Showing posts with label Things I Like. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things I Like. Show all posts

Sunday, December 21, 2014

"Once Upon A Starlight": A Christmas Story


And here we are again, guys; it's Christmas; it always catches us unawares although it comes every year.  As I said last year, I had wanted to write a new Christmas story, but what with one thing and another, I didn't, so here I am again putting up the same Christmas story, Once Upon a Starlight (with the illustrations I painted last year, when I had hoped eventually to break into the 'big time' of doing my own children's book illustrations.  Don't laugh!)  By the way, the illustrator who did the black and white images was Pat Lee. Last year I couldn't find her name.
 
However, there has been one additional experience with this story (first published in 1983 - in A Circle Book, The Big River and Other Stories) and that is, that I used it on a recent visit to a school and got a wonderful reception from the children. It still has relevance, or perhaps new relevance. (See my previous post to this one).
 
So, should I try to republish it as a book on its own? Hmm! Should I try to publish Ebony and the Auntie of the Starlight, a Caribbean Cinderella Story (now an e-book) as a print book, as some have suggested? Hmm! Should I continue in my efforts to get Things I Like published? Hmm! Hmm! And what about my Commonwealth prize winning story, The Happiness Dress, still stuck with a publisher? Hmm! Hmm! Hmm! And again, Hmm!
 
In the new year, I'll share with you my thoughts on  having e-books on Amazon versus/as well as possibilities for further print books. No, I have no plans up my sleeve. I'm just thinking. So please enjoy Once Upon a Starlight, and a Happy Christmas to all!

 

Once Upon a Starlight 


by Diane Browne

 

Angela pressed her face against the glass of the toy store window. She looked longingly at the chocolate-coloured doll with the tight black curls, dressed in a white blouse and frilly red skirt. Oh how she wanted that doll! But she knew that her parents couldn’t afford to buy it for her.

            It was almost Christmas. The store windows were draped with coloured paper streamers and shiny bits of tinsel. The sidewalk stalls had balloons, starlights and paper Christmas hats. The fruit vendors sat with their piles of pineapples, paw paws, oranges and shiny tangerines. And there was a tall Christmas tree in the park that shone with many coloured lights at night.

            Angela sighed as she turned away from the store window. Pushing her way through the crowds of excited Christmas shoppers, she tried to console herself. She could not have the doll, but she did have a paper bag with three starlights. They were not little starlights, but giant ones. Old Miss Hannah, who lived nearby, had given them to her because Angela had helped her to set up her stall.

            When Angela got home her father was sitting on the verandah. He had been out of work for some time and he looked very sad. Every day he went looking for work, but he couldn’t  find any. Her mother, who was sitting just inside the front door, was busy sewing; she was making clothes to sell to the stores. Angela’s little sister, Carol, ran to meet her.

            “What did you buy, Angela?” she called out  when she saw the paper bag.

            Angela showed her family the starlights and explained how she had got them. “I am going to light one each night until Christmas,”  she declared

            “I’m glad that you will have something for Christmas,” said her mother, with a sigh “There is no extra money for presents this year. The money I will get for this sewing will only be enough to buy us some food. I don’t even know if we will have enough to share with Miss Hannah. I know she is alone, and we always invite her to eat with us on Christmas Day ...but things have become so expensive. This has been a hard year.”

            Angela’s father looked even more sad.

            As soon as it was dark Angela went into the yard to light her first starlight. Carol watched from the front steps and squeezed her little hands together in excitement.

            Angela struck a match and placed it against the tip of the long starlight. A gentle Christmas breeze dimmed the flame of the match. Then as it flared again the starlight sparkled and crackled. Angela held it firmly as hundreds of little lights darted everywhere, like stars dancing away in the night.

            “Swing it around, Angela!” shouted Carol. “Make the lights spin!”

