An Englishman met Mark Twain on a train and abruptly said, “Mr. Clemens, I would give ten pounds not of have read your ‘Huckleberry Finn!’ ” Twain raised his eyebrows, awaiting an explanation. The Englishman smiled, and added, “So that I could have again the great pleasure of reading it for the first time.”
What book would you like to be able to read again—for the first time?
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
On September 25, 1919, a white woman named Agnes Loebeck told police she’d been assaulted by a black man on the streets of Omaha, Nebraska. The next day the cops nabbed a suspect—a 41-year-old packinghouse worker named Will Brown. They took him to the Loebeck home where Agnes ID’d him.
News of the assault spread rapidly. The Loebeck house was soon surrounded by a mob crying for a lynching. Police reinforcements had to be called in. They were finally able to get Will Brown to the jail at the courthouse.
The howls for blood grew louder. A contingent of almost fifty police officers was dispatched to guard the jail.
On Sunday, September 28, a mob started a march to the courthouse. By the time they got there it had grown to an estimated size of 15,000. Looters hit the stores of downtown Omaha, stealing guns and ammo.
Some of the rabble started firing at the courthouse. The cops returned the gunfire. A 16-year-old mob ringleader and a 34-year-old businessman were killed.
Around 8:30 p.m. the crowd set fire to the courthouse. When firemen arrived the mob prevented them from dousing the flames.
Inside the jail Will Brown cried out to the sheriff, “I am innocent! I never did it! My God, I’m innocent!”
The mayor of Omaha, a man named Smith, tried to reason with the mob. Somebody whacked him on the back of the head. He came to with a rope around his neck. Somehow somebody rescued him, though Smith ended up in the hospital.
Then around 11 p.m., with the people inside the courthouse forced out, the ravenous pack got their hands on Will Brown.
They beat him until he was bloody and unconscious, stripped off his clothes, and put a rope around his neck. Will Brown was hoisted into the air from a lamppost and, with his body spinning, the mob used it for target practice.
They tied Brown’s body to a car and dragged it through the streets. In the middle of a prominent intersection they doused Brown’s body with fuel taken from lanterns and set it on fire.
When the fire went out they dragged the remains once more around the streets of Omaha so the crowd could have a look.
Bits of the rope used to hang Will Brown were sold for 10¢ each.
There was a fourteen-year-old boy who witnessed the killing. His father owned a printing plant across the street from the courthouse. They both happened to be there that night.
Later in life that boy, the actor Henry Fonda, would reflect that it was “the most horrendous sight I’ve ever seen.” That’s why Fonda, when he became a movie star, fought hard to make the film version of The Ox-Bow Incident, about mob madness and the lynching of three innocent men.
And why Fonda brought such empathy to a scene from John Ford’s classic Young Mr. Lincoln. It’s my Fourth of July movie recommendation. The film is loosely based on a real murder defense successfully conducted by Lincoln, in what has come to be known as the “Almanac Case.” I say no more, as I want you to get the full enjoyment of the movie.
Here’s the setup. After a prologue covering a bit of Lincoln’s life in New Salem, Illinois, we move to Springfield in 1837 where Lincoln hangs his shingle. At the Independence Day celebration a local man is found stabbed to death. Two sons of a widow are accused and hauled off to jail.
Immediately a lynch mob forms. Lincoln, observing it all, tells the widow he’s now her lawyer. He gets to the jail and faces down the mob. The rest of the film is the famous trial.
It’s one of Fonda’s iconic performances, perfectly nuanced. I must also mention the supporting performance of Alice Brady as the mother of the accused. Brady was an outstanding actress who could bounce between screwball comedy (My Man Godfrey, for which she was nominated as Best Supporting Actress) drama, and musicals. She won a gold statuette for her supporting performance in In Old Chicago. Tragically, Young Mr. Lincoln was her last film, as she died of cancer at the age of 46.
The movie is magnificent hagiography, in the inimitable John Ford style. And what is the purpose of hagiography? To put it in Lincoln’s own words, it is to inspire in us “the better angels of our nature.” In that spirit, let me leave you with a short clip from the movie. Lincoln addresses the mob—and us:
May you have a happy and reflective Fourth of July.
