Easy lunch carousel
Simple, quick and versatile. In the middle place white meat like tuna or chicken. Surround that with vegetable greens, reds like Swiss chard, olives, tomatoes, purple onions and cheeses.
Be colorful and creative as you wish. Fits any taste. I use balsamic vinaigrette dressing.
The detox elixir is made from beets, greens, carrot juice, green tea and citrus fruit.
Follow Emma’s Writings for insight and fun. Learn how to write, learn how to blog and design. Be your own journalist. Learn how to express your voice. Shout out loud.
100 Posts on WordPress
Advertise your work and brand on my rolling portfolio of spring blogs.
On Earth Day April 22nd I reached 100th post on the WordPress publishing platform. I didn’t even know about it until the notification that congratulated me. I kind of felt like “When we put the man on the moon.”
How did I get there?
Based on advice from book agents, I set out to have a definite online presence before the publishing of my memoir “Greenwich Meridian where east meets West.”
At first I wanted to have a website done. A computer dude told me that he does not do websites, but recommended a service that does.
But, in the meantime while doing research for the memoir, I came across a WordPress like box for the Hawkins Chamber of Commerce in Texas.
In order to like and comment, I had to have a blog of my own. At first I was frustrated, but today I am thankful.
Emma Palova
I went into blogging with an open mind, with one class of programming, some design experience from InDesign and Quark Express and 20 years of journalistic print experience.
My first blog post published on January 15th of last year was “Emma Palova biography.”
Just like with anything new there was a steep learning curve in the beginning accompanied by comments:
“Why are you doing this? Let somebody else do it,” said my husband Ludek as he watched me struggle with a post on a Friday afternoon. I wanted to make sure that the posts came out fresh for the weekend for the people to read when they have time.
I am a Taurus, a zodiac sign known for its persistence, determination and sometimes stubbornness.
“I don’t give up easily,” I replied. “Otherwise we would not be here.”
Daily journal keeps track of ideas, tasks
I was referring to our immigration to the USA in 1989 from former Czechoslovakia. I anchored the blog main posts on a mix of stories from the Czech immigration saga and big local stories like Lowell Expo 2014.
Two events further encouraged blogging. First, Writer’s Digest suggested blogging for others to make some revenue. Second, my freelance article on Frozen Creek Floral & Farms was rejected by several publications, while the editors suggested writing for their blogs. Well, I already had my blog EW Emma’s Writings, why would I want to waste my time on courting mainly print publications?
Branching out
So, with Frozen CreekFloral entrepreneurial couple, I branched into the other favorite part of the blog: About localentrepreneurs & artists. This page profiles artists, business people, community members and interesting residents. I received probably the most followers from this section on Entrepreneur Extraordinaire in one day, followed by Of style & substance.
The content has never been a problem for me. I have a million ideas a day. So, if I can get at least two a day formulated and formatted on the web, I win.
But, I share the problem of most writers and artists; I cannot immediately sit down and write what I was thinking about a minute ago. I loiter around, make more coffee, tea, or even worse I eat. In the best case scenario I head out into the terrain to get some photos. I love photography because it feeds into writing and gives me ideas.
Like Hemingway, I am a morning writer. Whatever I don’t get down on the screen in the morning or early afternoon, it just does not make it anywhere. At least not that day.
As the day gets old, so do my ideas and they change into something else into different energy.
To prevent this procrastination, I started a daily writing journal on Norcom composition books. They’re wide ruled and look like a book. In the movie and scriptwriting industry, these are called dailies or in French Le Quotidien.
On each new page, I make a plan for the day. A typical entry tracks on the left side what I need to write that day, ideas and design tasks. I also put the temperature and a sun or a cloud weather symbol on the left side, and my blood pressure readings ha ha ha.
On the right side: I first make a note if I did yoga, meditated and sometimes what I had for breakfast. I make a list of who I need to contact that day with their numbers and what I need to do other than write: meetings, webinars, lunches and such.
Next day, I go back to that page and see what I got done. The composition books have become a great reference for me, and they sit well on the bookshelf. I have accumulated several editions of these dailies. If I run out of ideas, I just turn back to these for reinvention.
As I was roaming around streamlining my thoughts I came across an interesting sign in front of the Wege Wittenbach Agriscience Center in Lowell, MIchigan.
It read
May there be peace on Earth. Actually the sign says exactly: May Peace Prevail on Earth
In my memoir “Greenwich Meridian,” I write about Czech and Slovak traditions that I have witnessed while living in Czechoslovakia with a touch of nostalgia. Some of them disappeared along with the old regimes, but most have survived mainly in villages and small towns preserved by enthusiastic small groups of people. The traditions are reflected in festive costumes for the holidays and special events, in music, dance, food, and customs specific to each village and town.
