Puerto Rico: It’s Better Than Nothing?

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My two cents today:

From what I’ve read and heard, officials on the island, mayors in PR, first responders, members of the National Guard and the US military, and FEMA employees on the ground, were frustrated, anxiously waiting for word to act and mobilize, while having to follow protocol, use proper channels, wait for the perfect organizational chart, a memo, an email, a call from higher-ups in Washington, and for marching orders to trickle down.

Make no mistake, the White House, the administration, DOD, the generals, FEMA, all knew what was coming at Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the Caribbean with Hurricane Maria, and what had already happened with Irma. They knew, yet inexplicably dragged their feet.

I respect and I’m grateful for everyone involved in assisting Puerto Rico and the USVI in the aftermath of this catastrophic natural disaster. Someone described Maria as an atomic bomb. I also respect those in the military in the US, who’ve been working behind the scenes in the relief effort. They know it’s important work, and I know their families are proud of the efforts their loved ones are making on behalf of Puerto Rico. My Dad, a thirty year veteran of the US Army, even my ex-husband and his brother, each 27-year Army veterans and West Point graduates, all veterans of the Vietnam War, would say, “It’s part of our job; it’s what we are paid to do.”

We cannot ignore that the preliminary relief effort in Puerto Rico was a debacle and worse yet, that Trump looked the other way. Yes, the Jones Act is waived for ten days, and that will be incredibly helpful, but ten days clearly isn’t enough time to put things right in Puerto Rico and in the USVI. You only have to look at the NASA video of the Caribbean islands to know, ten days won’t be enough time. There are still ongoing rescues, containers of supplies sitting in ports, men, women, and children are still without power, potable water, and food. Many of us still haven’t heard from our loved ones and friends in Puerto Rico.

The military is capable of mobilizing hundreds of thousands of soldiers, equipment, supplies, communication equipment, to the other side of the world to set up bases. I’m praying that same decisive action and extraordinary capability is now used in the Caribbean.

Many friends responded to my dismay that the Jones Act waiver is only for ten days with, “It’s better than nothing”. To that I say, I understand what you’re saying, but Puerto Rico has been hearing those words and sentiments for decades, as they were forced to put bandage upon bandage on a crumbling infrastructure and economy with little help or relief from Washington. No, it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

We must strike now while the iron is hot–continue to bring relief to the islands, attention to the Caribbean, and it’s high time to abolish the Jones Act.

Yes, we can do better in every single way. Thank you.   #PRstrong#PuertoRico

 

ABOUT ELEANOR:

ellie

Puerto Rican-born Eleanor Parker Sapia is the author of the award-winning historical novel, A Decent Woman, published by Scarlet River Press. Her debut novel, set in turn of the century Ponce, Puerto Rico, garnered Second Place for Best Latino Focused Fiction Book, English, at the 2017 International Latino Book Award with Latino Literacy Now. The book was awarded an Honorable Mention for Best Historical Fiction, English, at the 2016 International Latino Book Awards with Latino Literacy Now. A Decent Woman was selected as a Book of the Month by Las Comadres and Friends National Latino Book Club in 2015, and Eleanor is featured in the anthology, Latina Authors and Their Muses, edited by Mayra Calvani.

A writer, artist, and photographer, Eleanor currently lives in Berkeley County, West Virginia, where she is working on her second novel, The Laments of Forgotten Souls, set in 1927 Puerto Rico.

 

 

 

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Hurricane Maria: Jangled Nerves and Prayers

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My thoughts and prayers are with those affected by Hurricane Harvey, Irma, and Maria in the United States, Puerto Rico, and the Caribbean islands, and with Mexico. This afternoon, I’m thinking of the people of the small Caribbean islands, who are currently suffering the devastating effects from Hurricane Irma, and who face the real possibility of more devastation with Hurricane Maria. It’s unthinkable, yet a reality. I wonder if Barbuda will ever recover and if Barbudans will return to their beloved island. I worry for the people of Dominica, Tortola, the British and US Virgin Islands, Dominican Republic, and Guadalupe. And of course, I am beside myself with worry for my family and friends in Puerto Rico.

