This Old House

It is almost three in the morning, the night is quiet, and I lay on my bed eyes wide open. My mind is alert, and I find myself unable to sleep. You see, tonight is the last night I will be sleeping in this house, this old house in which I've celebrated many things and mourn a few losses. It has shared some of my disappointments and many of my triumphs. It is my house. It is my home. And unlike other nights where sleep comes too easily, tonight I stare at the dark ceiling and wonder if it will ever miss me.

Moving to a new place is always a challenge for me. First, I am not one who manages too easily the chaos of boxes and piled up collection of things waiting to be sorted, packed, and transferre. Second, I hate physical labor. And last, I am not one who fancies saying goodbye at all.

Bidding farewell to a friend is easy. You wave, blow a kiss, and say adieu. You may even weep a little. But ultimately, you know there is always the occasional phone call and email, or some other mode of communication that does not require any physical appearance. With our current technology, speaking to a distant friend is only a click away.

But when it comes to saying goodbye to a house, a structure of brick and plaster, how do you do it? Do you wave? Utter a few words from the heart? Or simply give it a light tap on the wall and say, thank you for the good times? Does it know you are moving out? Does it care that you are leaving? Perhaps the most appropriate question is, does it remember you?

The silence in my room is punctuated by the breathing of my wife, who, even in her peaceful slumber, furrows her brow. Whatever she must be dreaming at this moment must be quite worrisome. Perhaps she, too, is pondering on this delicate subject of departure. Perhaps.

I close my eyes, a tear trickles down my cheek, and I know I'll miss an old friend. This house, though not much to look at, has been my home, the place where dreams were made. There's still a long road ahead, I think to myself, and I cannot imagine having accomplished so much without its protection and comfort. This house has been my sanctuary.

I place my hand on the wall and smile. Goodbye, old friend, I say, and the old house creaks back. It remembers. It hears. It speaks. And somehow, I know it will miss me, too.

The road ahead is long, true, but I won't be a lone traveler, the old house assures me of that. It has given me a few good friends and enough good memories to live by. And now, as dawn slowly approaches, it hums me a lullaby. I listen as its walls and floorboards sing me a quiet chorus. I close my eyes and dream of the new adventures ahead.

Tonight I sleep.

My Life as a Photographer

Many people have asked me about my photography projects and how it all started. So, I've decided to blog about it,

To many who know me, I've always been a photographer. In fact, before I was a photographer before I became an editor. When I was in college eons ago, one of my roommates had this old camera he was about to throw away. It was a 1950's film camera, all manual without any need for batteries. According to my roommate, it was broken. Curious, I asked for it so I could play with it.

I remember spending the entire night taking the camera apart and fixing it, polishing it, and cleaning out the dust and the mirror inside. When all was done, I noticed that the camera, though old, was not out of order; it was in perfect condition. The only problem was no one knew how to use it. So, I decided to learn.

Fast forward to a week later, I was snapping pictures of people, friends, and family. I did not have a flash component, so I used a lot of ISO, aperture, and speed compensation. Using a film camera required loads of skills, because there was no way of previewing my images before I snapped them. I had to really understand how photography worked, knowing exactly how my images would look before I even took them. I had to be in control. Before long, I was taking model portfolios for model friends and exploring the world of fashion/editorial photography. At one point, I sought the mentorship of Stan Malinowski, a renowned fashion photographer in the '80s. With his help and advice, I perfected my photography skills and started taking wedding and engagement pictures as side projects. Photography was how I supported my family while pursuing my graduate degree.

Today, as executive editor for a publishing house, I spend most of my time reading manuscripts and doing editorial work. But I always find the time to work on side photography projects. Once in a while, I'll get a call for a shoot I can't resist. Nothing excites me more than to be on set with a camera in hand, framing some of the most beautiful faces in the world.

