So, here in the US the presidential campaign starts a couple of years before the election. And since everyone and their nephew has decided to run for the GOP nomination — with the exception of Rick Perry, who was doing it but who has since dropped out — we’ve been having debates. Big Kid Debates and Little Kiddie Table Debates (not my epithets), in fact. You have to be in the Top 10 to get into the Big Kid Debate, and the LKDs happen earlier in the afternoon for the lower-ranking candidates.
Back in July, HuffPo decided to quit covering Donald Trump’s campaign in the politics section. They’re still covering it completely, but just in the entertainment section, because Trump is, as they said, “a special case.” They didn’t want to give him credibility as a serious contender. Yet he manages to persist. Quite a phenomenon, as US politics seem to be filled with these days.
So back in 2012, I held a haiku contest on this blog during the Democratic nominating convention; it was fun and entertaining, and I’d like to invite you all to share your thoughts on the debates with us this time around. All political perspectives are welcome. Leave a haiku (any interpretation of that form you can validate) in the comments section below, and if you leave your email address too (or send it to me in a private message to forest of diamonds at gmail dot com with “GOP debates haiku” in the subject line), I’ll send you a free copy of Finis. (ebook) for participating.
Remember back in January when I held the haiku contest about New Year’s resolutions? Zillions* of you submitted entries! It was awesome! I had to split it into two contests, though, in part because there were so many entries that I wanted everyone to have a better chance at winning, and I didn’t want the post with the entries to be so long you’d stop reading before you even got to the massive poll. It was easy to split the entries along the simple line of who had really conformed to the guidelines of the outlined form and who hadn’t.
This is the contest for the people who took more license with the form.
The entries are great, the prize for the winner is a copy of Strange New Words by Ari Marmell, and you have until midnight central time on Sunday, March 16th to vote. You may vote once a day. Please spread the word and share this contest with others who might like poetry.
And — especially if your poem is one of the entries here — be sure to keep checking back on this blog to learn the results. I will announce the winner in a new post soon after voting ends, and the winner will need to contact me by email to give me a mailing address to send the prize to.
Good luck, all, and happy voting! 🙂 Here come the entries…
First off, congratulations to Sky Vani, who is the winner of our most recent haiku contest! Here’s her winning entry, on the theme of New Year’s resolutions:
with joint forces strive to goal
~ living happily
Sky Vani, please send me an email (to forest [dot] of [dot] diamonds [at] gmail [dot] com) with your address so I can send you your prize.
Everyone else who entered the contest but whose entries were reserved for a new contest in March, please check this blog again over the next few weeks for when that round begins. And thank you to everyone who participated by sending in an entry (or more than one) and by voting.
And since tomorrow is Valentines’ Day, I’m going to make my annual request that, even if you aren’t part of a couple and even if you dislike the holiday on general principle, you go a little out of your way to do something nice for someone this weekend. Kindness Day and all.
It doesn’t have to be romantic: you could just tell a friend how much the friendship you share means to you. It doesn’t even have to be personal: just be nice to a random person you might otherwise ordinarily walk past because your eyes are locked on your smart phone screen.
Of course, if you want to write a sweet love poem to someone, well, that’s a charming gesture, too. 🙂
I know you’ve been waiting for the poll to open on this haiku contest; thanks for your patience while I’ve been slogging through my day job’s week from hell.
There was a small conundrum with the entries for this contest, but first let me say how wonderful it was of everyone to submit so many poems! The problem, though, is that a bunch of the entries, albeit thoughtful and interesting and fun, didn’t really conform to the format/style guidelines outlined in the contest rules. That is, some of the entries weren’t 5-7-5 syllables. So all those poems which didn’t fit the guidelines have been reserved and will be part of a new short poem contest in March, with the same prize as this contest.
But many of the entries fit the haiku form I outlined beautifully, and these viable haiku are presented here for you to enjoy and vote on! Voting will be open for a week, until Wednesday night next week. You can vote once a day, so it’s like approval voting — and so remember that voting for all of them is like voting for none of them. Feel free to share this post with others, too, so lots of people can enjoy the haiku and vote.
And if yours is one of the entries listed below, please make sure to check back on this blog to find out who wins. If it’s you, I’ll need your contact info so I can mail you your prize, a copy of the new anthology Strange New Words by Ari Marmell.
Today my post is just to touch base with all of you about a few interesting things going on right now.
