What If You Could Not Fail

My Handwriting Needs Help

Last week I had the occasion to write a note to someone, and I was confronted with the hideousness of my handwriting. There was a time, some thirty years ago, that it was not that bad. Now it is almost illegible to everyone but me.

It is not a matter of not having to practice it. From my days as a freelance journalist, I have become a habitual note taker. I am never far away from a pad, and I almost always have a pen with me. But these are notes for my eyes only.

Indeed, it has been years since I ever truly wrote anything. At some point I decided that printing was the better option. Even that scawl is horrid, though.

So, here I am, confronted with this note to a client, and it should be a handwritten note. I had to write it over three times before I had something with which I was even remotely happy.

I once worked with a woman who was an amateur graphologist, someone who studies handwriting as a window to a person’s character and personality. Her theory was that your handwriting on any particular day indicated your mood. In one instance the owner of the business was on her way to an important meeting and gave this woman a list of tasks. The graphologist took one look at the list and said, “Is there any way you can cancel that meeting? You should not be going there today. Not with this handwriting.”

I have known several people throughout my life, all women, who maintain two or three different styles of handwriting. The one they used depended upon their mood or what they were writing about. All of them were clearly legible and very nice, but they were different.

I have also observed elderly people who spend hours practicing their handwriting over and over and over, trying to maintain its legibility as they lost control of fine motor skills.

Once, when touring a Steinbeck museum in Salinas, CA, I examined a handwritten draft of one of his novels. Not only was is surprisingly free from scratchouts and sloppiness, but the script was neat and easily read.

Even though my handwriting is atrocious, I am still choosy about the pens I use. I prefer the Bic SoftFeel. It is a comfortable and relatively inexpensive pen. The latter trait is important, because I almost always lose my pens before they run out of ink. If I am using a pencil, I prefer the standard #2 lead with a good point. I am also a black ink man. Very seldom do I use blue.

If I am a letter (which is almost always computer generated, of course) and all I am signing is my name, then I prefer to use a black Flair pen, although the aforementioned Bic SoftFeels will work.

As for the note I had to write that prompted this column, I have not sent it yet. I will deliver it tomorrow, so there is still time to rewrite it, as soon as I find my Bic pen.  

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Image by Guillaume Carels (http://www.flickr.com/photos/aliceinw/227116873/) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

At Least I Know I'm Not Crazy

Thanks to Writers Write. 

Welcome to the Inland Empire—Birthplace of the Hells Angels—and My Home

“There are three locales that are most likely to attract the fringes of society—the beach, the desert and the Inland Empire.”—Tim Sunderland

This morning David L. Ulin, book critic for the Los Angeles Times, wrote a piece in the Calendar section about stories of the desert. It stuck with me because I live on the edge of the desert (most of Southern California is a desert, but we fool ourselves by stealing water from other parts of the southwest to make it look otherwise). Also, I recently read a crime novel, Saving Xochil, that was set in the Coachella Valley of the Inland Empire, the lower desert of Southern California (think Palm Springs, only farther east and south).

Ulin’s article caused me to think about the importance of location in fiction. As Will Bryant Smith, a writing friend of mine once said, “Location is almost another character in your novel, and if your location is one that few people write about, then you have something new.”

I have mentioned before that I live in the Inland Empire region of Southern California (I’m not happy with the name either). While we are physically separated from Los Angeles by a geographic formation known as the San Jose Hills, Los Angeles County extends about five miles farther east of that point to include Pomona, Claremont, San Dimas and LaVerne. These cities spend a considerable amount of marketing energy making sure they are not considered part of the Inland Empire. They explain that the Inland Empire starts at the dividing line separating Los Angeles County from San Bernardino County.

Making the distinction event more blatant, when you drive across the county line, it is as if you are entering another culture. It is a clash of those moving away from Los Angeles, trying to escape their experience of the violence and squalor of the city, or taking advantage of the lower real estate prices, and those who come from farther out, the desert communities and even out of state, and are trying to get closer to Los Angeles. At times it seems as if everyone in the Inland Empire is either coming or going, or at least it was that way until the bottom fell out of the real estate market. Did I also mention that the Inland Empire has been one of the top foreclosure markets during this recent recession?

Social scientists see the Inland Empire as made up of San Bernardino and Riverside Counties. The two-country region is called a SMA—statistical marketing area. That means that the Inland Empire reaches to within fifty miles of San Diego at its southern end, and to both the east and the north all the way to the borders with Nevada (Las Vegas is only thirty miles further) and Arizona. The majority of people in this region, however, live in the valley in the southwest corner—an acute isosceles triangle formed by the cities on Ontario, San Bernardino and Riverside.

