Review of Back Kicks and Broken Promises

This was a surprise to me. I didn't know she was doing it but I got a Twitter Direct Message last May from Lauren Lola, a reviewer for the website The Wind-Up Books Chronicle. Like I said I was very surprised and I'm also very honoured that she'd do this review. Thanks Lauren.


Anyway, click the link below to read it. 
http://tinyurl.com/ozlp5bp

A Kind of Magic

A Kind of Magic

I said something to my son, Jude, the other day that I thought was somewhat profound; perhaps, the best advice I’ve given to him in my measly seven plus years of being a parent.

Some while ago we’d had a talk about learning. In addition to being a writer and martial artist, I’m a teacher so the value of learning and knowing what to do with what you learn is extra important. I’ve had talks about this with my son, espousing the value of knowledge and even using the old “knowledge is power” line. He seemed to get it.

Every Sunday, before his swimming lesson, we have some father-and-son time over breakfast at McDonald’s. We’ve been doing this for almost two years and each week we see a group of older gentleman sitting together. They’re variably dressed. One is usually wearing sweatpants – the kind with the elastic at the hems – and a t-shirt or sweatshirt if it’s cold. A couple others are dressed in slacks and a polo shirt. Another might be in khakis and loafers and a button down. Invariably, we hear them talking about the Sunday mass they all came from and about some of their exploits in the military. The sweatpants wearing veteran is usually sporting a baseball hat and, more often than not, the logo or insignia on it has something to do with the US Navy.

Last Christmastime, as he and his cronies were leaving, he asked Jude what colour he likes. Jude said he liked red. The man went to his car and returned with a red plush Angry Birds doll. On a future occasion, he gave Jude a yellow. Last week, he gave us baseball hats – one red, one white, one blue – each with ‘USA’ stitched on the front.  A couple of weeks before that – bear in mind that while we see them every week, these gentlemen sit on the other side of the restaurant – when they were leaving, the Angry Birds gifter passed Jude and said, “Bye, Jude.” To that, Jude turned to me and said, “How’d he know my name?” Then we both smiled and said, simultaneously, “I think he really is Santa Claus.” This is something Jude has suggested about the man since receiving the Angry Birds plush dolls. The man did tell me last week, when Jude was getting a napkin, that he has a friend who makes hats, dolls and such and that he asks our Santa Claus to help distribute them. This makes perfect sense but, hey, who’s to say? Maybe this is merely Santa’s cover. Hmm.

Anyway, back to last week. After giving us the hats and walking out, Jude stared at the man and said, “Daddy, let’s ask if he is Santa Claus.” I smiled and said that we shouldn’t. The man was already getting into his car and I didn’t want us to chase after him. Moreover, I said, “Do you believe he’s Santa Claus? We don’t need to know. If we find out, it might change stuff.”

Jude thought about what I said and took a swig from his chocolate milk before turning back to me and bringing up the whole ‘knowledge is power’ thing and asking what “stuff” knowing if he’s Santa Claus might change. I nodded and told him that this was a different kind of situation; a situation when knowing might not be power. He asked why and I said, “Because, while knowledge is power, it can also take the magic away.”

Now, whether you believe in Santa Claus or not, as a real person or as a concept, that’s up to you and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve had some interesting things happen to me that make me believe in aliens – and if that’s shutting you off and you’re leaving my blog, bye and thanks for visiting. What I meant with my answer to my son wasn’t so much about literal magic or whether there is or isn’t a Santa Claus. What I was referring to is something that’s unavoidable but also something that can be slowed and that is the innocence and emotional magic of the newness of something you love.

My son is seven and he likes many things. Among those things is martial arts and, in particular, Taekwondo. He’s been training in it for about two and a half years. I’ve been involved with Taekwondo for almost thirty years and because of that difference we experience Taekwondo in ways that are specific to each of us. His is from the perspective of something that is simply cool. I still get that but I also come to it with the wisdom of someone who has seen the ins and outs, the good and bad, the pure training and the politics, the humility with being a white belt, the awe at getting my black belt, and the struggle to maintain a white belt mind and heart after gaining ‘master’ rank.

So, while I know my son will get older and begin to see things differently – whether it’s Taekwondo, school, work, a relationship, a favourite vacation spot, what have you – I hope that he’s able to see the magic in all he does for a long time before he becomes too knowledgeable; before he becomes too wise. Once the magic of the thing’s innocence is lost it is difficult, if even possible, to get back. And, when that happens, one can get jaded. Sometimes a person needs to view things from all angles, from inside and out. Sometimes, however, he needs to view things as simply as he can and take things as they are and not worry about what might it all mean. Knowledge is great when it’s needed. So is the magic and, more often than not, the magic’s greater still.

