McBilly’s giving away a fantastic theme — Brian Gardner’s Revolution Tech Theme! All you got to do is join in the contest. Easy as pie. I’ve long been a fan of Brian’s Revolution theme so I really hope I win this one!!!
Ch-ch-check the contest out!
I got tagged by Katharine for a writer’s meme.
List three things [I] believe are necessary to make writing good and powerful:
1. Write about what you want to know more of.
There is passion when writing about something you want to learn about. I find research boring, but if it’s something that interests me, things go much better, of course.
2. Proofread.
Goodness. I forget to proofread sometimes. Especially for short blog posts which should be written quickly.
3. Develop your own writing style.
I don’t want my writing to be generic riffraff. I’m on a quest to find my voice and my own writing style. I believe it’s a big factor in succeeding as a fiction writer.
Thanks, Katharine, for tagging me. =) I don’t have many people to tag here so I’ll move the tagging to another one of my blogs.
Also, Katharine and Diana, a very funny thing happened. I asked my cousin to send out my letters last December 23 or so. I thought everything was all right when to my surprise, the letters were delivered to my doorstep on January 3. It seems my cousin made a mistake and the Post Office didn’t even ask why the “from” addresses were marked USA and Russia while the “TO” addresses were marked “Philippines.”
Well, my cousin isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but she’s all right. So after a minute’s fit of anger, I sent out the letters myself on the same day (January 3). I’ve also gotten your cards!
Panama is lovely, Katharine. My sister was enamored. She says Panama looks like a princess’ pony. LOL.
I’ll try to blog more, from now on. Thing is, I think the client I’ve gotten last December and I are a really good fit. We got a backlink from New York Times for one of the pieces I’ve written and things went from there. My workload tripled and I’m just very thankful that he’s a really nice client to work for. Problem is, I don’t have much time for anything else anymore. But I’m at the stage where I’m getting used to it. In a couple of weeks or so, I think I’ll be able to cut down the time I usually spend on my new projects.
I haven’t had time to do anything else these days. In between the days I’m sick, I have to work. The blog gig I had mentioned my last post didn’t go through. The owner seems to have sold the site to someone else. Had he asked me, I would have bought it from him, myself, since the topic, gadgetry, is my forte. I had applied for another gadget blog in the beginning of December, but it seems the client is still taking time to think things through. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed even as of now. I don’t think I’ve ever WANTED a gig this badly before.
I’ve never had a slow month since July until recently. But then again, I’m sick, so I guess that’s a blessing in disguise. Still, I was getting worried. My savings would run out by May next year if I don’t keep earning. I know that’s being pessimistic, but hey, I can’t help it — I can’t be a happy camper 24/7. I discussed things with my mom lately and she told me not to worry because gigs would start pouring in by January. I sure hope so. I remember Katharine’s post on Feast or Famine sometime ago. While others could afford being on famine, I cannot. Which is the exact same reason why I was scared of taking risks and raising my rates.
Last week, I had this gut feeling. I was thinking of my biggest-paying client and I was suddenly seized by this FEELING. I KNEW, somehow, that something would happen soon. In effect, I’ve, again, been vigilant for new gigs, something I haven’t been since November. A couple of hours ago, I left my computer running while I was downstairs watching TV. When I decided to go back to work, I was welcomed by two new emails. The first was from my current client, asking me to cut back on my weekly output by half for now. While on an ordinary day, this would have made me a nervous wreck, today was different.
A mere 15 minutes after this email was sent, I’ve received another from a new client, hiring me. The funny thing is, I’ve applied for an opening in his blog last August. When he replied by September, I already had too heavy a workload (due to my current client) to take on his, so I declined politely. When I saw he was again, looking for bloggers, I applied and got the gig. I guess I was meant to work on his blog at the right time, and I can’t think of a time more right than now.
Thank you, God, for always, ALWAYS helping my family at the right moment. Thank you for making me brave enough to become a freelance writer, an occupation which, we all know, is like a rollercoaster ride. Thank you for making me highly resourceful that I’ve been earning almost as much as my father did when he was still working. Thank you for all the gigs I land which let us afford not to sell our house and to send my sister to school. Thank you, Lord, for loving even a sinner like me.
M
I’ve been quite sick as of late. To make it worse, my only source of entertainment, Screw You! looks like it’s gone to temporary hiatus. I installed a Christmas theme because there’re only 27 days ’til Christmas! I’ll mail cards on Wednesday and hopefully, they’ll get to everyone by December 25th. I’m beyond busy right now. Because of my condition, I decided to take a well-deserved break from work starting December 15 to January 15. I only have 17 days to get six weeks’ (Dec. 1 - Jan. 15) worth of work done. I will have minimal amount of work to do during that one month, particularly my new blog gig. But I’m totally in love with the topic, and it’ll take me around 30 minutes per day to write one post so it’s all good.