            Angela was just about to twirl the starlight in wide circles over her head, when she stopped. She blinked; she could not believe her eyes. There sitting on the top of the starlight was a little old lady, no bigger than a doctor bird. Her head was tied in a red and yellow bandana cloth, and she had on a bandana apron over a long blue cotton dress. Her black face was wrinkled and her eyes twinkled as brightly as the starlight sparkling around her.

            Angela’s heart pounded with fright.

            “Don’t be afraid,” said the little old lady. “I am the Auntie of the Starlight. It was kind of you to help miss Hannah to set up her stall, and I have come to reward you. Each evening as you light a starlight I will appear, and each time you may have a wish for Christmas. What is your first wish, Angela?”

            Angela trembled with anticipation as she thought about the doll in the store window. Then she remembered her father and how sad he had looked. I still have two other wishes, she said to herself. Maybe I can use this one for Daddy.

            “Can I wish for something for somebody else?” she asked in a whisper.

            “Of course,” replied the Auntie of the Starlight. “ They are your wishes. You can use them in any way that you want.”

            “Then I wish that Daddy could get a job,” said Angela breathlessly.

            The old lady tossed her head, showering sparkles of light all over the place. “You may have your wish,” she said.

            And before Angela could thank her, the starlight spluttered, and the old lady disappeared with the last little shimmering lights.

            “Oh, Angela, that was so pretty!” cried Carol.

            “Did you see her too?” said Angela.

            “See who?” asked Carol. “What are you talking about?”

            “Oh, nothing,” replied Angela, deciding that she must have imagined the whole thing.           The next day while Angela’s father went to look for work as usual, Angela helped her mother with the sewing.

            “I’m glad you can hem so well, Angela,”  her mother said.  “We must finish these today as tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I am depending on the money I get for them. Though, how I will mange to fill my next order, I don’t know. This old sewing machine is giving trouble and I’m sure it will cost a lot to fix it. I suppose I will just have to sew everything by hand. But that will take so long that maybe the store will give the orders to someone else.

            “They wouldn’t do that, Mummy,” said Angela reassuringly, though, to tell the truth, she was not at all sure that they wouldn’t.

            When Angela’s father came home that evening he looked quite different. He laughed happily as he exclaimed, “I’ve got a job! It’s at a new factory which needed extra help for Christmas, and if I work well the job will be permanent.”

            Angela’s mother smiled. “I’m so glad,” she said, “Angela needs shoes to got to school next term and my sewing machine needs fixing.”

            “Well,” replied her father, “I’ll have enough money for shoes, but that machine is too old now. They don’t even have parts for it anymore. You really need a new one, but I’ll have to work for some time before we can think of that.”

            “Yes, I  know ,” her mother said. “Anyway, now we can invite Miss Hannah to have dinner with us on Christmas Day.”

            Suddenly Angela realized that her first wish had come true. Perhaps she had not imagined the little old lady after all. Perhaps she would really see the Auntie of the Starlight again.

            Angela sat on the front steps waiting for it to get dark. At last the orange sun melted into the deep blue sky. Carol clapped her hands with excitement while Angela lit the second starlight. The breeze rustled through the leaves of the Christmas Bush as the starlight crackled and sparkled. And then just as before, there on its tip sat the Auntie of the Starlight.

            “Daddy got a job,” said Angela.

            “Of course he did,” replied the old lady. “Now what is your wish this time?”

            And just as Angela thought about the doll in the store window again, she remembered that her mother’s sewing machine was not working. Well, she said to herself, I still have my third wish. I’ll use that for the doll.

            “If you don’t mind,” she said to the old lady, “I’d like to use this wish for somebody else also.”

            “I don’t mind,” replied the Auntie of the Starlight. “They are your wishes.”

            “Okay, then,”  said Angela, “I’d like a sewing machine for Mummy.”

            The old lady tossed her head, showering sparkles of light all over the place. “You may have your wish,” she replied.

            “Thank you,” said Angela, and just as before, the starlight spluttered and the little old lady disappeared with the last little shimmering lights.

