Hi. I’m Lubna Kably, a chartered accountant by profession. I specialize in cross border tax issues and what I really love about this job is that I get to connect with people from across the world. I am currently based in my home town, Mumbai (Yes, of the Oscar winning Slumdog Millionaire fame).
Mumbai provides a nice blend of different cultures – people from various parts of India and even the world reside here, or visit here. I love to walk along the streets of Colaba, with the sea breeze playing with my hair, while I people watch.
Tell us a little about yourself, your back ground, education, professional, etc.
While I was growing up, I wanted to be so many different things, sometimes all at the same time! I love dogs, cats, in fact all furry four legged creatures and wanted to be a veterinarian, I also wanted to be a writer, or a journalist, or follow my father’s footsteps and be a chartered accountant.
As I don’t have any siblings I grew up in the company of books, dogs and cats. While I ultimately ended up being a tax consultant – with brief stints as a tax journalist thrown in, I haven’t lost my love for reading and writing, or my love for animals.
I love reading and read books falling in different genres. Of course, I am forced to read tax books, just to keep pace with the every changing laws. No wonder, I was doubly thrilled to win the Visual Arts Junction “Bedtime Story” writers contest.
I loved my book prizes, Aggie Villanueva’s Biblical Novel: Rightfully Mine and the wonderful mystery book: The Pot Thief who studied Pythagoras, by Micheal Orenduff. Someday, I hope to write a book of my own.
I also firmly believe in random acts of kindness. So do my friends. In fact, the beautiful photo art which was part of the prize could not be shipped to India. Aggie generously agreed to our plan. It will be donated to the US based, Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, as a friend volunteers there. It will be auctioned and the proceeds will go to this Foundation.
My friend has already received this photo-art and we can’t wait for the auction to happen.
Tell us about the story you entered into the VAJ Writing Contest:
This contest is based on a photo-art. Aggie Villanueva is a wonderful photo artiste. When I saw the photo-art, it spoke to me I just knew that I had to write about it.
It was a “Bedtime Story” writers contest. The photo-art displayed a table with one of my favorite books: The Velveteen Rabbit. Next to the book, was what could only be a magic lamp that makes wishes come true.
What is the story about?
In my story, Ann a little girl sees this table in her grandmother’s attic. She knows the lamp is a magic lamp and makes a wish – for a pet rabbit, which comes true.
When life is a struggle you must remember magic. Magic to me is positive thinking. Ann realizes this, as she grows up. She learns to reach deep inside herself and to be positive.
When/how did this story come to you?
The story I wrote centers around the power of positive thinking. While I do not believe in dreaming and not doing anything to attain these dreams, I do believe that positive thinking that helps us to overcome many hurdles. We should do the best we can and think positively.
Adam Lindsay Gordon’s quote has been my favorite, down the years, ever since I was a school kid. It reads: Life is mostly froth and bubble, two things stand like stone; Kindness in another’s trouble, courage in your own.
When I stumbled upon the website of Visual Arts Junction and onto this short story contest, I was recuperating from a surgery. Life had been tough the past two years on many fronts and this surgery seemed to be the last straw. It was so easy to sit up in bed and scream: Why me?
Well, the strong antibiotics did have their own side effects and I would often weep for no rhyme or reason. But, then I took a strong grip on myself, I had to think positively, I had to overcome this bad patch; I had to go back to work.
I took help. I surrounded myself with positive friends. I also reached deep down into myself. You know, we can make or break our own days, rather our life with our attitude.
It is not only important to chin up and face the situation (which is captured in my favorite quote), but it is important to think positively, which goes a long way in overcoming the hurdles.
What was your favorite part of this story?
I have two favorite parts in this story. As an only child, I could relate to Ann’s loneliness. Thus, when I wrote that Ann got a pet rabbit, Velveteen that she had pined for, I really felt warm and fuzzy inside.
Of course, the ending is my favorite part. I do hope readers take Ann’s message to heart: “You need to tread on the path of wonder, joy and trust and you don’t need a magic lamp to achieve your dreams”.
How long did it take you to write it?
I think the photo-art really had a profound impact on me. I don’t think it took me more than two or three hours to type out this story. I finished it at one go. It is as if I knew what I would write, even as I began typing it.
