Category Archives: writing
carlos montoya novel excerpt at the write launch
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Excited to have a novel excerpt up at @thewritelaunch from a manuscript in progress I am calling carlos montoya–a novel
So happy with the cover design for Little Mocos–thank you to @t_morrissey Morrissey and @TwelveWinters
podcast recommendation: code switch–race and identity, remixed
the house of order now available on kindle and smashwords
available now on kindle, smashwords
The House of Order–stories, the first collection of composite stories by John Paul Jaramillo, presents a stark vision of American childhood and family, set in Southern Colorado and Northern New Mexico.
2013 International Latino Book Award Finalist–The Mariposa Award–Best First Book–Fiction
Latino Stories.com 2013 Top Ten “New” Latino Authors to Watch (and Read)
writerly gear: hybrid mechanical keyboard
I have had so many conversations with students about how great old school mechanical typewriters are for the feel and cadence in the act of writing. Yet we love the ease of the word processor. In fact once I had a dream I plugged an old typewriter into my MacBook Pro.
I rarely post writerly gear on this blog but when I saw the Qwerkywriter prototype on Kickstarter I couldn’t resist.
Via Gear Hungry :
documentary recommendation: thank you mr watterson
Great documentary now available for streaming on Netflix. I’d been waiting to watch this one for a while. I was glad to see some insight into the reclusive artist Bill Watterson. Calvin and Hobbes has always been one of my favorite strips and I remember the last strip to this day. In fact, I found the description of Watterson and his thoughts on merchandising to be very Salinger-esque. And I’ve always thought of Salinger in relation to Watterson and his themes of youth and familial relationships. I also liked the discussion of high art and commercial or comic art.
“arkansas flood 1964” in pilgrimage magazine
Happy to hear my story “Arkansas Flood 1964” will soon have a home in Pilgrimage Magazine.
new year’s writing resolution
A few years back I made a joke to D about teaching and writing. I told her I was deciding to be a bad teacher and to focus on my writing. I told her I would be selfish. I would put my class work on cruise control. This was difficult to do because I feel such a responsibility to my students and I spend so much time note taking and creating lessons and lectures. It didn’t help that Sergio Troncoso inspired me with the care and attention to his students I witnessed in his workshop. Resolution: This year I will try to devote more time to the work. I always say my teaching is investigating story and writing, but I recognize I need to work harder on revising manuscripts rather than generating new material. Update: currently the Semi-Orphaned novel in stories manuscript is away at the editor and I am anticipating a mass of notes for revision. Actually I’m waiting for Jennifer C. Cornell to kick my ass. She was incredibly helpful with what became The House of Order manuscript. I’m slowly and surely starting to understand the importance of an experienced and assertive editor. And her notes are the most rigorous and detailed I’ve seen from an editor. Invaluable for the work. I’d also like to complete the Monte Stories manuscript later on this year. That is another manuscript–possibly another novel in stories–I know needs much work and development. This should be an interesting year of struggling for balance.
new césar chávez film trailer
I’ve been waiting for this trailer for a while. I always give out some of chávez’ writings in my comp class and admire his words and his work. Can’t wait to see Diego Luna’s film.
last tuesday at the movies
Went to the movies last week. I should’ve been grading or obsessing over the part time instructor evaluations I was supposed to be writing up. But I went to the movies instead. Don’t always spend time during the week taking time to watch movies but I did. And I don’t regret it. I wish I could go to the movies every Tuesday. Anyway D and I saw Enough Said directed by Nicole Holofcener.
Long story short, the plot is driven by a coincidence. And this idea was seen as a failure from D’s point of view. I saw it as a strength because I heard an episode of This American Life called No Coincidence, No Story! Now that is not the only thing that drives the film’s narrative. I think the movie is driven by the intricacies of relationships and protocol around new relationships–the human truths of relationships and also the ending of relationships. The idea that relationships are about finding and understanding mundane eccentricities in newfound partners.
Apparently “No coincidence, no story” is a Chinese expression. From This American Life: “Sometimes the best way to appreciate a coincidence is to look past all the rational reasons it might have happened.”
This is an interesting thought or principle regarding narratology. Shit happens in life and in stories. I think this is a pretty good lesson for my creative writing students who are always struggling to find that thing or “it” that will drive the story.
Protected: storymatic freewriting
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a book and a labyrinth
Rereading Borges’ The Garden of Forking Paths this morning. And the idea of a chaotic novel or a novel with confounding paths of time consoles me as I’ve been thinking Semi-Orphaned is a mess of vignettes and scene/organization that spirals. Hopeful that I have found a plan for the chaos.
“No one realized that the book and the labyrinth were one and the same.”
semi-orphaned aug 15 deadline
Sat down today–all day today–working towards an August 15 contest deadline for my Semi-Orphaned manuscript. Here is a quick excerpt:
Animales
Neto was over on the bed shirtless and crudo, shaking his head at the reality of missing his father’s funeral service, when he raised both arms to smell his pits. He started digging in his jeans for a comb and pushed at his dark hair.
This was all in 1983, before the winter ended. I remember Neto often visited from New Mexico to the Abuelito’s home on Spruce Street in Huerfano, Colorado and slept off his drunks.
“There’s a lot of folks upstairs waiting on you, I said.
When he saw it was only me, he kicked off his sneakers and dropped his soiled pants and bent over in the posture of a small child. His nicotine stained fingers shoveled down the plate of rice and beans I had for him. He coughed and spat to the basement’s concrete floor.
“You the only Ortiz worth a damn left alive in this neighborhood,” he complained.
His clothes were in two great big garbage bags and he stood still a minute as I dragged his only collared shirt out from under his stash of nudie magazines and fungus-looking weed.
I put his clothes down deep in the washing machine and asked out loud if he was my father.
“Listen to what I say, Manito. I can tell you this. Born into this world alone and die alone,” Neto went on half-drunkenly. “Family will leave you. Women will leave you. All you have is your own damned self.”
