I ‘ve been getting in my inbox selected poetry from the Knopf Doubleday Publishing.
I chose to do that, once I found out that April showers not only bring May flowers, but also some of the best poems. So, I get a poem-a-day.
Today, “Louie Lies” poem by Philip Levine arrived.
I was so enchanted by it, that I bought the book “The Last Shift.”
Now, poetry has always inspired me; everything from French poet Charles Baudelaire, Czech poet Jiri Wolker, American poet Stanley Kunitz to my Rumanian friend Valeriu Dg Barbu.
And now this delight by Levine came just in time to further inspire my writing video shoot tomorrow @LowellArts.
I am finalizing the script for the video today. I want to have it on hand when I talk about my writings at various events.
Whenever I explain the creative process from idea to final product; whether a book, a screenplay, video or movie, I start with the empty room analogy.
This originates in Picasso’s: “Give me a museum, and I will fill it.”
Here is an example of a manuscript proposal that I have submitted to the Calvin College writing conference in Grand Rapids. As a standard, everything must be submitted electronically via app Submittable by a certain deadline.
Always Explore the option of submitting your manuscript to a writer’s conference. Some conferences accept manuscripts even if you are not a registered participant for a fee.
manuscript proposal for Shifting Sands Short Stories, contemporary fiction with excerpts from “Tonight on Main” and “The Temptation of Martin Duggan.”
A manuscript proposal should include the following: author’s bio, book summary including page length, book’s audience/readership, brief comparison to similar titles on the market, marketing strategies/promotion ideas, possible endorsers and chapter samples.
Biography
Emma Palova (Konecna), born in former Czechoslovakia, is a Lowell-based short story writer, novelist, screenwriter and a journalist.
Emma (Konecna) Palova
Palova wrote for Czechoslovak Newsweek and Prague Reporter in the 1990s. She received bachelor’s degree from the University of Brno in 1986.
She started an eclectic collection of short stories during her studies of creative writing at the International Correspondence Schools in Montreal, and at the Grand Rapids Community College in the early 1990s.
The collection “Shifting Sands Short Stories” is now in its first edition. Palova self-published the book on the Kindle Direct Publishing (kdp) platform on Amazon in the summer of 2017.
“I did not want the stories to get lost,” she said.
The collection continues to grow with new stories in volume II of Shifting Sands: Secrets.
Palova’s passion for writing dates back to grade school in Stipa near Zlin in the region of Moravia.
“I’ve always had a knack for languages and adventure,” she said. “Our family immigration saga has been a tremendous inspiration for all my writings.”
The short story “The Temptation of Martin Duggan” captures some immigration details embodied by math professor Martin Duggan.
Palova’s work at a major Midwest retailer has enabled the core of the Shifting Sands stories. While working on the second shift at the women’s department, Palova wrote in the morning emulating Ernest Hemingway’s writing habits, short story form and journalistic career.
During her journalistic years, Palova continued to write fiction inspired by real life happenings as in “Iron Horse” and “Foxy.”
Palova became an American citizen in 1999 in a naturalization ceremony at Gerald R. Ford Museum in Grand Rapids.
In 2012, she diversified again with the digital platform WordPress. Palova founded Emma Blogs, LLC, a portfolio of blogs for marketing in 2014. She combined her passion for history and writing by working with history clients such as the Fallasburg Historical Society.
Palova wrote the screenplay “Riddleyville Clowns” in 2009. It is registered with The Writers Guild of America.
Shifting Sands: Short Stories book summary
Book complete self-published on kdp platform
Pages 148
The book is a collection of 13 short stories where the heroes and heroines shift their destinies like grains of sand in an hour-glass, quite to the surprise of the reader.
Sometimes the characters like the grains have to pass through the narrow part, only to emerge in a new form, that is transformed into stronger human beings. They’re packed in the crowd with others, suffering or loose by themselves, either stranded or pushed to the wall. The shifting shows that everything changes and is like a fluid energy in life.
The stories are divided into three circles. The first circle comprises stories from the early years of immigration spent between the USA and Montreal, Canada until 1993.
These would include: The Temptation of Martin Duggan, Danillo and Honey Azrael.