There are some cultural centers in the Inland Empire. Both Riverside and San Bernardino have symphony orchestras. The director of the San Bernardino Symphony is Carlo Ponti. Ponti’s other claim to fame is his mother—actress Sophia Loren. The City of Redlands has the Redlands Bowl. Many of the cities have small playhouses. Riverside County includes Palm Springs. There is an oft-repeated maxim that five percent of the world’s wealth passes through that desert oasis each year.

The classic sixties hit, Wipe Out by the Surfaris, was first recorded in a studio in what is now Rancho Cucamonga, a few miles from the Demens-Tolstoy house, where the expatriate nephew of Russian novelist Leo Tolsoy resided with his wife, the daughter of Russian nobility.

There are also some not-so-cultured places. To the east of Riverside is Moreno Valley, also known as MoVal. San Bernardino County, the largest county in the United States in terms of land mass, includes a major portion of the Mojave Desert. It is the rattlesnake bite capital of the world. The city of Fontana is known among locals as Fontucky. And let’s not forget the controversy about whether Fontana or San Bernardino is the birthplace of the Hells Angels.

Yeah, the Inland Empire is a great place to set a novel. We have the best and we have the worst. I’m working on it.

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Photo by Lee Brimelow from San Francisco Bay Area, USA (Hells Angels) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Raymond Chandler

The Friday quote is from Raymond Chandler, but I found so many I liked that I could not chose just one.

“Throw up into your typewriter every morning. Clean up every noon.” 

“A good story cannot be devised; it has to be distilled.”

“In writing a novel, when in doubt, have a guy come through the door with a gun.” 

“It seemed like a nice neighborhood to have bad habits in.”

“In everything that can be called art there is a quality of redemption.”

 

...And This Time it is Not a Rejection!

Since early November I have been sending query letters out on my novel, Rules for Giving. My goal was five a week. I have about twenty-seven or twenty-eight letters and emails out, with about ten rejections. Several people told me that I can expect as many as 100 rejections from agents. I decided to take a break during the holidays. Then yesterday one of the snail mail responses came back with the magic words: "We would like to consider it."

Not only that, but this is a high profile agent with an enviable list of clients and successes. Names any of the readers of this blog would recognize.

So the next step is that the agent is requesting the first fifty pages and "a detailed outline no longer than 10 pages, double spaced."

My question now: How does a detailed outline differ from a synopsis?

My understanding of a synopsis is that if an agent were to read the synopsis, then they would know everything in the novel, at least the big parts. They would know what genre it falls into (because there is a good possibility that the writer has his or her genres all screwed up). They would know how it ends, if everyone turns into vampires or zombies in the last chapter, and all the other horrible possibilities.

I asked around to a few my expert acquaintances, sent out a message on Facebook and, for once, got the same general answer. An outline is a chapter-by-chapter review of what happens in the novel, preferably reflecting the tone of the story. As one of my expert sources recommended: "If it's funny, be funny. If it's a thriller, be thrilling... So, so hard. I don't envy you this work."

Now I know what I will be doing for the rest of the holiday lull. That's okay, because I received a positive response from an agent. I'm on to the next step.

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

For Those of You Breaking New Writing Ground

When Your Character Does Something, Your Story Should Support That Action

A few posts ago I talked about how I shared a short story with my critique group about a couple trying to hold their marriage together and deal with a drug addicted child. It was met with good response from the critique group, and they gave me some invaluable input. One of the comments had to do with the character of the protagonist. In the latter half of the story he questions an attorney about the ethics of the attorney’s recommendations.

“Wouldn’t that be wrong?” he asks, to which the attorney advises him that this is a legal option and it would solve the problem.

One of the group members called me on that question by the protagonist.

“From the beginning of the story this fellow is looking for a way out of the predicament they are in,” he said. “There is nothing in this fellow’s character up to this point that would indicate he would have a problem with what the attorney recommends.”

He’s right. Two-thirds of the way through the story this protagonist suddenly grows a conscience that he did not have before. It doesn’t work. I have two choices. I either drop that question asked by the protagonist, or I go back and insert some additional information that would make it more appropriate to his character when he asks it.

I have not yet decided what I am going to do, but coincidently I was reading a novel last week where this same problem is present. In several instances major characters in the novel made decisions and said things, and there was no basis in their character up to that point which would indicate that they felt that way or would entertain that option.

