The Valley

"Sir?"

"Yes...."

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know. Where did you come from?"

"I came from the valley."

"The valley? I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here."

"I thought I saw someone up on this hill. On this very spot. And here you are."

"The forest is so thick.... I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here."

"But here you are. And here I am."

"You came from the valley?"

"Yes. You can almost see it from here. Just the tops of the trees. The other mountain also leads down."

"I was just trying my cell phone."

"You can't get reception in the valley. The sides are too steep. See the other side from here?"

"But I should call."

"There's no one to call in the valley."

"My GPS.... It doesn't work."

"There are no signals in the valley. It's strange like that. Too deep maybe. No radio. No television. No satellite."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing but the valley."

"Nothing...."

"People in the valley lose track. They forget that nothing reaches valley. They just walk and live and the world moves in odd directions without them."

"How do you know?"

"About the valley?"

"Yes."

"I dreamed strange dreams once. Like you did. I drove in the night and walked through the forest and woke when someone spoke to me."

"I'm awake?"

"I lived in the valley. I don't know how long."

"How long...."

"There's a path for you now. You can follow it down."

"How long...."

"I'm going to walk a bit farther now. To the top of the mountain. I want to see over the ridge."

"I dreamed about you."

"Yes. And someday, you'll dream again. The path will open, and you'll climb, and you'll find another, like you, to come live in the valley."

"But--"

"As long as you need to be here. Just that long. But....already it's getting hard to remember. I'm going to climb the rest of the way now. Be well."

"Goodbye."

Black Window

I saw a black reflection
in un-illumined glass
flat without glare
from a sun-encumbered sky
It framed the presence
I'd always suspected
in the moment before I turned
but never dared to spy
I walked under stone
and buttresses
uneasy for a room
where the living
might ache to shatter
invite me into swimming dust
and laugh nervously
about how easily we die

Interview with Jamie Ford: HOTEL ON THE CORNER OF BITTER AND SWEET

Today we have a very special treat. I'd like to welcome NTY Bestselling author (and long time blogging friend) Jamie Ford to celebrate his uber-successful debut novel, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. Let's hear it for Jamie! *applause*

I sat down with Jamie to dig into some of the powerful themes he explored in Hotel. But before I get to our interview (and invite you all to ask any burning questions you might have for Jamie), I want to introduce you to the world of Hotel.

In the midst of World War II, Henry Lee is a young Chinese boy living in Seattle's Chinatown. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Americans' feelings toward the Japanese are only dwarfed by the hatred of Henry's own father, who is haunted by the atrocities committed by Japanese in China. In these dark days, Henry's father forces him to wear an "I am Chinese" button to point out that he is an ally of America and not a Japanese "enemy." However, the button does nothing to stop the harassment and bullying in the American school his father forces him to attend.

When a young Japanese girl, Keiko, joins Henry in the American school, Henry finds his first true friend. Although Henry resists his growing feelings, he finally cannot deny to himself that he has fallen in love. But the world is falling down around Henry and Keiko. Japanese families are being arrested and sent to internment camps. Henry hides his betrayal of his father's wishes, but once discovered, he is disowned by the unyielding man.

One night Henry and Keiko are let into a jazz club by legendary performer Oscar Holden. It is a moment of perfection for them. Afterwards, when they learn that Oscar Holden has recorded the song he dedicated to them, this rare album becomes the symbol of everything that they lost in those terrible months and years after Keiko was taken away to the internment camps.

Without further ado, I bring you Jamie!

**************************


Jason: Hi Jamie! How are things this fine night?

Jamie: Things are lovely. Busy, which is always good.

:: I have a couple of thoughts to get started on with Hotel if you're ready.

Jamie: Ready when you are.

:: When I look at Henry, I see an abiding isolation, a fundamental lack of place, comfort, and acceptance. He is between worlds. American and Chinese. Youth and adulthood. Even his parents are beyond his reach. He can't communicate with them because his father insists he speak English even though neither of his parents understand it. I especially found it poignant that he was too Chinese to be accepted by the American kids, and too American to be accepted by the Chinese kids. Against this backdrop, the book to me is about the visceral desire for havens--places and people where Henry can feel safe and belong. Keiko is an obvious haven. One to fight for and protect. Did you also see jazz in this way? A cross-cultural haven where like-minded people could slip away from the mainstream and enjoy something almost secret?

