#ChingonaFest: 50 in 14 Days

Screen Shot 2014-05-14 at 11.56.42 AM I've got T-shirts, y'all!

Well, I don't physically like, Have have the T-shirts in my actual possession, but this is a good thing if you really think about it.

See, this way, you won't be waiting till 2037 for me to remember to mail them out after you order.

Here's the scoop: I like my Zazzle store. I like my Etsy shop, too. Especially for the stuff I can make on my own like quotable prints (but gimme a bit. Right now it's  digital prints only. At least until tomorrow, anyway).

So when I saw TeeLatino followed me on twitter, I clicked the link and followed back after screaming out something incomprehisible to the average person about Zazzle and Kickstarter having a baby together and now I get to offer more Tees with a really cool concept...

The Husband, by the way, halfway understood what I was saying, which is exactly why we are married.

The hook? I set me goal of how many tees I want to sell and the time frame in which to sell them. My campaign title, quite obviously, is ChingonaFest.

I chose 50 shirts as my goal. Fourteen days as my time frame.

That means it's all or nothing.

Forty-nine shirts ain't bringin' home the bacon and the campaign will be relaunched. No shirts are printed unless the goal is met by the deadline. And for you small biz and fundraising-types, no upfront cost, either. Just like Zazzle and Etsy and Ebay and most things in life, TeeLatino (which is for EVERYBODY, by the way...the URL is www.crowdt.com) takes their cut on the back end and only if the goal is reached.

I think I love these guys. Also? No, they are not paying me ... but you can bet your sweet ass I'm going to be making nice and practicing my adorable internet stalker look until they realize how perfect I am to be their ambassador-spokeperson-whatever-the-phrase-is-this-week. Because I am.

Totally.

So, to recap:

* The first #Chingonafest campaign on TeeLatino/CrowdT.com is live

* The goal is 50 shirts to be sold in 14 days

* No shirts will be printed and NO ONE gets a #ChingonaFest shirt if all 50 do not sell

* On the flipside, ONLY 50 of THIS design will be made if the campaign is a success.

* After that, it's on to a new phrase, a new design, or even a new look for an old favorite. And I've got plenty.

Stay tune. I'll be launching an #AlmostWhite campaign for Rick Najera this evening. I'll update the post after it's live.

Make me look good, Internet. You have no idea how you validate the fact that I work at home in my pajamas.

The Steps Already Taken

It's 2:05 a.m. and instead of forcing my brain to create something new and brilliant tonight, I thought I'd take the easy route and try reposting something from way back when. It's not something I do often, but each time I've searched the archives -- which date back to September 2009, by the way -- I've found the experience to be something like the writer-equivalent to reminiscing with an old photo album. There are squeals -- I forgot about that!

And frowns -- Oh shit...I forgot about that, too.

There are emails to friends mentioned in shared stories with links and love and laughter.

And sometimes, the beginning of a story we didn't know was actually starting surprises us when we stumble across the words, marveling at the moment captured in words. Looking at that moment from the After side of things is much different than the Before, what with hindsight being ever so much clearer than tomorrow's uncertainties. Could I have told you that the first time I met The Husband that we would marry and move across the country? Not when I met him.

Looking back, though, I can see it. All the little bits and moments that made that first encounter so very different from all the rest. Because everything is obvious when you walk the steps already taken.

Four years ago, I met a man at a writing conference named Rick Najera. At the time I couldn't have possibly told you that our paths would cross again. An hour ago I couldn't have told you the words below even existed -- five years of blogging can do that to you. Right this very minute, I'm rereading the bits and the moments captured in a post written in May of 2010 and counting the steps taken between my yesterday and my today.

***

 

the pain of the macho

“What do you want me to say? I’ll write whatever you want.”

It’s Rick Najera speaking. He’s holding a copy of The Pain of the Macho in his hands, pen ready to personalize the first page for me.  My response is nothing but a “blink, blink.”

“Come on,” Rick says. “Tell me what to write.”

I imagine sweet little lies. Empty words of praise that might look good on paper but ring false to anyone with a heartbeat.

Pauline Campos is the best writer I’ve ever met!

Pauline Campos will be more famous than me!

Pauline Campos is so good I’m going to ask her to become part of my Hollywood team and she can work from home because it’s just safer that way!

The man might be a comedic genius and a highly respected actor/writer/director who told me my work has serious potential doesn’t suck, but he only met me 24 hours earlier. To ask him to lie to me verbally is one thing.

On paper?

That’s just sacrilegious.

“I really have no idea,” I said out loud. “I don’t want it to be bullshit.”