Cyclical Living

*** ALERT: I am not yelling at you. For some reason this blog is posting in ALL CAPS. I've tried to fix it but it keep doing it. Sorry. ***

In my other blog, a foodie one called Panlasa, I posted a recipe last year on May 25, 2014. I also just posted a recipe tonight, May 23, 2015; two recipes posted almost exactly a year apart from one another. That, in and of itself, isn't interesting. After all, I'm a writer and a blogger so I should be writing and posting. What is interesting, however. is that both recipes are pasta recipes that are quick and easy fixes for lunch, dinner or even merienda (mid-afternoon snack common in The Philippines and other Spanish-influenced nations). T

his got me to thinking - is there something about how we live that makes us do the same, or at least similar, things at the same time each year? Or, going a little deeper, perhaps, is there something about how we live that affects how we think, feel and crave that our thought processes repeat themselves at around the same time each year, about the same things? I'm not talking about something as boring as serving roast lamb every Easter because that's what your family always did and it has become tradition. Nor am I referring to how we feel each year, say, at Christmastime because goodwill, holiday excitement and merriment are all around. But, for me to post two pasta recipes, which are similar in their core characteristics, does make one think

What do you think and has anything like this ever happened to you?

Rubbing Elbows With A Star

With author Ed Lin 

at the Hill Country Chicken Restaurant 

on Broadway.

My goal as a writer is to be able to write and sell books that are entertaining, educational and mean something to my readers. I'd love to break out with some level of mainstream success (I use the word 'success' loosely because depending on an individual's perspective the word can connote different things) and, ideally, be in a position to give up my day job and write full-time. I also wouldn't mind breaking into the contemporary Asian American writing scene and, God and luck willing, be spoken of in the same breath and with the same respect as, say, Don Lee, Lisa See, Susan Choi, Jhumpa Lahiri and Ed Lin, just to name a few. Lofty aspirations, I know, but aspirations I am working to fulfill albeit with a lot of (self-imposed) stress and anguish. 

Until recently. 

I contributed to a crowd fund last fall to help finance the publication of an issue of Hyphen Magazine, the premier magazine of Asian American culture, goings on, art, music and literature. As a result of my financial support, I was pleasantly surprised that I'd won lunch with the esteemed  Ed Lin, the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards (AALAs) and the author of Waylaid,  This Is A Bust and Snakes Can't Run. We met at Hill Country Chicken (1123 Broadway, at the corner of 25th Street and near the Flatiron Building) on a wet and cold February Saturday, a few days after one of the multitude of snowstorms we had last winter. Having won three AALAs and looking at some of Ed's pics online, he looked like a very serious fellow. I am, too, but not in the way I judged Ed to be based on his accolades and the focus of his expression. So, while I was excited for our lunch, I was a touch nervous but, as soon as I shook his hand, all my apprehensions left me. Ed, you see, is a funny, easygoing guy. Naturally, we talked about writing. We also talked about 1980s video games, movies, Ninja Turtles and food. We talked about our day jobs - he's a journalist, I'm a teacher - and New Jersey where we both grew up. 

We're both serious about our writing but meeting Ed and hanging with him for an hour or so, I was reminded that writers - not all of us, anyway  - are stuffy high brow literati. And we don't have to be. We're real people who write about real things and fantastical things. Ed, of course, isn't the only successful writer I've met and many of the writers I've met seem like regularly people too. I'm also too old and experienced in life to get star struck but, as I pursue my writing career with serious conviction, sometimes I forget to take a moment and enjoy what life has put in front of me. Thanks to Ed Lin, just from his demeanour, I've started to enjoy those everyday moments with a fresher perspective. So, not only do I need to thank him again for some of the best fried chicken I've ever had, I need to thank him for being who he is,  for 'keeping it real.'

Thanks Ed. 

Asian Books Blog

Recently, I was contacted by Raelee Chapman of the Asian Books Blog in Singapore. She wanted to conduct an interview about my writing process and my experiences having independently published Back Kicks And Broken Promises, my first novel. The interview went live today and here's the link to the interview. Enjoy. 

A Writer's Conundrum

First of all, I have to apologize. It's been ages since my last post but there's a good reason for that. I've been busy. 

As Chinese New Year approached with The Year of the Ram charging towards us, I looked up what the Monkey's (my sign) prospects are in the Ram Year. "Early productivity with minor financial challenges." Oh yay! And, oh yay. Not. 'Productivity' can mean so many things but I like to think that having a plan and accomplishing things towards fulfilling that plan is a form of productivity and, in the end, it will yield results. The consequent concern, then, becomes when those results actually happen. Those results - securing a literary agent, getting my YA fantasy novel picked up by a publisher, becoming a working writer - haven't happened yet but I've been making some effort and, hopefully, some headway into achieving those things. 