EXAMPLE: The heroine’s husband wants a divorce from their marriage of twenty-five-plus years so that he can marry his pregnant girlfriend who is at least twenty years his junior. The reader learns this early on, and also learns that the heroine knows this has been an empty marriage for some time. Although she thinks about him a lot, the first conversation with the husband comes more than halfway through the novel. Granted, she was 1500 miles away in another state, but a cell phone call would have been appropriate. The first phone call they have, he tells her he is serving papers (which she already knows) and he is pressing her to vacate the house so it can be sold.

The next time the husband calls he leaves a message on her cell phone—there never was a pregnancy and now he wants to get back together with the wife.

There is nothing in the earlier chapters indicating this might happen. The husband suddenly changes his mind.

My point is that with one for two sentences earlier in the story the author could have introduced the idea, in a very subtle manner, that this was possible. When I say subtle, I mean a few hesitations during a conversation—a pregnant pause if you will—or an instance when he says, “Hey, remember when we did this.”

This was a recurring theme throughout the novel, too. On at least three occasions characters made major decisions instantly, with no previous characterization that that it was something they would do. Each time this happened, it would have taken very little, a sentence or two earlier in the story, and these decisions would have been more plausible. I would have said, “Yeah, I can believe he would do that.”

Moral of the story: when a character makes a decision, ask yourself if everything that has transpired in the story to that point would allow the reader to accept that this is a decision that character would made. If not, what do you need to do to go back and make this a more acceptable decision?

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Merry Christmas. My Uncle Eddie and my Grandfather Would Have Wanted it That Way

Not to celebrate Christmas would be to concede that bombs and terrorism are bigger than peace and brotherhood—the message on a Christmas card I received about forty years ago.

My mother told a story last night—one I had never heard before.

On June 15, 1944, one of her brothers, Eddie, was killed in action somewhere in the Normandy region of France, one of many casualties of the Allied invasion of Europe during WWII. I already knew that. I have talked about it on this blog and it is a huge part of our family lore. What I did not know was that several months later my grandfather pronounced that there would be no Christmas tree in the house that year. From what I understand, when I grandfather said something, it was absolute. There were no questions. (I have heard many stories that place his parenting style anywhere between a cream puff and a borderline tyrant, so take your choice).

My mother, eighteen at the time, was the oldest of four sisters. She was working as an operator for AT&T. She handled the long-distance board. She came home one evening a few nights before Christmas. My grandfather told her to keep her coat on. The two of them walked down to a Christmas tree lot (I imagine it was somewhere on Alvarado Boulevard in Los Angeles, right around the corner from where they lived) and my grandfather bought the biggest Christmas tree he could find.

“I realize Eddie would have wanted it this way,” my grandfather said.

(By the way, as you read this, conjure the words of my grandfather in a thick Irish brogue, as he had come to the U.S. in his early twenties.)

My grandfather was dead within a year. It was heart attack, but my mother says that there was nothing wrong with his heart, other than it was broken after the death of his youngest son. The older son, my Uncle Kevin, served in the Pacific Theatre of WWII. He came back to the states and a home with no father and no brother.

When I heard this story, though, I realized that on that night in 1944, with Christmas less than a week away, the spirit of the quote that started this blog post was present in my grandfather. Amazing, considering that the concept of terrorism was little known in the days of WWII.

This is the same quote that sustains me during this Christmas season. There are many who find Christmas a dark and depressing time. I never have. I admit, however, that this Christmas has caused me to question my holiday mood. Twenty families in Newtown, Connecticut, have presents under the tree and no one to receive them. Our government is being torn apart by bitter partisan bickering that my kids could have settled when they were adolescents, and despots in the Middle East are killing thousands so that they can prolong dictatorships that are destined to fail anyway.

To give in, though, and not celebrate the season, would be to let the bastards win. I am not going to give them the satisfaction.

So, Merry Christmas. My grandfather and Uncle Eddie would have wanted it this way.

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

It is a Merry Christmas

This is a reprint of a Letter to the Editor I sent to the local newspaper, The Daily Bulletin, in 2007. As for the teaser title of this blog post, I got it from Rob Patton, the pastor at Claremont United Church of Christ, where I am a member, despite the fact that I openly profess to being a religious skeptic. Merry Christmas. 

It is a Merry Christmas!

I wanted to get that out of the way right up front.

It is a Merry Christmas!

Sometimes the need to be politically and socially and culturally correct compels us to lean too far and forget our own roots and values and culture, evidenced by the trend in recent years to substitute "Happy Holidays" for "Merry Christmas" during this time of year so as not to offend anyone.