Rick stood there for a moment, probably amazed by both my lack of a filter and the fact that I didn’t want him to whisper meaningless sweet nothings that would just piss me off when he handed the book back. I hadn’t planned on buying anything else that would add to my already busting-at-the-seams suitcase, but we all got yelled at by the higher-ups at the conference for not supporting our fellow writers during the first book sale/book signing. So I bucked up, bought the smallest book there, handed it to Rick, and made a mental note to send my receipt for having a 55-pound suitcase back to the conference organizers for guilting me into buying more books (I already had five on the nook written by conference faculty that I paid for) with a demand for reimbursement.

I almost asked what he had been asked to sign in other people’s books, but decided I really didn’t want to know.

“Let’s try another route,” Rick said. “Where do you want to be a year from now?”

Ding, ding, ding!

That one was easy and I answered without hesitating.

“I want my book on the New York Times best seller list and America Ferrera pegged to play me in the movie based on my book.”

Rick smiled and began to write. This is what he “put out into the universe.” Which, he says, means it has to come true…

*****

This break is brought to you by our sponsors, Chicken Scratch and Man Writing, as the author of this post tries to decipher what was written. Please, ladies and gentlemen, your patience is appreciated…

*****

Um…I think it says:

This book was my beginning. Yours will end up on New York Times with America playing the lead. Best, Rick Najera

*****

Disclaimer: And I only got that far because he read it out loud to me before handing back my book. There’s something to be said for memory retention, people.

My Writing Process (The Blog Tour)

 

I'm doing something a bit different today. The always wonderful Kate Sluiter of Sluiter Nation invited me to participate in the My Writing Process Blog Tour. Obviously, I said yes.

Kate even said some very pretty words about me so I need to buy her some fancy chocolate, I think.

Now I get to answer a few questions about how I put words on the screen and you get to stop by Kate's post (and leave a comment because they are sparkly and shiny and we writer blogger people love sparkly shiny comments) and then you get to read mine (and leave some sparkly shiny stuff over here, too.)

Ready? Good...

1 - What am I working on?

A stroke? A brain aneurysm? Setting a world record for the least amount of recorded sleep in a lifetime? Possibly all of the above. But I'm also trying to keep my blog slightly relevant by occasionally remembering it actually exists. That's important. I've also got the weekly Dimelo column online and my monthly column for the Latina Magazine. That, and digging through my column inbox, takes up a fair amount of my time. Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm also working on deciding if I should selfpublish a memoir that got me agented once upon a time (we've since broken up -- on good terms, y'all --  and agreed to see other people) or if I should just let it go. Many a writer has many a manuscript written and revised and polished to perfection that will never see the light of day. For some, it's the book that got them the agent. For others, it's the book that was written to prove to themselves they could, in fact, write a book. I'll let you know when I figure out which way I'm going with this one.

The main reason I don't sleep right now is because the paying gigs (hello #Dimelo) come first and the Wanna Do's come after. My current Wanna Do is my new novel. It's tentatively titled Diary of a Mexican-American Teenager and follows Mina, a 15-year-old Mexican-America eating-disordered girl, as she struggles to find herself in a culture that prefers to save face rather than bring disgrace upon the family. It's very much based on my own experiences, but like any fiction piece based on real events, I have a lot of room to address topics I wouldn't otherwise be able to touch in a non-fiction piece, seeing as how my family knows what the internet is. I'm still in the early writing stages, but I'm finishing this thing it kills me, dammit.

2- How Does My Work Differ from Others of this Genre?

Lots of Spanglish typos.

Okay, seriously, I think it's my lack of filter and my ability to turn the filter completely off and tackle the hard stuff. I'm sarcastic and self-deprecating and inappropriate and like to use the word "fuck" like most use salt and pepper in the kitchen -- add just the right amount and what tasted good before now takes fucking fantastic with just a few shakes of the right seasoning. But add too much and Perfect turns into an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with Gordon Ramsey minus the bleeps.

I also am proud of my ability to capture fatalistic humor -- a trait Latinos are known for -- in my writing. I once wrote about the moment my father died and those who've read it have cried and then laughed and then laugh-cried. And in all the right places, too. I think my dad would be proud.

All of these traits are going into Diary. And yes, even the F-bombs. I was 15 once, after all. And so were you.

3- Why Do I Write What I Do?

Because I'd be in a padded room otherwise. Writing is my release. They say to write what you know and I was doing that before I knew "they" were a thing and that what I was doing was a saying.

I talk about motherhood and body image and eating disorders and self-confidence and self-perception and growing up balancing the tightrope of a hyphen between two cultures because this is what I have lived (and and am living). Too many of us are raised to internalize. To not rock the boat.

I hate that.

From my blog to my journals to my books (written and yet to be) I am the happy accident rocking the boat and ignoring the grumbles and glares from the crowd. I'm the one with the sailor-worthy language cheering on the chingonas while people who know me in real life secretly hope I just shut up for once. I won't. Because I say what I need to hear and write what I need to read in the hopes of connecting with others searching for the same.