Have you entered other contests?
This contest has spurred me on to enter other short story contests. The comments made by the judges, were very useful. I am keeping my fingers tightly crossed.
Do you have other works available (books, blogs, etc.)
Do you have a blog? Share URL
I love writing and blogging was the perfect avenue to share my thoughts with friends and readers who drop by and become friends. I do blog regularly. In fact, I have three very different blogs.
The Writer’s Cyberslate – which is my personal blog where I ramble on about what is relevant to me at that point of time. It ranges from an online driven story book collection drive for children in a slum school in South India, to my latest posts, which are my thoughts on destiny.
Being a tax consultant, I write a tax column for a newspaper in India, viz: The Economic Times. You can find these columns on my blog, Talking Tax. While tax can be a dreary subject, this column centers around an interesting character called Zenobia Aunty who takes pot shots at the draftsmen who come out with the most ambiguous laws possible. Readers love her and she gets quite a lot of fan-emails. Look up this blog for more.
I also used to review books (largely management books) for a professional journal. These reviews are on my blog, Books on my shelves. I also blogged about winning this contest and provided links to the winning entries.
Travelling and photography are other passions. While I have more or less hung up my travelling boots, my travel articles can largely be found on Bootsnall and once I managed to get a submission published in a book by Travelers’ Tales The Thong Also Rises, an anthology of misadventures.
Are you on Facebook, Twitter, other social networks where people can connect with you?
I would love to connect with writers, including aspiring writers, do tell me when you are a writer, if you send me an invite on LinkedIn.
What do you do when you are not writing? (Family, other work…)
My day job takes up a lot of time, but I love to spend time with family and friends. I also frequent LinkedIn, blog, post comments on other blogs, websurf and travel whenever I get the chance to get away.
Do you have any “words of wisdom” that you would like to share with our readers?
Life is a roller coaster ride. When you are down and out, believe that it is only temporary; soon you will be riding high again. Surround yourself with positive people and be positive yourself. Negativity kills.
At times, it may be difficult to tear yourself away from negative thoughts or even negative people, but JUST DO IT.
Two of my favorite reads (pick me up books are), Go Kiss the World by Subroto Bagchi and The Last Lecture by the Late Prof Randy Pausch with Jeffrey Zaslow. I am leaving you with the urls of my book reviews of these two great books.
Do you have a favorite character?
Late Prof Randy Pausch loved Tigger (Winnie the Pooh fame), so do I. We need to be like the fun loving Tigger even in the face of adversities.
Thank you Lubna for talking with Page Readers!
Showing posts with label visual arts junction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label visual arts junction. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Claire Gillian wins VAJ Hushed Recall Writing Contest in Amateur Category
Backroads Errand
by Claire Gillian
“When you see the red wagon wheel on the left side of the road, turn right and you’re there.” My mother’s thin voice had detailed the ten mile route to the only country store that carried her beloved Tastee Cakes. During her better days, she drove herself once a week.
I hadn’t lived in the back woods of North Carolina in over two decades, so I’d taken meticulous notes. Five turns, she’d told me, marked by a graffiti-covered boulder, a burnt trailer, a bait shop named Frosty’s, a volunteer fire station and a red wagon wheel.
After several wrong turns, I pulled into Lou’s Little Store and began my search. I scanned the most logical places, but couldn’t find any Tastee Cakes.
“Can I help you find somethin’, honey?” A blonde wearing foundation a shade too dark called out from behind the counter.
“I’m looking for Tastee Cakes.” I don’t normally ask for help in convenience stores. I shouldn’t have to because it’s supposed to be convenient which is supposed to mean easy to find.
“Sorry, we’re all out.” The woman walked to where I stood and pointed to a rack on my left. “But we got Little Debbie’s right here. They’s just as good.”
“No. I don’t want anything but Tastee Cakes. Are you sure you don’t have any in the back?” I began to gnaw on the inside of my mouth as I considered the consequences of returning empty-handed.
“I’m sure.” She shrugged and returned to her station behind the counter.
“Could you please check?” My breath came faster and my voice rose.