* Source material for this post may be found here and here
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
John Jakes was a journeyman pulp writer for 20 years before bursting onto the New York Times bestseller list with The Bastard (1974). This was the first book in what would become the Kent Family Chronicles, eight historical novels written to ride the wave of the American Bicentennial. It worked. Jakes was the first writer to have three novels on the New York Times bestseller list at the same time. More than 55 million copies of his Kent Family Chronicles are currently in print, along with 10 million copies of The North and South Trilogy. Six of his novels have been filmed as television mini-series. He currently resides in Florida with Rachel, his wife of 71 years.
Nice life. Nice career.
I recently re-read an article he wrote back in 1988 for the annual market report put out by The Writer magazine. The title: “What Does it Take to be a Writer?” As I looked at his advice I wondered if it still applied, or if some modification is called for. Here’s a bit of it, with my comments.
“Do you really want to pay the price? It isn’t small. Are you willing to isolate yourself day after day, session after session, year after year, in order to learn your craft the only way you can–by writing?”
Do young writers—heck, young people in general—think this way anymore? We live in the age of instant gratification, where if you’re not a TikTok influencer by age 16 life simply cannot be endured. The thought of spending years of hard work before getting a payoff is anathema.
I determined to become a writer at age 34. To do whatever it took to get there. I knew the odds. I knew it would take a long time to make it, if I ever did. Not a day went by in those early years when I wasn’t writing and studying the craft. It took me seven years before my first novel was published.
Today, with everything moving at the speed of digital light, is this advice quaint? Does the concept of hard work and persistence resonate anymore?
“With determination and practice, you can probably become at least a part-time professional. To do it, however, you must write and keep on writing, trying to improve all the time.”
This is an obvious corollary to #1, above. What Jakes adds is that virtually anyone can get to a place where they’re making some dough in this game. I think that’s truer now than ever. Being a determined student and practitioner of writing makes income almost inevitable—so long as you recognize it’s not always going to be big bucks. Mega deals from the Forbidden City still happen, though not as frequently as in years past. More likely is a modest advance and a “wait and see” attitude by the publisher.
Of course, we now have the indie route. Determined writers are making money here. Even if the revenue stream is small, it’s worth it as long as you are enjoying the process of making up stories.
“I mean being willing and eager to have all the flaws in your work exposed, so that you can fix them… you must want to find the weak places for yourself, before the editor sees them. It is this rather cold-blooded attitude that sets most money-earning writers apart from dabblers and those who would rather talk about being a writer then do what it takes to be one.”
This still holds true. You can’t have a chip on your shoulder, especially early in your career. I don’t mean you shouldn’t have confidence. Maybe even a little attitude. But if you never take any criticism and refuse to consider that you might not yet be God’s gift to the literary world, you’ll remain a dabbler.
“Read everything you can read. Read widely, not merely in your chosen field of writing. Spend as much time as you can with your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open…Watch people. Watch the sky. Watch a baby’s repertoire of expressions. Watch the way sun puts shadow on a wrinkled garment. Nothing should escape your notice. Everything eventually contributes to what you write, even though the way it contributes is totally unknown to anyone, including you.”
This is obviously sound advice for a writer. “You can observe a lot just by watching,” Yogi Berra said. But with people walking along on a sunny day with their eyes glued to their phones, you have to wonder how much observing is being done anymore.
“Give unstintingly of yourself when you write. The kind of effort NFL players casually refer to as ‘110 percent’ There’s something to it… Give your work the best you have to offer at the moment you do it. Give it a clear head, and a body that’s fit and rested.”
This requires focus, a rare commodity these days. We are all under the curse of the multi-task. Or attention spans are fractured. We have lost the concept of “deep work.”
Jakes says that anyone following these requirements will find eventual success. “Not enormous wealth, mind you. Not a best seller every year. Not immortality—just the solid satisfaction of being a writer. It’s a proud and ancient profession, and it’s a great feeling to achieve even a little success in the business of entertaining and enlightening millions with your own words. It’s a calling very much worth the price.”
Do you agree? How would you modify or add to Jakes’s advice?
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. May you enjoy it to the full.
Here is something I recently enjoyed—my 50-year high school reunion. Hoo boy! “Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.” (Erroneously attributed to Groucho Marx. But whoever said it probably had been to his 50-year.)