I know the resiliency and courage of the people of the Caribbean, but Hurricane Maria is a beast. I’m grateful to the countries helping in the recovery and rebuilding efforts throughout the islands, and I’m especially proud of my fellow Puerto Ricans for welcoming and assisting our Caribbean brothers and sisters to our island–Puerto Rico is truly a beautiful port in a storm for many. And what a storm is coming tonight and tomorrow morning.

On Monday, I spoke with my family members and friends in Puerto Rico. My aunt and cousins in Ponce and San Juan assured me their homes are physically prepared to “welcome” Maria. Well, as prepared as you can be with a Category 5 hurricane coming toward you. Emotionally? I’m not entirely sure, but I know their nerves are jangled at this time and stress is high. Our family members in the United States join me in praying and hoping against hope that Hurricane Maria goes far north of Puerto Rico and doesn’t make landfall on any Caribbean islands. That seems implausible with all the hurricane models and weather reports I’ve seen, but nonetheless, that is my prayer.

All the unknowns of a hurricane make this event very frightening. Like millions of others, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate with so much happening around the world with other hurricanes, earthquakes, and floods. So, the candles are lit and I will pray–that’s what I can do today. Be present, be still, and pray for my family, my beloved island, and for mankind.

ABOUT ELEANOR:

ellie

Puerto Rican-born Eleanor Parker Sapia is the author of the award-winning historical novel, A Decent Woman, published by Scarlet River Press. Her debut novel, set in turn of the century Ponce, Puerto Rico, garnered Second Place for Best Latino Focused Fiction Book, English, at the 2017 International Latino Book Award with Latino Literacy Now. The book was awarded an Honorable Mention for Best Historical Fiction, English, at the 2016 International Latino Book Awards with Latino Literacy Now. A Decent Woman was selected as a Book of the Month by Las Comadres and Friends National Latino Book Club in 2015, and Eleanor is featured in the anthology, Latina Authors and Their Muses, edited by Mayra Calvani.

A writer, artist, and photographer, Eleanor currently lives in Berkeley County, West Virginia, where she is working on her second novel, The Laments of Forgotten Souls, set in 1927 Puerto Rico.

Eleanor’s book, A Decent Woman, available in paperback and ebook format:  http://amzn.to/1X0qFvK


Please visit Eleanor at her website:
www.eleanorparkersapia.com

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My Thoughts After The Women’s March on Washington

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Photo by Andrew Caballero-Reynolds/AFP/Getty Images

Mission and Vision 

“We stand together in solidarity with our partners and children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our health, and our families – recognizing that our vibrant and diverse communities are the strength of our country.”

Shared from The Women’s March on Washington website.

My experience of standing shoulder to shoulder and marching with thousands of women, men, and children at the Women’s March on Washington on Saturday, January 21, 2017, was one of peace, inclusivity, unity, and respect. I am grateful to the women who marched with us in 600 sister marches in their respective countries, and I’m very grateful to the organizers and co-chairs of the Women’s March on Washington, who worked hard to organize what turned out to be a massive, historic event.

The short speeches made by six-year-old immigrant rights activist, Sophie Cruz (who won my heart), America Ferrara, Amanda Nguyen, Scarlett Johansson, Angela Davis, Cynthia Hale, Rabbi Sharon Brous, Gloria Steinem, LaDonna Harris, each of the co-chairs of the March, and Ashley Judd reciting a poem written by 19-year-old Nina Donovan from Tennessee, and many others, left me feeling represented at the March—as a Latina, as a mother, as a sister, and as a woman. As a mother, my heart broke for the mothers of Trayvon Martin, Dontre Hamilton, Eric Garner, and Jordan Davis. The mothers and their sons were rightly remembered that day.

I took away nuggets of wisdom from all the speeches, heard the truth of each speaker, and felt fortunate to be part of a march that demanded unity and respect for ALL. My group left just before Madonna came on stage, so I can’t speak to her message.