Jamie: Hmmm...I hadn't seen Keiko as a haven per se, but that analysis does seem to fit. Henry is a kid burdened by parental and social abandonment to some degree. Keiko becomes his solace, his comfort. As far as the jazz elements, that really came out of the real history of the neighborhood, of South Jackson. Jazz was an amazing cultural bridge, that people of different backgrounds enjoyed. I love today's music, but it's much more fractious, dividing people into groups, rather than bringing groups together. I guess in a way, jazz, and certainly the physical clubs themselves were a haven....

:: That is such a memorable moment when Henry and Keiko speak to the man in the alley who turns out to be Oscar Holden. They get that precious time allowed to them in the club. Something they always treasure later. And on top of it, Oscar dedicates the piece "Alley Cat Strut" to them. But their escape that night is so fragile. The authorities raid the club and arrest the Japanese couples. The dark descent of the Japanese in Seattle begins that night.

:: Do you think that night becomes something of a touchstone? Does the search for the ultra-rare Oscar Holden album with their song years later stand for that deep desire to recapture that night?

Jamie: I think it does. That night was magical for the both of them, but also tragic and had a finality to it. In a way, that represents their relationship as teens. Just when they reached an emotional pinnacle, the bottom drops out, and they're separated...for a lifetime. I think most people have a vested interest in certain moments of the past, high points, with family, friends, love interests. Those moments pass by so quickly, leaving us longing to recapture that essence--even if just out of curiosity, or perhaps for some kind of emotional closure. That's why people get so worked up for class reunions.

:: Yes! Good point! What did Keiko do with that album she held in her keeping all those years?

Jamie: I think it was her piece of Camelot. I'm sure she hung on to it, treasured it, but recognized it was a slice of her past that she didn't think she could ever, or would ever, go back to. I think in the book, the record is still relatively scratch-free, unplayed, unfinished perhaps. I like to think that she didn't play it often, because she didn't want to tire of it, or ever let it get worn out, just to retain a little of its magic.

:: What would be a moment that she might have played it?

Jamie: Hmmm...great question. Perhaps when her father died? Or at a Minidoka reunion, which are now done each year. Maybe when she's feeling a bout of melancholy and just wants to wallow in those old emotions for a moment--the sweetness, not the emptiness.

:: Mmm, I like that. Do you think that first love is different than what comes later?

Jamie: Wow, that probably depends on the person. Some people have deep emotional wells that need to be filled, while others can have a great relationship based on intellectual pursuits, adventure, family, companionship, acts of service...the range of human dynamics is pretty broad. BUT, (I'm dodging your question here a bit), I think for most people that "first" love is weighted. It's like being a little baby eating creamed spinach and suddenly tastes chocolate for the first time--there's an emotional, sensory reaction that can be repeated, but never with the same uniqueness. In my overly emotive opinion, anyway.

:: I guess you can only experience something for the first time once. I can see an inherent purity there. I wonder if we're almost programmed to take that input. To hold that first love close. To bond hard. Later, we might learn to balance it. To be more realistic about love. But some of that rawness remains in the memory of the first. Clearly, Henry and Keiko imprinted on each other. In a way, the rest of their lives was somehow tinted by it.

Jamie: Imprinting is a very apt way to describe it. I think in many cases, that's accurate. Not necessarily a first kiss, first crush, first whatever, but being at an age where you're emotionally functional, but perhaps not entirely rational--and certainly not old and jaded. And then to have your breath completely taken away, is a big deal. Part of how it tinted the lives of Henry and Keiko is that their story was interrupted by war, and by the internment. Their story was really two acts of a three-act play...left unfinished.

:: Henry really did fight for his love of Keiko like an adult. I had a lot of respect for him because of that. Ultimately, he was over-matched by circumstances. But that leads me to my next question. Do you think Henry was a collaborator in his isolation and sadness?