My plans for my Holiday vacation consist of the following:
1. Launch a new science-centric blog. The theme would be science that even the lay audience could understand. I have a particular sub-discipline in mind, but I don’t want to risk idea piracy so I’ll keep that to myself for now.
2. Do heavy promotion for my Japanese entertainment-centric blog. I got into contact with one Japanese indie artist, one Japanese major label artist and one American indie artist over the past few weeks. If nothing happens to prevent them, I’ll have three exclusive interviews for the web site by early next year.
3. Turn this blog into a role-play blog. Basically, my idea is to write as a different character each day and as myself during Sundays. I’m still coming up with the details but it’ll most probably start after December 15.
4. Rest.
I have to go now. I have a ton of stuff to do and my eyes just hurt too much to dilly-dally.
Does anybody want to receive a Christmas card from me? I’m sending out cards on the last week of November. If anybody wants to receive a card from the Philippines, please send your mailing addresses to: mariella@bohemianwordsmith.com.
The catch: you have to send me a card in return! :D
What are your pet peeves as a freelance writer?
One of mine would be when I respond to an ad and the client gets back to me with a “I like your style, I could use you” type of reply.
You could USE me? Excuse me, but I’m not some kind of a tool you could use. You could use my SERVICES, that’s what you could use.
Another would be when I quote a client the price for the project and they get back to me with a “someone quoted me a lower price than you did.” Well go on, I’m not holding you back. Go work with someone who’ll mangle your web site and stuff it with senseless articles of 99.99% keyword density.
I have a lot more but they’ll have to come later. 
A meme taken from Kathy Kehrli of Screw You!
8 things I’m passionate about:
1. Writing fiction
2. Reading fiction
3. Japanese urban music
4. Classical music
5. The many different Japanese subcultures
6. Trying to etch my mark in history
7. Being a good and conscientious individual
8. Maintaining a relationship with God and my family
8 things I want to do before I die:
1. Write and publish many, many books
2. Live in Japan
3. Travel the rest of the world
4. Build my mansion
5. Inspire people to better their lives and follow their dreams
6. Learn five different languages
7. Learn how to play the violin and piano
8. Help my underprivileged countrymen
8 things I say often:
1. Fantastic!
2. Love it!
3. Puh-lease
4. That is so cool!
5. As if!
6. Please, Lord, help me survive this day.
7. I’m hungry…
8. I hate this!
8 books I’ve recently read: (Since I haven’t read anything NEW recently, I’m listing 8 books I’ve recently RE-read)
1. The Godfather (Mario Puzo)
2. Queen of the Damned (Anne Rice)
3. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
4. The Cell (Stephen King)
5. Chromosome 6 (Robin Cook)
6. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
7. Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Truman Capote)
8. To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
8 songs I could listen to over and over: (Everything’s Japanese, sorry…)
1. Hide & Seek (Namie Amuro)
2. Kiss & Cry (Utada Hikaru)
3. Your Name Never Gone (Chemistry)
4. Itsu Demo Kimi no Koto wo (Soulhead)
5. Kokuhaku (Soulhead)
6. So Exclusive (m-flo)
7. First Love (Utada Hikaru)
8. Fish (Namie Amuro)
8 things that attract me to my best friends:
1. Good Humor
2. Dependability
3. Loyalty
4. Honesty
5. Compassion
6. Open-mindedness
7. Intelligence
8. Genuineness
8 people I think should do Crazy 8s:
Everyone else reading this ♥
My first audio blog after the cut
I posted an entry in Performancing yesterday and forgot to share it here. Here’s an excerpt of my entry, “How to Explain Blogging to the Old Folks”:
Last week, my mother’s two old aunts came over for lunch. The elder of them was so old; she walks by shuffling her feet forward like a Chinese granny with lotus feet and the younger of them lost all her teeth about a decade ago. I was in the middle of blogging when they arrived so I didn’t get to welcome them. I was summoned by my mother when it was time for lunch and I had to go through the perfunctory greetings between relatives — you know how it goes. My mom told them I was working as a writer and Lotus-feet Granny smiled widely and detailed about her stint as a journalist (way before World War II). She asked me what subjects I write and for what newspaper I was working for. I shared a look with my mother in knowledge that it will be a hard-time trying to explain blogging to my ancient grannies.
And Katharine, I had a long reply written to your last email but there was a sudden blackout in my place so everything went poof. 
I’ll type it out again tomorrow and send you my reply!
I joined WritersWeekly’s Fall 2007 Short StoryContest last September. The web site updated with the list of winners earlier. I’m included in the list of honorable mention (see pic above). Too bad. Maybe in another couple of tries, I’ll be in the top three I promised a friend I’d show her my story, so here it is. I’ll pull it down as soon my portfolio’s up and running and place it there instead. 
—————————
KARMA
By: Mariella
Do NOT copy.
“So, what do you think?”
I sighed. From behind his desk, my superior stared at me intently, his sharp green eyes boring deep into my skull.