What I can say is that women and men, from across the United States and Canada, carried signs with deeply personal messages on a wide range of issues. The signs around me included messages about the LGBTQ community, the Black Lives Matter movement, women’s rights, human rights, domestic violence, immigration, the environment, education, Pro-choice, Pro-life, keeping our young women safe on college campuses, unity, and respect, among many messages against Trump and his decisions. And no, not every woman at the March was pro-choice as I’ve read recently. I saw plenty of women carrying pro-life signs standing next to plenty of women carrying pro-choice signs. So to me, it is incorrect to say or assume that it was a women’s pro-choice march as it has been described; it was much more. I never thought it was a case of “us” versus “them” that day; not at all. That’s not how I choose to live, and it pains me that many women and men are painting the March in that divisive light. Maybe you had to be there?

We were single and married women, mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers, activists, members of the clergy, members of every denomination, faith, belief, and then some, standing together with our children, partners, and friends. The march wasn’t a dangerous, violent, hate-filled event, where you, your beliefs or your children were in danger of being trampled and hurt like I’ve read this week. I didn’t witness animosity or shaming of women by women; everyone simply spoke from their hearts as women do on matters that are important to them. Instead, it was a peaceful, rowdy, wonderful march with lots of respect, kindness, humor, and comradery among the marchers. I experienced patience, polite and kind behavior, and good humor, which was incredible, given the huge number of marchers, the long hours of standing, and the frustrating lack of large screens and microphones for thousands of our fellow marchers who weren’t close enough to the stage to see or hear. But who could have predicted the massive turnout?

I know women multi-task like nobody’s business, but on that day, we were physically limited to carrying one large sign, or two small signs as some did. I felt we were more than the signs we carried that day, as I would venture to say most women who participated (myself included), hold many, many issues close to our hearts. It was heartening to see the different messages around me; many that expressed my own feelings. I wished I’d had ten hands for ten different issues!

To say the Women’s March wasn’t focused, organized, or inclusive doesn’t describe the March I experienced—women have big hearts and we hold many issues close to our big hearts, and thank God for women—ALL women. Are we perfect? Will we always get it right? Will we always agree? No, and there is still plenty of work to do for future generations, and lots to learn.

Obviously, I can’t know if the March was a wonderful experience for all the marchers, but I pray it was. If it was less than a positive day for you, I’d certainly like to know how we can do better. I was proud to march with women for women’s rights, for respect, compassion, and for unity in this country. I certainly marched for the rights of my sisters, neighbors, and for children around the world—refugees most definitely included.

‘Respect my existence or expect my resistance’ was the message I chose to bring to the Women’s March. I wrote the message on my poster board in English and in Spanish. That message still resonates with me and my heart as I believe it includes the rights of all men, women, and children in this country and the world. I took home a lot more understanding of the human experience, and how we all do the best with what we’ve been dealt with in life. I am grateful for the eye-opening experience.

Thank you to the thousands of women who couldn’t march with us and who took the time to knit and donate the pink pussy hats most of us wore with pride on that historic day.

Lastly and most important of all: you may not like or agree that women marched and protested on Washington as is our right. You may not like or agree with the many messages women brought to the March, but please know women marched for YOU, too. And we will keep marching for you because we that’s important. Women’s rights are human rights, and human rights are women’s rights.

For a list of speakers and performers at The Women’s March on Washington:

https://qz.com/891175/the-full-lineup-of-the-many-many-speakers-and-performers-at-the-womens-march-on-washington/

About Eleanor: 

ellie

Former counselor and family support worker for immigrant and refugee families, Puerto Rican-born Eleanor Parker Sapia is the author of the award-winning historical novel, A Decent Woman, published by Scarlet River Press. Her debut novel, set in turn of the century Ponce, Puerto Rico, garnered an Honorable Mention for Best Historical Fiction, English at the 2016 International Latino Book Awards with Latino Literacy Now, and was selected as a Book of the Month selection by Las Comadres and Friends National Latino Book Club in 2015. A writer, artist, and photographer, Eleanor is never without a pen and a notebook, and her passport and camera are always ready. Her awesome adult children are out in the world doing amazing things. Eleanor currently lives in Berkeley County, West Virginia, where she is working on her second novel, set in 1920 Puerto Rico.