Jamie: My first reaction was: no, not really. But in a way, perhaps he was. Specifically in his later years, as an adult, he really was a man that became comfortable living with his lament. I think he figured that he had maxed out his quota for happiness and there wasn't going to be another shot at it. I don't think collaborator is exactly the right word perhaps, but maybe willing victim. He accepted what life threw at him later in life, and found comfort in making the best of things.

:: A couple of things come to mind. He embraced his friend Sheldon and jazz as a child, yet he keeps that hidden from his parents. I'm not sure that Henry ever realizes how much of his parents' views limit and shape his behavior until Keiko's more fierce independence is there for comparison. Of course, Keiko has it easier with supportive and accepting parents, yet I tend to think she would be a bit more fierce when pushed. Also, when Henry loses Keiko, even when he learns how he's been wronged by his father, Henry accepts his position. It's like the train has left the station, and it's too late. I can see some of these things in Henry's control. The ultimate decision is his, even though he thinks he really has no choice but to protect others. In truth, he really does have a choice.

Jamie: Ah, soooo true. Someone once told me the tough decisions in life aren't between what's right and what's wrong, but between what's right and what's best. In Henry's case, he had committed himself to Ethel (after losing Keiko), and despite the machinations that deprived him of Keiko, he couldn't go back on that commitment. And that was also entrenched in a lot of family guilt, over his father's ailing health, and wanting to be a good son, even at a cost. A bit noble, but also tragic. And you're right, entirely his decision.

:: Is Henry's ultimate savior fate? Was it fate that finally removed those impediments and obligations and guilt? I suppose one has to be patient for fate to work. Hence, the return to Keiko late in life. Would you agree?

Jamie: Ah, love! Could thou and I with Fate conspire to grasp this sorry scheme of things entire! Don't recall who said that, sounds like Shakespeare, but I don't think it is. The truth is, Henry could have searched for his long lost love. During his marriage, after Ethel died, he could have gone after it. But he was on that fine line between bitterness and contentment, and fate did intervene a bit. And if you wait long enough, and keep your eyes open, those chances are there, I suppose. In Henry's case it was seeing Keiko's belongings at the Panama Hotel. But it could just as easily been something mentioned in the evening news about reparations to Japanese Americans, or hearings in Washington DC, all of those things were going on during the 80s. But, the hotel was there, based in fact...and eminently more poetic.

:: How do you feel about the life with Ethel versus the life with Keiko serving as bookends, before and after? Are they like two lives packed into one body in Henry? Or can they be brought together and seen as one seamless lifetime?

Jamie: I really see Henry as having one seamless life, with high points, low points, and various changes of emotional scenery. I think his life with Ethel and his life with Keiko were equally rewarding and based on different levels of maturity. And hopefully at the end of the book, that life continues...they both get their third act.

:: I hope so too. I think it has been earned many times over. In a way, I think Henry's son Marty was right. Henry has been formed somewhat by his father. Maybe not his prejudice and controlling nature, but in his sense of commitment and tradition and a certain flavor of right and wrong. I think Marty and his fiancée Samantha give Henry just enough of a hand to break out of those last vestiges of his father holding him back.

Jamie: From one generation to the next--an amazing evolutionary process!

:: Yes! Thanks so much for sitting down, Jamie. I've said it before, but it has been wonderful to see your voice hitting the world in such a big way. I look forward to many great novels from you.

Jamie: Thanks Jason! And to think this whole journey started with a certain contest....

:: Thanks!! Actually, I'm looking forward to opening my 11th contest soon. I hope to have you co-host one in the future. When your next novel hits the shelves.

Jamie: Yeah, I'd love to. Absolutely.

:: Have a great night. Stay in touch.

Jamie: You too, thanks again.

*****************************

I know you're all on your way to buy Jamie's book if you haven't already. Do you have any questions for Jamie? If you've read the book, do you have any observations of your own?

The Walk

The hills unsettle the distance
no longer wringing the fall of feet
shoes puff dust
streaked with brown
where worms would not tire
poking pink across this ground

On the heat-curtained miles behind
I tipped my ropes and hooks
against a salt bone tree
I could offer the moisture I found
but the blue would whirl it skyward
they steal the rain before I drown

Fun Friday: Do Overs

Kicking back on this nice early summer Friday?