With the Ram whispering in my year, I've been feverishly sending queries and pitches to agents on an almost daily basis. However, with a full-time teaching job, a son to raise, a family to spend time with, workouts to improve my health and fitness, a second job as a coach (it's spring season so Outdoor Track and Field is in full swing and I'm one of the Throws coaches), my time for writing is at a minimum. Here lies the conundrum. I've been working hard on trying to secure an agent and/or publisher. That, unfortunately, leaves me little time to do any actual writing. 

I'm not asking for anyone's sympathy or a pity party and, perhaps, it's the OCD that runs in my family that's making focus largely solely on the business end of my writing career but I can't seem to find the balance between the business and the creative sides of being a writer. So, my fellow writers, how do you do it? I'm asking because I'm open to suggestions and when I'm not creating I feel like something's missing. Honestly, I get pissed when I don't get to add any words to my current manuscript. So, please, if you can offer any real world tips, send me a comment or an email. They'll be received with great appreciation. 

As for the "financial challenges" the Monkey could have this year, who knows? Challenges don't have to be negative, after all, and if it's worth mentioning I'll write about it in a future post.

Happy Anniversary - Thirty Years Since Coming To America

I suppose there’s something about thirty, over twenty, that makes it stand out more. Perhaps it’s the simple fact that it’s ten more. Maybe things were different at twenty. Things were less busy, more hopeful, and there was a greater willingness to delude oneself.

I’m talking about years, of course, and I’m doing so because the other day it dawned on me that this year, 2015, marks my thirtieth anniversary of living in the United States and also my thirtieth year as a Taekwondo student. For me, these two things will forever go hand-in-hand. They are and will always be connected; two halves of the same whole, separate yet intrinsically one.

I started martial arts, formal training, back home in Hong Kong when I was sixteen. I studied Shotokan Karate. A month or so later, I was flying to the United States where I was going to live. I knew that was the plan but it was like a dream; surreal that I was actually going to live in the place I’d only visited once before and seen numerous times in film and television. It’s not like I wasn’t excited but I also didn’t – and honestly still don’t – know why we were making the move to begin with. Martial Arts was very much in my mind and heart at the time – and it still is - so it was natural that I wanted to continue my training. I couldn’t find a Shotokan dojo (Japanese martial art school) so I enrolled in a Koeikan Karate school. At the same time, I enrolled in a Taekwondo dojang (Korean martial arts school) and, shortly thereafter, I left the Koeikan dojo and made Taekwondo my main art. (To varying depths, since then,  I’ve gotten my feet wet with Escrima, Judo, Hapkido and Gung Fu.)

My involvement in Taekwondo was partially motivated by the fact that my school In Hong Kong had (might still have) a Taekwondo club and I was supposed to go back to Hong Kong, after securing US citizenship, to finish my secondary education and I would join the school club to continue my training. I never did. So, in some ways, unbeknownst to be at the time, I think martial arts – in particular Taekwondo – has served as a connection to home.

All of this reminiscing –pining for the carefree days of youth even – comes at a time when I say goodbye to the first half of my forties and hello to the part that’s closer to fifty. Tomorrow, on Janury 31^st, I turn forty-six.  Last weekend, on the radio, it was one of those ‘Best of the 80s’ weekends and the 1980s was my generation. I caught song after song that were hits when I left Hong Kong and when I was slowly learning how to live in America. Last Sunday, I came across a YouTube clip of Jim Diamond’s “Should’ve Known Better” which was one of my favourite songs as a kid. Shoot, it may be one of my favourite songs ever. Naturally, the bandwidth of my nostalgia radar has been on high since.

As I look to forty-six, there are definite thoughts that come to mind. I think of how there are likely less years ahead of me than I’ve already left behind. I think of how the time I have to make a success of myself is diminishing and how the energy I have to do so is also waning. The desire is not however but, in some ways, I wish it were too. Then I could just give in to where I am and who I am and not worry about trying to better myself for my sake, my son’s sake and my family’s sake. But that’s me. I can’t. I have to forge on because of the ‘what if’ factor. I’ll never know if I don’t try, right? More importantly, I’m a martial artist. We train for technique and self-defense and competition and discipline but, ultimately, we train to battle the most difficult enemy of all – ourselves. In Taekwondo, in particular, we have ‘Mental Training.’ It’s a kind of Ten Commandments; a code of conduct for our inner and outer lives. Since the first day I took class I’ve tried to live by that code. Number Ten is ‘Always finish what you start.’ So, whatever it is – my dream to be my son’s Taekwondo instructor, my drive to become a working writer, my need to leave some kind of legacy for my son, my attempts to regain my fitness  – I will finish what I start. Whether I get there or not is another matter altogether because it is in the journey that we gather wisdom and as the Zen saying goes, it’s “process, not product” that matters.

My actual Taekwondo anniversary doesn’t happen until October. My anniversary of coming to the United States isn’t until July. But, my birthday is tomorrow and when 7:30am Manila time hits, I will be forty-six and when that happens I will male a vow to leave the best legacy for my son that I can – that I finish what I start and I never give up.