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On Tuesday I went to the local history room of the National City Public Library to start researching for my book. My first discovery was my Grandma Nana’s (my great grandmother) address in the city directory for 1929. I also found my great great great grandmother’s listing and realized that she lived three blocks down from my Grandma Nana (her grand daughter). The librarian gave me a list of the oral histories done in the 1980’s and there was my Great Uncle John who used to ride down to visit my Grandma Mary (my mom’s mom) on his Harley. He was in his late 70’s at the time.

Listening to his tape, I uncovered a family secret. My Grandma Mary told my mom that she had been born in Mazatlan. According to my Great Uncle John, they were born in San Ysidro and then taken to Mazatlan by an Aunt Catalina who registered them as Mexican citizens. The plan was that their parents would return to Mexico. But when the revolution broke out in 1911, she hightailed it out of Mexico and brought them back to San Diego. A few years later in 1913, their father was shot and killed in a gambling hall, forcing my Great Grandmother Inez to work in a Chinese laundry from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. every day for $1 per day. My Great Uncle John, then 11 years old, went to work for Japanese farmer so his mother wouldn’t have to work so hard.

I could go on with more stories but there’s something magical and poignant about finding the people who gave you the color of your hair or the shape of your chin in an 80 year-old phone book. Suddenly, they’re not blurry faces in old photos, or names on county documents. They’re people who lived. When I heard about my widowed great grandmother who couldn’t read or write, and could understand English but not speak it (or Chinese, presumably) having to wash laundry to support her two children … man, that puts my problems in perspective!

But it also makes me so proud and yet, so humble. Ever since Tuesday, I walk through my house with such an appreciation for my education, my home and the Little Dude’s toys that litter every room. I think about the books that are on the shelves in front of me, around me and on the floor and that I can write these words when almost a 100 years ago, my great grandmother was boiling clothes and then scrubbing them on a board. (What did she think about, I keep wondering.) I thought my mariachi book would be the most special story I’d ever written. But this new story that I’m working on is taking me into new territory. So I hope you won’t be bored as I share my stories along the journey.

Best,
Mary

“Saint Cast” by Peryber @ Art.com

Well its the last day of our BIAW. There might be one or two of us out there who will reach the goal, but I can say for myself that I’ll probably come in short. If you want to know all the salacious details, join The WIPS where I think most of us are reporting our numbers.

However, I want to say this: be grateful for every word that has come and will come to you. Cherish those words even if they hadn’t multiplied or they merely cracked the surface of what you were hoping to express. Why? Because they come from you; they’re gifts to yourself and eventually (we all hope) to the readers who want a good yarn.

If you find it hard to sit down to write today because you’ll just be adding a few pages to a goal you don’t have a prayer in meeting (pointing to self), think on this Japanese proverb:

When there is no wind, row.

Back in September I had a tarot card reading. Some of the predictions came to pass, others I would venture to say were “misinterpreted.” (When you spend $40 on that sort of frivolity, rationalizing is a great skill.)

So I went to The Observation Deck and asked the cards what they needed us to know during our BIAW. The card I pulled advised: Study opening lines.

From the book:

You have a world of powerful teachers sitting on the bookshelves in your house right now. Pick up a favorite book and look at the opening lines. Who is speaking? How does the book begin? What has the author done to draw you in? How does the opening relate to the end of the story?

But if you’re not at the start of your book, perhaps today you’ll start a new scene or a chapter. If you close your eyes and imagine your character, what is the first thing out of his or her mouth? What is she or he thinking in that moment in time? What do they see? Are they touching something or someone? Write it down.

This is my unedited, off-the-cuff opening of chapter 24 of my WIP:

Dori walked up the front door of Starbucks on the corner of F and Fifth streets. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle and as if she were in a dream, she slowly opened the door and the smell of coffee wrapped around her, drawing her in. She blinked and then saw her, the mother of the woman she’d shot and killed three weeks ago waiting at a table by the window.

It might be rewritten. It might become scene two of chapter 26 in the final draft or I may cut the scene all together. (These things happen.) But after writing that paragraph, I have to find out what Dori will say when she walks up to that woman’s table. Will she say, “hi, how are you?” or will she sit down? I don’t yet know but I can’t wait to find out.

What are your first lines today?

Amy – 16 pages; total 18 pages
Erica – 4 pages; total 8 pages + one watercolor painting
Lainey – 2 pages + 7 pages of a new short!
Liz – 5 pages; total 9 pages
Mary – 11 pages; total 21 pages
Steve – 1,000 words; total 2,100 words
Tena – 6 pages

Keep ’em coming!