4 - How Does Your Writing Process Work?

BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!

Oh that's rich. *wipes tears*

Let's see if I can capture this accurately.

* Wake up at 10 a.m.

* Curse the sun

* Drag myself out of bed

* Feed self & child with food items that do not require actual thought

* Check email, twitter, Facebook, and grumble about the lack of book deal offers in any of my social media channels

* Work on homeschool lessons

* Open laptop for quick writing session while the child reads independently

* Close laptop to take care of the dishes, the laundry, bill-paying

* Open laptop to write and get lost in Pinterest-hell instead

* Open Word to write when Latina editor texts for a We Need it NOW revision

* Finish revision about the time the child finishes reading time

* Tell myself I'll write after dinner

* Tell myself I'll write after book, bath, bed routine

* Tell myself I'll write after the dishes are done. Again.

* Tell myself I'll write after The Husband gets his happy time

* Cross "sex" off the To-Do list

* Tell myself I'll write after I pack his lunch for work the next day

* Tell myself I'll write now because it's 11:30 p.m. and my writing process is going exactly as planned

* Open laptop

* Stare at blinking cursor

* Say the words "You are totally my bitch" to the cursor.

* Wonder if anyone else is convinced the cursor is actually telling them to "go fuck themselves" with every blink back

* Grit teeth

* Glare at the cursor for being so...judgmental

* Grit teeth again

* Dive in to the words already written for reference

* Because I totally pantsed the first three chapters

* Just like I did the first book I wrote that was never published

* Because I'm ADHD and planning and outlining are super cute

* Plus? I'm a realist

* Find myself staring at the bitchy cursor again

* My brain is formulating

* Because I can't type a word until the entire scene (or blog post, column, news piece) has written itself in my head

* EUREKA!

* Tell myself I am FUCKING BRILLIANT as I furiously type and type

* Plan my first extravagant purchase to celebrate hitting the NYT bestseller list

*Re-read what I just wrote, grumble, delete, start over

* Type furiously some more

* Gasp, spent, when the jumble of words being channeled from brain to fingers has come to an end

* Swear profusely when I realize it is now 3:30 a.m.

* Close laptop

* Doubt everything

* Talk myself out of not sharing because

* If it needed to be written, it's meant to be shared

* Brush teeth

* Utilize ninja-like skills as to not wake The Warden as I sneak into bed

* Fall asleep almost instantly because the words I needed to get out have been written

* Rinse, lather, repeat.

And there you have it. The not-so-structured writing life I lead. If madness is a process, I've got this.

 

Now for the next stop on the Writing Process Blog Tour.

Megan Jordan of Veleveteen Mind is the brilliance behind Story Bleed Magazine, a knife-juggler (or so she says), host of the BlogHer People's Party, and writes for Babble. Basically, she's all that and a bag of really good chips. Plus? Megan has a way with words I can only describe as magical.

Robin O'Bryant of Robin's Chicks is a syndicated humor columnist and the author of Ketchup is a Vegetable (and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves) . This woman busted her ass, took her self-published book to the NYT bestseller list on her own, and scored a two-book deal because THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT,  BITCHES.

 

The. End.

 

 

Got a Story to Tell?

I'm taking a minute to share a great essay contest for my Latina #Dimelo readers I just learned about from Latina and SheBooks.  

From the SheBooks site about the I am Latina Essay Contest

Win $1,000 and publication in Latina and Shebooks!

With over 52 million Latinos in the U.S., it’s easier than ever to keep our cultures alive. Latina & Shebooks, a new e-book publisher, want to read about the moment that you felt the most connected with your culture and were proud to call yourself a Latina. Starting January 10, 2014, you can submit your essay up to 1000 words, and you'll be entered to win $1,000 and publication in a future issue of Latina.  Winner and runners-up may also be featured in a future Shebook.

 

Sounds great, doesn't it? And I love what I'm seeing about SheBooks, a new e-publisher of short books written by and for women. I'm also excited to see my column about raising a chingona as one of the many listed as examples of essays Latina loved.  Click here to get the full details on the essay contest and get to writing!

 

I'm Not Really Here Right Now...

Today my words have taken me to new places. Come find me here in September's issue of Hippocampus Magazine and read my essay entitled Truth and Drumsticks, in which I discuss body image, motherhood, and examples, and trying to lessen future emotional baggage.

I talk six-year-olds and diets and body image and well-intentioned but poorly executed bedtime stories on Owning Pink. If you have a wound child, I urge you to stop by and read this.

You can also find my essay, P is for Patience, on the Bob Books blog. I discuss my recent adventures with Buttercup as we both get used to new roles in her road to reading. I'm the teacher. She's the student.

Or is it the other way around?