Showing posts with label Korean. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Korean. Show all posts

Monday, March 29, 2010

Husband Hunting Part IV

Chye nudged me and whispered, “Stand.”

The sermon had ended, a song had concluded, the offering had come and gone, and a prayer uttered over the full, bounty of gifts.

I realized we were at that part of the service. The minister had announced us as guests, not that I’d recognized my name, but apparently it was our job to stand and present ourselves to the Korean Presbyterian congregation. Our covert position in the back  insured that the entire gathering had to twist themselves around to gawk at us. I popped up, gazed at their upturned faces, nodded acknowledgement, and plopped back down in the pew. A gasp of horror from the onlookers told me I had made a mistake. Chye flapped her hand at me, frantically motioning at me to stand back up.

I rose.

The organ burst into a full, bright chord and I jumped. I patted my hair back into place, and hung on to the pew back as the gathering opened their mouths wide and sang, “Welcome, dear guest,” or something to that effect. I’m likely making it up at this point, if only due to the complete, unnerving experience. That and I don’t speak Korean, so honestly, they could have sang anything, for example, “No sweet girls, there are no husbands here.... at least none as old as you, unless you want to consider... Never mind.”

They sang a full verse. They sang a chorus.

They sang a second verse.

They repeated the dang chorus.

I pulled my face into a wide, sloppy grin. My knees began to creak and bend toward the pew, but straightened suddenly at the start of the third verse. I felt trapped behind the smile plastered on my face and my lips began to dry on my teeth. At the final stanza, their arms rose in unison, palms open, then pointed our direction as the final chorus catapulted out.

My knees were a little weak but I lowered myself and settled softly into the upholstered pew. I pulled my head down and prayed for the announcements to end so we could scoot out of there. The minister joined me in prayer, except his wasn’t silent.

“Ah-min,” the congregation heaved loudly.

His robe flapped in a self-created breeze as he strode past. 

Chye and I rushed for the aisle, taking huge mother-may-I steps toward the exit.

She made it before me, but the minister’s stance guarding the door slowed us down. Chye did as she'd been taught: she bowed low. I automatically reached out to catch her thinking she would fall over, but she had it under control. The minister caste his gaze on me. Just behind him stood the open door. Freedom. I bobbed my head his direction and turned to bolt, but my inept head jerk gave the Korean women time to set their trap. The babbling began. Their voices rose along with the volume and I yelled at Chye as they closed in on us, “What? What?”

A couple of women  in front of us motioned us toward their dining hall. Another women positioned herself behind us, placed one hand on Chye’s back and one hand firmly on mine. She braced herself, dug her feet into the carpet and began to push.

She. Pushed. Us. Down. The. Hall. Literally.

When I saw what was on the table it was too good to miss. I ran the last few steps, a goofy grin gaping across my lips.
Krispy Kremes and Kimchi.

Klearly Korean.

Oh, by the way, we went back the next week.


Top

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Husband Hunting Part III

Adventure embraces every moment of our lives. We have no idea what is coming next. I had no idea Chye (a co-worker and Korean woman) would ask me about the Korean Presbyterian Church I had attended some months back. Crashing their service was a personal dare to further my book research.

It had not been a comfortable experience.

I am not Korean.

Chye had embarked on a personal quest, to secure a Korean husband, and had completed preliminary research--general fact finding about Korean places of worship in the larger metro area, plus she had joined Match.com and joined a Korean dating site.

At mid-thirty the time was now. Marriage and baby were her goals.

As an an artist/designer, Chye recognized and was appalled by the Korean dating sight and the lengths single women went to in order to photoshop a model-perfect profile photo. Chye would rather you know her as she is. I peered over and wondered what it would take to convince her to remove her beret, comb out her long, dark hair, and dab on light makeup--if only lipstick.

Oh, and a little weight wouldn't hurt, either. By government standards she was probably five lbs. underweight, but that underweight was valued by Korean men. In fact, it might impress her latest long-distance interest, an architect in Korea who engaged in intriguing, online conversations. He sounded like a stunning prospect, so I had demanded, "Why is he not married now?"

"I wonder same thing," she noted.

Korean men are not easy to please. Last year on her annual visit home, a high-school classmate had convinced Chye to meet up with him. He was a doctor, who as a teen, had been smitten with her and waddled behind her like an imprinted duckling. Apparently, Chye had become too Americanized. Their first in-person conversation in years ended abruptly when he cancelled their dinner date and explained, "You're too fat."

There's something about that bone thin Asian women that is hard to shake from some men's fantasies. "Keep eating at Burgerville-USA," I advised. "It saved your ass."

The music played, someone uttered a prayer, and programs shuffled as eyes reviewed what was next in the service. We sat in the back row. I felt slightly self-consious, if not borderline unacceptable (church behaviour-wise), as I pulled out my Droid and snapped a few pictures.

I had no clue if tweeting from church was practiced by Presbyterians, but what could it hurt, I wondered and scribed a couple of 140's.

The music drifted away. The minister began to speak. Instinctively, we both felt the spirit at the same time. We spontanesouly reached out for deeper communication. We were, after all in God's house. Things should be said, things should be shared.

I wrote the first note. "There were more people when I was here before." She glanced at my notepad and shrugged as the minister's voice rose in dramatic fashion. "I LOVE the sound of the language. Beautiful," I wrote and added a smiley face to underscore my appreciation.

Chye slipped the small, spiral notepad from my hands and plucked the pen from my fingers. "He has nice voice!" Her head tilted away as if listening, then wrote, "They are too serious make me very uncomfortable."

I nodded.

"Do you go to church?" Her script on the notepad asked.

I answered, "I used to—this past year, no." Then I drew a little arrow in case she didn't know to turn the page. "And I'm Presbyterian!" I wrote, as if that should allow me entrance to the Korean church mysteries.