“There’s nowhere to check, honey. What you see is all we got.”
I caught a glimpse of a nearly naked man on the pages of the magazine she flipped. “Do you know any other places near here that sell Tastee Cakes?”
“No. Sorry. I think you should just try the Little Debbie’s. They’re fine.” Another naked man flashed by on a new page.
Hysteria shoved at the edge of my self-control. Between clenched teeth I said, “I don’t want Little Debbie. I want Tastee Cake! My mother used to come here every week for them. She doesn’t eat much these days, but I know she’ll eat one of those.” I choked back the tears that formed. If I hadn’t allowed myself to cry thus far, I’d be damned if I’d do it over a cupcake.
She put down her magazine and looked at me with new interest. “Is your mamma Miz Carolyn Teague?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? I got Miz Teague’s cakes right here.” She pulled out five packages of chocolate cup cakes and two coffee cakes from a box beneath the counter.
The cellophane wrapped treats caught the light and winked at me. “Oh. Oh, thank you so much.”
“You tell your mamma we’re prayin’ real hard for her.”
I nodded and fished out my wallet. “How much?”
She patted my hand, smiled and shook her head. “We don’t never charge for these.”
I exhaled the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d held and gave her a long teary smile. “Thank you.”
“See you next week?”
“I hope so.”
My mother’s cakes in hand, I began my trip home, making a left at the red wagon wheel.
Bio: Claire Gillian, The Word Busker, is a number-crunching executive by profession but an after hours writer by passion. With three completed novels, a fourth in process and countless short stories and flash fictions to her name, she’s currently dipping her toe into the publishing arena. Though her parents have lived in rural North Carolina for over thirty-five years, she’s been a Pacific Northwest transplant for the past sixteen, with previous stops in New Mexico and Texas.
by Claire Gillian
“When you see the red wagon wheel on the left side of the road, turn right and you’re there.” My mother’s thin voice had detailed the ten mile route to the only country store that carried her beloved Tastee Cakes. During her better days, she drove herself once a week.
I hadn’t lived in the back woods of North Carolina in over two decades, so I’d taken meticulous notes. Five turns, she’d told me, marked by a graffiti-covered boulder, a burnt trailer, a bait shop named Frosty’s, a volunteer fire station and a red wagon wheel.
After several wrong turns, I pulled into Lou’s Little Store and began my search. I scanned the most logical places, but couldn’t find any Tastee Cakes.
“Can I help you find somethin’, honey?” A blonde wearing foundation a shade too dark called out from behind the counter.
“I’m looking for Tastee Cakes.” I don’t normally ask for help in convenience stores. I shouldn’t have to because it’s supposed to be convenient which is supposed to mean easy to find.
“Sorry, we’re all out.” The woman walked to where I stood and pointed to a rack on my left. “But we got Little Debbie’s right here. They’s just as good.”
“No. I don’t want anything but Tastee Cakes. Are you sure you don’t have any in the back?” I began to gnaw on the inside of my mouth as I considered the consequences of returning empty-handed.
“I’m sure.” She shrugged and returned to her station behind the counter.
“Could you please check?” My breath came faster and my voice rose.
“There’s nowhere to check, honey. What you see is all we got.”
I caught a glimpse of a nearly naked man on the pages of the magazine she flipped. “Do you know any other places near here that sell Tastee Cakes?”
“No. Sorry. I think you should just try the Little Debbie’s. They’re fine.” Another naked man flashed by on a new page.
Hysteria shoved at the edge of my self-control. Between clenched teeth I said, “I don’t want Little Debbie. I want Tastee Cake! My mother used to come here every week for them. She doesn’t eat much these days, but I know she’ll eat one of those.” I choked back the tears that formed. If I hadn’t allowed myself to cry thus far, I’d be damned if I’d do it over a cupcake.
She put down her magazine and looked at me with new interest. “Is your mamma Miz Carolyn Teague?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? I got Miz Teague’s cakes right here.” She pulled out five packages of chocolate cup cakes and two coffee cakes from a box beneath the counter.
The cellophane wrapped treats caught the light and winked at me. “Oh. Oh, thank you so much.”
