The Gift of Time

     It took my friend and fellow writer, Bill Marley, 17 years to write 21 Yerger Street, his first novel. Hearing that made me think about the gift of time.

     And it made me pause when reading a profile of Junot Diaz, and learning that after his debut story collection, Diaz didn't produce another book for a dozen years.  That book, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, was his Pulitzer prize-winning first novel.  Then there is journalist, Isabel Wilkerson, one of my heroes.  The Warmth of Other Suns is her non-fiction masterwork.  Last summer Wilkerson told a sold out audience at the Schomburg Library in Harlem, "If my book had been a person, it would have been a teenager by the time it reached readers."
     It's inspiring to know these authors kept going as time came and went.  For me, their books, each in its own way, shed more light on the struggle to fit in in America, to find one's place in the world.
    Wilkerson's book is a brilliant account of The Great Migration from 1915 to 1970 when six million black Southerners fled a crushing Jim Crow caste system, seeking better lives "up north."
   Diaz's hero, Oscar, is a Dominican Republic-born, nerdy fat kid and writer wannabe, burdened with a curse, searching for love and stumbling through life in, among other places, Paterson, New Jersey.
    Bill Marley's white teen-aged protagonist lives in Depression-era Mississippi where he watches the people next door and learns things that rock his world, things that would shock his upright unsuspecting family.
    I've heard all three authors in public readings of their work.  Bill Marley sat down with me for an interview about his writing life.
    Marley started writing his novel in the first of four summer novel-writing workshops at the University of Iowa.  "It was a writing community, more bookstores than TV antennas," he says.

       
   We are  in the Innavore art gallery space on the ground floor of Marley's home in Pennsylvania.  And as he recalls those Iowa days, his face softens, his eyes light up and he is transported back to where the long gestation of his book began.
   Marley describes how each summer he climbed into his car, loaded a books-on-tape version of Hero of a Thousand Faces, narrated by Joseph Campbell himself, into his cassette player and headed west.  One thousand, one hundred and thirty miles later he arrived in Iowa City.  "It was heaven, just great," Marley says of the idyllic hours spent in a community of writers---novices as well as seasoned authors---working on craft and learning from one another's work.  "I would still be there if it was still going," he says.  But times changed and the Elderhostel program that sponsored the workshops fell by the wayside.
     Gone was Marley's writing family, his circle of careful listeners.  And though Marley was sad and disappointed, he was grateful to walk away from the last workshop with two good things: A completed first draft of his budding novel and  "a note from the instructor wishing me well."
     Back home, Marley tucked the draft---and the note---away.  "I put it in a drawer and it sat there while I was working on plays."  Marley was an established playwright and lyricist back east, and a cabaret performer who founded his own theatre, Hauska House, In Pennsylvania's Pocono mountain resort area.
     Performing kept Marley busy while the first draft of his novel slumbered on, until a friend invited him to join the Greater Lehigh Valley Writer's Group, and that stirred something in him.  "The guilt trip that the novel was still there in my computer."  Marley accepted his friend's invitation, started meeting regularly with a critique group and slowly breathed new life into his novel.
     Two main characters draw readers into 21 Yerger Street.   One of them is 14 year old Tom, curious, watchful and naive.  Like Tom, Marley grew up in Mississippi and when I ask if his debut novel is autobiographical he replies, not missing a beat, "Very definitely.  You write what you know and I know my childhood.  The difference is the story is all fiction, but the young boy is through my eyes."  In other words all the goings on at 21 Yerger Street once the new tenants move in is completely made up.  Though, again like Tom,  Marley did live next door to a house that stood empty for awhile.  "So I peopled it," he says, grinning with the pride and satisfaction of a true fiction writer.  The neighbors Marley gives to Tom expose the boy to worlds deeply foreign to his genteel middle class upbringing.  By story's end Tom is changed, wise beyond his 14 years and knowing secrets he may never share.
     When I compliment Marley on the cinematic quality of his storytelling, especially a scene in the end, he says, "I just imagined I was there and what I would see."
     Marley self-published his novel and in September he held a proof copy of it in his hands for the first time.  "I really was just 'Wow!' God this is beautiful."
     In time, everything changes, even publishing.  What was once traditional in the book industry is being undone and rearranged by technology and the explosion of social media.  Who dreamed 17 years ago that indie publishing would demand respect?  That writers like Marley would get new opportunities to put their work before readers?  That in a world flooded with "content" authors would be challenged to put on the hats of marketers and entrepreneurs in order make themselves known?
     Marley says the e-book and print version sales of 21 Yerger Street are going well, locally. And though his first royalty check might just about cover the cost of a modest dinner out, Marley's hopes are high that there will be many more readers and more royalties.