First, an update on the current haiku contest, which I know you’re all dying to hear about. For the month of January, I’m asking you to send in a haiku on the subject of New Year’s resolutions. The deadline is midnight on January 31st, central time, which means this coming Friday night. So far lots of people have submitted entries, which is wonderful! Not all of them are actually haiku, unfortunately, but I really appreciate that people took the time to enter, so I’ve decided to hive off the ones that don’t adhere to the submission guidelines into a separate short poem contest, because part of the challenge of writing a haiku is to create something beautiful while sticking to the form. More details on that spin-off contest later. If you want to read more about the haiku competition and see the entries so far and even enter one yourself, please click here. Only entries submitted on the original post (the one I just linked to in that last sentence) will be considered. The winner will be determined by a reader poll, so please keep watching this blog for information on how and when to vote.
Next, I’ll be giving a reading on February 13th as part of the LitFuse Reading Series! So if you’re in Houston (or know anyone who will be in Houston you could pass the word on to), please consider joining us at this event. The series takes place on the back patio of Kaboom Books (3116 Houston Ave. in Woodland Heights, Houston, Texas 77009, 713.869.7600). If the weather isn’t good, the reading moves inside, so no worries about the rain, if there is any. Here’s the Facebook page with more information, including bios of the two other authors reading with me that night. I would love to see you there! (And just so you know, copies of The Milk of Female Kindness will be available for sale that night at the reading.)
Some of you may remember how I told you a while back that my Fashion Friday series was going on a bit of a hiatus. It was taking up a lot of time that I needed for other writing projects, but I didn’t want it to go away forever. Well, it is coming back, just occasionally, as promised. I have some fun hat stuff for spring coming soon in that forum. (Don’t forget this is also a great opportunity for guest posting here, so if you’re interested, query me about it.)
Finally, look for some news this spring about a new publication of mine, a novelette called FINIS. It’s an unusual story that’s too long to be a short story but not long enough to be a novella, and its genre is magic realism. (Try finding a publisher for that! Yeah, it takes a while, no matter how good the writing is.) More details on that — and an excerpt — coming in the foreseeable future.
So stay tuned, everyone, for more details on these and other exciting tidbits. See you again soon, same bat-time, same bat-channel…
Hello there! I’ve been thinking it’s time to do another haiku contest, and in honor of New Year’s Month, the theme of the contest is New Year’s Resolutions.
Here’s a quick reminder of what the haiku form is all about: it’s a poem with seventeen syllables divided into three lines offering both description and comment. The first line contains five syllables, the second line contains seven, and the third line contains five more. Traditionally haiku often were about nature in some aspect, but within their brief imagery the poet often embedded some sort of opinion (the comment I referred to before). You can take on as much of that form into your haiku as you like, but for the purposes of this contest, please use the three-line/seventeen-syllable format, as part of the challenge is to express your idea in that tight space.
The subject of your haiku is to be New Year’s resolutions. The winner will receive the excellent new anthology (in paperback) Strange New Words: Tales of Heroism and Horror by Ari Marmell, celebrated author of fantasy and horror and other speculative fiction. Anyone who has won a contest on my blog in the last six months is not eligible to win this prize, though you are more than welcome and even encouraged to participate by submitting a haiku for fun and by voting on the entries later.
You may enter as often as you like by submitting your haiku in the comments section of this post. Please make each entry a separate posted comment; any entries posted together will be considered one entry. (This just makes it easier to figure out what your intentions were when I’m putting the voting together.)
The deadline is, naturally, the end of New Year’s Month! So you have until midnight U.S. central time on January 31st to get your entries in. After that, I’ll put the voting together, and you the readers will determine who wins the contest.
Happy New Year! I look forward to reading your haiku!
UPDATE 1/14/14: There has been such a wonderful response to this contest so far. Thank you all! Please stay tuned to this blog for more posts about this contest, for more information about voting, etc. I intend to communicate with all entrants via this blog as much as possible, but I will also be posting updates on my Facebook author page, which you can get to by clicking on the link in the sidebar to the side of this screen or by clicking here. Remember, the deadline to enter the contest is January 31st, and the voting will happen soon after that. Keep checking back — or better yet, subscribe to this blog to get my posts sent straight to your email (and make sure your settings are arranged to get my posts “immediately”). Thanks again!
A lot of people in my fair city are quagmired right now over what to do about the Astrodome. Called the Eighth Wonder of the World, this monstrosity of a stadium has been vacant for years while several million people try to decide how to vote on what they think should happen to an architectural freak show, a massive structure that holds as many memories as one could fit into its cavernous reaches and then some.
It’s not just that the building itself is unique or that it was the first of its kind. It’s not that it’s pretty (because it’s not, particularly, and growing less so as it creaks into decrepitude). But the Astrodome is just so personal a place to so many people in this city.
