Saturday, May 28, 2011

Sharks Are Friends Ban Shark Fin Soup

Indie Writing Challenge
Dispel a stereotype is my challenge from Jen O.
Please click on all videos to open before you read, yes all at once.
 I am experimenting with interactive links. Please provide input about the interactive aspect. Readers please provide comments. I will include your words and ideas. I will make changes each day this next week. If you want your personal link added, please post url in the comments. All free links in the text. Thank you  - have fun. 
I am looking for your story changes, ideas, and responses.

Should AB 376 be thrown out of California?
Is it prejudicial against Asian culture to ban shark fin soup?
Everything you say I intend to incorporate in the body of the text.

Sharks actually save lives. Sharks provide oxygen.

Sharks are an apex predator. They are a necessary balance in the universe. There are about sixty shark attacks on humans worldwide on humans. Sharks need a new Public Relations Representative. Over fishing and shark finning have placed many shark species on endangered lists. We will miss the mighty shark.

The brutal practice of shark finning is a multibillion-dollar industry. While the shark is living, the fins are sliced off. The anglers throw the body back into the sea to drown. The process is wasteful and cruel.

Shark fin soup is a delicacy in Asian restaurants sold for up to three hundred and fifty dollars a bowl. The fin provides no flavor to the broth. Chicken and pork stock reduce to provide the taste in the dish. Believers think the fin provides mythical powers of strength and an aphrodisiac.

Seventy percent of the world's oxygen comes from phytoplankton if we kill off sharks we will reduce the air we breathe. Sharks feed on many of these plankton-eating fish. Sharks keep the ocean in balance and provide the world’s oxygen supply.

The ecosystem of the Atlantic Ocean is off balance. The disappearance of species of sharks is one cause. This demonstrates why we must conserve remaining shark species. Sea scallops disappeared from the lack of large predatory sharks in the coastal waters of the Atlantic. During the past thirty years, an explosion in the number of ray, skate and small shark species that they prey on, devastated organisms at the bottom of the food chain.

"Large sharks have been functionally eliminated from the east coast of the US, meaning that they can no longer perform their ecosystem role as top predators," said Julia Baum a fisheries biologist at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Canada and co-author of the study.

"With fewer sharks around, the species they prey upon - like cownose rays - have increased in numbers, and in turn, hordes of cownose rays dining on bay scallops have wiped the scallops out."

Several of the larger shark species in the northwest Atlantic are verging on extinction, according to Baum and colleagues who analysed a dozen surveys dating from 1970 up to 2005.”

The Assembly Bill 376 has passed through the first hurdles. Many emails have come in in support of saving many species of sharks. Few have posted links or information. Above is a wonderful link from SuperMaren  to her utube swimming with he sharks.


Friday, May 20, 2011

Heart Attack Takes 55 Year Old Husband

canyonroseplaymay2011 024
"Mon coeur ne vous quitta jamais une seconde,
et je suis, et serai jusque dans l'autre monde,
celui qui vous aima, sans mesure..."
Cyrano wears a plastic nose.
Headband hides the rubber band.
Abs of steel and a clogged heart.
Look sideways upon his dressing gown,
Ripple the waves of the river wash the sand.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Indie Ink Writing Challenge