"Ah, I don't have religion," she answered in her crisp printing. This makes very strange." She listened and translated the current theme of the sermon then crossed it out, but it was still readible: "Talking about donating and offering money to god." Then she repeated, "I'm very uncomfortable."

She passed the pad and pen my way. "I felt the same way the first time I came here," I wrote, although my reasons had more to do with feeling like I didn't belong than about what I did or did not believe. "Better this time," I finished.

"Hahaha. I'll feel same way if I go to American church." Her next sentenced betrayed that she had spent too many years away from home. "There are too many Korean here." Then she got right down to it. "I don't see any available men. I feel real guilty here. I'll stick with Match.com."

Guilt belongs a lot of places, but not in church.

Okay, guilt is created in church, but I encouraged, "Don't feel guilty—it's an adventure. Not all are successful, but the stories we will tell!" I finished with a larger smiley face.

Chye nudged me and pointed to the notation in both Korean and English in the church bulletin that said, "Welcome."

This is going to be good, I thought, and imagined them asking us to share a little about ourselves as way of introduction. Yes, I'm here with my friend Chye. We are looking for a husband for her. Who is single?

That's when my prayers began in earnest. Yes, Lord, please let us find Chye a husband and get this over. Please, please, please.

To be continued...

Top

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Manhunt Part II

I wonder sometimes why I do some of the crazy things I do. I think it’s because I don’t want to miss out, I don’t like there to be places where I don’t belong, and I like to know what’s behind closed doors. I will be the one who—after everyone has gone home—pokes her head in the men’s bathroom. Just to see what it looks like.

Uh, yeah.

The people who know me would not be surprised by that disclosure. They might, however, be surprised that some of my antics require me to get my nerve up. But Sunday, entering the Korean Church felt quite comfortable now that I was in the company of a Korean, my co-worker Chye.

The time I came without her, the Korean greeters had taken one look at my auburn hair and round eyes and waved the Korean bulletins in their hands as if to ward off smoke from a campfire gone awry, shouting “This is not the right church.” Of course, they said it in Korean, but it was quite clear they believed I had made a wrong turn and ended up in their midst by mistake.

I smiled.

They gaped.

I neared.

They took a step back.

I took another step, reached out, and my smile tensed as I tugged a bulletin out of the tight grip of one of them. I gave it a cursory glance, nodded and entered the sanctuary. I sat as close to the back as I could, certain I was a distraction, but hoped I wouldn’t ruin the service for the people who worshipped there regularly.

This morning they had the same set-up. Two Korean guards women greeted the oncoming with smiles and bowing heads, handing out church bulletins. Their eyes glowed when they saw Chye and the Korean words rushed and swirled as the introduction conversation ensued. With grand hand gestures, one of them handed Chye a blank piece of paper and a pen. Chye wrote something down, turned to me and told me to write my name down.

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

“They want to introduce you. They say your name and you stand.” She pointed at a spot in the bulletin, ‘Welcome’ it said in bold letters followed by circles and hash marks I recognized as Korean.

“No. No, way,” I answered, taking a step back.

“Just do it,” she said, then the smile tightened on her lips as if to say don’t embarrass me.

I glanced at the women. They smiled encouragingly and waved the bulletins as if to fan the fire of invitation. I grasped the pen, narrowed my eyes on Chye and scratched my name on the paper under hers. Just you wait, I thought, if they make us speak I’ll announce we’re on a man hunt.

We stepped into the carpeted sanctuary and eased into the back row as soft music lilted from the small orchestra at the front of the church: violin, viola, cello and keyboards. We stared at our bulletins. One of us could read it.

A congregational hymn began, a few hands clapped in rhythm. My head jerked up.

Unbelievable.

I understood Korean. At least one word...



AH-LAY-LOO-YAH

More to come...

Top

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Luck is finding at least one friend who can cook

Good luck is getting to eat what they cook.

Our critique group hostess, Pam, tasked our members to dig deep into our artistic talent and create a food that represented our novels for an end of the year potluck. I knew it would be a good event, tasty even. I also knew I'd bring something that wouldn't be tasty, whether I baked it or not.

The night of the event, Ginger flounced a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—the lunch served at summer camp—on the buffet table and launched into a story of how she had to convince her two-year old they were not meant for her. Two-year olds are not easy to dissuade when they are intent on a goal. I can say in complete admiration, Ginger succeeded in keeping teeth marks out of most of the sandwich squares.

Peggy entered with a shy giggle and waited for us to notice her blond locks had been sheared into a cute bob. Peggy's holiday dishes magically appeared out of her Nordic themed, fantasy YA novel. I checked carefully to see what delicious magic might be lurking inside her serving dish and was not disappointed—Swedish meatballs with a jar of pickled herring thrown in on the side.

Melanie proclaimed she'd brought the essence of good taste: rat turds (formally known as rum balls that require a breathalyzer before carting yourself home). She'd shipped them directly from the brigantine that sails the Atlantic Ocean in her adventure novel. I will include a picture, but you must sign an affidavit that any damage this does to your chocolate-loving-psyche will not be blamed on Pearl of Carol.

3..2..1.. Quick peek. You okay?

Sharon, our newest member, was a bit overwhelmed, she had not met a couple of our members who have been on hiatus due to family responsibilities. She nobly placed her black-eyed pea corn bread at the end of the table with a large serving spoon, which was an excellent idea (the big spoon), because the dish was GOOD. Her cornbread was a staple during the Civil War which her female protagonist is currently fighting.

Of course, I went back for seconds of everything, and if I'd thought ahead I would have brought take-out containers, especially for Pam's stew. Pam delved into Lillian Parsley's cookbooks, one of her characters who operates a restaurant in a fictional town along the Columbia River.