(Sorry, southern hemisphere folks. I don't mean to rub it in.)

Awesome! Up for a Friday game/rap session?

Today's theme is do overs. I'm giving you the power to go back in time. In comments, let us know what you would tell yourself to do, or not to do, if you had the chance to change your history. Serious or less-than-serious answers are welcome!

Warm up your fingers. It's time to hit the cosmic delete key.

She Moved Through the Fair

Sometimes I think about the times when the world still knew darkness. Before electricity and 24-hour light. Before canned human company was no farther than the click of a television or radio. Generations linked hands across the night with stories, memories, art, and songs passed by the flickering spell of a fire. Folk songs feel like voices from that darkness, like some mysterious communication of lyric and tune speaking the heart of a culture, speaking the soul of humanity itself.

Sometimes I listen to these old, traditional songs and try to wrap myself in that collective voice. I try to understand the greater words and what deep human chords made it endure the grinding passage of years.

Fall back into the darkness as you listen to She Moves Through the Fair. What is captured here? What is transcending so many eras, homelands, and human conditions? I hear the stoic sadness in the musical key.* I hear the inherent distance in love. And I hear the beautiful longing to bridge the spaces separating us, and to finally have what can never be quite possessed.

What does the voice sing to you?

My love said to me
My mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you
For your lack of kind
Then she stepped away from me
And this she did say
"It will not be long love,
'Til our wedding day."

She stepped away from me
And she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her
Move here and move there
She went away homeward
With one star awake
As the swan in the evening
Moves over the lake

I dreamt it last night
That my true love came in
So softly she entered
Her feet made no din
She came close beside me
And this she did say
"It will not be long love,
'Til our wedding day."

(For a particularly haunting version of the song by Sinead O'Connor, click HERE.)

*The Mixolydian Mode. Compared to the major scale, its seventh note is diminished by a half tone. It's the scale of the bagpipes and other old ear-tuned instruments. The lowered seventh makes the low grace notes sound more pleasing. For example, you can hear it in "mother" in the line "my mother won't mind."

The Morning After

His sneakers squeezed the tea water from the dark, forest leaves. "What are you doing up?

"I woke up early," she said. "I guess I'm not used to going to bed before midnight."

His gaze surveyed the mountains where lightning had stitched rivers in the black sky. "Not much to do when those storms roll in and the power goes out."

Her fingertips danced across the diamonds dug from the rain.

"The clouds are puffy in the trees, and the sky is so blue," she said. "Nothing in the world could be wrong on a morning like this."

Common Issues that Cost People Points in Clarity of Night Contests

Clarity of Night contests have two main goals. One is to strengthen the online writing community and the other is to improve our skill. In the spirit of the second, over my ten prior contests I've developed a scoring system that tries to dig at some objective qualities of writing. (For detailed discussion on the system, click over to A Note on Judging.) With the "In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine)" contest approaching, I thought I would give some general feedback on the most common ways that folks get deductions under that system. Because of the competitiveness of these contests, 2 or 3 significant deductions will usually eliminate you from contention. I've generally found that strong writing scores at least 40 out of a possible 45 points. For that reason, I've also instituted the "Forties Club" to recognize writers who hit that mark, whether or not they placed.

I do want to point out that since this contest will by co-hosted by Jaye Wells in honor of her excellent debut novel, Red-Headed Stepchild, judging is by consensus between the two of us. She is not bound by my scoring system. I'll ask her to say a few words about what she is looking for when the contest is announced.

Without further ado, here is my list of common writing issues. I raise them in a constructive spirit.

1. Telling Instead of Showing. Most of the time, a story is strongest when it's portrayed in real time for the reader, not narrated by the author in a kind of summarized, Cliff's Notes fashion.

Example: Stephanie was so tired of her mother staring at her. Her mother asked so many questions all the time. She accused Stephanie of not caring. Nothing was ever good enough. In a sigh, she found herself thinking that she didn't even have the energy to respond anymore.