So, without much ado, I'm going to take you through some of my latest projects:

The two B/W portraits above were part of a senior picture shoot I did of a friend. We did the shoot in my garage studio with a FujiFilm point-and-shoot camera and a single continuous light. Since I was using a point-and-shoot camera, continuous light was the best way to go to give the camera sensor the longest light exposure. Using an ISO 800 and an aperture of f/4.5, I was able to achieve a Banana Republic look for my subject. 

This fashion shoot above was one of my favorites. This time, I was using a DSLR camera. The sun was setting behind, giving the subject a natural warm ambient light. With the sun as backlight, I had to make sure the aperture and exposure was correct. I used a fill flash and an aperture of f/4.5, speed of 1/125, and ISO 100 to take this shot.

Shooting in the open is not always the easiest. You have to deal with whatever you have. In the case above, I positioned the model in a shaded area and had one of my assistants block additional light from above with a reflector to prevent unwanted shadows on the face. Bear in mind, this is a fashion shoot, and the face and clothing must be perfect. Prior to the shoot, we applied a simple makeup on the model's face with bronzer on the jawline and nose bridge to accentuate his face. We also applied a bronze shimmer cream on his eyelids as well. For men, the lip color should always be magenta-ish. No reds, no pinks. I used a reflector to light his face and a fill flash to give him some highlights and catchlight in his eyes. The result is quite impressive, I must say.

The shot above was taken in one of the ugliest places in Smithfield, Utah. It was cold and the color was drab. In such conditions, the model's skin will be covered with goosebumps. So, we had the model smother herself with vaseline and lotion. Luckily, the sky was a little on the dramatic side, and I was able to use it as a background, creating a dramatic scene for the shot. For this shot, I did not use any flash, just a reflector to capture minimum highlights on the model's skin. I wanted the model to look like an African warrior queen, but on the fashion side of things. 

Again, this shot was taken at a not-so-interesting location. But by juxtaposing the dramatic skies with the dry weeds, I was able to get a very earthy feel for this shot and make it work. Using only a reflector, I made sure I had enough light to give her dress a sheen, but not enough to give her the punch. I refrained from using a fill flash on this shot because that will take away the natural feel of the frame. 

So there. Those are just a few of my latest projects. I'll have more to showcase in the next few weeks. Please feel free to comment below and tell me what you think of my images. I usually only reserve no more than two photography projects in a month, so if you are interested in booking me, let me know early. 

Thanks for stopping by. Until next time, smile big. You never know who's holding the camera :)

The Christmas Tree

So, I'm starting to blog again after a few weeks of hiatus, more like a few months. I have my reasons. As executive editor in a young—and thriving—house, my responsibilities are high and nigh. Everything seems to be piling up and needing immediate attention. Not like I've never been through this before—and not like I am complaining either—but it's been crazy. Awesome crazy. But hey, I love, love, love my job, and I couldn't wish for anything more.

That said, let's move on to the topic at hand: how do we survive the holidays when we can't afford much else? I was thinking about this quite a bit lately after hearing about my acquaintances and friends who weren't doing so well this holiday season. Between being laid off and struggling with limited finance, life can be hard. So, I decide to take you back to the days when I started out as a newly married man with less than fifty bucks in my bank and a part-time job, trying to raise my young family—my wife was pregnant—and brave Christmas at the same time. And hopefully I make sense at all.

This was, oh, many years back, but I can still remember those days. It was poverty at its best. My wife and I rented a small basement of an old mortuary, paid a small rent, and lived our days believing that life could get better; we had each other, and for the most part, life was simple and good. We shopped at thrift stores, baked pies to raise funds for our utility bills, and dreamed big. Although we did not have much, we were happy. (Only recently did I actually tell my wife that the basement we lived in used to be the exact place where bodies were embalmed and prepped for viewing. As expected, she was glad I did not mention it to her then.)