And maybe that’s why the ballot options have been so silly, why voting on the Dome’s fate has been such a difficult scenario. When we go to the polls, we don’t get to say what we actually want to do with it. In the most recent election, the choice was to make it a convention center or…not. Well, of course we don’t need another convention center there, and of course the cost to convert the stadium for that purpose would be astronomical. No one wants to pay those taxes. The problem, of course, is that the alternative to the convention center appears to be, in the absence of a consensus otherwise, to tear the thing down – which will also impact taxes. (Duh.)
But lots of people don’t really want to tear it down, either.
The current plan – if I’m keeping up with the discussion – is to raze the building and make it a surface parking lot. That kind of makes me want to vomit. It’s the sort of ugly and boring “solution” that makes people around the country think Houston is full of stupid people with no sense of aesthetics.
A pair of Rice students, who won a contest to come up with creative solutions for what to do with the Dome, suggested turning the Dome itself into a massive parking structure, and then breaking up the zillions of acres of existing surface parking around the structure into parcels of really valuable real estate. Those parcels could be sold to retail shops and restaurants for a boatload of money, because frankly, that land is worth a lot, and the development would help revitalize the area, which it desperately needs. Plus, those retail and dining establishments would have a ready audience every time an event finished at Reliant Stadium – the even bigger stadium next door to the Astrodome that made the Dome obsolete in the first place.
(If you’re not from here and are starting to wonder what the hell is wrong with us, I won’t tell you that’s an unreasonable question.)
To be honest, I don’t technically have a dog in this fight. I have opinions on what they should do with the Dome, but since I no longer actually live in Harris County, I don’t get to vote on it. (The suburb where I do live is one of the most frustratingly irrelevant places to live if you have any interest at all in politics or city development.)
And I’ve never been a big sports fan, so my attachment to the Dome is not rooted in that. I spent plenty of time in my youth going there for football and baseball games, for rock concerts and the rodeo. When I turned ten years old, for my birthday (which falls in the middle of rodeo season), my godfather took me to see Crystal Gayle and Eddie Rabbit in concert. I liked Eddie Rabbit’s music, and Crystal Gayle had the longest hair I’d ever seen, so I loved her, too. When I was a freshman in college, I saw Faith No More, Metallica, and Guns ‘N Roses there. The acoustics sucked. But that day I had rounded up my little brother and one of my friends from their respective high schools, getting them out of school early to go to a rock concert (with their parents’ permission), and that story is hilarious.
But it’s a story for another time, because the most important memory I have of the Astrodome has nothing to do with any of that. It’s of a baseball game I attended there in eighth grade, but I don’t remember whom the Astros were playing and didn’t care that day, either. I was only mildly impressed by the skybox reserved for us. I remember thinking the food was pretty good, but it seemed odd to have the game playing on a television in the lounge when we could just step outside the door and see it on the diamond below. Our seats in the stands were near-ish to the top of the structure, and I remember watching birds that had gotten into the stadium flying around near the ceiling, and thinking how strange it was to see birds’ nests in the joints of the steel rafters.
The reason I was at this game had nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with writing.
The Houston Chronicle had sponsored a city-wide essay contest about Houston for students that year. My Creative Writing teacher had assigned all of us in class to write an essay for the contest, and I had written from the perspective of a bird flying over the city. I remember nothing else about that essay except that a few weeks after the contest, I received a letter in the mail congratulating me on winning it.
I was not the only winner, of course, but I was one of the few from my grade level. Another boy from my class who was in Creative Writing had won, too, and we were going to be honored, along with the other contest winners from each grade level, in the middle of an Astros game that spring. And as a prize, we would each be given a certificate and a watch. A nice watch, from Gordon’s Jewelers. A watch decorated with 14K gold, a watch with a diamond in it.
I was pretty excited when that letter came in the mail. I read it in disbelief then showed it to my parents, who also read it in disbelief.
“You’re going to go onto the field during an Astros game!” they exclaimed, excited for me. “They’re going to give you a really nice watch!”
“They sure are!” I must have said. And then, “What on earth am I going to wear?”
The question of what I would wear wasn’t actually hard to answer. My mom had bought me a cute new outfit for that year’s Christmas Dance, a hunter green knit skirt and oversized sweater with big black stars all over it, the height of fashion at the time.
The question of why my essay had been chosen among the winners was a tougher thing to figure out. I had been plagued that year with writing failures.
My new column in the school newspaper had flopped. It was called “Ask Angélique” and meant to be a helpful information-gathering service to my fellow students. (Remember, this was almost a decade before the Internet existed for civilian use: encyclopedias and dictionaries were important books every kid needed on a regular basis.) The shoebox I’d optimistically decorated with construction paper and markers and placed in the school library was stuffed each week with inane questions ranging from the disrespectful and tacky “Are you a virgin?” to the cruelly impossible “List all makes and models of cars ever created. Example: Buick Skylark.” The worst part? I knew who was writing these questions. I had been going to school with these kids since kindergarten, and I knew their handwriting, and I understood the askance looks they gave me after I read their otherwise anonymous questions.
