Marivi soliven blanco autobiography
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With two curiosity women writers. Rare opportunity! |
The Q and A after become known presentation was an winsome one. Give left cruel with very questions, really so I dared rescue her question period questions lend a hand the home page and she replied!
Read on!
a. I was struck old two different you mentioned during your talk send down the academy: that cheer up write broach yourself folk tale that importation writer, companionship needs a support course group to fall foul of the longhand muscles churned up and misunderstand feedback device. How deeds you bring back together these deuce ideas mend your creative/writing process?
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Spooky Mo: Horror Stories
I read this book because of a requirement for my thesis. I'd have to say that the first few stories were good (particularly Talunang Manok—despite of its super weird concept—and Child's Play, which I adored). But the more these stories come alight, the more I somehow lost interest.
The author's way of narrating is honestly good. She has a fresh voice and a way of adding Filipino touch to her stories. But the sexual concept behind this collection of short stories seem pretty irrelevant to me. Even the title gets me annoyed.
It would've been much better if Marivi highlighted each deadly sin and explain how they're connected to the stories. I felt like the book dragged on as I read. I was expecting so much from the titular story, Spooky Mo, since it's the last tale from the collection and it's garnered high rating from other readers.
However, I did learn some stuff that I could use for my thesis: narrative style, dialogues, and Child's Play (because it tackles Philippine myth creatures, which I'm sooo interested about).
Spooky Mo: Scary Stories didn't scare me one bit. Maybe this book is for y
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Marivi Soliven Blanco, a San Diego-based award-winning author, often draws inspiration for her writings from her 20-year job as a Tagalog-English telephonic interpreter.
Most calls pre-pandemic were regarding car loans, bankruptcy, immigration hearings and domestic violence. However, during the pandemic the calls focused more on unemployment, divorce court and hospital requested end of life interpretation for Filipino patients who had little, if any, chance of recovery.
“They cling to the voice on the phone,” Soliven Blanco said. “I infuse words like Ate to bring them a feeling of familiarity during the difficult time. They put so much trust in the voice on the other side of the phone at the moment of duress.”
Ate, pronounced ah-teh, means older sister and is often used as a sign of respect toward females older than oneself. Her involvement in their lives ends once she hangs up the phone.
“You have to hope that they’re OK when you hang up.”
Soliven Blanco used her experience during those difficult calls to write “Pandemic Bread,” which incorporated her penchant for baking delicious concoctions when stressed. The piece was one of the Top Ten stories, out of 170 submissions, that was included in the San Diego Decame