Pam is an unbelievably generous friend who actually hosts our group in her home every week. Anyone who has tried to organize a diverse group of women will know that consistency is the key to success, i.e., meet consistently at the same time and the same place. If we have to stop and think, where are we this week, the plan will fail.

Pam is the only member able to keep her house clean each week. We like to think that is because she is RETIRED, but she may possess other organizational skills that I don't. (I swear, as soon as I finish writing this manuscript I'll clean again. Really. Well, I want to believe that will be occur, so let's pretend).

Pam's generosity knows no bounds. She has offered to leave her door unlocked for us when she goes out of town, which we appropriately decline. Her neighbors keep a close eye on the condo grounds (which means they report on me if I drive through too fast), and they would surely chase us all us out should we appear while Pam is away. In fact, one would delight in calling the police in revenge for a broken Japanese maple branch that we were blamed for, but honestly, heavy rain, wind, snow are way more powerful than women who write. Okay, that's debatable, but we didn't do it.

At the party, while everyone was busy chatting, I slunk over to the stove and peeked in Pam's pot. I was comforted by fragrant aroma of Stred Soup, a stew of beets and sausage.

Precisely because I don't cook I was required to purchase my dish. I wasn't sure if one offering would be enough for the potluck so I did bring something completely edible, cheese and crackers arranged just the way my character does in The Inbetween Pearl, "triangle ends pointed to the edge of the plate."

The other dish I brought was the event of the evening. You don't find this food everywhere, or anywhere for that matter. You have to know someone Korean to procure it (both of my novels follow a University of Washington sophomore who marries a Korean-born California real estate developer). Second, you have to insure the product will be available. I visited Oriental Fast Bowl on Monday to confirm my order for the Thursday event.

The nice Korean proprietor smiled and nodded her head when I posed the question, "Will it be available?" Someday, when I am brave, I will tell her she is the person I describe when I created my protaganist's mother-in-law, but it will have to be when her English speaking son is helping in the restaurant so he can translate, and it will have to sound like a compliment, because in A Single Pearl, it is not a compliment.

The proprietor and I agreed on a pick-up time, and I didn't worry the rest of the week about the dish...just the reaction to the dish.

Although it was in protective plastic container I smelled it during the entire drive to Pam's house. Garlic. Fire Colored. Pickled Vegetables. I wanted to have enough for everyone, and although I'd asked for a large portion, Mrs. Korean-Restaurant-Owner shook her head no and refused to sell me anything except the smallest portion, asking, "You like?"

I assured her that I did, "Every once in awhile." She raised an eyebrow in disbelief but took my money.


Kimchi. It's not bad. It's different.

Leave a comment if you would like me to post recipes!


Top

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Why Korean? Solving the equation, but please, let's do it with their shirts off


(Yes, it will all make sense in the end, but this starts out kind of serious).

I stood in an elevator in a hotel in China. A couple got in, Chinese, and gave me a sharp once over. The woman had her arm through the man’s. Her fingers opened and closed clutching at his nice suit, her dress elegant, nicely cut on her slender frame.

“Why you want adopt China baby?” she asked, and pointed at my baby’s eyes, then her own, attempting to direct my attention to the differences in the shape, crescent vs round. “Baby’s eyes different,” she stated as if of utmost importance.

“But they’re both the same color,” I replied, flashed my big browns and smiled as if that answered everything. What the hell did I care? My child is my child. Hair, eye, skin color? What difference does that make? None to me. Weighty subject to at least two people in China. Did they think we were stealing their children? Should we cry at home childless while babies languished in orphanages? Not in my world.

At home a college friend stopped by with his son, birth child, adored, but no more than mine. We’d met at a private college, both musicians, I’d had a crush on him back then, but nothing came of it except good friends. That evening we shared stories about becoming parents, how it changed things, how it made things matter, how close our children were in age.

“Maybe our kids will grow up and get married,” I started to say, and stopped. Tim was blond, Lutheran, and from the Midwest. What if he didn’t want his grandchildren to reflect Asia? I didn’t want to hear him clear his throat and say: Yeah. Cough. Sure. I left my thought unsaid, uncertain of his response.

Before traveling to China I’d taken a language class, wanted to be able to say hello, thank you, and more rice please. I managed hello. Ni hau. I attended informational events sponsored by the adoption agency, Saturdays, evenings, even and all day event from the Northwest China Center. A woman spoke. I learned that during my lifetime it was illegal for Asians to own homes in certain neighborhoods in Oregon’s largest city, Portland. Are you kidding? Not at all. A little girl, born in America with Asian eyes, held her daddy’s hand as he knocked on every door in the neighborhood and begged the surrounding neighbors to sign a statement allowing them to buy a house they could well afford, they had cash. Knocked me over. Her message: it wasn't that long ago...prejudice still exists.

A young man spoke. He came from Korea, his parents were of German descent. He was caught between two cultures and wanted to figure life out. Every time he asked his mother about his adoption she cried. His message: talk.

Another adoptee spoke, he’d been a camp counselor for adopted kids. The teenage boys lamented, “Girls don’t like me because I’m adopted.” He answered, “Girls don’t like you because you’re mean.” His message: adoption is not the root of all problems.

My mom stopped by the house everyday after work the first month I was home, sat in a green overstuffed chair, held my baby and cooed, and I contemplated how it must have felt when she held me as a baby. It felt like love. A mother’s love. Now a grandmother’s love. My dad stood in front of the Presbyterian congregation, cuddled my child and proudly introduced his first grandchild. I beamed. The lady behind me tapped me on the shoulder and admonished, “You think she’s a doll.” No church lady. I think she is my child, the most beautiful baby ever born. If I could have had children I would have had her. I couldn’t, so someone else had her for me, (thank you, lord). You think she is a doll.