Rewrite: She pushed away the coffee cup she didn't ask for. Her mother stood by the table. Angry and waiting. The fatigue washed over her. "I'm sorry, mother," she said finally. "But I really don't know what to say to you anymore."

2. Over-description. If a single sentence has more than two adjectives, you're in danger of diminishing your impact. Example: The long, winding road was filled completely with a permeating, oppressive darkness.

3. Unbelievable Dialog.

Example: "What are you going to do with that hammer that you are waving in your hand?"

"I was thinking that maybe I should drive it through your skull and into your brain. In fact, I've been thinking about murdering you for ages upon ages."

Rewrite: "Put the hammer down!"

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

4. Mismatch. Mismatches can be in intensity, such as when powerful words are paired with a non-powerful moment.

Example: "The parking ticket thundered into my hands and demolished my every chance of having a glorious day."

Descriptions should generally fit the importance of the moment in length and intensity.

Mismatches can also be in time. Don't use lengthy descriptions to portray a very quick action (unless you are specifically going for a slow-motion effect).

Example: His fingers extended toward the door, and as he touched the brass, his hand curled around knob. With a twist, the door unlatched. He pulled it open and entered.

Reading these words takes about four times as long as the action itself.

5. Weak Verbs. Example: The sky was dark. The motorcycle was idling. He was eager to go. Rewrite: The clouds piled in the sky. The motorcycle engine sputtered. He flexed his hands, ready to go.

6. Unnecessary Words/Tightening. Example: When he sat down on the chair, he thought he saw her go out of the door and out of the room. Rewrite: As he sat down, he saw her rush from the room. (Stronger verb too.)

7. Cliches. Example: He needed her like he needed to breathe.

THE "IN VINO VERITAS (TRUTH IN WINE)" CONTEST

Earth and Bone

He slipped along soft almond hills
She grappled the heartwood of forests
He divided
She unfolded a dark spring storm
He plunged into earth and tender rain
She emptied her hidden ache to the Peregrine claw
He whispered honey incantations
She pounded the path of victorious prey
The lightning struck
And the gasping rhythm came
His and her body was
The melt of light and dark
For one more tongue-tipped day

Summer 15

I swayed in your summer-warmed whispers
And the rasping voice of the sea
Seduced by soft spined stories
Learning what it meant to be me

A Very Special Clarity of Night Contest

The Clarity of Night is known for writing contests. As of now, I've had the honor of hosting 10 of them over the span of 3 years. These contests have built a powerful community of friends and writers that I'm humbled to play a part in.

You can't imagine the thrill it was for me to see my very first contest winner, Jamie Ford, go on to become a New York Times bestselling author with his debut novel, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, which was published this spring. And he is not alone. Jaye Wells is another amazing contest success story, whose connection to The Clarity of Night has unique meaning for me.

My 3rd Clarity of Night contest was "Lonely Moon." It was co-hosted by Anne Frasier, whose novel Pale Immortal had just been released. Out of a record-setting 100 entries (a record only recently broken), blogfriend Jaye Wells nabbed a coveted placement with her kick-butt story I Can Dig It, which featured a vampire assassin burying her handiwork. Jaye latched onto that story and turned it into a novel, which has become the uber-successful Red-Headed Stepchild, also released this spring. Jaye is in the midst of a wonderful three book deal to bring to life that character she dreamed up for "Lonely Moon."

Now, Jaye is returning full circle to do what Anne Frasier and that contest did for her. I'm happy to announce my 11th Clarity of Night Contest, "In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine)" will open July 8th, 2009. The contest, co-hosted by Jaye, is to honor her and the release of Red-Headed Stepchild. There will be interviews, mayhem, and free blood screenings. And I'm going to be honest with you, I fully expect Jaye and this wonderful writing community to inspire our next novelist to hit the big time.

So you can get the juices flowing, I'm going to share the contest photo with you early. Start cooking up the ideas! As always you will have 250 words to work with. And please, feel free to grab the photo for your own blogs to spread the word. (More announcements will come closer to July 8th, but it's not too soon to get the ball rolling.)