Please visit Eleanor at her website:
www.eleanorparkersapia.com

 

 

David Bowie: Pushing Creative Boundaries Into The Cosmos

I discovered the untimely death of legendary artist and musician, David Bowie, from my son’s Facebook post. My son simply wrote, ‘BOWIE’, and included one of his favorite Bowie songs. We were deeply saddened by the loss of one of the most talented, multi-faceted music greats. I remember feeling shock and then a combination of pride and relief that I’d introduced my children to Bowie’s music when they were young teens. I love that my adult children join me in continuing to listen to his songs and will continue to appreciate his genius for years to come.

Yesterday I spent the day scouring the Internet and reading hundreds of heartfelt social media tributes to the cultural icon and fine art lover, and with each beautiful message, my heart felt more and more constricted. I felt like crying but I didn’t, which is when I know the hurt runs deep. More than once in my life, I’ve experienced delayed emotional grief and numbness when tragedy struck. Yesterday was one such day.

Today the tears flowed as I listened to Bowie’s songs, and I realized my tears were more than profound sadness for his untimely death. The further back I went into my memory bank with Bowie’s music and my youth, the more I realized I was nostalgic and mourning him and days gone by. My youth. His inspiration. Our huge loss. And that it was okay to be a misfit, an original, because David Bowie was in our lives. He’d paved the way. We are so very fortunate to have lived on planet Earth with such an incredible creative being.

I will miss you forever, David Bowie. Thank you for decades of inspiration and for showing me how to push artistic boundaries in the world, out into the cosmos, and beyond. Rest in peace, Starman.

Terry O’Neill, David Bowie – Scissors, 1974 (1974).
Photo: Artnet.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvLnPO9t4Wg

About Eleanor

ellie

Puerto Rican novelist, Eleanor Parker Sapia, was raised in the United States, Puerto Rico, and Europe. Eleanor’s careers as an artist, counselor, alternative health practitioner, Spanish language family support worker, and a refugee case worker, inspire her stories.

‘A Decent Woman, Eleanor’s debut novel, set in turn of the nineteenth century Puerto Rico, was selected as 2015 July Book of the Month for Las Comadres & Friends National Latino Book Club, and is listed in Centro Voices, The Center of Puerto Rican Studies, ‘Essential Boricua Reading for the 2015 Holiday Season’. Book clubs across the United States continue to enjoy A Decent Woman. Eleanor is featured in the anthology, ‘Latina Authors and Their Muses’, edited by Mayra Calvani. She is a proud member of Las Comadres Para Las Americas, PEN America, and the Historical Novel Society, and she is a contributing writer at Organic Coffee, Haphazardly Literary Society. When not writing, she facilitates creativity groups, reads, and tells herself she is making plans to walk El Camino de Santiago de Compostela a second time.

Eleanor is the mother of two wonderful adult children and currently lives in West Virginia, where she is writing her second novel and a collection of short stories.

http://amzn.to/1kzKdGq

 

Thoughts On Travel and Amsterdam

Eleanor Roosevelt quote

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

November 27, 2015

A mid-November telephone call from my son yielded a huge surprise: he’d booked an airline ticket for me and one for my daughter, who would join us in Amsterdam on Thanksgiving Day. I’d last visited Europe in 2013 with a two-week visit to Vienna, Austria with my best friend. I was anxious to pack my bags, and return to the continent where I’d spent thirteen years with my children, and to Amsterdam, where my son currently lives.

As my departure date approached, the excitement of seeing my son after six months was close to deliriously happy, but there was huge glitch: my son hadn’t known that my daughter’s passport had expired and although she’d applied for a renewed passport, it was possible it wouldn’t arrive in time for her departure…not good.

Days later, a Russian airliner was blown out of the sky, and shortly afterward, Paris was brutally attacked. Like most everyone I know, I was glued to the horrifying news and subsequent updates. Frantic, we contacted my son, hoping he hadn’t traveled to Paris during the attacks. He was home in Amsterdam. For days, we watched news broadcasts and breaking news, worried for all the victims and their families. We asked my son about Dutch television coverage, and what his Dutch friends were saying. He replied that from what he’d heard, Holland had done a good job integrating Muslims into society, and that ISIS probably didn’t have a beef with the very tolerant country. I was convinced and satisfied, but my daughter wasn’t as convinced.

