True Story novel excerpt

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I’ve rewritten these same paragraphs multiple times already. Hopefully this time I have them right!

# # #

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

The Rossi family was still the Rossi family, sure enough, but…different. Everything was different.

It was as if the world was a giant snow globe that had been given it a good shake, then left on a tilted shelf to settle. Same snow globe, but when the flakes settled they landed all wonky. Nothing looked quite right.

Take for example the Rossi living room, where the Rossi family had gathered. Instead of being the twenty-first century living room of a normal family, it looked oddly appropriate to be used for a movie set in the 1920s. No television, no vacuum, no central heating. Just an oversized radio, a broom, and a woodstove for cold days.

Most odd of all—for a family of students at least—was the complete and utter lack of computers and cell phones. It was as if those gadgets had never been invented.

# # #

Who am I kidding? I’m sure I’ll rewrite these paragraphs several more times before I’m satisfied enough to leave them alone.

But not today! Today I need to move on to the rest of the story.

Grocery store snobbery

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We’re all the same at the grocery store, aren’t we? I always thought so, until…

I gathered a week’s worth of groceries in my shopping cart and headed for the only line that was open in my neighborhood store. Oh, sure, there was the 10-items-or-less line off to my left, but my cart was full.

A tall woman in her fifties was in line ahead of me, and one other person was ahead of her. The cashier appeared to know what he was doing so the wait wouldn’t be too awfully long. When I got home I could-

“You can go to that line,” the tall woman in front of me said, interrupting my thought. I looked to the left where she pointed but could only see the crowded 10-items-or-less line.

“I’m fine here, thank you,” I said.

I got out my list to double-check I hadn’t forgotten any items. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the woman studying me, so I did what any normal human would do. I looked up at her.

“You should move to that line,” she said firmly, again pointing to the 10-items-or-less line.
“Can’t,” I replied, pointing to my cart. “I have too many items.”
“Do it anyway,” she insisted, “it’ll be fine. I know the manager.”
“I wouldn’t be comfortable.”
“You should go!”
“I’m staying here. You go if you want.”

The tall woman turned away from me for several seconds, moved her cart a few inches further in line, then, her voice dripping with disgust and frustration, turned back to me to say, “This line is for housewives only!”

From that moment on her back was a wall, straight and stiff. But unlike most walls this one radiated a deep and disturbing disapproval.

I have no clue who or what she thought I was, except that she had decided it was her responsibility to let me know how unwelcome I was.

People can be very strange, can’t they?

To rewrite True Story

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I got coverage notes back for True Story of the Perfect 36 and now it’s time to do the rewrite.

The first thing I did, even though I didn’t really want to, was read the notes. They were thorough, thoughtful…and slightly painful.

But a writer has to have tough skin, so I read the notes a second time and let the words battle it out in my brain for several days.

Those words! They’re not always nice to each other. The battle got rather vicious at times. I  put up with it as long as I could, but I finally had to slam the door closed. I couldn’t focus with all that noise!

Not that one flimsy little door blocks out everything. I had a rough weekend, with all those crashes and booms that let me know the war of the words was still alive and well.

Then this morning, all was calm on the battle front. So I took a deep breath, opened the door, and read the notes a third time.

Now, I have a plan. If all goes well, I’ll soon have a shiny new screenplay that can bring a sparkle to any eye.

All I need to do is write a new beginning, tighten up the middle, chop off the end, and revisit the dialogue.

No biggie.

Hmm.

I’m sure my plan will work, I really am.

But why does this rewrite feel like an avalanche waiting to happen?

Amazon special forces

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Several years ago Amazon discovered a few authors who had posted, or paid people to post, fake reviews about their books. Glowing reviews, meant to entice readers to buy said books.

Amazon ruled it dishonest and did a thorough house cleaning. Thousands upon thousands of fake reviews disappeared practically overnight.

Great! Without all that clutter honest people, like me, have a chance of getting our books noticed.

Or so I thought. Until I realized Amazon had never heard the saying about not throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

‘Cause it didn’t take long for the raids to begin. Amazon special forces, probably dressed all in black, swoop in overnight, dig through my reviews, and snatch away any they deem not ‘honest’ enough.