We had a graduating class of 1100, being of the Boomer generation in the San Fernando Valley. About 185 of us made the reunion. I had a grand time seeing old friends (some I’ve known since elementary school) and catching up. It was also a chance to see how some of our graduating class award winners made out.
Most Likely to Succeed, Paul, certainly has filled the bill. Yale Law School and a partner in one of the biggest firms in the world. He works out of their London office, specializing in international law.
Class Clown, Steve, is still a good friend and the most spontaneously funny guy I’ve ever known. Example: We had a Vice Principal at Taft named Mr. Gibb. Not much for small talk. One day he walked by Steve and me, said nothing, nodded, and moved on. Steve leaned over and said, “He’s got the gaft of Gibb.”
Steve has gone on to a successful career in TV comedy writing. Even more, in a fascinating turn of events, he became personal secretary to Groucho Marx near the end of the legendary comedian’s life. Steve put his account of those years into a memoir, Raised Eyebrows, which is about to become a major motion picture starring Geoffrey Rush as Groucho. (Your humble scribe makes a minor appearance in the book. I am a letter saver. Back then we actually wrote letters on paper and sent them through the mail. So when Steve asked me if I had any of his letters to me during the Groucho years, I was able to send him about a dozen, which helped him fill in some gaps.)
Sad, of course, to see the additions to the In Memoriam page. People I laughed with, went to Taco Pronto with, played basketball with.
All of which puts one in a reflective mood about this time we have on Earth. It’s good to think about that from time to time, even when you’re young. Maybe especially then.
In the movie City Slickers, 39-year-old Mitch Robbins (Billy Crystal) makes an appearance at his son’s school career day. Having just been demoted at his rather thankless job, Billy tells the class:
Value this time in your life kids, because this is the time in your life when you still have your choices, and it goes by so fast. When you’re a teenager you think you can do anything, and you do. Your twenties are a blur. Your thirties, you raise your family, you make a little money and you think to yourself, “What happened to my twenties?”
Your forties, you grow a little pot belly you grow another chin. The music starts to get too loud and one of your old girlfriends from high school becomes a grandmother. Your fifties you have a minor surgery. You’ll call it a procedure, but it’s a surgery. Your sixties you have a major surgery, the music is still loud but it doesn’t matter because you can’t hear it anyway.
Seventies, you and the wife retire to Fort Lauderdale, you start eating dinner at two in the afternoon, lunch around ten, breakfast the night before. And you spend most of your time wandering around malls looking for the ultimate in soft yogurt and muttering, “How come the kids don’t call?”, “How come the kids don’t call?” By the eighties, you’ve had a major stroke, and you end up babbling to some Jamaican nurse who your wife can’t stand but who you call Mama. Any questions?
Which makes me wonder, if I could go back in time, what would I tell my high school self? Three things.
First, don’t be disappointed. Lots of men lose their hair.
Second, take more risks. Not stupid ones. Not life-might-end ones. Just do more things that take you out of your comfort zone. Especially if it involves real estate.
Third, don’t give in when somebody tells you that you don’t have what it takes to do something. Even if that person has a Ph.D. If you want something bad enough, go for it and find out for yourself.
Now over to you. Have you been to any of your high school reunions? What would you tell your high school self?
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Brother Gilstrap’s recent post on critique groups raises a question I’ve heard from other writers: When do I know my book is ready to go out to an agent, editor, or direct to market?
The answer depends on where you are as a writer. Let’s look at three categories.
The Newbie
This is your first novel. Maybe it’s not the first you’ve written. Most first novels are like first waffles. So you make up your mind to write another one.
Good for you! A lot of writers quit after that initial try.
Now read it through in hard copy, as if you were a book buyer. Don’t take copious notes. Just keep asking yourself at what point are you tempted to put the book down? Put a mark there and move on.
Then hunker down and fix what needs fixing, cut what needs cutting, add what needs adding. Learn your craft by consulting books that cover your weak spots. (Insert shameless plug here).
Write a second draft.
Now it’s time to get feedback. But you need to get it from people who know what to look for. I offer two options: informed beta readers and an experienced developmental editor.
Your beta readers don’t necessarily have to be writers. What you want are dedicated readers in your genre who are willing to give some detailed notes—for which you’ll take them to lunch or gift them an Amazon card (or something). My first beta has always been the eagle-eyed Mrs. B. Also, at the start in my career, I forged a relationship with the staff of a bookstore near me. They loved to read and were more than happy to look at my manuscripts.