One particular night, about a week before Christmas, I remember sitting in our low-ceiling living room, wondering how Christmas was going to be. We had no gifts, no lights, no Christmas tree. We did not even dare to mention Christmas to anyone lest we were asked to attend a Christmas party for which we could not afford any white elephant gifts. We invited no one to our little basement apartment, and decided to spend the holidays watching TV and putting together a one-thousand-piece-jigsaw puzzle we received as a gift the year before; that should keep us busy. And with the baby coming in a few months, we were determined to save some extra cash for baby clothes and diapers. Since our parents were not available at that time, we had to plan how to do everything when the baby arrived—from our schedules to finances to milk powder, and such. Yes, life turned a little hectic and complex suddenly, especially in my head.

But no one should feel that gloomy when there was so much to hope for. I thought of my unborn son and all the fun things we were going to do together. I thought of baking him birthday cakes and going out on picnics together. Suddenly, everything felt okay. Things would turn out well. I'd graduate, get a job, and work toward something big for my family. And that was when I ran out to my car and drove straight to Walmart with twenty dollars in my wallet.

When my wife returned from her part-time job, our apartment was dark—I had switched off all the lights in the house . . . except for the one source of light I had anticipated for her to see. Right at the end of the living room on a small table in a corner was a miniature Christmas tree only ten inches tall; it stood there humbly covered with about twenty small lights and a star on its top. My wife's face lit up, and she cried. It was a beautiful surprise, indeed. Right at that moment, she felt a soft kick in her womb, and we both knew life, with all of its challenges, was worth everything we went through. It was not the Christmas tree that taught us that, but the fact that we had each other to share it with.

Today, that miniature tree had grown into a ten-foot high tree with ornaments we've accumulated through the years; every one of them reminded us of every year we celebrated Christmas together, each year better than the one before.

To everyone out there who is going through difficult times, you're not alone. And to those of you who are able, reach out your hand and give. It's not the money we ask; oftentimes, it's a smile and the kind and honest words of a friend that will take us through the darker moments of our lives.

So, how do we survive the holidays when we can't afford much else? By being that miniature Christmas tree. By being that light.

My Halloween Birthday

Okay, I've got to be frank, I was born ___ years ago this day to quite an abnormal circumstance. I was a Halloween baby found in a dumpster by my earth parent. My mom told me once that she'd heard me crying in a back lane somewhere in Asia covered in cabbage and old newspaper. Out of pity and compassion, she immediately picked me up without a second thought, lifted me up, and with a victorious voice, cried, "You are now my son, and your name will be Mos—I mean, Christopher Loke!" Now, don't ask me why my mom was in a back lane somewhere in Asia, or how I came about, but know that this story has never swayed.

My mom only spewed out things about my past when she was mad at me. "Christopher Yolanda Cornelius Loke the Sixteenth," she'd scream, "clean up your pigsty of a room right now or I swear to all that is good and holy I will make you wish you were never born!" And always, without missing a beat, she'd continue, "But,"—a long sigh—"upon second thought, you were never born like all the other babies, anyway. Have I ever told you how I picked you up from a dumpster?" With that, she'd start telling me the story of how I was "found" for the umpteenth time.

And then when I was fifteen, my mom came into my room one evening wanting to engage me in a somber conversation. "It's time we have the talk," she said.

"You mean the birds and the bees?"

"No, silly. It's about your origin."

"My origin?" I exclaimed. Is this really happening? I thought. As if I was from a galaxy far, far away, right?

"Yes, it's about time I tell you the truth," my mom continued, mouth pursed. "You were not found in a dumpster. There, I said it!"

Phew, what a relief. For the longest time, I'd been having nightmares about my birth parents being mutated slugs scavenging the backstreets of the city for garbage as food, and I was a by product of their . . . ugh, never mind.

So, I sat there staring at the walls and then back at my mom before giving her the most courteous smile I'd ever given. "Mom, I'm so happy you cleared that up."

She contemplated for a while before saying, "I am your real mom, and I gave birth to you." With that, she stood and exited the room along with her customary winks and smiles and lots of teeth. I've always thought my mom to be a little on the weird side, but never paid too much attention to it. But today, something clicked.