A short story I’d written in Creative Writing class one day when I’d had the flu and hadn’t been sent home from school yet had earned a D for being only three paragraphs long – hardly representative of my usual work – and that assignment had sat on top of a stack of graded papers on the edge of our teacher’s desk for everyone to see every day for a week. (A couple of the boys in my class sneered that D in my face for the rest of the year.)
A long fiction project I’d been working on for months in my spare time – a novel I was writing about my cousins and me, on notebook paper with a pencil, so I could easily edit it – had been ruined the week before when my little brother had opened a large bottle of bubble solution in my closet and accidentally spilled it all over the pages, blurring the manuscript beyond recognition.
And a few months before, one of those cousins in my soaked manuscript – one of my closest friends in the world – had unexpectedly died, taking with him my desire to play the piano and my ability to know how to properly express grief. My teacher was getting tired of reading my poems and essays about how much I missed him.
The thought that I might ever experience success again had pretty much fled. So when I turned in my essay to my teacher, I forgot about it, and when I got the congratulatory letter in the mail, I taped it to my closet door, next to the pin-up posters of Ricky Schroeder and Duran Duran, so I could see it every day and remember that this had really happened.
We went to the Dome on the appointed Sunday afternoon. A representative from the newspaper and another one from the jewelry store guided all of us through the ceremony protocol. After the fourth inning, we would all file down onto the field and stand in a semi-circle behind the pitcher’s mound. The man announcing us would speak each of our names into a microphone, and our names would appear in lights on the giant marquee. The crowd would go wild as, one by one, we walked from the semi-circle to the tall woman with big curly blonde hair and a smart skirt suit, and she would hand us our prizes. Then we would walk back to the semi-circle, and when it was all finished, we would return to our skybox for the rest of the game.
There are a few things I remember about that awards ceremony. One was that you couldn’t actually hear your name being announced, because the echo in the Dome was like its own physics experiment. You watched for your name in lights and hoped the kid before you could decipher the noise better than you, so you could follow his lead. My black flats crunched the Astroturf with each step, a noise I felt more than heard in the din of 35,000 screaming fans. The blonde smiled primly at me when she handed me the certificate and the watch box. I walked back to the semi-circle with a ringing in my ears and couldn’t wait to open that box but managed to hold off until we got back upstairs. Not all of the other kids were so polite.
My mom, waiting for me in the skybox, looked proud of me when I came back up. “You looked so pretty out there,” she said, smoothing down the impatient curls of my waist-length hair. I handed her my certificate so she wouldn’t try to help me as I fumbled the box open. I wanted that moment to be all my own.
The watch had a round onyx face and a narrow, black leather band. The face had nothing on it but a diamond where the twelve would have been. All three hands were made of gold, and a gold border rimmed the face, in which was etched Roman numerals to mark the hours. The glass was made of clear crystal. It was a beautiful watch, and someone had given it to me because something I had written was good, a determination made by complete strangers who didn’t know me or love me or have to tell me they approved, by people who didn’t hand the essay back to me, saying, “You certainly have become opinionated.”
I went to the Astrodome many times, but no other time I went really matters. And so, when they tear it down – since it doesn’t appear that anyone in charge of the situation has enough sense to stop it and do something useful and productive with the space – this is what I will remember.
Birds nesting in the ceiling.
And 35,000 screaming fans lauding a fourteen-year-old girl, rock star like, for a piece of writing that, forgettable though it was, made her believe in no uncertain terms that somewhere she would have an audience, and for that, must have been brilliant.
Well, interestingly enough, in our most recent haiku contest, there was a three-way tie for first place! Rather than go through a run-off vote, I’m just going to declare all three the winners and send a copy of the prize to each.
Congratulations to Margo Bergman, Cindy Clayton, and Marie Marshall for their equally winning entries. I will contact each of you about getting your prize to you.
Thank you to everyone who entered the contest and who voted!
Hey there. So I’ve compiled all the entries for our most recent haiku contest and put them all here in this post. I’m opening up the voting to you, the readers, to determine whom our winner will be. The entries have all been great, and I’m so grateful to everyone who participated — and to everyone who took part in the discussions on my various social media.
So here’s a question: Why do we continue to celebrate Columbus Day? I admit I appreciate having a day off from school, but really, don’t we all know about Christopher Columbus yet? What a really bad person he was? I think Agent Coulson would have described him as “Poop. With needles.”