Then I signed with a house and got paired with a fantastic developmental editor who upped my game. (A developmental editor focuses on the big picture of your novel, primarily structure, plot, characters, and scenes.)
At this point in your journey a solid developmental editor can be of great benefit. It’s going to cost money, but like any small business startup, you’ve got to invest to become the best.
How can you find such an editor? Get recommendations. Search the net. Study the websites. Look at their client list. Ask for a sample edit.
How much will this cost? In my opinion it should be in the low four figures. More than that and you’re passing a sign that reads Scam Territory: Proceed At Your Own Risk.
The Intermediate
Once you’ve had some publishing success, meaning three or four books that have gained traction, you should be able to get by solely with good beta readers. Key word, good. How do you find them? What do you ask them? See the TKZ posts here.
You’re still listening for development help. But you’re also getting more knowledgable with each book.
The Veteran
Once you’ve hit a certain level—maybe seven or eight books doing nicely—you can probably skip developmental editing. I remember asking a multi-published, bestselling author what he did with his manuscripts. He said, “I know enough now that I know when my story is solid. I get a copy edit to find any holes or contradictions, like a character who has blue eyes in chapter one and green eyes in chapter twenty. But that’s about it.” (I’ll add that you need to pay a proof reader to smash those pesky sand fleas we call typos.)
How to Take Criticism
There may come a time when an editor or beta reader hauls off and gives you a gut punch. Agent Steve Laube recently wrote a piece titled My Editor Made My Book Worse! It’s mostly for the traditionally published, but indies can take much of it to heart. It begins:
You just received a 15-page, single-spaced editorial letter from your editor. They want you to rewrite most of the book. But you disagree with the letter and are spitting mad. What do you do?
Or your agent took a look at your manuscript and told you to cut it in half to make it salable. What do you do?
Both examples are true stories and illustrate the universal challenge of refining your manuscript to make it the best it can be.
Steve advises:
When to Trust Thyself
There’s a famous story about Ayn Rand, when she turned in her behemoth manuscript for Atlas Shrugged to a famous editor named Bennett Cerf. He had a sit-down with her where he suggested, you know, this may be a little too long for the general market. And I’ve got some ideas to where to cut….
To which Rand replied, “You vould not cut zee Bible, vould you?”
Not exactly a shrinking violet, Ms. Rand (to this day, Atlas Shrugged sells tens of thousands of copies a year).
At some point you’ve got to trust yourself. You’ve done the work, learned the lessons, taken the feedback, and fixed and polished your manuscript. Now go for it. Send it out into the wild. Pop some champagne. You deserve it. Have yourself a nice dinner. Get a good night’s sleep.
And when you wake up start on your next book.
What steps do you take to know when a book is ready to go? What advice would you give a new writer on that question?
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories. – Steven Wright
A lot of writing teachers warn about flashbacks. It slows down your story! It frustrates readers! Some simply echo Sinclair Lewis who, when asked how best to handle flashbacks, said, “Don’t.”
A bit extreme there, Mr. Lewis. Flashbacks are a valuable tool in the writing craft box. But, like the nail gun, they must be handled with care.
What a Flashback is
A flashback is a unit of action that takes place in the past. The key word is action. A flashback is rendered as an actual scene or set of scenes, with dramatic conflict. If you only use narration, you’re telling us about the past. Better to have the reader caught up in a scene, as if it’s happening now. Not:
Jack remembered when he was a child, and he spilled the gasoline on the ground. His father got so angry it scared him. His father hit him, and yelled at him. It was something Jack would never forget . . .
Instead:
Jack looked at the gas can. The exact color and shape of the one he picked up when was eight. All he’d wanted to do was play with it. The garage was his theater. No one was home. He held the can aloft, like the hammer of Thor. “I am the king of gas!” he said. “I will set you all on fire!”
Jack stared down at the imaginary humans below his feet.
The gas can slipped from his hand.
Unable to catch it, Jack could only watch as the can made a horrible thunking sound. Its contents poured out on the new concrete.
Quickly, he righted the can. But it was too late. A big, smelly puddle was right in the middle of the garage.
Dad is going to kill me!