My mom had left a subtle imprint on my bed—a light greenish slime I'd never noticed before—and I couldn't help but wonder what all this meant. Suddenly, as if I had struck Eureka, memories of things flashed before my mind—I could smell the cabbage and the sour milk. And I loved it. My childhood resurfaced, and I remembered everything, all the way to the day I was born.

The first day of my life was spent writhing in compost in a back alley somewhere in Asia. I was in heaven—there was so much to eat. I looked up and saw my parents, two very distinct shapes staring down at me with round protruding eyes, wet, green, and smiling.

I shuddered at my own memory and looked down to see a trail of green slime leading to where I sat. I am not in Kansas anymore, I thought. My nightmare is real after all . . .

Anyway, I digress. And for whatever that's worth, Happy Halloween. Boo!

(Yes, my name is actually Christopher Y. C. Loke, if you should wonder.)

Hawaiian Author Makes a Splash in the Literary Scene

First of all, let me just say, Brrr! What a week. First, it was the hail, then came the sleet, and now a snowstorm. Great! But I love it. As a lover of spooky stuff, I am enjoying this gloomy weather. And if you are hating this cold and depressing weather, don't fret, for I'm bringing you sunshine all the way from Hawaii!

Yes, I'd like to welcome the fabulous Lehua Parker, whose debut middle-grade novel, ONE BOY, NO WATER, was released last month to awesome reviews. So, how about a round of applause for Ms. Parker!

Aloha, Chris! Thanks for letting me drop by to answer a few of your questions about my MG/YA novel One Boy, No Water, book one in the Niuhi Shark Saga. It’s available from Barnes & Noble and Amazon in hardback, trade paperback, and ebook.

Briefly, tell us about your debut novel, One Boy, No Water.

One Boy, No Water is the first book in the Niuhi Shark Saga, a five book series for MG/YA readers set in modern Hawaii. It tells the story of Zader, a boy who was found abandoned as an infant and adopted by a local family. On the surface One Boy, No Water is about Zader growing up and learning that he can’t run away from trouble; like a series of ocean waves, he has to face his problems head on, problems like staying connected with his surf crazed brother, getting into an elite private school, and dealing with a couple of bullies who’ve painted a target on his back.

While these kinds of problems are ordinary, Zader himself is not. He has unusual allergies to things like water, rare meat, and seafood. He also dreams about a girl and the fantastic adventures they have together, and also about a scary man with too many teeth who seems to stalk them. Underneath the surface is another world that Zader has to navigate—and survive—as he discovers who he really is, how he defines family, and ultimately decides how he will live his life.

In a few sentences, tell us about your journey as a debut author so far.

As I write this, the whole process from roughly plotting the series, selling the concept, writing the first book, working with an illustrator, going through editorial review, ARC distribution, building a marketing campaign, and publication has taken ten months. That’s not typical, I know, particularly for a debut author. Ten months sounds like a whirlwind, but the reality was punctuated bursts of activity surrounding the book followed by long periods of waiting, during which I started building a social media platform and developing a website chock-full of supporting material for fans to discover after publication. The amount of time I’ve spent social networking and on the website easily eclipses the time spent on the book itself by a factor of 10:1. Now that One Boy, No Water has officially published, I’m doing bookstore signings, a blog tour, and gearing up for school visits in late winter/spring. I’m also finishing book two, One Shark, No Swim, for release in August 2013.

One Boy, No Water  is quite an unconventional novel with a huge part of the narrative written in modified Hawaiian pidgin. How do you successfully market such a unique book to mainstream readers in America? And what are the reactions so far among Hawaiian readers?

You have to start with a compelling story, one that captures and engages readers unfamiliar with Hawaiian Pidgin or island culture to the point where they’re willing to work a little harder to read it. It’s important to provide a context for unfamiliar words, so even if the reader doesn’t exactly know what something means, the gist is pretty clear. Kids do this naturally; it’s how they learn new vocabulary and extend their reading skills. For those who really want to know the definition of a word, I wrote a glossary for the back of the book.

