Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Blog #20 Publication venue

Publication Venue Info

Essay: Home “Is Where My Heart Is”

Web Address: http://narrativemagazine.com/

Subject Matter: Narrative covers a large variety of subject matter. They accept nonfiction pieces from established as well as no established writes. The magazine covers poetry and any other type of prose writing from experience and non experienced writers.

Voice: Reflective, informative and personal narratives.

Form and Artistry: fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, including stories, novels, novel excerpts, novellas, personal essays, humor, sketches, memoirs, literary biographies, commentary, reportage, interviews, and features of interest to readers who take pleasure in storytelling and imaginative prose. All manuscripts should be in 12-point type, with at least one-inch margins, and sequentially numbered pages. Fiction and nonfiction should be double-spaced. Poetry should be single-spaced.

Length: Since I am going to submit mine through the “Reader’s narrative” my length limit is 1500 words. However, different works have different requirements check submission guidelines for more information.

Audience: Anyone who is interested in reading new and established authors, the general public.
Purpose: Narrative is dedicated to advancing the literary arts in the digital age by supporting the finest writing talent and encouraging readership around the world and across generations. Our online library of new literature by celebrated authors and by the best new and emerging writers is available for free.

To submit: They accept submissions only through their electronic submission system. they do not accept submissions through postal services or email. You may send them manuscripts for the following submission categories: General Submissions, Narrative Prize, Story of the Week, Readers’ Narrative, or a specific Contest. Your manuscript must be in one of the following file forms: .doc, .rtf, .pdf, .docx, .txt, .wpd, .odf, .mp3, .mp4, .mov, and .flv.
Reading Dates: Submissions may be sent to them at any time, year-round.
Fee: The reading fee is $20 for prose manuscripts, $10 for up to five poems, and $10 for audio submissions.

Pay: $150 for a Story of the Week, with $500 each for the annual Top Five Stories of the Week.—$150-350 for 500-2,000 word manuscripts.—$350-$1,000 for 2,000-10,000 word manuscripts.—$1,000-$5,000 minimum for book-length works, and we may offer more, depending on the length and nature of the work.—$50 minimum for each accepted poem and audio piece—They do not pay for Readers’ Narratives. But I am still able to win the $6000 grand prize to their contest if it is really good.

Other info: Reader’s Narrative may take the form of a short personal essay, a dispatch in story form, a reflection or meditation on crucial matters in one’s life (past or present) or in the larger social realm—matters such as questions of friendship, family or of politics, war, or the environment. We intend Readers’ Narratives to illustrate a dramatic turn in life—a moment of trouble or joy, insight, or revelation. And whatever else a Reader’s Narrative does, it should include the element of place—a strong sense of setting and how it shapes the events you’re writing about.
Ideas of place may go beyond geographical location to a time or stage of life; a room or aspects of home; a role within a community; relationships that define a moment; emotional states; physical conditions such as aging, athletic quests or challenges; we encourage you to think creatively about place not only as setting, but also manner of being.

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Blog#20

When I was writing my essay on the house I was thinking about all of the different things that have happened to me in my house. More importantly I was thinking about how my house and my family had impacted the type of person I am today. It was very clear to me from the beginning of my thinking process that I somehow wanted to inter relate my house with my family and the experiences which I have lived in my house. Then someone in the class I don’t remember who suggested that I should use all the different room sin my house n order to show how each room has a different meaning. I thought that was a fabulous idea and I ran with it. And when I thought about I did see that each room had a particular story which I wanted to talk about and each room meant something different to me. Basically each room was a story in itself. As I mentioned in my essay I am a homebody so writing this essay was sort of like writing a diary for a therapy session it was an escape. It was also very personal. Some of the stories which I included in the paper I have frankly never told anyone like the one about the day I got fired from my first job. I like this essay over all I like the way it is formatted and I like what I wrote and how I wrote about it.