I learned that kids in daycare ask what they think. “THAT your mom?” Yup.

I learned that adults don’t. “Is she the mom?” they whispered to daycare workers. I smiled and laughed. I could no longer distinguish their sons. Blond? they all looked the same to me.

I learned that the public includes idiots. A waitress greeted us out on girls night and clucked over my daughter, and fished, “Is her father tall?”

“We don’t know, she’s adopted.”

“How could anyone throw something so beautiful away?” she fussed.

No one threw her away, I wanted to shout. Someone couldn’t keep her and made a plan to provide another family for her. Have you heard of the 40’s and 50’s in America when unmarried, pregnant girls were sent away to convents, and had babies who were snatched from them without discussion? Don’t ever think nothing bad has happened in Caucasian culture, if you can call that culture. You have social security. China does not. The government will take care of you. Who will take care of the aging Chinese workers? Only their sons. And don’t ever say my child was thrown away, ever, ever, ever.

Speaking of sons. There are boys now in my daughter’s life. And boys’ parents, their moms. “That’s nice you like that cute girl Kai, but…”

But what?

Listen lady, you need to fall in love with an Asian man. You need to read books where women just like you (Caucasian) fall in love with sexy Asians. You need to watch films where Asians and Caucasian’s hold hands, kiss, get excited, get married, have children. After all, they do in real life. Why don’t they in the entertainment media? You need to watch YouTube’s “Hot Asian Guys,” you need to WANT to make-out with one of these men. Yes, you need a little Asian lust. If you can believe you'd want one, you can believe your son would want to marry one. Because, believe me, my daughter is NOT marrying an Asian. (I'll explain later).

Thus started my mission. A book. A cross-cultural couple. The man is Asian, didn’t matter which flavor, just had to be Asian, handsome and hot, someone those gals would drool over. If he were Chinese, my daughter would think the book had something to do with her and she would hate it, hate me. And of course it’s ‘for’ her, but I have to pretend. Okay, not Chinese. What? Couldn’t be Japanese, I have a Jap friend who told me once that Japanese believe the Chinese are stupid. I’ll NEVER get that out of my head, and besides, it made me mad. What’s next? Vietnamese. Gads, that guy mows my lawn, yeah, for real, he showed up on our doorstep when we moved in and I’ve watched his business grow, he's got a whole crew, very polite, but he’s too short. I’ll never get him out of my head.

Korean? Hmm.

I need a visual to wrap my thoughts around the character who is emerging on little pieces of paper, notes fluttering over my desk, receipts wadded up in the bottom of my bag with bits of dialogue. If I'm going to do this I need to get organized, get it on computer where it can evolve some semblance of order.

At the computer I search for images of Korean men. Whoops, turn that safe filter on! Whew, okay scan the faces for a handsome guy. Here’s one: Yul Kwon. I don’t watch TV. Really, I don’t. Survivor? Okay. Whatever. It’s just that, wow, he looks GOOD, and *pant* GREAT without a shirt. (See picture at top). That’s the guy. Okay, that's settled, Korean protagonist.

What the hell do I know about Koreans? Absolutely nothing. Well, guess what else pops up when you search for Korean men? That’s right, Ask a Korean. I did. He was kind, encouraging, helpful, and intelligent. Now that's my kind of guy! He kept the inspiration wheels greased, and now, I really like Korean guys (don’t worry, I’m old enough to be his mother, or at least a way, WAY older sister).