They repeat this process every few months and have been doing this for years. I’ve lost count of how many reviews have been seized and destroyed. It’s a lot. The number of my books’ reviews that have mysteriously disappeared far outweigh those that have survived.

I’m a small player in the publishing world. My books are published by a boutique publisher with a small marketing budget, which means that I buy books to send to potential reviewers with the request that they write an honest review.

Sigh.

As a business model, it simply doesn’t make sense.
Why would Amazon want to make it difficult to sell books on their site?

True Story of the Perfect 36 synopsis

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Becca and Maddie, preteen sisters and unlikely experts of time travel, need adult supervision as they travel to Nashville in August of 1920 to fix the timeline. So they take along Philip, a time travel expert from the future who happens to be responsible for breaking the timeline in the first place.

But the only way to get from Seattle to Nashville is by train, and the time travelers arrive in Nashville too late to stop Douglas Whitfield, aka Mr. Selfish, from stealing a letter intended for one of the legislators. The theft of a single letter seems a small thing, except this particular letter plays a pivotal role in history. Without it, the Nineteenth Amendment is not ratified, and women never have the right to vote in the United States.

Amid a contentious backdrop that some have called the War of the Roses, and others the Perfect 36, Becca, Maddie, and Philip must fix what is broken before Mr. Selfish can break the timeline for good.

It isn’t easy, but the time travelers eventually succeed in setting history right. They capture Mr. Selfish and return to the portal to be reunited with their families.

Grocery shopping in the Emerald City

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I must be easy to talk to ’cause people tell me things. All the time.

Today, my cashier complained that one of his coworkers bosses him around, even though she most certainly is not his boss. I wanted to make him feel better so I said I knew how he felt. In one of my jobs I was the boss, yet one of my employees decided to yell at me, in front of other people.

I went on to say that I didn’t yell at her, but I did take her to the side to discuss the inadvisability of yelling at your boss.

He said, “Yeah, that’s always the best way. If Kavanaugh would have kept his cool maybe someone might have believed him. On The View today they said…(insert The View’s rants here).”

While the cashier shared The View’s views, the bagger began bagging my groceries.

With a friendly smile on my face I said, “Funny how the whole innocent until proven guilty thing was ignored. I’m glad Kavanaugh stood up for himself. I’ve been accused of something I didn’t do. It’s a difficult position to be in. Think about it. How do you prove you DIDN’T do something?”

That’s when the bagger tossed my groceries back on the conveyor belt and stomped away. But she didn’t go far, only about 10 feet. There she began a whisper campaign with a fellow coworker.

You know the type of campaign I mean. Whisper, whisper, whisper. Point and nod toward the crazy person in the checkout line. Whisper, whisper, whisper. 

The cashier finished bagging my groceries, ’cause the bagger certainly wasn’t going to do it.
After I paid, the cashier and I wished each other a nice day, and that was that.

But I was left with the thought that in Seattle, “I don’t like the customer’s political views” seems to be a perfectly valid excuse for not doing one’s job.

Then again, Seattle is called the Emerald City. Think Dorothy would let me borrow her shoes?

True Story excerpt

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I wrote a new beginning for my newest script (code name True Story) this morning. I know I really should finish the script before I start messing with the beginning, but glimmers of this kept intruding into my thoughts, so I felt I’d better write it down.

Hope you like it!

******

The smoke of a train winds its way through a lonely countryside. Its distant WHISTLE BLOWS.

WOMAN NARRATOR (V.O.)
People think they know history. Facts, set in stone. Old. Boring. Solid. Dusty. Unchangeable.

Train takes an unexpected curve around a mountain.

WOMAN NARRATOR (V.O.)
But history doesn’t record everything. It can’t.

Train zips by a logging town from the late 1800s. No people, just buildings. Then on to more forest.

WOMAN NARRATOR (V.O.)
Take for example the day Tennessee ratified the 19th Amendment and American women, after 75 long years of struggle, got the right to vote.

Train goes over a bridge.

WOMAN NARRATOR (V.O.)
Boring you, am I? Think you already know this story?

Train goes into a tunnel.

WOMAN NARRATOR (V.O.)
Well, you’ve never heard this story. The real story. It’s not written down in any history book, anywhere.

Train shoots out of tunnel into bright light, WHISTLE BLOWING.