may2011 016

I used the prompt to add a part of Chapter to a novel I am already writing. The emptiness and tedium of the sound of the word prompt was tempting. Ugh has both positive and negative uses
My subject matter is not G rated. If you are under the age of eighteen, I advise you do not to read as the fictional characters talk about drugs.
“Ugh.” is my prompt. 
   “Do you want to make some real money Seth?” Joe stands in a black jacket with padded shoulders.
   “I have this buddy who pays for delivery. It is a drive to Miami. Tell your parents you are going on a school field trip or one of those fancy away swim competitions.”
   “My parents don’t care what I do, as long as I don’t talk to them.” Seth answers.
   “Being uninterested is better than a Mom who screams all the time.”
   “Mine just fight with each other.”
   “Can you leave tonight? “
   “No problem. What are we transporting? What is my cut?”
   “Hash. You can have a piece of the action.” Joe puts his palm down from his extended arm. The hand curves as in the statue of Poseidon. The gesture tells Seth not to ask.
   “How are we doing this?” Seth presses him.
   “ I know this guy who is a longshoreman at the docks. Some other people smuggle it into containers.”
   “It is Broussard Port Everglades, South Florida, where the cruise and cargo ships come in. It is a long drive, one thousand two hundred miles. I can fill you in along the way.”
   Seth walks behind Joe his upper body strutting. Seth occupies more space than before.
   “When do we leave?”
   “Soon. Come on let’s go in here, I need something.” Joe puffs his jacket. He points to the door of a hardware store. “Let’s split up.”
   Seth sees a pair of steel-toed boots sitting on top of stacks of cardboard boxes. The leather is soggy red brown with a notched storm welt. They are size ten, “perfect.” Seth speaks quietly. He looks over his shoulder. Seth puts the boots under his jacket. He steps first with his left foot. Outside the glass double doors, he feels cooling air on his skin. He waits for Joe. His back leans on the unreinforced masonry. He admires the water resistance and electrical shock-proof boots by spitting on the soles. Seth Christens the pair for fortune.
   “Why did you lift those ugly shoes?” Joe startles Seth with a poke.
   “I ‘dunno, just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
   “Look what I got, a .32 short.” The gun still has a price tag on the revolver. Joe opens the barrel. He looks down the solid tunnel. “Didn’t get any ammo, the sales clerk was watching.”
   At 3:00 AM Joe shuts the car’s engine off. He coasts his Impala onto Seth’s driveway. He does not to disturb the family. The sky is indigo. The bitter air seeps into Joe’s bones. He shrugs. Seth walks in the new boots kicking from his hips, toes east and west. His collar is up to hide the cystic boil on the back of his neck. Seth did not have time to lance it with one of the stainless diabetes lances. In his pocket wrapped in sterile foil is a metal sword. The pointed piece of surgical steel encased in plastic is usually used to puncture the skin on one’s finger to take a blood sample. This lancet Seth will use to make a small incision, to drain the acne cyst later. He took a box from his father, the Doctor’s office.
   “I brought some Quaaludes for the trip.”
   “I have some speed and pot. That should do. All we need is some girls.”
   “What do we need girls for Joe?”
   “Entertainment. This is a boring drive. A chick might end your virginity.”
   “I’m no virgin.”
   “Right. Sing it.”
   “I know what you mean about uninteresting, my whole life is dull.”
   They head out on South 476 and on to I-95 south towards Baltimore. Seth watches the moon waning from his leather passenger seat. They are silent. Seth moves the electric window down. He lets his hair spin in the wind. At their first stop for gas, they spot three teen girls waiting outside. They are trying to score some alcohol.
   “Can you buy us some vodka?” The heavy set one asks.
   “I’m only seventeen, no I.D.” Joe’s lips part. He gives the fat girl his row of white teeth.
   She is charmed by the tall V shaped Joe. She giggles. She turns to her two friends. They reapply chap-stick and huddle towards him.
   “But I can get you some anyways.” Joe goes into the station. He takes the hand of the big boned teenager tenderly. He nabs a bottle of Popov, “you beautiful ladies ‘been partying last night?”
   She puts her big toe curled inward as a coryphée might circle behind, “yeah we are supposed to be at a religious camp for the weekend. We snuck out. We can’t find anything to do.”
   “Come on with us to Miami.”
   “Why are you going there?” She looks into Joe’s sapphire eyes.
   “Dropping sonny boy at college.” Joe lies.
   Some gasoline spills on Seth’s hands. He wipes his fingers in the rain on the passenger window. He swiftly pulls the aldehydes through his nostrils.  Seth opens the door for the plump girl to take shotgun.
copyright Caroline Gerardo May 15 2011
Indie Ink Writing Challenge

Friday, May 13, 2011

Preponderance of Crows May 21

Van Gogh Wheat Field

Preponderance of Crows

Copyright Caroline Gerardo May 13, 2011

Kakka बाली

The neigh Sayers hike with black t-shirts

Why exercise if the end of days is only nine away?

They speak in tongues, in whispers, in my dreams.

Flocks of crows are upon us.

My heart pumps crimson rust.

Once it filled with liquid amber.

Numerology tells the jackdaw to raid the tomb.

Flocks of crows are upon us.

The rook imitates human voices.

He calls koww and caw eh aw for Bali Kakka.

When he flies on my right, it is good omen.

Flocks of crows are upon us.

Rumor is Harold Camping has West Nile Virus.

A raven can use tools and make art.

I am a three legged corvid, we will all survive.


I first posted this just as Google softwear updates crashed. I was thinking it had something to do with criticizing the doomsday group.  The video and photographs I uploaded, I lost. Somehow, no copy but I had a clip of a different video. Video on Blogger takes forever to load.  