So, that’s a snippet of the history behind the book. The protagonist Jae-Chun Lee is his complete self now, totally his own person, he’s not Yul Kwan, Daniel Dae Kim, Daniel Henney, or…
Ahn Jae Wook, Ahn So Hee, Bae Doona, Bae Yong Joon, Bae Su-bin, Baek Sung Hyun, Baek Yoon-sik, Bong Tae-gyu, Chae Jung Ahn, Choi Jeong-yoon, Choi Ji Woo, Choi Min-sik, Choi Si Won, Choo Sang Mi, Choi Kang-hee, Dennis Joseph O'Neil, Eric Mun, Gam Wu-seong, Ha Ji-Won, Haha , Han Chae Young, Han Ga In, Han Ji Min, Han Ji-Hye, Han Hyo Joo, Harisu, Hong Seok-Cheon, Hwang Jang-Lee, Hyun Bin, Han Ye, Jang Geun Suk, Jang Ja-yeon, Jang Jin-young, Jang Nara, Jang So Hee, Jeon Do-yeon, Ji Hyun Woo, Ji Sung, Jo Han Seon, Jo Hyun Jae, Jo Insung, Jo Yeon-Woo, Jo Yoon-hee, Joo Hyun, Joo Ji Hoon, Jun Ji-hyun, Jung Eui-Chul, Jung Da-bin, Kang Eun Bi, Kang Dong-won, Kang Ji Hwan, Kang Jung Hwa, Kang Se Jung, Kang Sung Yun, Kang Ta, Kang Hye-jeong, Kim Ah-jung, Kim Bum, Kim Dong Wan, Kim Hee-sun, Kim Hye Su, Kim Hyo Jin, Kim Hyun-ju, Kim Jae Won, Kim Jeong Hoon, Kim Ji-hoo, Kim Ji-soo, Kim Joo-hyuk, Kim Jung-Eun, Kim Kyu Ri, Kim Mu-saeng, Kim Ok-bin, Kim Rae Won, Kim Ri-na, Kim Sa Rang, Kim Su-ro, Kim Sun Ah, Kim Sung-soo, Kim Tae Hee, Ko Ah-seong, Ko Joo-yeon, Ko So-young, Koo Hye-sun, Kwon Sang-woo, Lee Ah Hyun, Lee Beom-soo, Lee Bo-yeong, Lee Byung Hun, Lee Cheong Ah, Lee Da Hae, Lee Dong Gun, Lee Dong Wook, Lee Eon Jeong, Lee Eun-ju, Lee Ha Na, Lee Hee Jung, Lee Hwi Hyang, Lee Hye Young, Lee Hyori, Lee In Hye, Lee Ji-ah, Lee Jin, Lee Jun Ki, Lee Jung Hyun, Lee Jung-jae, Lee Mi Sook, Lee Mi-yeon, Lee Na-young, Lee Sabi, Lee Se Eun, Lee Seung Yun, Lee Si-yeon, Lee So Yeon, Lee Soo Kyung, Lee Tae Ran, Lee Wan, Lee Ki woo, Lee Yeon Hee, Lee Yo Won, Lee Yoo Jin, Lee Yoo Ri, Lee Yoon Ji, Lee Yoon Mi, Lee Young Hoon, Lee Young Ae, Lim Chang-jung, Lim Eun-kyeong, Moon Geun Young, Myung Se Bin, Na Moon Hee, Nah Eun Kyeong, Nam Sang Mi, Oh Ji Ho, Oh Joo Eun, Oh San Ha, Oh Seung Hyun, Oh Yoon-Ah, Oh Yun Soo, Ok Ji Young, Pak Chae-rim, Park Eun-hye, Park Hae-il, Park Han-byul, Park Hee Bon, Park Hee Jin, Park Ji Yoon, Park Jin Hee, Park Jung Soo, Park Min Ji, Park Choong-Jae, Park Sang-min, Park Shin-hye, Park Shin Yang, Park Si Yeon, Park Sol-mi, Park Sun Young, Park Tam Hee, Park Ye Ji, Park Yong Ha, Rain (Jeong Ji-hoon), Ryu Deok-hwan, Ryu Shi-won, Se7en, Seo Do Young, Seo Ji-hye, Seo Min Jung, Seo Yeong, Shim Eun Ha, Shim Hye Jin, Shin Ae, Shin Ae Ra, Shin Dong Wook, Shin Ha Kyun, Shin Hye Sung, Shin Hyun Jun, Shin Ji Soo, Shin Min Ah, Shin Sung Woo, Shin Yi, So Ji Sup, So Yi Hyun, Soh Yoo Jin, Son Chang Min, Son Tae Young, Son Ye Jin, Song Hye Kyo, Song Il Gook, Song Ji-hyo, Song Seung Hun, Song Sun Mi, Song Yun Ah, Soo Ae, Suh Ji Hee, Suh Ji Suk, Suh Ji Young, Sung Hyun Ah, Sung Si Kyung, Sung Yu Ri, Uhm Ji-won, Uhm Jung Hwa, Won Bin, Xiah, Yang Geum Suk, Yang Mi Kyung, Yeo Woon Kye, Yoo Chae-yeong, Yoo Gun, Yoo Ho Jung, Yoo In Young, Yoo Ji-tae, Yoo Sun, Yoon Chan, Yoon Eun Hye, Yoon Hae Young, Yoon Ji Hye, Yoon Jung Hee, Yoon Mi So, Yoon Se Ah, Yoon So Yi, Yoon Son Ha, Yoon Ye Hee, Yoon Yeo Jung, Yoon Yoo Sun, Yum Jung Ah.
Yes, America, there is another world out there! And I have loved looking at it.

And here is where I reveal my prejudice: would I want my daughter marrying one of the above men? Hahaha. Nope. Just a regular guy, with a regular job, who will love my daughter, be a faithful husband and a good father. Find one of those in the entertainment industry. Now, if any of the above want to call me and chat about a role in that future movie, please, by all means. My desk is even clean now.

Thank you Yul for your inspiration, you can put your shirt back on, but you don't HAVE to. Thank you Ask-A-Korean for your encouragement. I will be eternally grateful. And AAK, I fully intend to have you read the manuscript and alert me to any missteps. I'll let you keep your shirt on, I swear.

And here's an unedited snippet from the epilogue:
"Speaking of children, I’ve been watching my little boy, Jin-Bae, oh lord, he is going to be a heart throb, I can see it already, and I’m not just a mom bragging about her kid, no really, he’s going to be even more good looking than his father, if that is even possible. One of these days, my son is going to knock on your door to take your daughter out. Believe me, it’ll happen and that’s just the beginning. And when you and I stand, with our arms around each other, because the most blessed event has just happened, and peer in the crib of our grandbaby, what are you going to see? Are you going to try and erase the Asian from that baby’s face, or are you going to behold that child the way I do, and simply see love? A baby made of precious love." A Single Pearl.


Top

Friday, February 27, 2009

Interview on my writing technique

Perhaps it was my recent fifteen minutes of fame as Six-Word Memorist of the Day, my charismatic writing style, or simply that I was available at the exact moment needed that brought me to the attention of a freelance reporter working on an investigative project on the creative process. As a pianist—I started piano lessons at age five—and a composer, (I have written 200 songs, one I finished), and I am intrigued by many aspects of the creative process. I am especially curious how the reporter will answer one of the questions she is pursuing: how does a composer know the right note is the right note?

We made an appointment to meet Thursday evening and do our exchange via instant messaging. That way the words could be easily captured (we used gmail chat) and the free flow of our conversation could progress without the restriction of trying to scribble as fast as someone can talk.