“Screw you,” is what I wanted to say. But I knew that if I am to have a purpose in my rotten life, I had no choice. I begrudgingly reached into my bag and pulled out a large rectangular mirror.
“You owe me, chief.”
He grunted in response.
I took a deep breath to calm my anxious nerves, closed my eyes briefly and stared into the looking glass. I watched my own brows furrow in concentration, my dark eyes glinting against the seemingly grayish background.
My reflection began to dissolve and slowly, like mixing paint in an artist’s palette, a varicolored vision of fall swirled before my very eyes. The vivid hues of the foliage seemed to bring the vision to life; a painting worthy of an artist extraordinaire.
I felt it again. That familiar feeling, that desperate wish to be there; in that place so far away, and so long ago — a place I’ve never even seen before. I blinked back startled tears, shed for reasons unknown, when I suddenly inhaled the scent of wood smoke, felt a cold wind stirring my hair and saw a movement in the distance.
I looked around. I was standing in the middle of the woods in autumn, alone and feeling miserable in the middle of a golden paradise. Another distant movement entered my peripheral vision. Panting slightly amidst the cold, I padded quietly towards the unknown entity — human or savage beast, I couldn’t see. Much later, I would find out that in that case, between the two, there’s not much of a difference.
Mist rose from my mouth and I can hear myself breathing heavily, my hand clutching the stitch on my side.
‘Human‘, I thought, when I glanced at the color of skin on bare back, though what anyone was doing shirtless on a frigid autumn day, I didn’t know.
I stood behind a large tree, trying to catch my breath. There was a man with his back on me not far from where I stood, a shovel in hand, furiously digging on the hardened forest earth. Not far away from where we were, a small fire was burning. I stared at the man muttering under his breath, wondering what he was doing. My curiosity however, saw its end when my eyes moved downward — at his feet, a boy not older than five was bound from arms to ankles.
I stood frozen.
The boy, who was erstwhile unconscious, began to stir. He blinked against the setting autumn sun, his eyes a deep cerulean blue radiating pure innocence.
“Daddy?” The child addressed the man who remained oblivious and kept on digging. “Daddy, what’s goin’ on?”
“Shut it,” the man grunted.
I felt my heart in my throat, my brain going haywire in fear and disbelief. The child lying supine on the forest floor writhed in agony as he tried to free himself from his bounds. He started shrieking in a voice so agonizingly loud; it seemed to rip into the core of my being.
“I SAID SHUT IT!”
The man turned quickly and in a whiplash, brought the shovel down to his own son’s head. I heard the crack of a delicate skull. And blood, the color of vermilion, stained the forest floor, vitiating the golden beauty of the fallen autumn leaves.
The man kept on digging, muttering under his breath. But this time, I could hear what he was saying.
“Your slut of a mother running off with another man…what was I supposed to do?! She deserves this…”
No, I didn’t want to see any more. I wanted the vision to end.
“You can’t blame me…it’s her fault…it’s all her fault.”
‘Stop it,’ I pleaded. My legs would not move.
“SHE killed you, not me…”
‘Stop the vision, please!‘
As if he heard my silent plea, the man turned and looked me straight in the eye — eyes which scared me immensely like no other. I clutched my chest and squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Make it stop, please!” I wailed.
The next thing I knew, when I opened my eyes, I was back in the chief’s office, the man himself wiping my sweaty brow with a towel, his face ashen.
He whispered, “What did you see?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a gander at the couple sitting outside the cubicle. And then I saw him. It didn’t matter what the rest of his face looked like — I could never forget those eyes.
“It’s the father,” I whispered back.
I trudged the corridors of the FBI on my way home, feeling dazed from what I had witnessed that afternoon. I thought I’ve seen everything during my two years serving as their psychic when I am, in fact, an agent myself. I was wrong.
I ran to the toilet which was, thank god, empty — locked the door and allowed myself to be violently sick. Emptied of all my meals for the day, I leaned against a sink and washed my face. Tears began pouring uncontrollably.
I couldn’t take it. I thought I was through with asking “why me” but I guess I was wrong again. I reached a shaking hand into my pocket for my pack of Sobranie Black Russians but merely found an empty box.
“Great,” I laughed bitterly, tears still streaking down my cheeks.
Never in my life had I felt such despair. Never had I felt such fear.
I stared at myself on the mirror on top of the sink and was suddenly brought to attention by something I’m so used to, it surprises me no longer.
A ghostly head rested on my shoulder beside my own, its face looking terribly amused yet ghastly. It was the face of the clairvoyant I had accidentally killed during my days as a field agent.
“When will the visions stop?” I ask, knowing the answer yet dreading it at the same time. I’ve asked the same question a million times before.
The face leered at me through the mirror, a malicious grin on her translucent face, baring rows of her sharp, pointed teeth.
“Never,” she hissed.
I was wishing she’d come up with another answer that day. I should’ve known better.
THE END