When her passport didn’t arrive on my departure date (we were on separate flights, different airlines), we spoke about Plan B: rescheduling her ticket to the following weekend since I would still be in country. But it was a big gamble on top of the $400 fee to change the date on an already high cost ticket seemed too steep. After long talks, my daughter’s ticket was cancelled, which was a damn shame, but we knew my daughter was dreading the flight in light of bombings in Syria, Mali, Paris, and worldwide threats that week. No judgement on our part for her cancelling her ticket despite feeling badly about not spending Thanksgiving as a family in Amsterdam. I know she felt worse than we did about our first holiday apart. We would miss my daughter, and thankful she would spend the holiday with my sister and her family as we’d done since 2007 when we returned from Europe.

On my departure date, I won’t lie, I was scared spitless about the prospect of hanging around the Dulles Airport, waiting for my flight, and even more frightened of take off and landing in Frankfurt, and then again to Schipol Airport in Amsterdam. I said my prayers, wrote out my will–yes a will–and handed it to my sister as she parked at the Metro for me to start my journey to Dulles Airport. It was a hand-written will because my printer had conked out, and like I told my sister, “It’s better than nothing!’.

Well, going through security at Dulles is always challenge, and it was no different when I went through, and flying Lufthansa is always a dream. I sat with a British university student, a lovely Tunisian mother and her four children seated behind us, and a Sikh with blue eyes. A global aisle–beautiful.

All three airports were packed with passengers rushing to their flights and greeting their loved ones after collecting their baggage. Everything seemed ‘normal’ during my flights and when I saw my son after six months, my fear and anxiety disappeared. He was a sight for sore eyes and I know my trip meant a lot to him. I patted myself on the back for overcoming my own fear of flying and traveling during this troubling time, and I smiled inside: no way in hell anyone is keeping this mother from seeing her kids!

Amsterdam, always one of my favorite European cities, was much like I’d left it–a crowded, rush-rush, bicycle-crazy, a gorgeous canal city with friendly people, too much fried food, great beers and cheeses, loud tourists, and pungent-smelling coffee shops. Sipping a cappuccino at a charming outdoor cafe after our market run for the ingredients of our Thanksgiving meal, I smiled and turned my face to the sun. Pure bliss.

To date, my daughter’s passport has yet to arrive. That’s life. She even paid extra to expedite the passport; it just didn’t happen for us. Only God knows why. As for me, I can now picture my son’s new life in Amsterdam. In future emails when he says he went to the movies, I know where that theater is. I know which market he likes, and which market stand carries his favorite thing to order in a bakery–Ollieballen with powdered sugar. I’m happy I mustered all the necessary courage to fly. Will I muster the courage to travel to Brussels to visit with long-time friends and to visit Paris before I fly home, which I planned to do? No idea yet…

but for today, I thank lovely, peaceful, charming Amsterdam. Thank you for not changing too much since my last visit, and for offering us a safe place during a turbulent time.

I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving weekend.

Blessings.

About Eleanor Parker Sapia

 

elliePuerto Rican-born novelist, Eleanor Parker Sapia, was raised in the United States, Puerto Rico, and Europe. Eleanor’s careers as an artist, counselor, alternative health practitioner, Spanish language family support worker, and a refugee case worker inspire her stories. She is a member of Las Comadres Para Las Americas, PEN America, and Historical Novel Society. When Eleanor is not writing, she facilitates creativity groups, reads, and tells herself she is making plans to walk El Camino de Santiago de Compostela a second time.

A Decent Woman, Eleanor’s best selling debut historical novel, set in turn of the nineteenth century Puerto Rico, was selected as 2015 July Book of the Month for Las Comadres & Friends Latino Book Club. Book club members across the United States have enjoyed the story, as well. Eleanor is featured in the newly published anthology, Latino Authors and Their Muses, edited by Mayra Calvani. She is the mother of two awesome adult children and she currently lives in West Virginia, where she is writing her second novel, The Island of Goats.