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Haresh Daswani The Evolution of Insanity

I just ordered Haresh Daswani's the Evolution of Insanity
The Amazon mail it to me method.
I can't wait to read it in paperback, as my eyesight is tired from so much online typing and writing.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

One Stop Poetry Anthony Desmond Flash55

Mother’s Day, Davis was born in a Notting Hill Gate flat.

He was a good baby for an American expat.

His mother, the illustrious painter, grew orchids in the bath.

They lived by selling the flowers.

She sang to him, for a future, of joy and regard.

The song, Sally Gardens, she gave him that.

courtesy photograph Anthony Desmond copyright 2011

ROW80 Writing Second Draft Stay The Course

sweet peas in my yard

Productive Week

It is Mother’s Day and family has been the focus of my life path. In the past months, I have squeezed the limits of my time into allowing myself five hours every day (more on weekends) just for writing the novel. This causes some conflict with my extending family who live nearby. They like to pop in and visit. They telephone more often knowing I am pulling into a solitary cacoon. I maintain the love and support for my two children. I have never missed one of son’s baseball and football games this season. I make healthy meals and am hiking or running with them both several days a week. In order to work full time and write full time – things have to give me the solitude I need to finish.

This week I made a new story board. It is white board that is four feet by three feet. I mapped all the chapters. I added some images that motivate the characters. This helped me see clearly the journey that Seth must make through the narrative. It also made me decide to change the ending.

The story is somewhat chronological, with a few shifts in time. I used that in my last novel and struggled with using date in italics and point of view changes. Last time on the second draft, I changed the whole novel from first person to second with a few shifts. It was tedious editing and boring labor as focusing on a sweet gum leaf while Lamaze breathing out a baby. This time point of view is no problem. I am excited diving into the second draft and enjoying things Seth my lead character loves, slingshots, bergamot, insects, tinkering with inventions, and then all his evil bad stuff: bum fights, drugs, violence.

I wrote about 19211 words for the week. I word count is going to decrease now as I fight over synonyms and cut extraneous junk. If you are reading this, I need help on the title. I am now calling it Lucky. This is a novel title already of a totally different story. What do you think?

On my other lists of duties:

We hiked in Laguna canyon three days. The sage, the pearly everlasting and poppies have painted the hillsides.

Tomato plants are still alive, as are the dogs and Soup the turtle who is busy mowing the rose petals as I write.

I had fun meeting friends on twitter. The best is reading what they are doing.

The bank job has picked up a pace . I thank Heaven for the income.

The children’s grades are good. I have neglected my Mom, siblings and nephews. I told my nephews that Auntie Caroline cannot make them dinner twice a week until the second draft is completed. They frowned and the younger one volunteered to edit for me. I am cutting a big patch of my sweet peas to put in bowls for the other Moms in my life. Happy Mother’s Day to all.

Friday, May 6, 2011

News Lady

I met Carole Simpson at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival.  She gave me her book for free. Carole is gorgeous in person. Her writing is tasty. Her memoir of sorts is about her climb in the white male dominated world of broadcast journalism. Despite all the backstabbing, Carole's voice rings positive and clear. I stayed up late last night to read the whole book. It is funny, bright and I highly recommend you read NEWS LADY. I love the part where she married her best friend, one smart lady. Carole Simpson offers us inspiration to get the job done, despite pregnancy, prejudice and pride. Carole I wish you happiness. Please write another one for your readers to enjoy...

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Second Draft Lucky

Monday morning I put the words "the end" to my first draft of Lucky.

Now comes the hard work. The second draft.
Revising is more than cleaning and grammerly.
This can be slow drip torture or I can choose to have fun.
Do you hear the starting gun?
I spent nine hours last night completing mapping behaviors.
I built a storyboard for the novel. I made a couple copies to redline.
I completed a new spreadsheet.
I wrote my to do lists:

Cut frivolous description
and landscape that does not lead the narrative.
Is time line right?
 Turn it around to start in the middle of his life or ending
Do I change ending: other possible endings?
Is a psychotic person likeable?
Is there too much whining about his childhood?
Temper the violence with tenderness.
The book is dark.
 Bum fights, stealing, homeless, murder, drugs.
Can humor lighten it up? Seth’s idea of love?
Are Plot line twists working?
  Plot: a crazy young man becomes the CEO of a Chemical Company.
 Despite all the bad, evil, dumb, negative events and choices in Seth’s life he decides to work his way up the ladder and makes it.
Characters: Seth deceitful, lacking in empathy, violent, ADHD, impulsive, lacking remorse, ear problems, brain problems, inventor, tinkers, athlete, acne
Dad/Doctor a cold inward man, selfish, shallow,
Rene the Mother is in pain is gorgeous is cold and selfish cruel
Sister is not described. She is 'mushball' now. Make her whole or cut her .
Amy – willful strong beauty driven What is her motivation? 
brothers Michael Cole need direction
Girl he kills- needs a full life
Her parents grieving angry
Seth’s success and marriage, rewards, fortune business, takes a path to become the CEO
What do the characters eat? How do they smell? How do they touch? What would they buy in the grocery store today?