The second circle draws on retail experience from a Midwest store. These are: Tonight on Main, Therese’s Mind, Boxcutter Amy, Orange Nights and the Death Song.
The third circle of stories was inspired by journalistic career in the regional print newspaper and magazine media through 2012. These include: In the Shadows, Iron Horse, Foxy, Riddleyville Clowns and Chatamal.
Most of the setting is in fictive Midwest Riddleyville. The stories are a tribute to hometown characters and their hardiness to survive.
Book’s audience/readership
Adults 18 and up
Brief title comparison on the market
Much like in Anjali Sachdeva’s “All the Name They Used for God,” the characters in Shifting Sands Short Stories attempt to escape their fate. However, in a lesser fantasy world.
As in Neil Gaiman’s “Fragile Things,” the stories came into existence under different circumstances, and kept changing. Time molded these stories into unconventional shapes, as the hour-glass on the cover suggests.
As in Jeffrey Archer’s “Tell Tale” some stories are closely tied to travel like the story “In the Shadows” based on Milwaukee meetings.
And Earnest Hemingway’s classics based on reshaping different experiences: “The Gambler, the Nun, and the Radio” will be reflected in the works “The Writer, the Nun, and the Gardener.
The book is available throughout the Kent District Library (KDL) system in Grand Rapids, in Hastings and in Big Rapids.
Blog tours, author tours, book signings, libraries
Possible endorsers
Book stores, print companies,
Book excerpt with samples from two stories not to exceed 3,000 words
Tonight on Main Excerpt
Cards with red hearts and hearts again land on the table covered with a lace doily in the old house located at 534 E. Main Street in Riddleyville. Waiting for his ace, young Willy stretched back into a dilapidated arm-chair that squeaked under his light weight. He took a long look around.
Old clothes and empty boxes were laying on the floor and on the couch. An open can of cat food sat on the dining table. Yellow and red drapes with a green and blue hydrangea pattern were drawn down to further dim the dark room. They looked like hanging rags with holes in them.
An antique lamp cast dim light in the living room. The house was filled with old smells combined with the aroma of rum. Willy admired the vintage Coca-Cola collection in the corner. He also peaked through a hole in the drapes to get a good look at the porch and the Main drag through sleepy Riddleyville.
The Midwest town of Riddleyville breathed past with old-fashioned lamp posts, an old Opera House under reconstruction, two rivers crossing paths downstream from the dam, and the remnants of the defunct railroad.
Furniture was piled up on the porch and flowers of the summer were wilting in the cracked pots. Willy recognized millionaire Roby pedaling on his bike. Roby waved as if he knew someone was peaking. Maybe, he just saw the three old women moving the card table on to the porch to play a game of poker.
The house is old, the lady of the house is old, and her daughter Irma is old. The daughter’s cat is old. Aunt Bertha who came to play cards is old. The old has settled in. The porch is half rotted as it leans into the ground. The construction studs are crooked.
The sun is setting down on Main. The three old women are sitting in the late afternoon sun on the half-rotted porch joined by the little angel Willy, the godson of Aunt Bertha. A black fat cat with the French revolutionary name, J. M. Robespierre snuck under the table ever so silently in the deafening noise of the passing by cars.
The noise is unbearable, but the women cannot hear. The pervasive smell of rum has invaded the porch.
“I can’t hear you, mom,” yelled Irma.
“Well, unplug your ears or wash them,” yells back old mom Goldie who will turn 97 in the fall.
Goldie can’t see or hear anymore, but she can still smell. She can smell what the neighbors had for dinner last night.
“I said, isn’t your rum cake burning? I can smell the rum in it burning,” the old lady rocked back and forth as her voice dies in the noise of the street.
“Did you say to get another deck out?” Irma shouted at the top of her lungs.
The street talks at night. It whispers its secrets.
End of excerpt
The Temptation of Martin Duggan Excerpt
The professor’s bald head was shining in the bright morning sunlight. He was bouncing in front of the blackboard explaining triple integers. He was now on his fourth board, all scribbled with numbers and strange symbols.
Martin was wearing a perfectly ironed white shirt with long sleeves from J.C. Penney. Rose made sure that the shirts had a pocket on the left side when buying shirts. He still favored light pastel colors, mostly blue, that matched his grey blue eyes so well.