www.bywilliammarley.com  
www.amazon.com  for both print and e-books
and e-books on all platforms


 

Lipstick on the Queen (repost from2009)

                                                                        

Was this a faux pas or simply the friendly gesture of one young woman toward a much older one?

I'm talking about America's First Lady, Michelle Obama, putting an arm around the back of Britain's Queen Elizabeth . It happened when eager photographers snapped the two women together at a reception after the Obama's visit with the British monarch and her husband. The couple's Buckingham Castle stop was on President Obama's G20 economic summit itinerary.

To hear CNN and other news media tell it tonight, Michelle Obama committed a newsworthy no-no by laying an arm and hand on the queenly back. It's considered out of line for a mere mortal to touch the occupant of the British throne, no matter how well-meaning the gesture. Never mind that the 6-foot Mrs. Obama could have been feeling a bit of compassion for the tiny Highness. Think about it. The Queen's been stuck in the same job for almost 60 years, has to wear white gloves most of the time and constantly carry a pocketbook (what could she possibly have in it?) even while meeting people in her own castle! Worse than all that, the Queen looks to have become the incredile shrinking woman. Although, next to the Obama's, both of the royals look...well, Lilliputian.

Which just goes to show that nature runs its course no matter what titles we humans bestow on one another. Queen, King, first lady, or president---we all grow old and shrink over time. Underneath all the titles, the pomp and circumstance, we are all only human, subject to human frailty.

In 1965, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip paid a visit to Trinidad, a former colony. It just so happened that I was there, too, on my honeymoon in Port-of-Spain. Because my then-husband's aunt held a high post in the Trinidadian equivalent of the US Veteran's Administration, he and I got to stand among the veterans to be reviewed by the royals in a local park.

As the designated hour arrived, several dozen neatly uniformed schoolchildren standing just outside the park and holding miniature flags of both countries began waving them. In the waiting crowd a wave of sound built to a roar that continued to swell as the royal entourage approached in their gleaming black Rolls Royces, pulled up and came to a stop. Out stepped, what I could only guess were the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and her consort's aides, and the monarchs themselve. Inside the park, the Queen, trailed by Prince Phillip passed slowly down the line of elderly WW11 veterans. The old gents bowed as the royals passed. But I, ever the curious reporter, decided at the last minute to continue unbowed in order to get a close up look at a real queen. What I remember most about her, was the downy fuzz of hair on her forearms, her pale complexion, her immaculate white gloves, a pocketbook hanging from one royal wrist, and her smile, especially her smile. I will always remember her smile because there on one of her front teeth was a very noticeable smear of bright red lipstick!
That dab of wandered off lipstick showed me that all of us, even queens with ladies-in-waiting, will have our off days.

You Have No Idea

 

    You Have No Idea, is a book just out by Vanessa Williams and her mother, Helen Williams. It sent me to my archives for this piece I wrote for Right On/CLASS magazine about Vanessa's first official appearance as Miss America, 1984. Vanessa, just twenty years old at the time, told me that determination was what she most admired about herself.  No doubt that's what drove her to keep going when an early nude photo of her surfaced and she lost her crown in the ensuing scandal.  The character trait she drew on when dealing  with other personal and professional ups and downs over the years. 

    Much has changed in the culture since Vanessa Williams' win in 1984. But determination may be something we need now more than ever. What do you think?