Beyond providing context and a glossary, it can be challenging to market something so Hawaiian-style to a mainstream audience. Here too, I think the quality of the story has to carry the day. Being a fish out of water, creating your own definition of family, and eventually choosing the kind of life you want to live are universal young adult themes. I trust my audience to recognize the underpinnings of the story and simply try to tell it in the most genuine way possible, consciously choosing details that I think will either resonate with familiarity or jar the reader into making new connections.

From reviews, readers who are familiar with island culture find it authentic, funny, compelling, and obviously get more of the inside jokes and foreshadowing than those who have never lived in Hawaii. I say lived, because vacation Hawaii and everyday Hawaii might as well be on different planets for all they really have in common. Thankfully, reviews from mainstream readers have also been very positive, some even going so far as to say they feel like they’ve been to Hawaii for the first time.

What are your expectations and goals for One Boy, No Water and how do you plan to achieve them?

Over time and with more experience, my expectations and goals for the series have changed. Right now, newly published as a debut author, I’m happy if a book signing earns more than I spent on other books while in the store, a far cry from my original hope of paying the kids’ college tuition or for a nifty family vacation. I’ve learned that professional marketing campaigns and leveraged distribution channels are paramount for significant sales, no matter how well something is written. Without them, there’s always the promise of word of mouth, social media marketing, a book award, a positive review by a prestigious industry powerhouse, a serendipitous something that happens which raises awareness and drives sales, but these are long, slow processes, and unlike The Hunger Games, the odds are never in your favor. While I will continue to do whatever I can to make the Niuhi Shark Saga successful, I’ve found I’ve had to refocus on enjoying the journey and less on measures of financial or literary success.

Thank you so much, Lehua, for dropping by. It's always great to hear from authors who are actually doing it. 

ONE BOY, NO WATER is available through all major online booksellers and eBook readers. You can always order it from your nearest bookstores if they don't already carry it. For more information about ONE BOY, NO WATER, please visit the official site at oneboynowater.jollyfishpress.com. 

A Little About Lehua Parker
Lehua Parker is originally from Hawaii and a graduate of The Kamehameha Schools and Brigham Young University. So far she has been a live television director, a school teacher, a courseware manager, an instructional designer, a sports coach, a theater critic, a SCUBA instructor, a poet, a web designer, a mother, and a wife. Her debut novel, One Boy, No Water is the first book in her MG/YA series the Niuhi Shark Saga. Book 2: One Shark, No Swim will be available in August 2013. She currently lives in Utah with her husband, two children, three cats, two dogs, six horses, and assorted chickens. During the snowy Utah winters she dreams about the beach.


Facebook author page: www.facebook.com/LehuaParker
Blog: www.LehuaParker.com
Twitter: @LehuaParker
Goodreads: Lehua Parker

Write the Story That Matters

So, I've been busy lately among other things, but when I was approached to guest blog for The Mormon Letters, I was delighted. I'd always wanted to write about the LDS writers dilemma, and I thought this was the perfect opportunity.

So, without much ado, here's the link. Read and comment. Thank you!

I Heart Authors

As you already know, I just spent the weekend at Park City, Utah, attending the LUW Annual Roundup, and let me tell ya, I loved it. I got to meet with amazing authors who love what they do. I was impressed with their energy and passion. The entire roundup reminded me of an international airport where people have a clear idea of where they are going, and they are about ready to hop on the next available flight, eager and excited.

But the most amazing thing is that both traditionally and self-published authors were there to present, mingle, and network with each other without prejudice. They were there to support each other in honing their craft and in becoming successful authors, which was what I admired most. After all, when all of these labels are stripped from us, we are all equally the same--authors of books. And that's what's most important.

During my pitch sessions at the event, I'd had the opportunity to meet with some of the most passionate, persistent, and talented craftsmen in the writers community. And after visiting with them, I return to my office here in Provo with a greater sense of appreciation for my job. So, to writers all over the world, I salute you; you inspire me.

You've made my job a spectacular one, and I thank you for it.