He looked around for a rag, anything to clean up the mess.
The garage door. It was opening!
Dad was home.
The Purpose of Flashbacks
A flashback is used to give us essential backstory information about a character and/or the plot. It helps readers understand why a character is acting a certain way in the story present. Or it may reveal plot points to give us a fuller understanding of the story beats. Often it’s a combination of both.
There’s also a strategic use. A flashback can be a suspense interlude. When you leave your main story at a point where the readers are on tenterhooks, they will read that flashback in a pleasurable state of anticipation—which is what drives a page turner.
The Placing of Flashbacks
My advice here is simple:
Not too early. Get your story rolling with action. Get your readers invested in the characters. Then when you drop in the flashback it will have more impact.
Not too late. With your story hurtling toward the climax, the last thing we need is a scene that whips us into the past.
After the Door Slams. The plot is fully engaged only after the Lead passes through The Doorway of No Return—which should occur no later than 1/5 into the book. My counsel is to place a full flashback scene somewhere just before or just after the middle. (For a full treatment of structure, I humbly recommend my book.)
Getting In and Getting Out
Sure, you can start a flashback by telling us something like, Wendy remembered when she was sixteen…
And you can tell us when it’s over: Wendy stopped herself from thinking any more about it.
But here is a more elegant technique that works every time. When you’re about to go to flashback, put in a strong, sensory detail that triggers the memory in the POV character:
Wendy looked at the wall and saw a spider making its way toward a fly caught in a web. It moved slowly, purposely toward its prey. The way Lester had moved on Wendy all those years ago.
She was sixteen and Lester was the big man on campus. “Hey,” he called to her one day at the lockers. “You want to see a movie?”
We are in the flashback now. Write it out as a dramatic scene.
And how do we get out of it? By returning to the sensory detail (sight in this case) of the spider. The reader will remember that and know we’re back in the present:
Lester made his move in the back of the car. “This won’t take long, baby.”
The spider was at the web now. A wave of nausea hit Wendy as she watched it cover the fly.
But she could not look away.
A full flashback scene is not the only way to deliver backstory information. There’s also what I call the backflash. These are short bursts in which you drop info about the past within a present moment scene. The two primary methods are dialogue and thoughts.
“Hey, don’t I know you?”
“No.”
“Yeah, yeah. You were in the newspapers, what, ten years ago? The kid who killed his parents in that cabin.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Chester A. Arthur! You were named after the president. I remember that in the story.”
Chester’s troubled background has come out in a flash of dialogue. This is also a good way for shocking information from the past, or a dark secret, to be revealed at a tense moment in the story.
“Hey, don’t I know you?”
“No.” Did he? Did the guy recognize him? Would everybody in town find out he was Chet Arthur, parent killer?
“Yeah, yeah. You were in the newspapers, what, ten years ago?”
It was twelve years ago, and this guy had him pegged. Lousy press, saying he killed his parents because he was high on drugs. They didn’t care about the abuse, did they? And this guy wouldn’t, either.
The nice thing about backflashes is they create mystery. You don’t give all the info at once, leaving the reader wanting to know more. You make them wait until the next backflash, and the next…as they feverishly turn the pages!
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
A question I’m asked from time to time is about whether or not an author can quote a song lyric in a novel.
If you browse around the internet you’ll find almost universal agreement with this answer: No, you cannot quote a song without getting permission and paying a fee. Hard stop.
Actually, soft stop. The correct legal answer is—as in your first love or first attempt at a tax return—complicated.
The issue is whether a song—which is of course copyrighted material—is subject to the “fair use doctrine” just like other works, such as books. Fair use allows for a small portion of a work to be used under certain circumstances.
So the first thing to note is that there is no statute or court decision that exempts song lyrics from fair use. Zip.
However….
…the rules for applying “fair use” are about as clear as Mrs. Murphy’s chowder after the overalls have been tossed in. (Astute readers will recognize that I have just paraphrased a line from a song made popular by Mr. Bing Crosby. On the practice of paraphrase, see below).
So let’s take it step by step, for as Lennon and McCartney once put it, we must travel a rather long road that is winding. (Paraphrase!)
Here I must add, disclaimeringly, that this does not constitute legal advice (yadda-yadda). Take it as opinion, because unlike Billy Joe and Bobbie Sue in the Steve Miller song, I’m not anxious to take your money and run.
