Stories that Influenced East Garrison

Stories, so many stories. That's what makes us human, isn't it? We like to tell our stories. Many are pretty forgetable, but some stick someplace in your brain forever. It's those stories that influence our writing. For me, there were many tales, both fiction and non-fiction that made me want to write East Garrison. I'll begin with one and try to add another each day or so.

The first is a true story that happened to a group of American pioneers in 1846-47. The Donner Party story took place in the northern mountains of California called the Sierra Nevada, so maybe that's why I learned about it early in my life, but it’s also a classic story that would resonate with anyone who has ever been to the snow. The one time I've come remotely close to understanding the cold and fright of being lost in the snow was when I was about 15 years old. My older sister and I went skiing in Lake Tahoe, which is right next to where the Donner Party spent one very cold winter in the 1840s. My sister had taken acid and failed to inform me. She suggested that we go off the main trail, something that is strictly forbidden, for obvious reasons, but we were teenagers. Need I say more? I was never a very good skier and didn't have any ski gear. This day I was wearing what was then the fashion: elephant leg blue jeans. Of course, I fell in the powdered snow off the main trail, deep in the woods, and couldn't get up. My sister, tripping, laughed her ass off as I tried and failed to retrieve my runaway skis. I ended up walking through the snow, which was waist deep, and filled each pant leg up to my hips. Somehow I made it to the main runway and took a tram, or whatever they call it, back down. By that time my legs were frozen. I was so shaken up, I couldn't ski. To this day, I haven't gotten over my fear. I suppose that I thought I was going to freeze to death.

Essentially the Donner Party's story stemmed from two things: taking the wrong trail, one that wasn't proven, a kind of cut-off to get to their destination quicker, and two, bad luck. They missed getting over the mountain by one day. The epic tale is filled with tragedy followed by tragedy. There were 87 people who began the journey from Independence, Missouri; only 48 survived. Of course, all anyone seems to recall about the Donner story is that they had to resort to cannibalism to survive, but there is so much more to the tale than that. Check it out! And if you ever get the chance, go to the state park and take a tour. You won't forget it.

If you want to read the latest up to date information on the Donner Party, which is in the news again, go to http://donnerblog.blogspot.com/

THIS AIN'T NO PLACE TO LOOSE YOUR MIND...

Is it a blessing or a curse to be an artist? I think the latter. Long gone are the days of easy success, if ever there was such a thing as "easy success," but I do long for the days when a writer could walk into an agent's office with manuscript in hand and wait until it's read. Then, voila, instant success. This, by the way, is a story told by mega-famous writer Truman Capote. Not today. No way Jose. There are those, I'm certain, who do luck out though. Just look at J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter Series. But I don't fall into the lucky category. I need all the luck I can get. I suppose that's why I cling to good luck symbols, hoping some will rub off. I can't even get a story of local interest covered in the community papers. Okay, well, if East Garrison were true, not shades of both (called fiction), it'd have a better chance. But there was a tiny problem with that: I wasn't attacked by a mountain lion while nine months pregnant, so I had to make up that part.

Today people want REALITY. I understand the frustrations of a writer by the name of James Frey who wrote "A million little pieces." He couldn't sell his novel until he changed it from fiction to non-fiction, fitting nicely into a category aptly named misery memoir. (Hey! I can do that!) You know the story don't you? Oprah loved the book, Frey got his fame, but then the little matter of truth came out.

So, what's my beef? Guess I'm having a "This ain't no place for the weary kind" of day. (This is the title song from "Crazy Heart," by the way.) Writers relate. People with chronic diseases relate. I'm in both categories, so my misery is doubled. With that in mind, knowing all this changes nothing. Stephen King, my mentor before I had a mentor, wrote "be true to yourself." I gotta do what I do. No fakin' it. The misery memoir I'm currently writing has a hell of a lot of truth in it, but the fictional part is there too. Has to be. That's what I do. East Garrison was the same. Lots of reality, lots of made up parts.
That's what makes writing fun.

Is this the fun part? Are we having fun yet?

NEWS FLASH! Another Jack Attack!

My fictional anti-hero, Jack Erslager (or as screenwriting teacher Bobbi said, No! He's not the anti-hero; He's the nemesis!) in East Garrison can't get a break. He continues to rub a certain person (let's just call him Dick) the wrong way and thus, since Jack ain't around, I get blamed for his bad behavior. Well, I guess I created him, so why not blame the writer? You're wondering here, what the hell is she talking about? Hey, it's a long story…I'll cut to the chase; Jack is a little mixed up. He's delusional from pickling his brain with alcohol + his vacation in Vietnam. He can't stop smoking that wacki-tobaki and obsessing about what he believes is suppressed information about that most misunderstood symbol, the swastika.