I actually am a master of this, scribbling, and honed my skill in school, determined to survive in, what for me was, a laptop-less world. The downside of possessing this talent, is that, for the rest of your life, your handwriting sucks. I even had a manager note it once on a performance review, ‘improve handwriting.’ Yeah, Rick, I never forget an offense, and good thing he didn’t answer my real question, “How do I get to be a boss just like you? Huh, huh?!” Obviously, no one, aspires to emulate the bold move of incisive supervisory commentary on handwriting over an employee’s productive work. Which brings me to a piece of FLAIR I received on FaceBook, “Please don’t annoy the writer, she’ll write you in a book and kill you.” I have big plans for many ‘characters’ I’ve met in real life, but that’s another story. And Rick wasn’t all bad. He allowed me to blow off steam when I needed to vent venom in a world that challenged salespeople beyond belief, but back to the story at hand.
Before we get too far in-depth I'd like to encourage you to read all the way to the end, if for no other reason than to see how effortlessly I emulate the figure represented as reporter Kai D.
Instant messaging (IM) allowed the reporter to do two things at once, interview me and surf other sites while interviewing me. Most of the time I would feel offended by not holding a reporter’s rapt attention, but this gal was obviously adept at balancing more than one activity, and pleasant enough to disband any feelings of disrespect I may have otherwise held against her, which is to say I didn’t even NOTICE until we were almost DONE. So, let's listen to the interview...

Reporter: Have you gone to a writing conference? What was the experience like?

The First Carol: I attended two last year. Rose City Romance Writers Retreat and Willamette Writers Conference. At the RCRW we studied the ‘hero's journey,’ the basic outline of every story on earth. Halfway through the retreat confirmed A Single Pearl had a good story line and that was encouraging. The second conference was much larger. It was very intense, and I was filled with a high number of A-HA! moments and couldn't wait to go home and write (re-write). Also, at the WW conference I was able to network with a dozen literary agents. That was fun—I like meeting people, have no problem talking to strangers, and kind of took on the persona that I was the hostess (I was a volunteer halfdays) and that it was my ‘job’ to be friendly. I have a great anecdote about meeting the VP at MGM Pictures, Luke Ryan. That's for another story, too.

Reporter: Do you follow the six processes mentioned in Manuscript Makeover by Elizabeth Lyon (cultivate deep listening, silence critics; banish censors, practice riff-writing, revise from your truth, harvest your emotions, catch fireflies) and do they help you to refine your creative writing style and _voice_?

The First Carol: Hmm, I cultivate my head. I actually hear character conversations in my head. They usually occur first thing in the morning, in the shower, I imagine them talking to each other and they take on a life of their own. When I'm combing my hair I start talking to myself about work issues, but that's another subject.

Yes, I do silence critics. The worst critic in all our lives is ourselves. It's the tiny voice that tells us we can't do something, or if we did, it wouldn't be that good. I really think we have to be careful of what we say to ourselves. We should find ways to pump ourselves up, for instance, “MAN! I'm a GREAT writer!” If we woke up every morning and greeted our little sleepy-self with a BIG-BIG-HUGE positive affirmation it would send us light years ahead of where we actually are. Your brain/head doesn’t know the difference between fact and fiction, you can tell it something not great, “Gees, I'm stupid,” and pretty soon your head will figure out how to make you stupid. Or, you can give yourself a reputation to live up to, “Wow, I'm a creative genius,” and your head will figure out how to make that happen. The theory of head-talking I learned from selling Mary Kay. That company is very big on encouraging people to be and do their best,

Banish censors: when you are writing, everyone has an opinion. You can try each opinion on, but if they don’t fit, take them off. You are the master of your universe, your story. It has to fit with you. It can get better, or improved with feedback, but if the feedback isn't getting you where you need to go, plug your ears and move on.

If ‘revise from your truth’ means that somewhere deep within me my story comes from me, or is about me, I guess I would have to say that is partially true. While the exact situations in the book did not happen to me personally, I can relate with what most of the characters, if not all, feel. So, indeed, we must harvest our emotions. If we do not, our story will lack depth, clarity and that touch of realism that communicates to the reader a real passion that the reader can identify with.

Catch fireflies: I worried about this when I first read that hint, or tip from Elizabeth Lyon. Her theory is that we create/receive a brilliant thought or idea, and if we do not immediately write it down, we lose it. I find I can capture those thoughts at this moment or the next when I sit down and begin writing. Remember, I have to get from the shower to somewhere and there's a lot of in between on that road.

In my experience, what supports me to refine my creative writing style and voice is one simple action: writing. The art of writing, is writing, revising, reading it out loud to yourself, reading it out loud to someone else, receiving feedback and re-writing, re-writing, re-writing. If you want to be involved in an art where you feel you are never done, try writing. Just choose your critics well.

Reporter: Do you prefer reading silently or out loud while editing your manuscript? Which is more effective for your editing process? Why does it help more than the other?

The First Carol
: I use a handful of techniques. One, I write using a computer, so the bulk of my writing is done right on screen. Two, I print it out and I SEE much clearer what needs to be adjusted; I’m a very visual person. Next, I read out loud to prepare myself to read to my critique group, a practice we learned in Novel Writing Boot Camp, taught by Caroline Rose and Mike Nettleton. We are allotted 12 minutes of manuscript each week, and I like to know where mine will end—how far I can get. Sometimes I read more than 12 minutes, BUT I own the stopwatch and run it, so I'm the only one who really knows when I do that, except for those moments when I go overboard. I've had two...of those moments. All techniques have an effect, what is most effective, difficult to say. Perhaps as I hone my craft I'll find one works better than the others, but I really see myself using as many as possible as often as possible.

Reporter: Elizabeth Lyon says to read alone as to not perform your writing. Do you think this helps you to create better writing? Does "performing" for your critique group help refine you writing more than you do alone?

The First Carol: It is very hard NOT to perform your writing (for me), and our critique group puts in voice inflection when we read. In the class I took, Novel Writing Boot Camp, one of our teachers read in a monotone to demonstrate how we should read. The idea is the words have to be the part that drives you or draws you into the story, not a good voice performer. I can't do it, well, I won't do. I like to entertain my group with my story. I read it the way I hear it.