            Early next morning, Angela, her mother and Carol delivered the finished clothes to the store. Then they went to buy the food for Christmas Day. They bought some sorrel and ginger in the market to make the sorrel drink; they got sweet potatoes from a lady by the side of the road. Angela’s mother said that even a small ham was too expensive this year, so they bought a nice big chicken instead. She said Miss Hannah would probably bring a small Christmas pudding as usual. It would be a great Christmas after all.

That evening, just as Angela’s mother was crushing the ginger and Angela and Carol were picking the red sorrel, their father came home.

            “I have a surprise for you,”  he said to Angela’s mother with a big smile on his face. “One of the men at the factory knows a man who sells sewing machines. He will let us have one since I’m working, and I can pay him a little each week from my salary. And meanwhile you will have something to use.”

            There was a happy light in her mother’s eyes, and her father’s face shone with pride because once again he could help his family. Angela knew she had used her first two wishes well, and now on Christmas Eve she would make her final wish.

She could not stay still. She kept running out into the yard to look at the sky. Slowly, oh so slowly, it changed from a pale blue to gray streaked with pink.  At last it was dark.

            The two girls stood in the front yard. Angela took a box of matches from her pocket to light the starlight.    

            Suddenly Carol said, “Please, Angela, can I hold the starlight this time?”

            “No, you can’t!” replied Angela quickly. “You are too little. It might burn you.”

            “I’m big enough. I’ll be careful,” cried Carol. “I never got a chance to hold one before. Please, Angela, please! Let me hold it for just a little.”

            Angela thought about the doll. Then she looked at her sister. Her little body was trembling with excitement and her eyes pleaded for this chance.

            “All right,” sighed Angela, “ but just for a little. You must give it back to me when I tell you.”

            “Yes, I will. Thank you Angela,” Carol whispered.

            After all, Angela said to herself, it is long enough for both of us to have a turn at holding it. I will still have a chance to see the Auntie of the Starlight.

            The starlight burst into glittering lights as Carol held it tightly, her  face full of delight. The sparks flew in all directions, piercing the darkness like shooting stars, then disappearing like peenie wallies in the night.

            “This is the most beautiful starlight!” laughed Carol. “Just look at it, Angela!”

            Angela thought that this starlight did look even more brilliant  than the others. Then, just as she was about to take it from Carol, the starlight suddenly spluttered, and with a hissing sound the lights all died away. The Christmas breeze was now quite strong and Angela wondered if it had blown out the starlight.

            “Is it finished already?” asked Carol anxiously.

            “It can’t be,” replied Angela sharply, as she took it and looked at it carefully. But the starlight was already black and twisted. Angela fought back the tears as she struck match after match, trying to light it. But nothing happened.

            “I’m sorry, Angela,” said Carol softly. “You didn’t get your turn.”

            Angela couldn’t bear to make Carol feel sad, so she tried to smile bravely, as she said, “It’s all right. I had two already -  remember?”

            “Then you aren’t vexed?” Carol said with relief.

            “No, of course not,” Angela replied, as she gave her sister a quick hug. “And this one was especially pretty, just for you.” Carol’s hesitant smile, which became brighter  as she realized that it really was all right, made Angela feel that perhaps it was better after all, to have made her little sister happy.

            She was very disappointed about the doll but she was determined not to show it,  as the two girls got their clothes ready for church on Christmas morning.

            The first little rays of daylight were just slipping through the thin curtains at the windows when Angela turned over and rubbed her eyes. She stretched and yawned, and then she felt something at the bottom of her bed. She sat up and rubbed her eyes again; and there, sitting on the old chenille spread, was the doll with the white blouse and the red frilly skirt. I must be dreaming, Angela thought. But as she ran her hand over the tight black curls and the smooth chocolate-coloured face, she knew she was awake. It was not a dream at all.

            “Mummy, Daddy!” she called.

