Stories of Lotería

I've been asked by a lot of people, "So what are you working on now?" Honestly, before last Sunday I didn't have a straight answer because all I was working on was fragmented ideas followed by quick notes jotted down in my little purple notebook. But this past Sunday I attended the Bay Area Book Festival with my family and got the inspiration, motivation, support, kick in the ass (call it what you want) to make a decision. Next project will be a children's illustrated book I'm calling  The Big Brother Lessons: The Amazing Cape. A story about 2 young brothers, overcoming jealousy for a fantastic shared experience, and the wonders of a cape.  I've already written the first draft but I want to try to go the traditional publishing route this time, which means lots of submissions to publishers and months of waiting.  Got my narrowed down list of appropriate publishers, editing the next draft, and here I go.... Wish me luck! P.S. I haven...

I entered a Self-Published Book Contest a while back. Didn't win, but got a lovely push in the right direction . Note:  1= needs improvement, 5 = outstanding, 0 = n/a Structure, Organization, and Pacing: 4 Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar: 5 Production Quality and Cover Design: 5 Plot and Story Appeal: 4 Character Appeal and Development: 0 Voice and Writing Style: 4 Judge’s Commentary*: Saballos enthralls her reader with short atmospheric stories that pivot around the theme of various Loteria cards, for in the game of Loteria, the cards decide the fate of the players. I enjoyed the ghost stories and cared what became of Salvador. The image of his mother’s spirit coming to kiss her sleeping son is powerful. Likewise, the story of Emilia Medina’s hearing music and finding a bundle of money under her pillow and having a sore forearm gave me goosebumps. Alberto’s untimely end at the hands of Senor Ibarro is tragic and the tale is potent, d...

amazon.com/author/christinasaballos   

Some of the faces behind In the Cards ... Las Jaras & El Musico Emilia Macias, her daughter Pachita, and her son Salvador El Cantarito, El Cazo, La Muerte Elena Medina (formerly Elena Tapia) Las Jaras, El Musico, El Cantarito, El Cazo, La Muerte Salvador Medina La Botella (the instigating little brothers) Albert, Richard, David & Bill Medina  El Violoncello Salvador Medina Jr.               El Valiente George Medina El Melon (the 3 vengeful little cousins) Lorrie, Arlene, Christina In the Cards: A Collection of Memories Inspired by Lotería By  Christina Saballos

Friends & Family Book-Signing, hosted by my Mom September 30, 2017 Just a few snapshots from the day, and some nice sentiments..... "Now I have some history to share with my grandchildren. What a generational blessing..." -Lupe M. "IN THE CARDS by Christina Saballos has made the Chicano community and the Chicano family a part of the American national narrative." -Ralph G. "Makes you want more." -Ivan S.                            "It's a great book. Can't wait for the next one." -Linda E.                                                     

*Stories of Lotería is now a book titled In the Cards: A Collection   of Memories Inspired by Lotería. *Available NOW as an ebook at Xlibris.com. *Ebook and softcover copies soon to be available on Amazon.com   and BarnesandNoble.com.

Anyone who has spent at least 15 minutes with my oldest son, Benicio, has surely caught on to the fact that he adores flags. He's made us borrow I Witness: Flags from the library the maximum 4 times in a row (on 3 separate occasions). For 3 months straight we had to read this book to him before bed and could recite the introduction on command, completely by memory, and on occasion against our will. He draws flags, paints flags, comes home from school with flag illustrations all over his work, hangs flags of his own design up all over the house, and as an added bonus can sing the corresponding national anthem of about 7-10 different country flags (thanks YouTube). We've speculated that his adoration could lead to a career as a foreign diplomat, ambassador, UN representative, or heck -a flag designer. Countries, states, sports steams, special events, and even the rainbow flag - he loves them all. Here's a picture if you don't believe me:

40 page manuscript. 17 cards. 17 stories. Submitted. Now, we wait.

Meet Edith Alvarez. My amiga for over 10 years and talented photographer. Her photos, visual interpretations of my stories along with its corresponding Loteria card, will be featured in my upcoming book, In The Cards- A Collection of Memories Inspired by Loteria . I've had the most fun working on some of these photos with her. She's dodged trains, ransacked thrift stores, and loitered music shops to try to get the best shot. I can't wait to see the final pics!

Photo Credit: Edith Alvarez Stories of Lotería will be published as a book entitled,  In The Cards - A Collection of Memories Inspired by Lotería. Due to come out this year. Stay tuned!

The rain persisted. Winter had brought, it seemed, an endless stream of water no one was prepared for, leading eventually to busted dams, overflowing rivers, collapsed roads, and uprooted foundations. Weather conditions mirrored the political climate in so much as torrential opposition increased and all that hope and faith is built on was buckling beneath insurmountable pressure. Tiempo de Aguas , is what my grandma had referred to once when sharing her stories - a time of great rains that brought with it a sense of reckoning. I listened to the beat of the drops, waiting for sleep to come. A humming serenade hitting my roof. A tinny drip-drip-drip syncopation falling from the awning to the medal garden-turtle below. Fatter base-line plops landing carelessly in the water-filled planter closest to my bedroom window. I let the rain spill into my sleep. I awoke to quiet radiance. No more rain, but a sunlight stretched so far it was white, not yellow. My bed wavered beneath me, a gent...