We lived in Zlin, Moravia, which is the central part of former Czechoslovakia embedded in traditions. Both as a child and an adult, I lived and visited with my grandparents in Vizovice, a treasure trove of traditions.
Easter celebrations in Czech and some other European countries are longer by one day, and that is Monday.
We have always indulged in lavish preparations for the long Easter weekend. That meant having enough meat, desserts, eggs, and beverages for three days. There were long lines just like before any major holiday. I spent a lot of time standing in lines and listening to what the old broads had to say.
“I am not going to tell him how much I spent,” a woman wearing a scarf and a fluffy skirt shook her head defiantly.
The other one with an apron over her dress smelled of burnt dough.
I thought, she must have burnt her kolache, a traditional festive pastry with plum butter.
The broad leaned closer to the first one and whispered something into her ear. Then they both laughed, until their bellies and chests were heaving up and down. I learned a lot standing in lines. The longer the line, the more I learned.
So, the culmination of it all is Easter Monday known for its “schmigrust,” an old whipping custom.
Traditional Czech festive costumes.
On that day, early in the morning ,large groups of boys and young men head out into the streets with their braided knot-grass whips or oversized wooden spoons decorated with ribbons. The day before, they spent many hours skillfully braiding their whips out of willow twigs or scouring the house for the biggest wooden spoon.
The boys go door to door, reciting traditional Easter carols like “Hody, hody doprovody,” asking the lady of the house for painted eggs. Then, they whip all the present females in exchange for decorated eggs and ribbons. Single women, and girls tied ribbons on top of the whip. I always wondered about the whipping custom, long before I ever set my foot out into the world. One day, grandma Anna finally explained it to me.
“It is supposed to resemble the whipping of Christ before he died,” she said.
“But, grandma that’s evil,” I cried.
Grandma just shrugged, and turned away. Later in life, I knew better than to question a tradition.
The elders in the group were offered shots of plum brandy, usually home made or acquired through bartering. Even family members took part in this ritual. Uncles and cousins were invited inside for coffee, festive desserts such as kolache, shots and meaningful conversation.
On a good year, and especially when I was a teenager, we got anywhere around 100 passionate revelers. Sometimes, I ran out of ribbons. The boys and young men, competing against each other, took pride in the number of ribbons they got. The craft stores had to stock up with meters and meters of ribbons, plain or embroidered. The hens, of course, felt obligated to produce more eggs.
As I walked on the gravel road to the Franciscan Sisters of the Eucharist for the first time this year, I thought about Easter and spring both as a time for new life along with death.
This first walk is very significant and important to my writing career. It sorts things out kind of like spring cleaning. The trees are bare, and I can see deep into the woods where the ground is still covered with last autumn leaves.
The trees along the two-mile route look like dark caricatures; creepy sketches whining as the wind tries to break the wood. The road is hard, and I can feel every pebble under the soles of my shoes.
First spring walk to the Franciscan Sisters
By the Homestead Orchard I found an old patch of snow. Usually by this time, I see daffodils peak out. The apple trees in the orchard seem old, bent and all crooked.
The camera is dangling by my side.
As I take a deep breath of fresh air, the wind howls above my head, But other than the wind, it’s totally quiet. I did not encounter a car, a person or an animal.
I tally last winter’s happenings. We had two new births in the family, Josephine and baby boy Sam born in France.
I haven’t seen yet Sam, that’s the price of immigration and international marriages.
New life shows in the first fig
For the first time in years, I am walking alone. My dog Haryk can’t walk well anymore. He sleeps most of the day.
My parents Ella & Vaclav Konecny are still in Florida awaiting the funeral of their good Czech friend Anthony Herman. That brings me full circle to our immigration saga captured in Greenwich Meridian where East meets west.
The two families knew each other before immigrating in 1968 from mom’s hometown Vizovice in former Czechoslovakia. They immigrated separately with their young children.
New life in a pussy willow
When I arrived in 1989 in NYC to permanently live in the USA, we stayed at the Herman’s home. The Konecnys and the Hemans remained in telephone contact over the years.
Aging brought them closer together since the families followed the pattern of winterizing in Florida. They found themselves living within half-an-hour of each other. They visited with each other on Sundays for many years, according to an old Czech custom.
And as my favorite author Gabriel Garcia Marque writes in his “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” that you’re never home in a foreign place until someone dies there.
With the wedding preparations of our son Jake Pala and Maranda Ruegsegger, and now with the death of our family friend, I realized that we have finally arrived.