Fair Use Doctrine
In short form, the Fair Use Doctrine allows for quoting copyrighted material, based upon four factors:
(1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes;
(2) the nature of the copyrighted work;
(3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and
(4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.
Courts have held that all of these factors must be taken into consideration, with no single factor carrying greater weight than the others. It all depends on the specific facts of the case—and on who gets to decide. It’s not clear whether a jury or a judge should be the fact finder (if you’re interested in a scholarly analysis of this issue, you can read this).
So any way you look at this area of law, you’re going to see murk.
A Hypothetical Case
Joe Doakes writes a novel about a rock band whose lead character likes to sing a line from a famous song every now and then. Joe is an indie author, and up goes the book.
Six months later he gets a cease-and-desist letter from a lawyer for the company that handles licensing the song. It states, in effect, Don’t you realize you have to pay for this? Withdraw the book now and pay us $1500 and we won’t take you to court.
Joe consults a lawyer friend, a rock drummer on the side, and true to his rebellious nature the lawyer says, “Let me write a letter for you, and I’ll handle this pro bono.”
The letter goes through each of the four fair use factors, and concludes: The most compelling factor is the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the song. That’s because far from causing you damage, the use is to your financial benefit. It’s free advertising. The lyric is quoted in a favorable light. If anything, this will lead to a portion of readers wanting to purchase or stream the song. Further, as the lyrics of the entire song are widely accessible on the internet, there is no possible way the use of one line in this book will affect the market or value in any way whatsoever. Respectfully yours, Joseph Doakes.
Now the company will have to decide if they want to pile up in-house lawyer fees to tangle with this guy Doakes. Doakes is taking a risk, of course, but he’s willing to do it. He’s a rocker, after all, and one of the things he likes to rock is boats.
It would indeed be interesting to finally get a court decision on this. The argument for fair use is strong, in my humble opinion. But litigation is fraught with uncertainties. Isn’t there another way? I’m glad you asked.
The Paraphrase Workaround
Joe Doakes can avoid the grinder of the courts by way of what I call “the paraphrase workaround.” Examples:
As I drove toward the police station, a song came up on the oldies station. Stevie Wonder was singing about the sunshine of his life and the apple of his eye. I loved that song! But all I could think of was the darkness in my own life and the dead body in my trunk.
Or:
As I drove toward the police station, a song came up on the oldies station. The Beatles were singing about going down to fields of strawberries, where nothing was real. Ha! I wished I could go those fields right now, because there was a very real dead body in my trunk.
No muss, no fuss. And, most important, no lawsuit.
Okay, so what if you really, really, really want to use the exact lyric? You can seek permission to quote, for a fee. How hefty that will be is also uncertain, because a company can charge whatever it wants to. I once got permission to quote an entire song, for a reasonable price. The conditions were that the use not be derogatory and that the front matter include their standard permissions language. Done and done.
But I’ve also seen outrageous fees for a single line. Should that happen to you, you can always try to negotiate. Or get Joe Doakes’s lawyer to do it for you.
(A helpful article on how to find who grants licenses for particular songs can be found here.)
Public Domain
One last note. Any song written before 1927 is now in the public domain. More come in each year. So how about this?
As I drove toward the police station, a song came up on the oldies station. Elvis!
Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Yeah, I was lonely all right. But was I sorry we drifted apart? Was I sorry he was dead and in the trunk of my car? Um, no.
Wait, what? Elvis sang this in 1960. Yeah, but the song was published in 1926. You can now use it any way you please. (You can search for songs in the public domain here.)
This is a lot to digest, I know. But when you’re dealing with copyright law, contra Paul Simon’s advice, you really can’t think too much.
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Today I begin an occasional feature—JSB at the Movies. I’m a lifelong movie fan, my B.A. is in Film Studies, and I often use movie clips in my craft workshops. The crossover between screen and page storytelling is substantial.
So let’s start with one of the best.
Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life was not always a beloved Christmas classic. That’s because it was rarely seen after its initial run in 1947. When movies started showing up on TV in the 50s, Wonderful Life was tangled up in issues over ownership and copyright. That cloud did not begin to dissipate until 1974, while I was a film student at U.C. Santa Barbara. That year the copyright owner, Republic Pictures, failed to renew (probably due to a clerical error) and the film fell into public domain. That’s when it started showing up on TV for new generations to embrace.