            Carol, who was awake by now, was jumping up and down in her excitement. She had discovered another doll in the folds of the spread. It was a baby doll, just the right size for her.

            “Thank you, Mummy and Daddy,” cried Angela as her parents appeared at the door. “How did you know just what I wanted?”

            “Did you put those dolls there?” their father asked their mother, laughing.

            “It’s a surprise to me,” replied their mother with a secret smile.

      
      And as Angela hugged her parents, she thought she saw something darting along a shaft of light and out through the window; something as small as a doctor bird, except that there was a flash of red and yellow like bandana cloth.

            I wonder if it really could be her? said Angela to herself with a little smile. I wonder if the Auntie of the Starlight really was here?

 

from The Big River and Other Stories

Monday, August 18, 2014

Despatches: A successful upload; another endeavour disappointing: Rethinking endeavours; to do or not to do


Now why should you read this post? It may be much ado about nothing. Aha, maybe that’s why you should read it; in case it isn’t.

Successful upload. As you know (those who may follow my blog) Ebony and the Auntie of the Starlight, a Caribbean Cinderella story was uploaded to Amazon. Then  on Sunday, August 10, the Observer newspaper highlighted it in Bookends. I was very pleased.


Disappointment: I saw the PDF of Things I Like. I did not like my painting of the illustrations at all. At all! They looked lovely when I painted them, even when I put them on my blog, but stand alone in a book. No sir! I saw every miss-stroke of the brush, every distortion of an image.  The idea was to  produce the PDF  and get a corporate sponsor for copies for basic schools. Well, I’d be embarrassed to own these images. My designer did  her best. I was so overwhelmed (not to tears, or anything like that), just so astonished, that all I could say to her, is ‘stop there while I think about this’.
There are lessons to be learnt here.
1.       A Level Art does not make you an artist or illustrator.
2.       Four hours of painting lessons year before last, does not get you back to A Level standard, which does not  . . . anyway.
3.       There is a reason why they have illustrators for children’s books.
4.      You may never be able to turn yourself into a painter or illustrator for your own books. Accept that!

So what do I do now?
1.       Clearly I should ask my designer if she can just colour the pictures with Photoshop or something.
2.       Give up the idea of the book and feel ‘pale and wan’ (check the literature we read in school for explanation of the term) about any such endeavour.
3.       Perhaps ask about new illustrations for the text. What a frantic thought!

Well, clearly, I’ll go with #1 first. The fact that I have not done it yet speaks volumes although I cannot hear what is being said.
This post would seem to be all about my angst; much ado about nothing, indeed. However I think it speaks to some very important concerns, none of them new,  but the ability to self-publish underscores them.
The most important is how do you get the money to self-publish what you want to publish, or in my case, republish? People have been asking me why I don’t seek crowdfunding. To show how up-to-date I am on the concept,  I was about to write 'cloud funding' (naturally, things are stored in a cloud, so clearly, .  .  .  ) when a little voice said, “Look it up!”  Eh! Eh! But is a whole world out there of crowdfunding. So many sites. I would of course be shy/too proud/can’t wrap my head around the concept of people I don’t know supporting me, and on and on into further  angst.

I think one of my biggest challenges right now is do I want to continue to try to  break these new barriers, of this new digital  world, and I really hate this being in the spotlight of doing things, doing them differently (no doubt, that is why I write a blog, eh!), or do I want to retreat into the dignity of the ‘pure writer’ who must always be published by a well know publisher to be considered to be a serious, pure, mature writer? To do or not to do; to be or not to be.
This is a case of pure confusion. I’m going to put it down and come back to it another time. Any ideas would be welcome, guys! 

Next post will be about more mature matters.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Despatches: More painting, running a writing workshop for children and a guest blog



Quite a lot has been happening really. I completed two more of my paintings of illustrations for Things I Like. I really like the one in the bedroom at night with the light from the moon on the curtain. The one eating . . . Hmm. I think maybe I’m running out of inspiration. Interestingly enough though, I found the artist after all these years (1984) and he has seen my paintings on my blog and thinks I have some talent. I’m very pleased. Mind you, he hasn’t seen the breakfast one yet.