“You tell your mamma we’re prayin’ real hard for her.”
I nodded and fished out my wallet. “How much?”
She patted my hand, smiled and shook her head. “We don’t never charge for these.”
I exhaled the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d held and gave her a long teary smile. “Thank you.”
“See you next week?”
“I hope so.”
My mother’s cakes in hand, I began my trip home, making a left at the red wagon wheel.
Bio: Claire Gillian, The Word Busker, is a number-crunching executive by profession but an after hours writer by passion. With three completed novels, a fourth in process and countless short stories and flash fictions to her name, she’s currently dipping her toe into the publishing arena. Though her parents have lived in rural North Carolina for over thirty-five years, she’s been a Pacific Northwest transplant for the past sixteen, with previous stops in New Mexico and Texas.
Heather Spiva wins VAJ Hushed Recall Writing Contest in Professional Category
Moving
by Heather Spiva
I didn’t see it at first.
Maybe it was because the sun was setting and the endless spread of wheat in the sky blinded me. Even if this had been my view for almost twenty years, it still made me stop.
I hadn’t been gone forever; only away from the farm for a year. But when I rounded past the barn and took a short cut to the house, I tripped.
No one saw me fall. And if they did, I didn’t care. If living on my own taught me anything it was “get over yourself.” You know, as in, forget about your mistakes, keep moving forward; that type of thing. I wasn’t embarrassed by anything anymore; I didn’t have time for regrets.
I lay still, like the oak trees lining the perimeter to our property. With the cool, damp floor and smell of dry grass awaiting the dew of night, I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t get up. The grass had claws or something and this time, they had tied me to their fortress; waiting to eat me alive. I’m not sure how long I was there. But it was long enough to see the sky move, and watch the stars poke through their thick tapestry.
“Ellie? Ellie where are you?” I could hear anxiety in my sister’s voice. Sam was looking for me, but I could do it. I couldn’t get up. What was wrong with me? Maybe, I’d hurt my head harder than I thought.
I reached up to feel my head, but felt nothing.
Rolling onto my back, I breathed deep. The sky was fuchsia now, just like Mrs. Nelson’s flowers in her front patio. Surely, she would’ve cared to see me on the ground, floundering. Living with her had been different. She was old and senile; hated my skinny jeans and red lipstick. But it was her love of flowers; that was the tie that kept me paying $600 a month for a studio above the garage without a washroom.
I reached out, hitting my hand on metal. The sound of my mother’s engagement ring pinged softly on it. Flecks of rust tumbled off the rim, like crumpled sycamore leaves from November before the snow and after the heat.
Dad was the last one to use the tractor. He was the reason I tripped over it.
His stroke was unforeseen.
The cancer in mom, also unforeseen.
“Ellie? For Pete’s sake, I don’t have all night. I’ve got to get back home to the kids.”
I sighed. The only reason we were here was to figure out what to do with the house. I looked at the rust on the ring and put my hand behind my head, grinding the two elements into the dirt. The sky was black now, except for a faint glint of a sparkle on the horizon.
I wanted dad. I wanted him in his overalls. I wanted mom and her pies, and her thin hands working on the tractor engine.
“Ellie? What, are you dead?”
I raised my hand, heavy in memories and rust and diamonds. “Sam, I’m here.”
I got up, walked in and turned on the porch light. I paid over my share of the life insurance to Sam.
The house and barn had a new owner.
Bio: Heather Spiva is a freelance writer from Sacramento, CA. She loves reading and writing and spending lots of time with her two young boys and firefighter husband. When she has free time, which is rare, she spends it gardening or eating chocolate. heatherji@hotmail.com
by Heather Spiva
I didn’t see it at first.
Maybe it was because the sun was setting and the endless spread of wheat in the sky blinded me. Even if this had been my view for almost twenty years, it still made me stop.
I hadn’t been gone forever; only away from the farm for a year. But when I rounded past the barn and took a short cut to the house, I tripped.
No one saw me fall. And if they did, I didn’t care. If living on my own taught me anything it was “get over yourself.” You know, as in, forget about your mistakes, keep moving forward; that type of thing. I wasn’t embarrassed by anything anymore; I didn’t have time for regrets.