But, Martin always bought his own pencils. They had to be pencils no. 2, not too soft, not too hard. He found them the most comfortable somewhere in the middle of the scale on the hardness of graphite. The pockets of all his shirts were full of pencils and pens. Martin took great care not to have any smears from his writing tools on his clothes. He diligently put the caps back on pens; black had to match black, blue had to match blue. That way he wouldn’t confuse the color of his ink. Martin never used red.
To match the white shirt, he wore his favorite gray striped pants from his striped suit reserved for special occasions. There was something about lines that had always comforted him. Lines commanded respect.
They could be lines vertical, horizontal, or curves. And then came symbols, and Martin’s love for them; like pi or the toppled 8 symbolizing infinity. He traced the origin of his love for numbers and symbols to his childhood and later growing up in the strict austere atmosphere of the seminary in Brest. He had no intentions of becoming a priest. But parents lodged him in the seminary with his older brother Peter, so they could both receive good education.
In the cold walls of the seminary, Martin found warmth in numbers.
He felt free unleashing his power in numbers and their swift magic. Numbers and ellipses on curves were stories to Martin. His own story was a rollercoaster upside down racing on a fast track starting with a jerk at the faculty in Brno, former Czechoslovakia, which perched him to new heights at the University of Khartoum in Sudan, Africa. This was part of a socialist program to help the Third World countries in the late sixties.
Fresh with a new title, a wife that had just turned 30 and the Prague Spring 1968 movement tearing the old country apart, Martin was ready to climb higher into different unknown spheres.
At 34, he had a receding hairline, an impeccable command of English and an expertise of an old professor. He made decent money in English pounds and bought Rose a set of pearls for her 30th birthday, that she would later hate. She blamed the pearls for her destiny.
According to an old legend, pearls bring tears and bad luck to their owners.
“Do not return home,” letters from the occupied Czech homeland by the Russians kept arriving at the “Pink Palace” apartment complex in the arid desert city on the Blue Nile.
Rose wearing a yellow headband and a lime colored dress, suitable for the late 60s, shed more tears than the Nile had water in it, as the two fought over immigration. She faithfully followed her husband on his career trek that flourished to serve both the developing Sudan and the tossed Czechoslovakia in the heart of Europe.
However, a new house, sick parents and a jealous sister were awaiting back at home, along with a good pharmacy job in the apothecary.
One hot night in the late summer, right around her birthday, Martin kept fidgeting nervously around the kitchen holding a piece of paper. The kids were outside with friends.
“I got accepted to a post doctorate program in Canada,” he said calmly suppressing fear..
The major difference between Czech and American Easter, is that Czech Republic has an Easter Monday celebration.
On Easter Monday, the custom in the villages calls for “whipping” of the girls and women to commemorate Christ’s whipping before he was crucified. Boys and men braid the whips from willow branches.
The teams head out early in the morning on Easter Monday. The ladies of the house have readied the ribbons to tie to the whips, shots of plum brandy and colored eggs. The leader of the team carries the longest whip with the most ribbons.
The Monday festivities are known as “pomlazka.”
Some boys carry wooden “rattles” that make deafening noises ushering in the jolly “whipping team.” The rattles were used instead of church bells. Legend has it that the church bells left for Rome.
Slovak variation on Monday Easter feature pouring water or cologne on girls and women.
Women color the eggs quite often in onion skins for natural brown look. Depending on the region, the Easter feast features “kolache,” a festive traditional pastry of modest origins. Kolache are common also in Czech communities across the USA; Cedar Rapids, Bannister, West Texas and countless others.
Easter lamb baked like a pound cake with decorated eggs.
The Easter meal, again depending on the region, will be most likely “rizek” which is a breaded pork, veal or rabbit fried steak with mashed potatoes accompanied by home-made preserved fruits.
Roasted goose or duck can be an alternative.
In Moravia, the host will offer a shot of plum brandy to greet you at the doorstep. The plum brandies are a pride of each household, and as such they differ based on the plums. Plum brandies are made in local distilleries with equal pride in their craft.