Reporter: What are some of your judgment/thoughts compared to your constructive criticism from yourself about the novel you are writing?

The First Carol: Well, first of all I am insane.

Reporter: I understand that.

The First Carol: I know, I know, personal experience with your mother gives you a lot of insight into this interview :-) Okay, here's what I find interesting about my story writing experience, I had an idea spinning around in my head, I started writing it on scraps of paper, little tidbits of ideas, I started organizing those ideas onto 3x5's, then I said, “Shoot, I should put this in the computer in a WORD document where it could be flushed out and developed. Okay, maybe the word is fleshed out, please don't flush me.

Once I began writing I could not stop, I was driven, I was a crazy woman, I wouldn't talk to my kid, I wouldn't answer my phone. I HAD TO GET THIS STORY OUT OF MY HEAD. Then I had it out of my head and I thought, “Man, this stuff is good, this is really good.” Then I went through a major edit, and I said, “Man, what I wrote before was crap, but THIS is good, this is really good.” Then I went through another major edit, and I said, “Man, what I wrote before was crap, but THIS is good, this is really good.” Then I went through a major edit, and I said, “Man, what I wrote before was crap, but THIS is good…

Do you get the picture? Each step of the way I thought I was good, and for me, in that moment of my writing career, I was the best I could be with the tools that I had. Then I went to a retreat, took a couple of classes, went to a writers conference, went to a all day seminar, and at each step I was revising and editing and I could see how my craft was improving and how the story was also taking better shape and improving. Here is what scares me, my critique group has been absolutely, undeniably critical to the progress of developing the book. What happens if I lose my critique group? Will I be able to complete volume two and volume three in the Pearl Trilogy? I'm sure I can, but will it be as good, or will it be ANY good? Angst.

Reporter: Do you have an emotional aspect to your characters that are attributed to real life humans? What are some examples?

The First Carol: Are you asking if the characters are based on real life people?

Reporter: Yes, kinda. but not really. Do they have attributes that can be related to everyday people?

The First Carol: Of course, if they did not I'm not sure I'd have a story, the reader has to connect with the characters as if they WERE real people, in fact, one of the gals in my critique group leaves me notes that lets me know she really cares about the people in the story, and wishes something in their life was different, or she really hates them; she's got a teeter-totter of emotions going on with Lee—at the moment she hates him. If I've done my job well, as a writer, at the end of the book she will feel about him the way I do.

Reporter: Where do your techniques come from?

The First Carol
: I had a VERY good high school English teacher. Actually, I had about three. I learned what techniques writers employed when they wrote a great story. I learned the undertones of the story. I like to add things or weave ideas in that would give a book club something REALLY fun to discuss. For instance, my characters have colors. Sandy (notice the name) is all about brown. Chloe is green. Chloe's mom, Sherrine, is pink. Kerri Ann, main character, lives to dress in blue. Lee has more than one color, he’s more complicated. We see black and gold around Lee and his family (representing tiger), he's wild, exotic, Asian, a handsome Korean man. We also see Lee in red, basically red ties.

I did not consciously plan this, but if you look at a Korean flag it uses the colors red and blue (Lee and Kerri Ann), in a kind of yin-yang symbol. Oh, and Lee's suits are always very somber, he gravitates to blacks and grays. When Kerri Ann begins to compete in a man's world her character changes are signaled by her change in color, we see her in blacks suits. When Lee's character softens, he begins to wear blue ties. I also wove some Korean concepts into the story, the Korean national flower appears in one scene (blue hibiscus), and Kerri Ann has a dream that reflects a Korean fairy tale. There's some other stuff, but I don't want to give it all away (AND BESIDES I CAN'T REMEMBER, oh sorry for yelling).

Reporter:
“Although I was aware of my obsessive compulsive rewriting,...”-Koontz. He wrote 32 pages and only 1 didn't have any revisions.

Smith and Rusch say to “write a first draft quickly, and revise no more than three times before marketing. While waiting for your probable rejection, start a new work. Through practice, sheer volume of words, and encountering different situations in each new piece, you'll build your repertoire and skill.”

Jonis Agee says “She typically writes and discards her first draft and most of her second draft, She throws them away! ... She explained that the third draft captures the heart and soul of her characters and her author voice.”
(Excerpts from Manuscript Makeover reprinted with permission).
What method is yours closely related too? What is your view on each writing style? Do you think each helps in a different way, If so what way?


The First Carol: I am Koontz, beginning-middle-end. I rewrite before I write! I could not stand to throw anything away and start all over again. Throwing away sounds like waste, I'm way too frugal for that. My current manuscript is 105,000 words (it should be max 95,000), so figure I've written 100K, I've tossed out 50,000 words in rewrites. I guess you could ask how frugal is that, sounds like a lot of waste, huh? I am playing a game with myself at the moment and when I cut words from the manuscript I paste them into a second document, when I'm through I'm going to count the words (WORD does this automatically) and see exactly how many came and went.

Reporter: The book (Manuscript Makeover) says, “reading poetry will build a sturdy conduit into your so-called subconscious mind...” helps your writing style. What techniques have you tried to improve your writing style?

The First Carol
: I listen to the sounds of words. What words sound good together. What words LOOK good together -- a sentence with a lot of ‘s’ words and you allude to a snake. It can be like a game you play with yourself. I also consider best word choices. The word ‘look’ for example. I have on my cheat sheet a bushel of words to consider when I do a search of my manuscript and discover I have used the word LOOK 600 times:
attention, beholding, case, cast, contemplation, evil eye, eye, flash, gander, gaze, glance, glimpse, gun, inspection, introspection, keeping watch, leer, look-see, marking, noticing, observation, once-over, peek, reconnaissance, regard, regarding, review, scrutiny, sight, slant, speculation, squint, stare, surveillance, survey, swivel, view, viewing
Those are just some of my choices. I use a thesaurus a lot. I am amazed how changing the word ‘looked’ to ‘scrutinized’ improves a sentence. (Go ahead, count how many times I used 'look' in this interview!).