I lay still, like the oak trees lining the perimeter to our property. With the cool, damp floor and smell of dry grass awaiting the dew of night, I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t get up. The grass had claws or something and this time, they had tied me to their fortress; waiting to eat me alive. I’m not sure how long I was there. But it was long enough to see the sky move, and watch the stars poke through their thick tapestry.
“Ellie? Ellie where are you?” I could hear anxiety in my sister’s voice. Sam was looking for me, but I could do it. I couldn’t get up. What was wrong with me? Maybe, I’d hurt my head harder than I thought.
I reached up to feel my head, but felt nothing.
Rolling onto my back, I breathed deep. The sky was fuchsia now, just like Mrs. Nelson’s flowers in her front patio. Surely, she would’ve cared to see me on the ground, floundering. Living with her had been different. She was old and senile; hated my skinny jeans and red lipstick. But it was her love of flowers; that was the tie that kept me paying $600 a month for a studio above the garage without a washroom.
I reached out, hitting my hand on metal. The sound of my mother’s engagement ring pinged softly on it. Flecks of rust tumbled off the rim, like crumpled sycamore leaves from November before the snow and after the heat.
Dad was the last one to use the tractor. He was the reason I tripped over it.
His stroke was unforeseen.
The cancer in mom, also unforeseen.
“Ellie? For Pete’s sake, I don’t have all night. I’ve got to get back home to the kids.”
I sighed. The only reason we were here was to figure out what to do with the house. I looked at the rust on the ring and put my hand behind my head, grinding the two elements into the dirt. The sky was black now, except for a faint glint of a sparkle on the horizon.
I wanted dad. I wanted him in his overalls. I wanted mom and her pies, and her thin hands working on the tractor engine.
“Ellie? What, are you dead?”
I raised my hand, heavy in memories and rust and diamonds. “Sam, I’m here.”
I got up, walked in and turned on the porch light. I paid over my share of the life insurance to Sam.
The house and barn had a new owner.
Bio: Heather Spiva is a freelance writer from Sacramento, CA. She loves reading and writing and spending lots of time with her two young boys and firefighter husband. When she has free time, which is rare, she spends it gardening or eating chocolate. heatherji@hotmail.com
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Promotion ala Carte
GRAND OPENING SALE thru JULY 31. 30% OFF STORE WIDE
Page Readers has partnered with Aggie Villanueva and Visual Arts Junction to continue helping authors and others who offer services and products to "Launch" their work.
If you have written a book, offer a product or service of any kind and you need the promotional leg work done to get the word out, Promotional ala Carte could be what you are looking for.
There are many promotion companies out there who offer all kinds of services. The problem is that their cost can be prohibitive to people who are on tight budgets. It's a bit of a Catch 22: You know you have a great book, product or service, and once people start hearing about it you believe it will sell. The problem is getting that word out without spending the fortune you hope to make!
Promotional ala Carte offers a solution by giving clients a menu of options to chose from, all moderately priced. Start small by choosing one or two promotional products which will get you found in search engines or people talking in Social Media about you. Or chose a Bundle Package that will create even more excitement and name recognition.
And for a limited time, get your promotional items at a 30% discount - through July 31st.
Read more about Promotion ala Carte by clicking here.
Page Readers has partnered with Aggie Villanueva and Visual Arts Junction to continue helping authors and others who offer services and products to "Launch" their work.
If you have written a book, offer a product or service of any kind and you need the promotional leg work done to get the word out, Promotional ala Carte could be what you are looking for.
There are many promotion companies out there who offer all kinds of services. The problem is that their cost can be prohibitive to people who are on tight budgets. It's a bit of a Catch 22: You know you have a great book, product or service, and once people start hearing about it you believe it will sell. The problem is getting that word out without spending the fortune you hope to make!
Promotional ala Carte offers a solution by giving clients a menu of options to chose from, all moderately priced. Start small by choosing one or two promotional products which will get you found in search engines or people talking in Social Media about you. Or chose a Bundle Package that will create even more excitement and name recognition.
And for a limited time, get your promotional items at a 30% discount - through July 31st.
Read more about Promotion ala Carte by clicking here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)