Behind the fictitious world of Ginecea, the real Earth

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Several decades ago, there was this girl who hoped she was a boy. Not because she didn’t like being a girl, but because she had been taught boys could do everything they wanted in life. It deeply angered her, but she didn’t think she could do anything about it. And so she grew, ugly duckling she was, with a black and white sense of right and wrong. She couldn’t stomach the injustices dealt on daily basis on the weaker links. She knew first hand.

The girl became a woman and had kids, a girl and a boy. She raised them to believe they could reach the moon and beyond if they wanted. Then, one day, she woke from a long, fuzzy dream and realized she could too travel to the end of the universe and back if she only dared. So she started writing. The first attempts were laudable, but lacked in fire. She needed to dig inside her soul to find the spark to ignite others’ minds. The answer was there, before her eyes. Kids were being bullied nowadays not because of belonging to the wrong, lesser gender, but because their affections were seen as sinful. Kids her children’s age lost the will to live in a society that wouldn’t accept them. Some of her dormant anger woke. She knew that society rules change and what is accepted now wasn’t a century ago.

What if, she thought, our world had evolved in a different way?

While listening to a woman standup comedian talking about the imminent demise of men due to the possibility of cloning oneself, several questions formed in her mind. What if our Earth was ruled by a matriarchal society? What if heterosexual love was considered a perversion? Who decides what’s right and wrong then? What happens to life as we know it?

Ginecea, the land of the women, was born that day. And with it the people inhabiting it with their hopes and dreams, strengths and flaws. Mauricio, the slave, and Rosie, the President’s daughter. Pax, the young, wealthy socialite, and Prince, a man who despite his name can’t decide of his own life. Couples who met by mistake and couldn’t help to fall in love. Men and women who have to fight to obtain the most basic right: the freedom to live their lives. But society is a behemoth whose power is gained and maintained by herding people, making them believe there is only one way to live. You are either in or out.

Thankfully, there’s always someone who thinks fighting for human rights is important. Or so the girl who turned to be a woman who went on writing believes. Even when the wrongs are made up.

Behind the fictitious world of Ginecea, the real Earth

Friday Snippet #4

In the last two or three days, I haven’t written a lot. Probably, I needed a break, but it doesn’t feel right. My e-social life on the other hand has thrived and I had time to read the remarkable words of some fellow authors. And that is all good and well.

Today snippet is from TCOM again. Verena has just showed Marie her new living quarters at Redfarm.

Marie shrugged at the recent memories. Idra had saved her from the ire of an elder more than once. “When I’ll be an elder, I’ll never be like them.” A promise she had worded every time Idra had rescued her. Idra. What are you doing now? Dinner time at the Institute had already come and gone. Are you singing by the fire with Joanna and Marcia? They had sung every time one of their friends had left the Institute to learn a profession somewhere else. Are you singing for me? Do you miss me already? Marie had been so excited to leave the Institute, she hadn’t realized she was indeed leaving it for good.

“I never thought bathrooms could get people so emotional.” Verena laughed.

Marie got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw her eyes were liquid and a tear was hanging to her eyelashes. “The separate stalls undid me.”

Friday Snippet #4

Happily Dizzy

Pax is officially in the hand of the proofreaderDCP_7037 and I should be writing my daily quota of words for my wips, but I can’t. I’m too happy. It’s paralyzing. In the last three days, I’ve received two, not one, but two, amazing reviews for The Priest. The first is from an author, Javier Robayo who wanted to read it. The second is from a blogger I reached out to. In both cases, I was nervous about the result for different reasons.

Javier I’ve come to know and consider a kindred soul. I never ask people I know to read what I write. I don’t stop anybody, but I don’t encourage them either. It wouldn’t be fair to put them in a situation where they didn’t like the story but still felt they had to say something nice to me. I like honesty, but I understand it’s not easy to tell a friend, “Look, I truly hated your book, because of this, this, and also that.” Therefore, when Javier told me he’d bought the book and wanted to write a review about it, I hoped I didn’t let him down. It seems I have not.

Regarding the second review, I was nervous because I reached out to the blogger asking for her time. Finding bloggers who accept materials that is not YA is a time consuming task. I spend several hours every week looking for a book blogger who is willing to take a look at a science fiction/dystopian title meant for a mature audience. So far, I’ve found only a handful of them. Every time I send a copy to a blogger, I feel I’m sending my baby into the wild without a word of advice. Today, I was surprised  to find the blogger’s review on Goodreads, and she didn’t spare nice words. Thankfully, Mauricio passed the test again.

I know the day will come when my books will have terrible reviews. For now, I’m just happily dizzy. Cheers!

Happily Dizzy

Friday Snippet #3

Seven days have passed already. I’ve slept little or nothing, as my mind was busy thinking what I wanted to add in the final editing of Pax. Now that everything is done, I feel at the same time ecstatic and drained, but in a good way.

This week snippet is actually a surprise from my newest wip, one  I’ve only started last week. Here is one of the first paragraphs from the T.C.O.M.

