Not a Sorry Samurai

For those of you following me on my path to publication--a journey fraught with sharp turns, obstacles to trip over and plenty of crossroads--here's a tale of one of my "creative" marketing attempts.

As a writer--one who is supposed to be creative--I am forever "thinking outside of the box" when it comes to getting word of my writing "out there"--something beyond the usual Facebook and Twitter promotion. So, when my friend and fellow author, M.G. Miller, informed me that George Takei, a former internee of Rohwer, (where my Broken Doll characters, Sachi and Nobu were internees) would be narrating with the Little Rock Symphony, I decided I had to attend. Later, another writer friend, Bud Hanks, sent me an email with additional information about George Takei's appearances in Arkansas.

It seemed the forces were with me. Oops. Wrong movie.

If I could only have the chance to talk to Mr. Takei . . .

I knew my chances were slim, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Once I purchased the tickets to the concert, my question then became, "How can I be gain the attention of George Takei in a bold (my friend, Ruth Weeks, calls me Samurai Jan), yet dignified manner? (I am half-Japanese, after all, and my misbehavior could potentially embarrass not only my mother, but many generations before her.)

• Sit in the front row, flashing the Vulcan salute?
• Wear a Trekkie outfit?
• Paint my face like a geisha?
• Tattoo "I need to talk to you" on my forehead?
• All of the above?

Okay, those were bold ideas, but hardly dignified.

So, I here's what I decided to do:

• Wear my evening jacket, cut from a genuine kimono, purchased in Japan.
• Bring a copy of the Ramblings Yearbook, (1945) from Topaz War Relocation Center, where my mother and her family were internees.
• Bring a synopsis of my book . . . just in case.
• Bring business cards . . . just in case.

Ruth and I sat in the front row, center seats. When the time came, Mr. Takei walked onto the stage, and I turned to Jell-O, almost like when I watched Michael Bolton walked onto the stage many, many years ago.(However, I didn't scream uncontrollably with Mr. Takei. I might have, but that would be undignified.)

Unfortunately, we were sitting so close to the stage that Mr. Takei's placement for his narration was blocked by conductor Philip Mann's pant leg. I strained to move around that pant leg to see Mr. Takei, knowing that if I couldn't see him, he surely couldn't see me. But, too much straining would look . . . well, undignified.

When his beautiful and moving narration was complete, Mr. Takei left the stage. I slumped in my seat, no longer concerned about looking undignified.

Philip Mann and George Takei

Then, the orchestra began to play Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, Ode to Joy. It was as though the sun began to shine again. A full symphony and 400+ voices, all conducted by the passionate movement of conductor, Philip Mann.

For more than an hour I had chills over the beautiful sounds of the orchestra and choir, recalled my days as a flutist and sat on my hands to keep from mimicking the conductor. On the way home, Ruth and I stopped for dinner and talked about everything under the sun.

In the end, the glow of Mr. Takei's Japanese dignity, melted my boldness like the sun melts the snow. But my path to publication is also lined with many flowers, and yesterday was one of them.


How could I be a sorry Samurai?

Morrill's Monday Morning Mashup - 2/27/12

MASH-UP

A creative combination

or mixing of content

from different sources.

I'm back with the Mashup after a couple of weeks of Internet challenges and being out of town. I hope this week's blogs of Twitterly information will help you over the hump of Twitterphobia. After you read these articles, my best advice is "just do it." Stop twittering your thumbs over Twitter and get started. Little by little, you'll learn this very foreign language.

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This post titled "44 Essential Twitter Hashtags" by Caitlin Muir on the blog, www.AuthorMedia.Com, explains what a hashtag is, and describes how to use them effectively. Says Ms. Muir:  "Used correctly, Twitter hashtags are one of the best ways to connect with industry experts, readers, and other authors. Used incorrectly, it’s just another way to waste your precious time."

http://www.authormedia.com/2012/01/24/44-essential-twitter-hashtags-every-author-should-know/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+AuthorTechTips+%28Author+Tech+Tips%29&utm_content=Google+Reader

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When it comes to effectively using social media, Madison Woods is one of the best I know. She has begun an excellent and comprehensive series on the Writerly Business Plan on her blog. One of the components of that series is "Twitter as a Tool." Madison says:  "Networking is way different from selling. Marketing is not directly selling. It’s the art of making someone want whatever you are offering."

http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/2012/02/26/writerly-business-plan-using-twitter-as-a-tool/

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Insatiable Booksluts. With a name like that you know you want to visit this website. And it gives you some idea that these bloggers (Susie, Rob and Amy) post information in an entertaining and informative manner, for both writers and readers. Their post on "Using Twitter to Market the Books You Wrote" provides great information on what to do, and more importantly, what NOT to do when using Twitter for marketing:  "Even super famous people with a zillion followers don’t spend all their time sitting around saying 'buy my book/watch my show/etc!' They wouldn’t have a zillion followers if they did that."

http://insatiablebooksluts.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/hey-you-should-read-this-using-twitter-to-market-the-books-you-wrote/

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QUOTE OF THE WEEK:

A man should not
enter a house suddenly
without knocking.