Another wacko, Dick, a live, educated middle-aged man, has confused me with a "bad person who posts Nazi swastikas" on my blog. He's already blacklisted me to a library committee and the local chapter of the California Writers' Club. Now he's trying to kill anything I try to get the papers to print, even if it's not about me. Example: me and another woman are trying to get a monthly local writers' open mike started at a great spot on Fisherman's Wharf called Paluca Trattoria. Our first night shined on our little corner of the pier. Of course, since I was the featured reader, Dick didn't want word of our new monthly event supported in any way by the paper he works for (as a journalist!). I have a friend who works at the same paper, so I got the inside scoop. My initial impression is--IGNORAMUS! Would this person think the same thing if he saw a Buddhist monk wear a swastika? Would he point and shout, "Bad person! Nazi swastika!" In Buddhism, the swastika signifies auspiciousness and good fortune. The swastika is an ancient symbol found worldwide, but it's especially common in India. It can be seen in the art of the Egyptians, Romans, Greeks, Celts, Native Americans, and Persians, as well as Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists. (http://www.religionfacts.com/buddhism/symbols/swastika.htm)

I'm disturbed by this "knee-jerk reaction" to the swastika. I swear, I'm not a bad person, and I don't post Nazi swastikas on my blog. So, if I catch wind again of anything remotely resembling defamation of my character, and not fictitious Jack, I'm going to get happy with a lawsuit. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Dick.

Oh, how it hurts...NOT!

I've been trying to promote an open mike for local writers on Fisherman's Wharf. One of my writer friends, Pat Hanson, has always wanted to emcee such an event, and somehow I got involved after reading a "pregnant with danger" story in our local paper, Monterey County Weekly. After reading their 831 story about a couple who get lost while hiking in big sur while the woman is pregnant, I wrote to the Weekly. That's about the gist of it. I didn't find the article very compelling at all, but it did remind me of my own book about a very pregnant woman who comes into close contact with a big mountain lion in an area of the base that has been closed to the public for over a decade. This place, as well as the book, are both named East Garrison. So, naturally I sent off a letter to the paper, (who incidentally is the ONLY local paper who has not written anything about my book or me), saying essentially "if you want to read a heart-pounding pregnant with danger story, why don't you review my book?" To date I havn't received a reply from the paper. Once, a while ago, when I hounded them about getting a review, I did get an answer, and I'm paraphrasing here, "You've received enough coverage in the other papers." Hmmm, I wonder why they keep doing stories on Clint Eastwood...hasn't he gotten enough coverage Internationally? Why not help promote local writers, the little guys and gals who live here and write about the area? Isn't that what local papers do? Alas, it is, as they say, out of my hands. I have a crazy idea though, that if I were to win a prize or sell the rights to my story for a movie, something like that, they might want to do a story...

OUTSTANDING 1st Local Writers' Open Mike at Paluca Trattoria, April 8th, 2010

A huge wooden lion sitting by the bicycle rack at the corner of Fisherman's Wharf pointed the way to the writers' meeting. The bottom rectangular portion of the sign had pictures of famous local writers. Over a dozen writers sat around a huge outdoor table overlooking the boats and occasional beast bobbing in Monterey Bay. One obnoxious seagull squawked his approval as writers read. Gwyn Weger, alias G.M. Weger, was the evening's feature local writer. She talked a little about her experience publishing East Garrison and introduced characters from her novel. Throughout the evening excerpts were read from Weger's thrilling "pregnant with danger" story to Pat Hanson's poignant "Invisible Grandparent" project to Wanda Sue Parrot's hilarious acting out of a creative rendition of Rapunzel. Each reader was given 5 minutes to read, except for the evening's feature writer. Weger read selections of East Garrison, including a few parts from the beginning chapter set on our own Fort Ord, where the protagonist's father, Jack, is introduced. Jack, the most controversial character in the novel, and some may say the most interesting, is a homeless messianic Vietnam veteran living in his van with his dog, smoking pot, and searching for truth in hieroglyphs and numerology, which he believes he's found in the nine points of the swastika. His daughter, Tracy, estranged from him for many years, is about to give birth for the first time. She's searching for resolution with her father. Weger also read from a section where Tracy and her Goddess-loving friend, Angela, go to the East Garrison (where the police don't patrol) looking for her father, Jack. Instead, they have a close encounter of the feline kind. Although Weger didn't give away the ending, she led the group up to a heart-stopping heroic moment before Angela is about to tackle her very large opponent to save her pregnant friend.

Throughout the evening beverages and a variety of food were served by the restaurant's excellent staff. Paluca Trattoria proved to be a perfect location for the event, which will be held monthly on the second Thursday from approximately 5:30 until as late as 8:00, depending on the number of readers, although this first night's readings didn't begin until 6pm and writers stayed until the restaurant's owner, Sal Tedesco, reminded the group to finish their orders because they were closing down. The last stragglers left after 9pm.
Note for those who want to attend next month: The parking lot by Fisherman's Wharf has free 2 hour parking for locals (living in Monterey County). All you have to do is show your ID. The people who stayed longest, 4 hours, group organizers Pat Hanson and Gwyn Weger, paid $2 to park in the lot.