Best of luck to all! And I'd like to give my heartfelt congratulations to Jaye, who has made us all very proud.

**Contest rules, prizes (show me the money!), and other information will be announced closer to the contest opening on July 8th. Prior contests can be found on my sidebar. Entries are stories inspired by the photo limited to 250 words.**

THE "IN VINO VERITAS (TRUTH IN WINE)" CONTEST

Don't Feed the Animals

I'll give you some peanuts
The animals are funny when they chew
But if my hands release the gate
The fangs will feast on you

The Other

I've been thinking about the nature of humans a lot lately. Trying to whittle our basic, universal drives down to very tight biological and objective terms. Today, I'd like to talk about a concept I'm going to call "The Other." What makes us seek out a companion? A soulmate? What makes us form a personal, transcendent relationship with a God? Those are questions I'm going to tackle.

When you look at human development and what makes us thrive as a species, you find a strong communal nature. We're bound to our human surroundings. Our parents, our family, our neighborhood, our community. From these sources, we form our identity, we learn, we form a defined "culture." Insert a bit of geography, and you see these processes at work with stark contrasts. Alter that close association with different histories, different language, different dress, and different appearance, and we see the "us" come full circle by distinguishing itself from "them."

But is there something deeper than culture? Is there some more basic urge that lays the very foundations that culture is built upon? I think there is. It is an inborn itch so deep that nothing can ultimately smooth it away. Think about yourself alone. Think about yourself very alone. In your darkest moments of isolation, is there someone there with you?

It's an urge, isn't it? A hunger to have another hear you, support you, validate you, and share your life experiences. We understand "me" or "I" all too well. That other emptiness yearning to be filled is "The Other."

Think about relationships. Biologically, we need to reproduce. Most of us like the act required for procreation. In fact, we practice it often. But what does reproduction have to do with a life companion? Why do we want those deeper, almost mystical connections? Why reach out to a person? Why care? Why fight? Why keep coming back when the waters become foul? Because we have that mouth to feed within us. We want to reach out and grab someone to fill the shoes of the The Other. Unfortunately, the stakes are devastatingly high. People fail us. They violate us. They let us down. The Other spits out the usurper we've dropped into that emptiness, and the hunger begins again.

But here's a question. What might you do if there is no person willing (or desirable enough) to be The Other? What if you've been burned and the hunger wants something more predictable and safe? No problem. You can fill the space with a concept. A kind of imaginary Other who will care and share and lend a willing ear. This "Substitute Other" can be a fantasy. A wonderful imagined romance. (We writers are known to create such things.) The Substitute Other can be an ideal. It can be a spirit or a god. Substitute Others can give great comfort. Sometimes I envy the religious minded for that reason. How comforting must that be to always feel someone watching over you, offering you love and support? But in reality, that kind of safety tastes kind of bland, and most people still end up wanting more.

So, what is The Other within us? Maybe nothing more than an instinct. Just like babies are born to snuggle towards warmth, or move their mouths to a nipple. We are born with that simple, but potent yearning. I can see its strength. It binds us together and allows us to achieve more than we would alone. But I also see its dreadful side. The wanting, the not having, the conflicts, the betrayals, and the pain.

If you're in the grip of the dark side of The Other, maybe seeing its deep instinctual roots can help. If we're hungry and can't find food, it doesn't mean that we have been cheated out of all that is good and noble in life. We tighten our belts and get a snack later. If our Other has been stomped or starved and we are in pain, maybe it's not quite the big deal we think it is. It's programming and biology. Understanding urges doesn't make them go away, but it puts them in perspective. It puts more power and strength into our hands. Maybe once in a while we should look The Other in the face and say, "screw you." Maybe then we'd have the perspective to feel a little less insane.

(One final note. By "The Other," I'm referring to the drive, not what fills it. The Other doesn't have to be a single person or thing. In fact, I presume it never is. We pluck pieces of people and concepts to feed the hunger. I do believe, however, that in most cases we want a single person to fill the largest share of it, even if we trick ourselves into thinking that person will be everything to us. There are many ways, small and large, we want to be heard. I don't see many examples of a truly solitary life.)