“I can’t get away from here faster enough.” She had said that so many times, the other girls had started repeating the words to her as a joke. I really can’t get away from here soon enough. She walked to the end of the room and looked at herself in the long mirror precariously hang to the wall. A pale blond, big blue eyed, freckled-skinned girl looked back at her. “Why you so gloom?” She went back to her bunk bed and jumped on, shoeless feet dangling down toward Idra’s bed. Idra hated when she did that. “Move away those dirty feet from my face.” Marie did that on purpose, she liked when Idra got all mad at her; her dark eyes staring up, her mouth pouting. It was worth the trouble, because Idra couldn’t stay mad long. He laugh was what had attracted Marie to her. Now, someone else was going to sleep over Idra’s bed. This is what I want, a chance to better my life.

Friday Snippet #3

Friday Snippet #2

It’s Friday again. Time flies when you’re having fun writing two different projects and editing the last four chapters of the novel you want to publish shortly. On related news, thanks to my extraordinaire editor, Pax in the Land of Women is almost ready to see the proofreader. Oh, incommensurable joy.

This Friday snippet is from my fantasy wip, Notturno, again. Dalia is in big trouble. It’s sundown and Aragon being a diurnal has fallen into a comatose sleep. She’s just being kidnapped by a man and a woman. She can only hear their voices as she’s carried like a sack of potatoes on the man’s shoulders…

She hoped it was a bizarre dream and she would wake any moment now. The man carrying her walked at a brisk pace, climbing and stepping down at ease, as if she didn’t add any weight to his body. From what she could feel, the man wasn’t as large as Aragon, but, within the confined space of what it must have been a jute sack, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Who knows how much he would’ve fetched for this one?”

“She’s not much, is she? Diurnal women are normally bigger.”

“Did we get a child?”

Again with the child. I’m no child.

“No, she must be young, but she’s definitely adult enough…” The man seemed to be thinking of his next words carefully. “When I was picking her up, I—”

“You what?”

Yes, you what, idiot?

“I didn’t do it on purpose! What are you thinking that I’d check her out?” The man’s voice had that distinct quality associated with being worried and embarrassed at the same time.

“You better not.”

“Of course not! Who do you think I am? An uncivilized diurnal? Anyway, she’s a scrawny little thing. I don’t think the Venerables were going to pay much for her.”

Friday Snippet #2

Friday Snippets!

Today I learned of something called Friday Snippets, thanks to Clare who tweeted about it. The idea is to post every Friday a sample of your work in progress to share your writing with the rest of the blogosphere and the twitterverse. Loved the idea and, although is already Friday night, it’s still Friday here in my neck of the woods. I also had quite the productive day. I wrote my daily quota of 2k and I finished and also sent a guest blog post, so I can be excused for my tardiness.

Without further ado, here is my Friday Snippet from my brand new project, a fantasy tale. Working title is Notturno. The two characters are Dalia and Aragon. She lives in the darkness and he thrives under the sun.

“Kirby is my dog’s name.”

“Well, he likes my food.” And, as on clue, Kirby left her lap to jump on Aragon’s.

“I see…”

“He likes me.” Aragon smiled at Kirby. “Isn’t it true that you like me very much, Kirby?”

“He likes you all right; you gave him food and shelter.”

A different kind of smile made his eyes shine. “Does it mean you like me as well?”


“I gave you shelter and I did offer you food.” His right eyebrow shot high, his lips curving up slightly.

“I don’t know you!” Dalia should have felt more shocked and added some of the lacking shock to the tone. “How dare you. I’m betrothed.” Funny how that detail came up, when she would constantly rebuke Martin for saying so.

“Don’t get too worked up, I’m married.”

“You are?” Her mouth hanged open.


She scooped away from him, treacherous disappointment creeping through her feelings. “I must go back.”

Friday Snippets!

I, First Person Plural

Monica contrasto per twitterI, my name is Monica, but not always. During the day, I multiply myself. It’s the new schizophrenia. SMMPD. Social media multiple personality disorder. I’m not alone. We’re a growing community of people who juggle through the ether, struggling to connect.  We change name as we change hats. Our strength is in the numbers. Our weakness is in the transient nature of our interactions. We must be present, always. Forever connected, is our credo. We forge friendships in 140 characters and when we’re sent to twitter jail, we travel in throngs to facebook where we finish the conversations started earlier. Then we  move to our blogs. But sometimes, it isn’t enough. Thankfully, we can pm or dm as long as our heart desires. Of course, we all contribute to discussions on forums, sub-forums, facebook groups… Finally, at the end of our day, we start again, our peeps on the other side of the world waking up, eager to know what happened while they were sleeping. Meanwhile, if we could create an omnibus out of all the characters sacrificed to the altar of online communication, we would have published the new Divina Commedia, War and Peace, Ulysses all combined. Unfortunately, my wip is waiting for me to notice it’s stuck at 300 words. It could be worse, it could be raining… Wait, I live in Seattle!

I, First Person Plural