For revision of my essay process I wanted to focus on the title and also adding more dialog to the different scenes. I also wanted to describe some of the rooms with a little more details then I did on my first draft. I also though about changing the perspective of the essay to the perspective of other people mentioned in the stories and maybe even the tone. Nevertheless I decided to stick with my perspective in all of he stories because who better to tell you how I felt throughout the stories then myself, and frankly I cant say how other people felt in the stories.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Blog # 19

A perfect ten
She was sitting next to the meadow reading her favorite book To Kill a Mockingbird. It was the fourth of July and she was saving my seat as we were waiting for the annual fire works show. She knew I loved to be next to the water every year to watch the show. I was about ten yards away she couldn’t see me yet, but I could certainly see her. Her beauty is outstanding but the way her hair looked that day gave me goose bumps on the back of my neck and on my arms. What can arouse such an emotion? It was her long curly brunette hair. The weather was fitting; it was about eighty degrees and windy. The sun was just about to set and the rays were bouncing off of her scalp with majesty. When I approached her the first thing I did was smelled her hair, she was astonished. “What are you doing” she asked? All I could think about was how her hair smelled like strawberries kiwi, and mangos ummmmmmmm. When I touch her soft lovely brown hair makes me feel as if the entire world could pass me by and I would feel a thing. I love rubbing her scalp before we go to sleep, I love resting next to her and feeling her hair gently caressing my face with the tenderness of an angel. One

She was the sweetest person I have ever met. She treated me as if I was the most important thing in her world. Nothing came before me. She called me every morning as soon as she awoke. I was the last person she spoke with before she went to sleep. I was number one in her heart and in her thoughts. Every time we spent time together she never left my side. She consistently grabbed my hand as we were walking and never took the lead but made sure to stay next to me when we were standing o walking. Her utter and absolute attention of me made me feel special, I truly felt as if I was the king and she was my queen. My perfect companion, the person who would support me through hell and back, who would defend me of murder, the person who would defend me at all cost. Two

The day was meant to be a great day, and it was. I had all of my friends over and once again I was entertaining the crowd making everybody feel pleasant. As I was about to get up to go get another dozen beers she suddenly took my breath away. She looked fabulous in those pants, which fit her like a glove. Her thick thighs looked so succulent and dazzling, I was in love. Her pants were the color khaki and they had ripples coming up on the sides of them. From the front her thighs looked just as a beer bottle turned upside down, her curves render me speechless. The rest of the party all I could do was look at her and most of all at her legs thighs and buttocks. There is something in me that goes crazy for that part of a woman’s physique, the curves in the legs and backside make me want to give her the world, ill do anything she pleases as long as I could caress her smooth legs from toe to waist. Some may say she’s over weight but to me she is just right. Three

She works so hard. She is a full time students and a full time waitress. She needs a brake and I wish I could give it to her. Her independent spirit fascinates me, they she is always trying to figure out new ways to better herself makes me want to put a ring on her finger. I call her a “go getter”, because anything she wants or admires she goes and gets it. Everything she sets her sights to she finds a way to get, hey that’s how she got me. She is an independent queen who will not stop till she reaches the mountain top. She works till two to three in the morning sometimes, but she never slips up with her class work, and when she becomes a pharmacist she’ll see that her hard work has finally paid of. I admire her willingness to continue no matter what the odds are; her nature will never let her stop because she is an independent spirit. Four

Whenever I look at her I get lost in her beautiful dark brown eyes. I especially love the way the glare bounces off of them when the sun hits her or when a flash of a camera hits her pupils. Her stare is all I can remember whenever we are apart. When she looks at me her eyes evoke our first kiss, our first touch, our first gaze at one another. The first time I looked at her I envisioned us together her eyes told me everything she was everything she is and everything we were going to be. When I look at her striking brown, auburn when they hit the sun, eyes I see the most stunning woman I have ever glanced at. Just by looking in her I my heart is in ease, all my troubles depart, and tomorrow becomes a new beginning. I get lost in her eyes, they portray my deepest emotions, they tell the story of us. Five