 

Shaming, Anger, and Intolerance: Don’t Give In

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Deplorable, outrageous, shocking, disgusting, inhumane, shameful, terrifying, arrogant, insane, pathetic, pathological, and deeply disturbing.

These are some of the words used by people around the world on social media this past weekend to describe the Paris attacks and the ISIS attackers. I would venture to say most of us would agree many are fitting words to describe the senseless and barbaric killing of innocent men, women, and children in Paris, the City of Light. Other words fit the atrocities committed against innocent men, women, and children in Beirut, Kenya, New York, Boston, Cambodia, Russia, and many countries around the world, from past to recent times.

I expected to see the words listed in the first sentence of this blog post used in describing the attack and the loss of life on November 14, 2015. I expected people would disagree with any number of things that happened or didn’t happen this past weekend according to how they would have handled the situation if they ruled the world, according to their political leaning. But I did not expect and was disheartened by after reading the same words directed at people who’d changed their Facebook images to the colors of the French flag in a show of support for the French people after the attacks. I couldn’t fathom people were offended by a showing of compassion, empathy, and solidarity for people who share the same planet, and who supported the United States after 9/11. Not to mention that it seems everyone who isn’t signed up for ISIS is an infidel—the French people, in addition to me, and most probably, you.

Upon learning about the Paris attacks, I immediately changed my Facebook profile photo to a ‘Pray for Paris’ image. I lived in France several times in my life, and worked in Lourdes, France for many years, and praying centers me during difficult times. I changed my profile photo to show my solidarity, just as I’ve done to show my support for gay rights, women’s rights, against human trafficking, and when hundreds of innocent Nigerian school girls were kidnapped, raped, and tortured by Boko Haram, the Islamic extremist group based in Nigeria.

I agreed with French President Hollande’s decision to declare a three-day mourning period for the victims and their loved ones. Out of respect for the victims, their families and friends, and for my French friends living in France, I decided to stay off social media as much as possible on the second and third days following the attack. I don’t know about you, but most everything I did last weekend seemed a bit trivial in light of the deaths and destruction in Paris, and like most of us, I remained glued to online breaking news out of Europe.

Tonight I caught up on social media, and I was greatly saddened by many displays of humanity against humanity on Facebook and Twitter. There were vicious attacks on those supporting (or not) the acceptance of Syrian refugees into their communities, and slams on people agreeing or disagreeing with France and the United States’ decision to bomb the Daesh, as some described it, as ‘back to the Stone Age’. There was finger pointing and lashing out, racial slurs and spewing of hatred in reaction to what President Obama was doing right or wrong, the NRA, the US military, the pacifists, ‘war mongers’, Christians, Muslims, and people accusing others of acting like sheep—for following the herd and jumping on the bandwagon of support for France, who they claim ‘probably deserved it.’ Global warming even made an appearance today in an argument that it is still BS and a figment of our imagination.

Among the pleas calling for people to remain calm, focused, and to come together as one, which I agree with, a woman posted a photograph of the Oklahoma bomber, reminding her Facebook friends that the US was the target of much bloodshed and tragedy at the hands of an American madman on American soil–leave Paris to the French. A man posted a photo taken on 9/11 and raged against Muslims, wanting each and every Muslim DEAD. Yes, he’d typed ‘dead’ in all caps. An outraged woman replied to the Oklahoma post by replying, ‘How dare you attack Americans and Christians now. DEPLORABLE.’ Soon, I lost track of who said what about what, and turned my laptop off. I kept murmuring, ‘But not all Muslims are terrorists.’