I'm not going to be doing that this year.

Having spent my entire life in the ethnic patchwork of Southern California, I have often been in situations and settings where the culture was far different than the one in which I was raised. It might have been Hispanic, Asian, Middle Eastern, Eastern European - the list goes on and on.

But each time I have been asked to share the customs of another culture -- to eat their food, exchange their greetings or take part in their traditions -- I have been touched. I have been touched that they thought enough to include me in their festivities. That they have taken the time to explain things to me makes it all the more meaningful.

We live in a society that is rich with difference and variety. There are few other places in the world like the United States, and to not take full advantage of it is a mistake. Everybody brings a little to the pot and we all take away so much more. I grew up in a home and culture where Christmas was celebrated. Your culture might include Kwanzaa or Hanukkah or Ramadan or Chinese New Year or countless other holidays. To not recognize any one of them means the pot is a bit less.      

So this year when I wish you a Merry Christmas, I am inviting you to take part in the culture in which I grew up.

I hope that you return the favor.

It is a Merry Christmas.

An Open Letter to President Obama

I voted for you—twice.  I put my life on hold and campaigned tirelessly for you in 2008. Ask my wife. In 2012 I did not campaign as much, although you got my money. I was more than happy to pass the torch of knocking on doors and making phone calls on to the next generation. I settled for driving my neighbors crazy with an Obama-Biden 2012 sign in my window. It is still there.

Now, however, less than two months after your re-election, I am disappointed. We voted you another term because we thought you could get us through this mess. It is hard to prove what did not happen, but I believe that your leadership avoided a major economic depression. You started us down the long road to universal health care. You set the stage for the Arab Spring. You’ve been smart enough to figure out that we can’t control where the Arab Spring is going and the best thing we can do is watch and offer advice. And you have helped pave the way for equality of gays and lesbians. (As for that bit about how your view on marriage equality was “evolving,” I didn’t believe that line of crap for a minute.)

Now, however, I think the leadership we need to get us through the next phase should be of a different style. Get your hands dirty. Grow a pair. Not that you don’t have them, but you need to show them. The public that voted you back into office, along with the public that still can’t believe you won, need to see you walk into a room with Boehner and the Republican leadership. They need to see the doors close and they don’t get opened until we have a deal (for added effect maybe after a few hours we watch on CNN as a nervous teenager delivers a bunch of pizzas, preferably by that pizza chain that bitched about how Obamacare was going to increase the cost of their pies by 52 cents each by 2015. FYI, I don’t believe that line of crap, either).

After some ridiculous amount of time everyone emerges from the room, hair messed up, ties askew, clothes wrinkled (maybe even some tomato sauce stains), and announce, “Hey! We got a deal we can take to our respective parties.” Give a press conference. If you really wanted to make a statement, you could even send Michelle and the kids ahead of you to the annual Obama Family Hawaiian Vacation Extravaganza, and then not show up yourself because you were too busy knocking heads together in Washington.  

One of two things will happen. Either the Republican party will fall in line, vote for what needs to be voted for—getting rid of the Bush tax cuts, and also making some spending cuts, because you know there is some fat to be trimmed. The other possibility is that the Republicans will drink hemlock and let the Tea Party hold them hostage. In this case, you can just do everything by executive order.

Trust me. You will be a hero.

After that is done, call another press conference. Tell the NRA that they can pound sand. We will not screw with the Second Amendment, but we will pass some common sense laws. We will re-institute a ban on assault weapons. We will end of the party on sales at gun shows. We will restrict ammo sales on the internet.

Now that you have set the tone, for the next four years you kick ass on every issue. I’m not asking that you lead this country on a liberal agenda. Left unchecked, we would end up as screwed up as we are now from the conservatives. We just want to see some common sense. You show some leadership and we will drive that unemployment rate down, pay off the debt and set an example for the rest of the world.  By the way, a nice fat tax break for small businesspeople who grow their payroll would be a cool idea, too.

Barry, you never have to run for another political office again in your life. In January 2017 you and Michelle and the kids—and the dog—will leave DC and return to a sane life. Maybe you and Bill Clinton can go on a world tour. Bring your golf clubs. You can take responsibility for containing his libido. Write a book. Make a lot of money, and spend the rest of your life being a good guy. I personally think you have another Nobel Peace Prize in you.

In the next two weeks, however, you need to grow that pair.

Or you can continue the nuanced thing, in which case I will be disappointed.  

See ya’ later.

WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.