No matter how much women have progressed and evolved from being less than a man to powerful independent individuals, they still have it the worst. They have to work that much harder to attain the same respect or position as a man. They have to deal with societies ridicule and demotion; they have to withstand the fact that they are judged by their figure and looks before they are judged by their brains. Nevertheless, what can never be taken away from a woman is her fighting spirit. A woman’s soul encompasses the tribulations of menstruation and the hardships of child bearing. Through it all a woman conserves her elegance and her grace. A man could never be a woman; he would never be able to accomplish all of the feats that a woman has to go through on a daily basis. Her persisting spirit, which is able to overcome any storm, is a woman’s greatest attribute and the reason why I love her. Six
One kiss says it all. They say that the way you truly know if you could be with somebody is if you are able to kiss that person with affection and tenderness. She has the softest lips I have ever felt. They feel like marshmallows and taste like heaven. When we kiss we feel as if we never want to leave each other; our kisses possess our emotions and passions for each other. A kiss starts it all. It starts a relationship and it starts love; the right kiss can start a lifelong devotion to a person that can never be broken or forgotten. To be able to kiss somebody and feel comfortable is something special that cannot be found in every other person, therefore when you find you somebody whom you can touch lips with and you feel your souls interlock then you should stay with that person for as long as you can. When ever we see each other we kiss as if there were no tomorrow, when we kiss we become one; and that’s why I’m with her. Seven

I remember our first date, I was so shy and she was bashful as well. We went to a local restaurant, my treat. For the first hour twenty minutes all we could do was look at each other and smile, how timid of us. Next thing I knew we were in a conversation about baseball, I couldn’t believe it, what girl likes baseball? She told me she was a pitcher for her high school softball team and from that moment on I was hooked. After we ate I took her to South Street Seaport in New York, we danced bachata and we sat by the pier and just talked. We spoke about various topics that night everything from politics to our hopes and dreams. That day started a long loving relationship; a year later we were still having profound and conscientious conversations. I could talk to her forever she is so bright, and even when we disagree on a subject we will never hold it against the other person; our love will never end in a dispute. I love her for her thoughts and insight into life. Eight

As I was walking down the side walk into the movie theater with my girl on my arm I couldn’t help but notice that her skin is the smoothest I have ever felt. It was almost like a touching a baby’s bottom. My imagination arose and I wondered to my self if she was that soft all over. To my amazement she was indeed soft all over. I asked myself “is every woman’s skin this soft?” No it was impossible not even my baby niece’s skin is this soft. She must take care of herself is what I thought. If I could touch a cloud I would imagine I would feel as soft and delicate as her skin. Nine

Trustworthy, reliable, somebody I can believe in and confide in, that would be my perfect woman. Before I can feel your skin I need to trust that you won’t leave me. Before we can have a conversation I need to know that I can confide in you my most intimate thoughts and feelings. Before we kiss I want make sure I can rely on you to tell me the truth. Before I can see your spirit I want you to trust mine. Before I get lost in your eyes I want to be able to depend on your words. Before I embrace your independency I want you to show me your ability to support. Before I fall in love with your body I want to fall in love with your intelligence. Before you can support me I want you to love and encourage yourself. Before I can feel your silky fresh hair I want to trust you.
Note: I don’t know how good this paper is, anyway its just a rough draft I’m sure I could do a better job if I fix it up a little. I hope you get the concept thanks for reading.

Monday, November 17, 2008

writing about fourth essay

I think for my fourth essay i will write about my grandfather and all of the things he has accomplished in his life. Or i was also thinking about writing the baseball field in which i used to play as a youngster which i discussed in my writing journal. i still need to do some more thinking on how i will develop the essay because i want to be a lot more specific for my next essay. i want to focus on one particular thing and not get off the subject like i felt i did in my third essay.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Blog #16 essay #3 my home