The reactions to the tri-color Facebook profile photos and the eye-opening outbursts of many today reminded me that when we are frightened, stressed, pushed to our emotional and mental limits; when we’ve experienced similar situations of trauma at home and abroad; or when we are outraged and feel impotent to help others and ourselves, many of us will lash out. We might begin pointing fingers, drawing into ourselves, or many of us will show our true colors by shaming and ridiculing others. I am reminded that the definitions of passion are varied and complicated:

passion: the emotions as distinguished from reason

b :  intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction

c :  an outbreak of anger

a :  ardent affection :  love

b :  a strong liking or desire for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept

Of course I am filtering what I perceive as negative comments through my life experiences, which are undoubtedly different from the opinions of the woman standing next to me at Walmart or the views of the man on the treadmill beside me at the gym. I get that; we all do that, but please remember…

We ALL share the same fears and concern for our families, friends, and communities, at home and abroad. And with every attack by ISIS, we are shown the frightening agenda for their version of the End of Times, the Apocalypse, which they have shown they will die for. We are the target. We, as in all of us who are not members of ISIS. Threats against our country understandably make us edgy and afraid, which often breeds suspicion, anger, and intolerance. I say, don’t give in. But I do have questions…

I pray what I saw online tonight was us finding ourselves under extreme conditions of fear, insecurity, and duress over the attacks, not because we have hatred in our hearts. Yes, I’m outraged by the Paris attacks. I’m worried, as well. As a woman and mother, I worry for Syrian women, mothers and their children as they try to escape and find asylum. I worry for my children, living in the US and abroad, about the world they will inherit, and I am deeply saddened for those who were massacred in Paris and for their families from many nations who are burying their loved ones this week.

I hesitated in sharing this blog post, and can only hope you take it in the same vein in which it is offered, as my two cents–I’m trying to reign in my fear just as you are. I’m trying to understand and learn. I don’t have the answers, but I’m searching. However, I believe that if we turn to hate and rip away from each other, at the very seam of the fabric of our society, and fight amongst ourselves, instead of being tolerant and trying to understand each other at home and abroad, and more importantly, remaining focused on the bigger picture—creating a peaceful world for our children—it will unravel, and I fear we could be playing right into the enemy’s hands. I sure as hell hope not.

God bless us all.

About Eleanor Parker Sapia

 

elliePuerto Rican-born novelist, Eleanor Parker Sapia, was raised in the United States, Puerto Rico, and Europe. Eleanor’s careers as an artist, counselor, alternative health practitioner, Spanish language family  support worker, and a refugee case worker inspire her stories. She is a member of Las Comadres Para Las Americas, PEN America, and Historical Novel Society. When Eleanor is not writing, she facilitates creativity groups, reads, and tells herself she is making plans to walk El Camino de Santiago de Compostela a second time.

A Decent Woman is Eleanor’s debut historical novel, set in turn of the nineteenth century Puerto Rico. The book was selected as 2015 July Book of the Month for Las Comadres & Friends Latino Book Club, and book clubs across the United States have enjoyed the book. She is featured in the newly published anthology, Latino Authors and Their Muses, edited by Mayra Calvani. Eleanor is the mother of two adult children and currently lives in West Virginia, where she is writing her second novel, The Island of Goats.

Why Should I Read Your Book?

A week ago, I thumbed through my historical novel, A Decent Woman, looking for passages for a three-author book reading, my second reading in New York City. I knew what I had to do–select a few passages from my novel, practice reading, and hope to make it to seven minutes. Sounds easy, right? Not as easy as you might think.

Speak slowly, make eye contact, don’t read in a monotone voice, engage with the audience, and try staying within the allotted time so you don’t hog the microphone. Those things I could do…though I still get nervous when I’m handed the microphone. I’m great with Q&A sessions after the reading, but ask me to read from my book and my nerves begin, my cheeks flush. I’ve been the first and fifth author to read–it’s still tough, but deciding which passage to read is a lot tougher.

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Why should I buy your book? This question kept popping into my head as I read passage after passage of my book. I didn’t know who would be at the book reading, and I certainly didn’t know what would appeal to the audience, so trying to find the perfect passages, something for everyone, was virtually impossible.

The event was to be held at a popular bookstore in East Harlem, La Casa Azul Bookstore. They showcase Latino literature, and their online bookstore features books by authors who have don’t write in the Caribbean or Latin American fiction genre. I realized I couldn’t count on an all-Latino audience that night. Nor could I count on an audience comprised of mainly women who might be interested in midwifery and women’s issues. Would there be history buffs or historians in the audience interested in the history of Puerto Rican women? And Hurricane Joaquin was due south of New York. I could very well end up with people walking by and dropping in to get out of the elements. It wasn’t as easy as thinking, “Who is my target audience?”