               --- The Talmud

Secret Saturday - 2/25/12: "Changing Colors"

February is Black History Month. Some of my fondest memories are of a black family that lived across Coolidge Street, where I grew up:

     When I was a little girl, some of my friends wanted to be Cinderella. Some wanted to be a nurse. One even wanted to be president. Me? I wanted to be black.
     On Coolidge Street in California, we lived across the street from a black family who, like my family, had five kids. But they had five girls, and we had four girls and one lucky brother. (Though he'd probably disagree.) I didn't really know the three older girls, but Maria and Nina became good friends of my younger sisters.
     Being the mean-no-fun-prudish-brainy-band-freak-oldest-sister, I wasn't included in most of the fun, and usually watched them "play" together from afar. Maria had the best laugh in the world, and Nina moved with the grace and spirit of Tinkerbell. When I say they were two crazy girls, I mean it in the fondest, happiest way.
     Perhaps I noticed these things about Maria and Nina because of my upbringing by my Japanese mother. I was brought up to be hypersensitive to what others would think of my behavior, overly cautious not to do anything that might cause me to "lose face."
     Maria and Nina laughed, danced and joked with such unabashed joy and freedom that it drew my sisters out of their cultural shells. I wanted to join in the fun, too. But, often, I couldn't make myself let go.
     So, I stood by and watched. And sometimes I wished I was black.

Thanks to Facebook, I'm still in touch with Maria and Nina, and have even gotten to know one of the older sisters, Donna, through Facebook. Maria is currently helping me with the voice of my Broken Dolls character, Terrence. Someday soon, we hope to have a reunion.

We were lucky to have grown up with a family like Maria's and Nina's, lucky to experience a culture different from ours. For anyone who has not been so fortunate, different cultures can also be experienced through reading. Thanks to one of my blog readers for sending me the following link to a list of 25 Novels to Honor During Black History Month:


http://www.accreditedonlinecolleges.com/blog/2012/25-novels-to-honor-during-black-history-month/

As the article says, these books "contribute to a greater cultural understanding of 'blackness' and its heterogeneous nature."


Do you have cultural stories from your childhood to share?

#FlashFriday #FridayFictioneers: Precious Delusion

Between my Internet being down and my mini-vacation in the Land of Enchantment (that would be Santa Fe, NM), I've missed the Friday Fictioneers! But, I'm happy to be back this week, and can't wait to read the other stories (click here and you can read them, too!) inspired by Madison Woods's photograph.:

Precious Delusion

     Perhaps you’ve heard of “little man complex.” Sadly, Precious, my little French Poodle, suffered from a terminal case of “little dog complex.”

    I remember my little foofoo barking wildly, her rhinestone collar glittering, even in the dull sunlight of that foggy afternoon. Her fatal delusion was the distraction I needed to get away. Still, I’m haunted by her tiny yelp as she was thrown against the rock where she now rests.

     So, I come to visit her, even a dozen years after her grizzly death. Yes, it was grizzly--as in bear--that brought her untimely end.

Stories to Honor Black History Month

In honor of Black History Month, I am offering two of my short stories on Smashwords for free. These are stories that were inspired by two characters in my book, Broken Dolls: Sachiko Kimura, a young Japanese-American internee, and Jubie Lee Franklin, a black girl who lives in the town near the internment camp.

Xs and Os

In this Pushcart nominated story, Jubie meets Sachi, and they find though their skin color is different, they have something in common.


Click here to go to Smashwords for free download.

The Red Kimono

Life is pretty dull at the internment camp in Rohwer, Arkansas, and two girls couldn't be more different than Sachi and Jubie. That is, until something magical happens. 


Click here to go to Smashwords for free download.




I hope you will enjoy the stories of Jubie and Sachi. I've had many "conversations" with these two young girls, and their friendship demonstrates what could be lost if we judge a person by the color of her skin.