My graduation from high school was very special to me as I am sure it is special for every body. The day was like no other; although it was raining and muggy the entire day, my heart and spirit were still up. Now that I get to look back, I wonder what truly made that day so special. It might have been the fact that I no longer had to show my face in that dreaded place called Clifton High, or maybe that my summer vacation was about to begin, or that an old chapter in my life was closing and new one was opening up. In all reality I think it wasn’t any of those things, what really made that day special were the people that were around me to see that momentous day in my life.
“Edgar come down stairs everybody is ready to take the pictures” said my mother,
I was all dressed up but one of my accessories was still undone, my tie.
“Abuelo, can you do this for me” I said, “Si, come hear” said my grandfather, then as he was tying the noose he said “your grandmother and I are so happy and proud for you, you know Edgar, you’re a very special kid, and we all love you so very much”. A tear almost came down my face, but I had to keep it in because I didn’t want anybody to see me.
First, I took a picture with my grandparents, sister and niece, my aunt, and finally my mother; the feelings were unordinary I felt as if everything was right with the world. My family was around me, and we were all lauphing looking at each other feeling content with this milestone I had achived. In my family however, when one person accomplishes something great its not only a victory for that person it’s a victory for the entire family. Even thought I know felt good I know my family felt good with me and that made it even more special.
This particular scene took place in the living room of my house. Why do they call this room a living room? Nobody really lives there. I think I like the other name for that room better the family room because that is exactly what it is a room for the family. In many houses the family room is composed of a television, a couch, a love seat, and maybe a book shelf or something of that matter. My family room is a bit different. In a every house we have lived in my mother has been consistent about one thing she has never wanted a television in the living room. She says a television takes away from the real purpose of the family room, which she says is a room where the family is supposed to come together and talk and converse, hear each other out, “our therapy room.” I have always disliked this idea, especially when I didn’t have a television in my own room. Looking back, like everything else, she was probably right about this decision as well. The family room is the place where my family has become the tight nit family that we are. On a regular weekday we all get to my house late. And since the dining room is cold in the winter, and secluded in the summer, and also quite small; we all grab our food and we eat in the family room. There we talk about our day, our tomorrow, our dislikes, our complaints, and priorities. Most importantly we are aware of who we are living with. Everybody changes, and if you don’t communicate with the people you live with you’ll find out pretty soon that you dint know who your relatives are. My family has stayed together through the ups and downs because of our common ground, literally. The place where grow our kinship, our family room.


My house represents my family, but it also represents my peace and harmony. Besides beaing a place for the family, a home is a place for the self. If anyone asked me to choose one place and only one where I would spend the rest of my life it would have to be my room. I have always considered myself a home-body, a person who’d rather be home than in the streets. And my favorite place in my house is my room, my sanctuary, where I reach serenity.
When I was sixteen I started working in a foot locker in my local mall. As a matter a fact the first time I ever went to that mall was to apply for a job; because for the first two years of living in NJ we didn’t have a vehicle and it simply did not interest me. Anyway I worked there for one and half years, and then because of an issue I rather not get into I got fired. What a horrible feeling that is, especially when its your first job and your still a teenager. Being fired feels as if the entire world has gone dark, there is no daylight no electronic lights, the entire world is in complete darkness. By this time I had already piles up a stack of bills. I was paying my siter back for a loan she gave me to buy my car, I was pay my car insurance (which is ridicoulsly high for a teenager in NJ), my phone bill, my gas and car maintenance, and I was helping my mother out with groceries and other bills of the house. So when I got fired I had no idea how I was going to deal with all of this bills let alone tell my family.
It was a Saturday, and I had just came into to work at two when my manager pulls into the back and gives me the bad news, my heart dropped. What do I do now? I went to my car turned on the ignition and went to the only place I thought about going, my house. The house was empty, feeling in a state of numbness I took my jacket off and went to my room fell face first on my bed and took a nap. I recommend that treatment for anyone who finds themselves in some type of turmoil, go home and take a nap. When I awoke I still had the same problems but they somehow didn’t feel as bad or as trouble-ling. I woke up to the most soothing voice and the tender hands of my mother. She immediately knew something was wrong I was never home that early. She caressed me and asked me what was wrong I told her she gave me a hug and told me to not worry about anything; everything was going to be ok. And it sure was, two weeks later I got a call from Circuit City in Union, I went for an interview and I started working for them.
If my mother had told me the same thing in any other place in the world I don’t think it would have had the same impact on me. Nevertheless the tranquility of my room mixed with her motherly voice gave me peace and serenity. I am not ashamed to say; in fact I’m proud to say that I am a mama’s boy. I am much too big now, but when I was younger whenever I had a nightmare the first place I went was to my mother’s bed. When your small there’s no better place to sleep the nudged under you mother’s back. The warmth and scent are quite unique the feeling of belonging is like no other. When we lived in an apartment in Washington Heights, my mother’s bedroom was the place where my sister and I gathered to watch our nightly Spanish soap operas before we went to sleep. It’s amazing to see now how my nieces and nephews, when all five are in my house, at one point or the other, seem to find themselves in the same situation; my mother on the bed and the kids surrounding her watching television. It’s almost as if my mother was mother goose and doesn’t matter whether it’s her own kids or her children’s kids’, her bed always feels the softest and the most welcoming.