Story, Story, Story

It’s all about the story. That’s the message I heard repeated like a mantra at BookExpoAmerica (BEA) and Blogworld & New Media Expo NY, the huge happening for all things book-related held May
24-26 at New York’s Javits Center.
Publishers, book sellers, authors and some top notch workshop leaders (an estimated 20,000 total attendees) had a lot to say. Michael Margolis broke the storytelling message down most convincingly. His presentation on how to recognize and tell your own story in a way that makes you known and gives value to the reader was full of good info for creating your author, blogger or website bio. http://www.getstoried.com/ and Michael@getstoried.com
I needed no convincing about the importance of story. Back in the day, when Eyewitness News changed the face and presentation of local television news nationwide, I was a general assignment reporter and anchor and had the chance to experience the power of persuasive storytelling first hand. The concept was revolutionary for the news biz then and still resonates despite people who confuse the concept of first hand storytelling with “happy talk” tv news.
When not talking story, folks weighed in on the explosive growth of e-book sales and e-book reading devices. Or debated the pros (mostly) and cons (not many) of social media, a subject about which everybody I met had an opinion. Gary Vaynerchuk, author of The Thank You Economy, takes exception to the term “social media.” More than media, he says that term attempts to describe a cultural shift in the way we use the Internet. http://www.garyvaynerchuk.com/
Malloy book publisher’s exhibit caught my eye http://www.malloy.com/ and Stephanie Barker steph_barker@malloy.com was quick with answers to my questions about self-publishing and books-on-demand.
Thanks to Sandra Lee Schubert http://www.wildwomannetwork.com/, blog radio host, social media strategist and a friend who goes way back with me, I made the most of my time. A veteran of past BEA conferences , she guided me through the myriad of exhibits and workshops, so many they made my head spin.
Finally, think on this: there are 18 million creative writers today who want to reach 65 million consumers who spend five hours a week reading in a rapidly shifting storytelling environment.

Remembering Gordon

I’m thinking about Gordon Parks a lot lately because his birthday just passed at the end of November. He would have been 98. Another reason he’s been on my mind, I just recently spent three nights in a row in bed with his novel “The Sun Stalker.”

“The Sun Stalker” is so good, the story held me in its grip both as a reader and a writer. The main character is JMW Turner, the British landscape painter (1775-1851) whose achievements in art have been compared to Shakespeare’s in the realm of literature. It is simply breathtaking to witness how he renders the glare of the sun over land and water, and captures atmosphere and light in his seascapes and in his historical and mythological subjects. Turner was also a prolific artist, producing more than 20,000 paintings and drawings in his 60-year career.

Gordon Parks, possibly the most famous of Life magazine photographers, once told me that Turner had been an important influence in his own work. Turner was also an inspiration to the Scottish poet, Harry Craig, who said he once saw a Parks photograph in an exhibition that immediately reminded him of Turner’s painting, A Storm at Sea.

Together, the photographer and the poet tried to interest Hollywood in a movie about Turner’s life and work. But they got nowhere. One producer even nixed the idea, mistaking Turner the painter, with Nat Turner, leader of a slave rebellion and subject of a novel by William Styron. Before his death, poet Craig made Gordon promise to keep pursuing their movie idea. Though the movie never materialized, the idea morphed into Gordon’s novel.

In his handling of “The Sun Stalker”, Gordon is a cinematic story teller. He sometimes cuts from one scene to another in the way a movie director might film them. And no wonder. Gordon Parks was a filmmaker in addition to his many other talents: poet, composer, musician, memoirist, documentary maker.

Gordon, a black American man, was born into a harsh life on the Kansas prairie just 12 years into the 20th century, and details of his life are well known. By contrast, details of Turner’s real life remain mostly a mystery beyond the fact that he was the son of a London wigmaker. Despite their differences, the two artists had in common their rich imaginations and their keen observations of the telling details.

That Gordon could so fully imagine the trials and triumphs of a painting prodigy, make believable the people, places and events he might have experienced, and transport the readers to that other time and place and hold them there reveals a fabulous story teller at work. It’s what I think we all hope for as writers and readers. I know I do. I’m so grateful to Gordon Parks for leaving the legacy of his inspiring words and pictures.