Families get together from far and near to duscuss the latest news; who died, who got married or divorced and to gossip about neighbors and friends.
When we transferred Czech customs to North America in the 1990s, we kept the Easter “whipping”, the plum shots, while adding the American egg hunt and having a leg of lamb with herbs for Easter dinner.
We do miss the “kolache” pastry, since I do not know how to make kolache.
Stay tuned for posts about Czech traditions in America including the elusive “kolache.”
Easter eggs.
Czech Easter traditions and symbols.
Pictured above: Easter lamb pound cake, colored eggs called “kraslice”, braided whips and a wooden rattle.
The feature photo: Gentle whipping on Easter at the Pala household somewhere in Midwest America. Pictured are: Ludek Pala, Jakub Pala & Maranda Palova.
Parnell, MI- The Easter Triduum started on Holy Thursday evening with the Lord’s Last Supper, that has inspired countless generations of artists beginning with DaVinci’s renaissance painting in 1498.
The catholic priests around the world washed the feet of their “servants” or parishioners to show humbleness. Fr. Mark Peacock of St. Pat’s Church in Parnell encouraged to share the act of humbleness by washing other’s feet at home.
The entire three days known as “Triduum” are filled with symbolism and mysticism as the feast of the Lord’s Passover begins on Thursday and ends on Saturday night.
Today, on Good Friday, the lectors will read the “Passion” of the Lord Jesus Christ according to one of the four gospel writers. This served as a basic premise for Mel Gibson’s 2004 controversial movie “The Passion of the Christ.”
The Triduum ends on Holy Saturday night with the great vigil of Easter at 8 pm.
Easter Sunday ensues with the resurrection of Christ Jesus, the Lord.
The symbolism of the Catholic Church also inspired another controversial work; American author Dan Brown’s 2003 novel “The Da Vinci Code.”
I often use the elements of catholic mysticism and symbolism in my fiction as in the short story “White Nights “ and the one I am currently working on:
”The Writer, the Nun, and the Gardener.”
These stories are in my new book of short stories that I am working on “Shifting Sands II.”
Palm Sunday marked the start of the Holy Week on March 25. The Wall Street Journal (WSJ) on Monday led with the feature photo of the Palm Procession in Jerusalem.
It was the only time I bought a print copy of WSJ for $4. I almost passed out at the counter of the Honey Creek shop in Cannonsburg when the clerk named the price.
But, the image of the Franciscan friars and Roman Catholic clergy carrying the palm fronds at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem’s Old City spoke out loud. I almost dropped the paper staring into the cupola centering the color image on top of the fold of the newspaper. The WSJ used to be black and white only without any photos.
Holding the paper in my hands, I realized this was also history before print goes out completely.
Watch for excerpts that show the power of symbolism.
About feature photo: A procession after the Mass of the Lord’s Last Supper on Thursday evening walks to the Chapel of Repose at St. Pat’s in Parnell.
As my horoscope states, I am quite on the edge today.
I am trying to sort through tons of information; everything from Bell’s Oberon summer release, Facebook mess, First & Second amendment demonstrations, “Stormy” interview with Anderson Cooper, stormy weather in Michigan, Kim’s message about China, and Easter Triduum preparations.
Amidst all of that, I am getting ready for the Calvin College Festival of Faith and Writing from April 12 through April 14 in Grand Rapids.
I am waffling back and forth between two manuscripts to submit to the Festival. Only one is allowed via the Submittable app. It’s a good thing that I have manuscripts to choose from for publication.
Most of the workshops and festival circles have filled up already. The roster of speakers is so huge that I just don’t know who to pick.
“It can be an overwhelming conference,” wrote my fellow writer and friend Tamela. “I heard Anne Lamont a few years ago…she was awesome.”
The iPad calendar is showing me that I have a webinar in one minute, and a meeting at noon.
I already missed the “blessing of the oils” @St.Andrews Cathedral yesterday.
My facebook friend warned me that he is shutting down his account, because he doesn’t believe FB provides a net-positive contribution to the world.
“We all have a finite amount of time to invest,” he wrote. “The return on investment of my time on Fb, other than the connection with my immediate family, is not worth it.”