I knew the themes of my story were important, and who my character was as a woman. But which readings would I choose? Was it best to select a passage that described the setting, turn of the nineteenth century Puerto Rico, or the protagonist, Afro-Cuban midwife, Ana Belén? Perhaps a passage with beautiful prose and descriptions, showing my writing style and voice? A passage that clearly demonstrated I’d done my research?

I settled on three short paragraphs from the Prologue, which describe 1900 Puerto Rico, where the story begins. I set the stage for my audience. I didn’t plop potential readers right smack in the middle of a dialogue between two or more characters they didn’t know. Potential readers need a beginning point, a grounding, and then they will usually follow you anywhere. My friends know to tell me a story with some background or I will stop them mid-stream with many questions. I’ve been to many book readings, good and bad readings. To me, when the author sets the stage with an introduction to the story, a brief synopsis, or by reading a passage that will ground me as a listener–I’m all theirs.

The second group of passages I selected were of my protagonist Ana’s inner dialogue, which included a memory of a priest from her past she didn’t care for. The passages described a bit of her personality, her grit and humor, and it showed her distrust of people, mainly men. I made it clear Ana had secrets, but didn’t give away the plot. Leave enough mystery for your reader to want to read your book and find out what happens!

cropped-marieguilhelminebenoist-portrait-dune-negresse-1800.jpg
‘La Negresse’, Marie Guillemine Benoist, Musee du Louvre, Paris

The last passages described Ana, standing in ankle-high ocean surf, preparing her ebó, the offering to the Yoruba gods and goddesses for the safe delivery of her client’s first child, and for keeping them safe during a tropical storm that threathened the little house at the edge of the Caribbean Sea. As a former slave, Ana is devoted to the Yoruba traditions of her childhood and to the Virgin Mary, who was introduced to her by the priests of her new parish. This gave the audience a vivid description of Ana,  the duality nature of her life, and a few inner conflicts as a woman and a midwife.

I have no clue how long my reading went for (my watch stopped), but I felt confident I’d introduced my story, the setting, and my protagonist well enough to stop. And I didn’t want to go over my allotted time so my fellow authors had enough time for their readings. When the event was over, we had fifteen minutes to spare. Lesson learned–buy a new watch.

My advice for authors preparing for a book reading: don’t put all your apples into one basket, and certainly don’t pick only the green apples–it’s a delicate balance. Leave enough time to interract with the audience during the Q&A session after the reading. This is a golden opportunity to share with and reach your readers, who love getting to know authors, the story behind the book, and what makes authors tick.

Why should I buy that author’s book? Because I connected with the characters, the story, and especially because I connected with the author.

ABOUT ELEANOR PARKER SAPIA

ellie

Puerto Rican-born novelist, Eleanor Parker Sapia, was raised in the United States, Puerto Rico, and Europe. Eleanor’s careers as an artist, counselor, alternative health practitioner, Spanish language social worker and a refugee case worker inspire her stories. She is a member of Las Comadres Para Las Americas, PEN America, and the Historical Novel Society. When Eleanor is not writing, she facilitates creativity groups, reads, and tells herself she is making plans to walk El Camino de Santiago de Compostela a second time.

A Decent Woman is Eleanor’s debut novel, set in turn of the nineteenth century Puerto Rico. The book was selected as 2015 July Book of the Month for Las Comadres & Friends Latino Book Club. Eleanor is the mother of two adult children and currently lives in West Virginia, where she is writing her second novel, The Island of Goats.

A Decent Woman is available for Kindle and in paperback on Amazon.

amazon.com/-/e/B00U05ZO9M

Barnes & Noble for Nook and in paperback.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-decent-woman-eleanor-parker-sapia/1121258236?ean=9781620154007

La Casa Azul Bookstore    143 E. 103rd Street, New York, NY 10029         info.lacasaazul@gmail.com

http://www.eleanorparkersapia.com

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