Monday, May 2, 2011

#ROW80 Happy Dance Long Winded

I am driven. I never sleep. I wrote 16911 good words this week. I have my first draft done. Allow me to relish in printing a copy. There is the sound of crumpling as I put it in a nice brown paper wrapped box, and slam it on my dining room table. Feel the earthquake from California just now, it is a whopping fat sound.
Now for what I hate, giving some copies out, reading it in paper with a red pen, and laboring over each word. It is not like blogging where I type rip roaring fast and let it fly. BUT, However, and with cheer I say: I have an editor this time. I am a little afraid of him. He is British. He is handsome in a distracting way. God please, I think he is straight.
I also worked on a poem: Preponderance of Crows.
I had two flash fiction pieces in magazines this month of May.
 Go look at Granny Magic on Sleet Magazine and Love Sonnet Gone Wrong - an  answer to Negativesucks Magazine's word prompts.

My other goals and duties:
Two interview requests.
I tweet 15 minutes a day. I enjoy reading the blogs and links. Is there a method to read while sleeping? @cgbarbeau  myself the Blondie who is similar to Chatty Cathy (I bobbed the doll's hair, and other unpleasantness)
A trip next week up to Los Angeles for a radio interview.
I went to USC Saturday. I had a grand time at the book fair.
Saw the guys from my old writing group. @Porter_Anderson wrote a GREAT post about women dominating groups, classes and touchy feely sharing stuff.
The sharing does not work with men who are trained in a different sand box. I was in a 90% male writers group. They were sharp on time and disciplined about sharing online but drank in our hour together. I saw one buddy who met us for dinner at Little Next Door ( side commercial, adore their food organic and divine ) to lure me back. 
I promise to return soon as this novel is a nice pdf and word doc for the editor hunk.
Putting my children first as my treasures.
My job at the bank has suddenly gotten busy.
I could not get my first chapter uploaded into bookcountry.
I spent thirty minutes re-trying.
 I have cover photographs - that are ready, just need
to think about image - font -

In the story, Seth uses and builds slingshots.

The image is stuck in my brain for the cover.
Do I need a handsome young male cover to sell the story? Is it obscene to think of using my son? ( The character is a psycho). My Mother thinks it is funny.
What do you think? Make him blurry?
Say something.

Pets and garden still alive.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Caroline Gerardo NegativeSuck Magazine May 2011

Love Sonnet Gone Wrong
Lizzy your letters do not reveal about being homeless, living in a Chrysler station wagon with no seat belts.

I too deserve a Moorish Portuguese castle.

Was time different then, moments between a woman and a man were something other worldly?

Naked I wait as a noblewoman in an Etruscan painting,

laying upon Carrera marble in Bal a Versailles and gauze.

A mind wanders back to that city of stone.

In the days after the floods, as young lovers we waded in the muddy waters taking the ancient furniture of strangers to the third floor.

He told me, “Strip down your clothes.”

Then he kissed me softy.

I did not care about the douse in cholera water. We survived.

With only scurf upon your skin for protection, let the artist heat the wax of encaustic and smooth it over me, for it will open my tristful pours.

I memorized a Rumi poem for him.

“I impetrate you to hear the ruby speak in his native tongue.” He kept his head down looking at his fingers on the Xbox controller for Black Ops.

“Fire up ovens of boiling sweat burning desire and cool slowly the pigments added.” He did not divagate.

“Use minerals from Madagascar and places you know nothing of.” Still he has no answer.

“Break into someone’s house when they are away on vacation. Pretend the children belong to you. Tell them many lies about the future.” That one got his attention.

“Shut up I am playing.”

Becoming his Telni in Devdasi tradition, ask for more every day.

Then one day he is done with you. He might call you on his cell phone to say, “I don’t want you anymore.”

Do not call to Saint Sebastian to stop the bleeding to shore up the holes in your heart.

He fails to listen carefully.

Send a chorus of attorneys.

They know nothing of sonnets only billable hours.

The finest doctor thinks you loony.

They blame it on lead, radiation and chemo therapy from cadmium.

Drinking mithridate from a Riedel decanter will not tear out the poison heart of diamond.

Only it will grow harder.