The Race

I don’t know anyone whose life hasn’t been touched by breast cancer---either up close or at a distance. And, whether we recognize it or not, we are all in the struggle to come up with a cure.

I say this because we sometimes take actions unconsciously---not thinking about the consequences.

For instance, when we buy certain products, everything from greeting cards to cars to yogurt, part of the purchase price may be going to help fund breast cancer research, education and support services. We may be donating without even realizing it, not doing so consciously and deliberately.

I have lost people who were the closest to me---relatives and friends-- to breast cancer. And I have some who are breast cancer survivors. With the disease striking so close to me, I grow fearful every year as the date approaches for my annual mammogram and breast exam. There have been times when I let the date pass, postpone it ‘til I can’t ignore the voice asking me about my fear and assuring me that I can face it down.

I’m lucky and I know it. I have seen the same wise and wonderful radiologist, Dr. Gail Phillips, for the last 15 years or so. We met when I worked for News 12 Long Island at a time when activists in the area were searching for clues to why breast cancer incidence seemed unusually high in their communities.

Dr. Phillips goes over my x-rays with me, calmly pointing out the tiny calcifications present in my breast tissue. She explains why some look suspicious and others don’t. When she thought biopsies were called for, I had them. About three times. Each time they have come back negative. Dr. Phillips is as relieved as I am when after she reviews my mammogram, she can say, “OK, Melba, everything’s fine.” I return to the changing room grateful, grateful, grateful.

So, I’m thinking that when the Komen NYC Race for the Cure sets off in Central Park on Sunday, September 12, I will consciously, deliberately make my gratitude manifest. Give some bucks and put on my walking shoes. (I’m not a runner).

REGISTER AT KOMENNYC.ORG/RACE

STRINGS ATTACHED

Last Friday, August 27, was one of those “You should have been there” evenings. There was Trenton, NJ. Not a place I especially associate with extraordinary violinists or out-of-this-world modern dance. Just goes to show how wrong some assumptions can be.

The occasion was a fundraising held in the War Memorial/Patriots Theater, an architecturally stately building that surely has its own story to tell. On this night, a ballroom full of peaceful patriots turned out to give financial and moral support to The Conservancy (NJ). The Conservancy (NJ)is both a place and a dream. It is becoming a center where young people and artists come together for learning and teaching. Think of art in the broadest sense of the word and you’ll be in tune with Sterick and Jacqui Ivey. They are the driving force in resurrecting the historic Trenton Conservatory of Music--where young Jacqui Ivey took piano lessons-- as The Conservancy (NJ). They envision a place where children engage in all sorts of artistic expressions from cooking to drumming. "There’s a lot of talent in Trenton” she says. Given the current cutbacks in public school art programs, Jacqui Ivey feels the need is urgent, and she is determined to nourish young talent while promoting local artists and arts events in the process.

The benefit performances were stunning, with The Wesley Drears Duo, Dancespora and the Scott Tixier Group taking turns on stage. Scott, just 24 yrs old, is an amazing jazz violinist (with a ‘fro that won’t quit). A native of France who now calls Brooklyn home, Tixier is winning kudos within New York’s jazz musician community.
His energy and virtuosity got me thinking about the late Noel Pointer,the brilliant jazz violinist,record producer and social activist who I admired and once interviewed. Pointer, also a Brooklynite, died of a stroke in '94 just before he would have turned 40. As an activist, he led fellow artists in raising public awareness around the controversial dismantling of the African Burial Grounds in lower Manhattan. His legacy also includes a foundation and a music school. Empowering Children One Note At A Time was the mission of Noel Pointer. I am inspired and feel the thread of our human connectedness when I see people like Scott Tixier and Eric Thomas, a Trenton elementary school teacher,---and others--joining with the Iveys in that same spirit and commitment.Check out the web info on Scott Tixier and Noel Pointer. And learn more about the Iveys work: www.theconservatorynj.com
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