A home is about the family, without the family a home would simply be a house, it is where a person interacts with not only their family but their friends. I have the pleasure of having a backyard. This is a big deal for me because its recent I wasn’t born with a backyard, therefore every summer I try to throw as many barbecues as I possibly can. The deck in my backyard is where I have enjoyed my friends and my family the most. I am the king of the grill all I hear is
“Edgar put another one on” or “damn man you burned the $&% out of this.”
Nevertheless the most significant instance in my back yard didn’t happen with a crowd of people but between two people, myself and my grandfather. My grandfather is an evangelical pastor, and a very well read man, so whenever I have philosophical questions about life the person I am fortunate to talk to is my grandfather. When I was fifteen I frequently pondered about the meaning of life, why were we here? And one summer afternoon my grandfather attempted to give me an explanation. One of the things which I appreciate about my grandfather is the fact that when I ask such questions he doesn’t simply give me the “Christian” answer, he’ll try to give me a profound logical answer. For this question he was quite explicit he said “Edgar what you have to understand is that life is a journey, and everyone’s journey is different, therefore there isn’t one definitive answer as to why God created you or anyone else”. I was quite confused. “So what your saying is that at one point or another I’ll find out the meaning of my life is, but what if I die before I do” I said. He answered by saying “the other thing you have to remember is that you aren’t in this world by yourself, everything you do whether you realize or not affects if not one several people”
“Its almost like a domino affect what you do today will some how affect somebody tomorrow, so make sure everything you do will impact the people around you in a good way”
That became my motto; from that day on I try to have a positive impact on everybody I come across. I also know however that what I may find to be the right thing, might be the wrong thin for somebody else, and that is why he said “the people around you.” That took me like two years to figure out, I am not perfect and I can’t change he entire world by myself, but I could damn sure affect the people I’m around.
They say a house isn’t a home without family. For me that is definitely true. I love my house but without the experiences which I’ve had with my family my house would simply be a place. However it has more meaning than that, it’s my place of peace, kinship, and my identity.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Blog #15 places

List of important places
1) My elementary school
2) Foot Locker in Willowbrooke mall- first job
3) The barber shop where I work at now
4) Girlfriends house where I lost my purity
5) My grandparents house in D.R.
6) Field where I played baseball almost every day for five years
I had to pick my sister and her kids up this weekend in NY and I decided to pass by that field. The first thing that really captured me was to see how small it looked as opposed to how I remember it in my memory. How in the world were my friends and I able to play game after game in such a small area. The quality of the field was very poor as well, no wonder ground balls were so hard to get. That place brought back a lot of memories, about my youth , my friends, and the fact that this place made me so happy I had no worries when I touched the grass, I kinda felt the same way when I stepped on it this time too. Looking around the field I could picture my friends and I fighting over who was going to bat first, whose ball was whose at the end of the day, whether a ball was homerun or not because there isn’t a fence but just trees. The field looks like it hasn’t been used in years, I wonder if anyone plays there anymore, although it is almost winter. i wanna come twenty uears from now and see that feelings arise then, because in the present i feel sad that i cant go back to those times of my life when i really didnt have any responsibilities.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Blog 14 intor of Third essay

When thinking about an object which I would like to base my story around the first and most important thing I think about is my house. A house becomes a home when there is love and unity in it. A place where I feel safe, loved, warmth like no other place on the face of the planet. I have lived in five houses my entire life, but out of those houses I have always lived in one home. No matter where my next house will be, I will still carry on the same morals and virtue which I received in my mother’s home. This particular house in which I am living in at the current moment has a thousand stories to tell. All of the stories connect directly to my support system, my family, my home. I remember very vividly my high school graduation, and most importantly the moments before and after my high school graduation which occurred in my house with my family. Taking pictures with my mother, my grandparents, my aunts, sisters and nephews, my grandfather tying the knot on my tie, my girlfriend writing “grad 05” on the back of my car, etc. Those are the moments which I remember from my graduation and they all happened in my house more importantly my home. Or I can write about the time that I got fired from my first job and felt helpless, felt as if the world had crumbled down on my shoulders, the first place I went was my home. There I knew I was going to be able to recoup get back up and start all over. My house is the place where I start and finish my day, my place of reflection, source of love and hope, the place where I feel certain in this uncertain world my home.

I will need time to think about which occasion I will write about, there are many. I will also need input from my peers on whether this is a correct topic or if it is even a topic of interest.