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Melinda Palacio

May wraps ups with my non-fiction story, "Grandmother's Stars," published in Mary: A Journal of New Writing. The other good news is the Ocotillo Dreams tour rides again in New York at La Casa Azul Bookstore in East Harlem. Aurora Anaya-Cerda fulfilled her dream to open a bookstore in East Harlem. The store will open with much celebration June 1 and I have the privilege of being among the first authors to have a book signing at La Casa Azul Bookstore, June 7 at 6pm. This is also my first visit to the big city as an author. The address to La Casa Azul Bookstore is 143 E. 103rd Street, El Barrio 10029. In NY speak, take the 6 train to 103rd.


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Melinda Palacio

In the past two months, I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Cal State University Fresno, El Paso Community College, and Cal State University Channel Islands. Most of campuses have invited me to discuss my novel, Ocotillo Dreams. However, I always start off with something I learned to offer in Louisiana, “lagniappe,” meaning a little something extra. In my presentations, it means I introduce readers to my poetry and talking about my journey as a writer.

I’m humbled by the positive feedback of my poems and a bit surprised by how hungry students are for poetry. I haven’t put my finger on the issue, but I have a feeling that some people are afraid of poetry. I had a friend tell me that he doesn’t get poetry and therefore only reads fiction and non-fiction. I don’t buy it.

When I sit down to read a novel, I’m looking for the poetry in the prose. The moment in the telling of the story that makes me sigh and read the exquisite sentence over again. Most of us who really love words live for these moments. Maybe, it’s just me? Regardless, I’m happy to introduce readers to poetry. The lagniappe for me is when students and readers tell me they are inspired to write their own poetry and fiction. One of the questions I am often asked is: “What came first and what do you prefer, writing novels or poetry?”

Given that so far I’ve only written one novel, the answer is much easier than the proverbial chicken and egg question. Poetry remains my favorite love (to use El Ray Bradbury’s expression, he calls all forms of writing and genres loves).

 I love the instant gratification of working on a poem and seeing a finished draft after scribbling words on a blank piece of paper. And yes, I always start with pen and paper. Sometimes the page is not blank. I’ve written notes on scraps of paper that have become future poems, such as receipts, napkins, and ATM stubs. Similar to things I jot down in the middle of the night, being able to read my writing is not as important as making the note to self and having a tactile reminder. The act of jotting down some words or phrases helps me remember my original intention.

While I love stories, both fiction and non-fiction, I believe it’s all about the poetry, the music, and the rhythm of words. I’m especially thrilled when readers of Ocotillo Dreams appreciate the poetry in my prose. I’m currently working on a new novel and I am excited that Tia Chucha Press will publish my first full-length book of poems, How Fire Is A Story, Waiting, (Fall 2012).

Next week, on Cinco de Mayo, I have the pleasure of joining Michele Serros, Heidi Durrow, Susan Dunlap, Candacy Taylor, and Karen Tei Yamashita at the 7th Annual Women’s Literary Festival, Saturday, May 5 at Fess Parker’s Double Tree Resort in Santa Barbara. The Registration Fee of $65 includes a.m. coffee, lunch and author presentations. Scholarships are available. Register at womensliteraryfestival.com.

Next month, Toni Margarita Plummer and I will be on the first book panel at the Santa Barbara Writers Conference, June 9-14.

Sunday, La Bloga kicks off Anaya Week, celebrate the 40th Anniversary of Bless Me, Ultima all

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by Ernest Hogan

People always ask me why I live in Arizona. The truth is, it’s not all dystopian political turmoil. The state is a wonderful, weird mix of human eccentricity and strange, natural beauty. I never go long without encountering something that amazes and inspires me -- like the ocotillo.

The ocotillo has thin, twisting branches -- it’s also know as the Vine Cactus -- with thorns and sometimes green leaves and red flowers at the tips. In the dry season it looks like vegetal barbed wire. To people used to the plants of wetter climates, it looks otherworldly.

I can see how it inspired Melinda Palacio in her novel Ocotillo Dreams. It survives in a hostile environment, bringing a unique beauty to the world.

And there is a great deal of beauty and joy in Ocotillo Dreams. It’s not a dreary account of the torture of an oppressed people. The Latinos, a diverse group of people (in life and this novel), lead lives full of rico textures, rhythms, and flavors -- and this novel captures them well. It also moves through the space and time travel of Mexican-American life, with personal lives tangled up in history and politics, from the Eighties into the Ninetie

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Melinda and Blanca Palacio

This year I have so much to be grateful for, especially that a young woman named Blanca blessed me with enough love and confidence to carry with me after her premature death at age 44. I tell the story of my mother often, especially when discussing my novel, Ocotillo Dreams, something else to be grateful for this year. This is the year when call myself an author and meet with students, book clubs and readers across the country. I couldn’t help but give my main character Isola the characteristic of having lost her mother at about the same age I did. Everything that happens to Isola is fiction as is her estranged relationship with her mother, Marina. Unlike Isola, I was fortunate to have a close relationship with my mother. I didn’t want to write an autobiography and call it a novel. The autobiography might come much later, after I get the stories kicking around in my head out into the world.

The important lesson I’ve learned in the past ten years is to do what I love and to appreciate all life has to offer. This would seem like a manageable, if not easy task. However, when my mother died I spent so many years wallowing in self-pity. Although I took several years to recover from a deep sense of loss and depression, in Ocotillo Dreams, Isola does not have the luxury of time. The events in the novel are compressed in order to keep the action and narrative moving forward. In hindsight, I would’ve taken a page from Michele Serros who learned how to use poetry and writing as a way of upholding her mother’s memory. However, I appreciate and accept that different people don’t learn life’s tough lessons at the same speed.

Whenever I take a chance and accomplish something new, I always think of Blanca. I used to be embarrassed by how proud she was of me. She bragged about me even though I was an average ballet dancer, an average actress, an average daughter. I may have been an above average student, but that was necessary in order to get into UC Berkeley, and then UC Santa Cruz for graduate school in Comparative Literature. Now I do all the bragging myself. Talking about myself and my writing is second nature because I had a great example on how to do it.

Last Tuesday, I spoke to a literature class at Santa Barbara City College. The Chicano Studies course, The Chicana and Other Latina Women in the US, was taught by Magda Torres, an instructor who was instrumental in making sure I participated in next year’s Santa Barbara Women’s Literary Festival, along with Michele Serros. Last Thursday, I met with a Santa Barbara book club at the invitation of Leslie Dinaberg, editor of Santa Barbara Seasons Magazine. The praise and support I

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Melinda Palacio

On Sunday, I met with my first book club, the Stanford Chicano/Latino Alumni Association Book Club of Southern California. It was a good thing the eight alumni met in Pasadena. This meant that after driving from Santa Barbara to New Orleans, with numerous stops in between and returning in a fiendish schedule of one night and two days to cover two thousand miles in order to do a book signing at the Book Den in Santa Barbara last Thursday and then attend a wedding reception on Saturday, I only had to drive to Pasadena and not Stanford Sunday morning. As you can guess from my long-winded sentences, I’m pretty tired from all the driving, but each stop offers new opportunities that make me grateful for venturing out to promote my debut novel, Ocotillo Dreams. I never had a quinceañera, but I guess the book tour is like one big quinceañera without the fancy gown and tiara. The expenses are comparable and I must certainly rely on the book’s madrinas and padrinos for lodging, meals, and sales.