I tossed around a few possibilities for the writing of La Rosa. It could be the name of a relative I've never met, but heard stories of from my Grandma, like El Musico. Or similar to La Palma, it could be the point-of-view of an actual flower as it quietly witnesses events from its roots in the garden. Neither idea felt inspired, but then two unrelated events occurred within a week of each other and La Rosa began to take on a new meaning for me. My husband and I took our two boys for an outing last week.  We drove for about 12 minutes to the Rosie the Riveter WWII Home Front National Historic Park in Richmond - a beautiful location at the northern tip of the Richmond Harbor. We had heard about this place, so close to our house, a few years ago but had never made the time to visit - a shame, in my opinion, because I adore the female empowering We Can Do It image of the strong woman in a mechanics suit with red & white scarf in her hair. Twice, I've dressed as Rosie for Ha...

His first murder was in the summer of 1984. From March through June of the following year he killed ten people in the cities of Rosemead, Montery Park, Monrovia, Burbank and Pico Rivera. I lived in East L.A, a nearby city. A very nearby city. 1985 was Los Angeles' hottest summer in 100 years. Thick, wool-blanket-heat covered the city and suffocated in its inhabitants the slightest hint of motivation. I was 7 years old. My cousins Lorrie and Arlene were 7 and 9, respectively. My childhood summers cannot be recalled without them. Each of us was the youngest sibling, drawn to each other by the same sense of mischief and curiosity. Neither of us big fans of dolls or mini plastic baking ovens, I think we watched movies like The Goonies and Monster Squad while imagining ourselves as those brave, adventure-seeking youngsters. We spent most of our days in and around Arlene's house - a white single-story, three-bedroom in San Gabriel, with a detached garage and an overgrown backyard -...

In March of 2011 I was laid off work, living in San Diego, and Ricky and I were expecting Benicio's arrival. To pass the time I started this blog. 5 years and 19 loteria cards later it's still here - my project from the heart. Might be time to self-publish,  hmmmm. Next card up - El Sol

In January of 1947 Salvador and Elena moved into a house in the city of Moorpark. Located in Ventura County, 50 miles northwest of Downtown Los Angeles, Moorpark was rumored to be named after a type of apricot. Many fertile fields and crops, primarily apricots, populated the budding community; and with them were hardworking families making an honest living off of the land. The couple moved into the beautiful ranch-style structure with their three children, and thought they had hit the jackpot. An expansive lawn, wide porches all around the four outside walls, and sunlit views of fields surrounded by rolling hills - an exterior that offered luminous rays of hope and lush promises. Inside, the house was dead. The front door opened into a main (once-living) space covered in dreary layers of dust, stagnant air, and rat droppings. Yes, the rats surely made their home in the nooks and crannies of torn upholstery and occupied cabinets and shelves. The couple was surprised to find the hous...

Hmmm, for the next post I got a few ideas brewing.....any suggestions? La Bandera - The Flag :  a group of high-school buddies now in their late 20s reunite for a Labor Day weekend wedding across the border that leads into some unexpected hijinx . La Bota - The Boot :  sweet, Catholic school pre-teens turn Mean Girls when one of their own "betrays" the group. El Sol - The Sun:  during the hottest recorded summer in LA history, a young girl experiences death  for the first time while The Nightstalker attacks the city.

Mr. Dale G. Clark, retired interior designer and current Berkeley eccentric, could be heard delicately stepping on the marble floor in the wooden clogs he wore every day. Not what we called a High Value Customer at Strawberry Creek Bank, as his accounts totaled only a couple thousand, he was a regular whose presence was welcomed because it meant break time for the lucky teller who assisted him. On this particular day it was me - only I wish it hadn't been. "Good afternoon, Mr. Clark," I sang as I locked my station drawers and computer. "Hello there, Miss Christina. I'd like to go to my safe deposit box, please." "Of course, Mr. Clark." Our shoes clicked on the lobby floor - his clogs , my sensible work heels - until we reached the grand flight of stairs that ended in the vault room. Strawberry Creek Bank, Berkeley Main - established in 1910 - actually housed four vaults. Each one in the basement, two for business use, and two for customer us...

Do you enjoy a good ghost story? The mystery and wonder of the circumstances. The goosebump-inducing details.  Maybe you're a believer who has had an experience of your own - or waiting for that day.  Have you considered the underlying sadness that often accompanies these tales of the unexplained? Some believe grief over the loss of a loved one, like an arrow that has pierced through the heart, creates a longing so intense that you call the spirit world to you. Who wouldn't want to see that person once more, feel their presence beside them once more, or willingly go against all rational understanding just to heal the wound for that brief moment? And yet, here is a story about a spirit who doesn't let go.  Doesn't it make sense that they grieve, too? A pearl-colored glow dripped from the crescent that hung high against the black felt sky and seeped through the open window of the dark bedroom. It wasn't a noise or even one of those sudden jerks of the leg that ya...

My blog reached 5000 pageviews! I think that's pretty awesome for a small-timer like me. Thank you, readers and followers. Next card up....Las Jaras (The Arrows).

Back in 2000 I started recording family ghost stories as told to me by my Mom, my Grandma, and letters from my Aunt Socorro. Around that time I was taking an English course on memoirs and for an assignment I presented those family ghost stories as if they were being told to me and my other cousins by our Uncle George. Why did I choose my Uncle George as the storyteller? Because I (and my cousins who were present) share a vivid memory of one night we were all at his house, in my cousin Lorrie's room, waiting for him to tell us a ghost story. I can't remember what his story was about (something about an old outhouse) but the anticipation and excitement are what fuels this memory. That and the 10 feet leap into Uncle George's lap that cousin Desiree took when Ruben pounded on the window from the backyard! Here is the introduction to that memoir assignment, exactly as I wrote it, almost exactly as I remember it.  The girls piled themselves onto the cushy queen-sized bed, wrap...