Reporter: Do you carry around a notepad to capture images or ideas throughout the day? What are some things written down?

The First Carol
: I do best getting them into the laptop. But I do have a couple of different notebooks, and my 3x5 flip book. I write down snippets of dialogue

Reporter: Why do you chose to do your writing electronically?

The First Carol
: Easier to manipulate the words in the editing process. Curiously, I can write something down on paper, then when I transfer to computer it morphs, it NEVER comes out the same. I find that extremely intriguing, must be the part of the brain that is engaged. Even the nuances of conversations change, really odd, but there must be some science to it.

Reporter: Whose writing style would you say best compares to your writing style? Why?

The First Carol: Ugh, I have no idea. I am influenced by everything around me, but I can't tell you who I'm like. If someone else told you who I was like, I would believe them (as long as it was a compliment :-)

This question makes me think of my Grandma, she was a jazz musician, very talented and she loved music, especially loved to hear me play the piano. One day after I played for hours while she putzed and danced in the kitchen she told me she now ‘knew my style.’ She told me she could be anywhere in the world, on any street, and if she heard me playing she would KNOW it was me. I'd never really thought about having a style before. Thought you were supposed to play the music like everyone else, like the composer intended, but we all interpret through what we know, through our experiences.

Reporter: Have you ever copied excerpts from famous writers to become more acquainted with their writing style? How did this help?

The First Carol: I have not, although I understand the technique.

Reporter: I don't really have any more questions. Thank you for your time! :)

The First Carol
: Your welcome. Thank you for your creative and insightful questions.

Reporter: No problem.

The First Carol: You’re cute, daughter.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Writing Boot Camp, crap we have to read out loud!

I did not start at the beginning of the book, but rather a chapter I was working on at the time. It gets re-read when it pops up again during our die-hard meetings, and it caused some frustration to me as Lisa, who caught my characters not being true to character, again caught me on the second go-round where I still lacked skill. Soooo not fair. That’s writing -- wanting to argue with the reviewers, but once sensible, really want the work to improve, stomp home frustrated, yet determined, turn on the computer and edit.

Scene: Lee has invited his cousins over for the evening and has asked Kerri Ann to go to the liquor store for him, a task she detests, her passive aggressive response spirals out of control and ends in disaster...for her.

The last thing I wanted was a bunch of drunks in my house, of any nationality, but I stocked up. Three to four brands of scotch, whiskey, bourbon, rum, vodka, gin, singles of brandy, cognac, kahlua, tequila and some other crap that was on sale. Enough to open my own bar, didn’t want to have to make that trip for another ten years. I lined up the bottles on the dining table and they covered every inch.

“Jesus,” Lee said, when he walked in the back door, “I didn’t invite the whole country.”
(A Single Pearl, Chapter 10)

We used the plus sign ‘+’ abbreviation to denote what we liked, minus ‘-’ did not, ‘?’ for obvious, and I used a dot when I wanted something I wasn’t getting, but it wasn’t bad enough for a minus.

Ginger: +like the storyline, ‘bow at the Lee alter,’ people’s reaction she is not Korean, -confusing at the end of chapter and start of next.

Jade: + ‘his mouth opened but no sound came out,’ and a ‘second shot of electricity sizzled.’

Kelly: great conflict, +‘…until I realized I should, maybe, breathe…’

Lisa: ++good description, funny; good verbs, ?hanbok? What is it, explain. If they’re married and she’s naked after the fiasco, well, something more happens in the bedroom. Tighten up the description of her thoughts about John talking about father.

Melanie: ++love the voice, humor, emotion, tension.

Pam: I assume there is a reason he is Korean? Your dialogue is very telling of the characters. The whole series of action: the cousin yelped, the door slammed, etc. I loved that! It sounds like Lee isn’t all that mad, more fascinated with her. Is Lee his first name? Didn’t you say “Jason Lee” at one point? Probably not. Good visual details and I like your character’s thoughts.

Peggy: +great emotion, gut wrenching. +great description of characters. -May want to add when she left the liquor store and was home, ground the character a bit more there. +everywhere else was good, just make sure reader knows where she is. +nameplates--great description here, +office description, +pressure with handshake J , like her thoughts during John‘s rambling.

Sallee: +good résumé description, t-shirt, bare-bottom (good descriptions), -need more scenery, surrounds, embarrassment goes on too long (?), -confusing as to where we are, +'cute sandal to cute sandal' (good!), + good description of office (old world), more action and conflict, good inner thoughts.

EDITS: I felt when the reader receives the information about the backdrop prior to this scene, what the class felt was missing might feel less so. Am I right? You’ll have to skip ahead to where critique of Chapter 10 occurs to find out. And when you do, well, something more happened in the bedroom, unlike Lee, Kerri Ann
has no problem apologizing. The change altered the mood of the scene, helped end the confusion between chapters, but I felt we lost the concept that Lee is fascinated with Kerri Ann. In the end, the scene served its purpose, explained why she refuses to wear a hanbok, traditional Korean dress, but not necessarily why it was important to him, but that gets explained in Part II.

Yes, book is divided into two parts, One and Two. (That ‘one and two’ was probably unnecessary, but that’s ME, write way more than you need to, now where’s that red pen…or that drink!)

Created by MyFitnessPal - Free Weight Loss Tools

Related Posts with Thumbnails