So why I was distracted  from my painting? Here are the reasons.
First, Brown Bookshelf, a group of African American writers who seek to promote  the work of black writers  and illustrators of children’s books,  asked me to write a blog about my journey in writing,  publishing, and  the back story to a recent publication. I am, of course, honoured that they asked me. Although I’m not an American, they also select people from the Caribbean and the UK . They are highlighting a different person for each of the 28 days of Black History Month. My blog came out on February 19. For the full text please see the link:
http://thebrownbookshelf.com/2014/02/19/day-19-diane-brown/

I hope that this exposure will help us to form links in the USA, and might I say, bring our Caribbean books to their notice. I know it’s a dream. But who knows, eh? I didn’t know that this group would contact me.  So you just never know. We go forward in good faith, making links with one another on our journey.

Very interesting also, I was asked to facilitate a writing workshop for children by the Observer newspaper. It’s their Learning Corner Junior Writers’ Club. We had our first workshop last week Saturday. There are 8 children around age 10, selected from both government primary and private prep. schools. They are so keen, keen to write and to read. When we had break for snacks or for lunch, they could be seen reading the books I’d brought with me while waiting for the next session to begin. I’d forgotten what it was like to be a child and to read books in recess.  I am delighted to be working with these children. I’m very pleased that the other sponsor, National Baking Company has joined with the Observer for this initiative. Stories written by the children will be published in the Jamaica Observer’s Learning Corner.

One of the most wonderful things is to be still open to learning. What have I learnt so far? I have learnt yet again that this gift for writing is a gift to be shared over and over again as much as possible, and that children, each generation comes fresh to the excitement of the world; they are not jaded by the mistakes made by previous generations. Everything is new again and it is a blessing to be able to help with this newness. What else have I learnt? This idea for the workshops/club came about because one little girl wrote in suggesting it, and one of the facilitators  at the Observer thought it was a good idea, and the rest, as they say, is history. This little girl is taking part in the workshop. And we grown-ups sometimes think that it’s a waste of time sharing ideas because now one will pay us any mind. Let us never forget the power of one (this little girl), which can lead us to two, and three, and . . . I’ve learnt this anew.

Monday, February 3, 2014

Continuing the journey into illustrations with less than a brave heart. Oh, for an agent of sorts!


 
The designer with whom I work, (she worked on The Ring and the Roaring Water and produced the illustration for that cover), looked at my painting of the illustrations from Things I Like ( previous post) and thought we could work with them. So I should be thrilled, right? I was, but being thrilled only lasts for some time, I’ve found. Being thrilled can so easily be followed by doubts. Is this  part of the artistic temperament?

So I’ve done two more, which are shown here. One is a night scene. Big challenge! I approached it by looking at other illustrations of night scenes in children’s books, and have come up with what I think may work. No, I haven’t shown it to my designer yet. I have two others to do, and one of those is a night scene inside. Source of light, etc. and how that throws light onto  the scene, to be taken into consideration. All very interesting, fascinating even.

The plan is to produce a CD from which we could produce a couple of hard copies to be shown to prospective sponsors. Excellent idea! Then ‘faint heart never won fair lady’ syndrome creeps in, that is, not about to win fair lady. How does one promote oneself? I really find it very hard. And this is why I wish for an agent for Jamaican/Caribbean children’s books, to market them, look for sponsors, set up readings, etc. and etc. and etc. The person would have to have some other source of income, decidedly. We have tried versions of this with great expectations, like someone going around to book/craft fairs, etc. for a percentage of sales.  Not even remotely sustainable.

Actually, I wish one of the young social media whiz kids would take this on while pursuing his/her other more lucrative sources of employment. Ah, well. Meanwhile I’ll continue trying with Things I Like.