Oh, yes; Facebook and fear. I have yet to write about that. I promised that to my fellow writer Sheryl.
“What’s up with that fear?” she asked.
We’re picking up my brother Vas on Good Friday in Paris, MI. That is, if he decides to come and spend the Easter with us.
My parents Ella & Vaclav Konecny are staying in Venice, Fl for Easter.
Stay tuned for full post about Czech & Slovak Easter traditions right here on EW Emma’s Writings.
Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, the great Russian playwright and short-story writer, said that you must first incubate your story idea for at least two days, so it comes out right.
Lowell, MI – Since the winter doesn’t want to go away under the deceiving spring sun, people from far and near flocked to the 22nd annual Lowell Expo today.
The theme “Expo Olympics” was fitting since the temperature this morning was 30 degrees Fahrenheit. But, that’s exactly what the Lowell Chamber of Commerce Liz Baker always hopes for this major chamber event.
“It’s the only event I wish for bad weather,” she laughed.
It was the place to be whether you wanted to network, show off what you got, gossip or just plain have fun.
The Lowell High School was packed to the rafters with vendors, community organizations and visitors.
At each booth or in the hallways, you were sure to bump into someone you knew.
A bluegrass musician, your local weatherman or your dentist; they were all right there.
From your city council member, Vergennes zoning administrator to the radio station.
And of course, the Lowell High School Band was playing on the center stage.
The kids gathered at the Oak Meadow Tree Service Inc. booth. And I recognized harnessed to the rope, local photographer Bruce Doll struggling to get down.
‘Bruce, you gotta stick to your programs and photography,” I thought to myself.
Local businessman and city councilman Greg Canfield was standing by the Lowell Area Trailways display.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How’s your hotel doing?”
“I am here for the city, the trailways,” he answered.
As I turned around to leave, Canfield said:
“Things are good in Lowell,” he quickly added.
The Fallasburg Historical Society booth no. 129 was the real reason why I came to the Expo. I wanted to deliver the sign-up sheet for the FHS E-newsletter.
There was changing of the guard at the FHS booth. And the new guardians of history were all in black to commemorate the recent passing of late Mr. Edwin Roth lovingly called Ed. At 98, Ed was the oldest member of the FHS, and one of the founding members.
Last year, he still manned the FHS booth accompanied by daughter Jeanne Roth Vandersloot. Just like he had for many decades.
“Mr. Edwin Roth with his passion for history remains an inspiration for all of us,” FHS spokesperson said.
“Isn’t that amazing that there are still newspapers,” said FHS president Ken Tamke.
Tamke found a clipping of Ed staking the Fallasburg historic district register marker in 1999.
He proudly showed off the best kept secret of the FHS; and that is the scrapbook with newspaper clippings going back to 1926.
I encouraged the lady standing next to me to sign up for our E-newsletter.
“I ve already signed up,” said Judy Miller smiling, as she examined the arrowhead artifacts.
Yes, the FHS encourages the preservation of history, both in print and digital.
Because today’s news are tomorrow’s history.
Copyright (c) 2018. Emma Blogs, LLC. All rights reserved.
Fallasburg Historical Society president Ken Tamke shares memories of the oldest and one of the founding members of the FHS.
According to the obituary, Edwin Roth still cut his own wood at 95. He was second generation Swiss, and proud of his ancestry. He never missed an FHS event, and attended the Tri-River Historical Museum network monthly meetings.
Frank Brechbiel gave him rides to meetings.
“It’s the least I can do,” he said last summer in Clarksville.
Mr. Roth’s secret to long life
“To say Ed lived life to the fullest would be a vast understatement. His spirit will of course live on, his legacy, one of many, Fallasburg village today.
Mr. Edwin Roth at the Fallasburg Christmas party inside the one-room schoolhouse in 2016 with Frank Brechbiel.
“I believe we all marveled at his longevity in our individual quests to find the fountain of youth. Ed’s answer was simple, eat right, live clean, and another nugget he shared with me last Christmas with a large smile, “Don’t go to Doctors”! That was Ed.”
Ken Tamke
Excerpt from FHS President’s message on the passing of Mr. Edwin Christian Roth on March 8,2018.
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