To celebrate the movie’s new life our film department arranged for a showing, with a special guest—Frank Capra himself.
Capra is one of my all-time favorite directors. So I wangled and cajoled my way into being named his chauffeur for the evening.
Not that it was a glamorous ride—it was in my scruffy, three-on-the tree Ford Maverick. But the greatest populist director, the champion of “the common man,” did not seem to mind at all getting ferried to the campus in a rattletrap student automobile.
Along the way I told him my two favorite movies of his were It Happened One Night and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I added that my dad was an extra in Mr. Smith. Capra told me of the cold reception that film received when it was shown in D.C. Apparently the senators did not take kindly to the way their chamber was depicted. (Sheesh, what would a Capra film do to them today?)
Campbell Hall, our big auditorium, was packed. I got to do the introduction. Mr. Capra made some opening remarks, and then we watched the movie.
It knocked me out. And, I daresay, had the same effect on most of the audience. We had just been gifted the magic of what critics called “the Capra Touch.”
A Frame Story
Wonderful Life begins and ends on the same Christmas Eve, in a town called Bedford Falls. It opens with shots of the snowy town, and the voices of various townspeople praying for a man named George Bailey. The last voice is the one we’ll come to know as Zuzu (George’s youngest child) pleading, “Please bring Daddy back!”
We then switch to the heavens, where angels (in the form of twinkling stars) talk about what do to answer these prayers. The assignment is give to an angel named Clarence who hopes to earn his wings.
The film switches to the linear story of George, from boyhood to the present. He’s a man with hopes and dreams who comes to think of himself as a failure; indeed, that it would be better for everyone if he were dead.
This is when Clarence the angel intervenes.
This film ends by returning to the frame—Christmas Eve—and George’s redemption. A bell on the Christmas tree rings. Zuzu announces, “Teacher says every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.”
George winks at the sky. “Attaboy, Clarence.”
Lesson: A frame-story can add another level of emotion if you make it entertaining in its own right. A frame-story can add another level of emotion if you make it compelling in its own right. Other movie examples using this device are The Princess Bride and Titanic. Novels with a frame include The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman, The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks, and The Green Mile by Stephen King.
The Imperfect Lead
Heroes who are perfect are uninteresting. Deep down we don’t really buy it. That’s why your Lead should have flaws and foibles just like all of us.
George Bailey (James Stewart) is a good man, a solid citizen, but is far from perfect. He’s not above leering at the attractive derrière of Violet Bick (Gloria Grahame) as she shimmies down the street. He loses his temper and becomes abusive. He verbally destroys the simple-minded Uncle Billy when the latter loses a crucial bank deposit. On Christmas Eve, his life at its lowest ebb, he screams over the phone at his child’s teacher, then yells at his children, bringing them to tears. (Stewart’s acting is brilliant throughout. He was suitably nominated for Best Actor, losing only because the equally brilliant Frederic March in The Best Years of Our Lives.)
Lesson: The imperfect Lead creates empathy. The key, however, is that he is aware of his flaws, and wants to overcome them, as George does.
Strong Supporting Characters
Every one of the secondary characters in Wonderful Life is well-drawn and engaging in their own right. Clarence the Angel (Henry Travers); Bert the cop (Ward Bond); Ernie the cab driver (Frank Faylen); the tragic Mr. Gower (H. B. Warner); all the way down to Zuzu (Karolyn Grimes, who is still with us). Old Man Potter (Lionel Barrymore) is a classic villain, and even his nonspeaking servant has an eerie presence.
Lesson: Give each of your supporting characters, even the minor ones, their own unique quirks and tags. These add “spice” to your stories, increasing reader enjoyment.
A Rocky Romance
At the heart of the film is the love story of George and Mary (Donna Reed). When George’s brother, Harry, returns to town, married, George learns he’s been offered a great job by his father-in-law. Harry tells George he’ll keep his end of the bargain by running the Building and Loan so George can travel, but George knows the job is best for his brother and sister-in-law, and tells Harry to take it.
Which doesn’t help George’s frustration about staying in town. That evening he finds himself walking by Mary Hatch’s house. Mary, back in town from school, has been waiting for this moment. She has on her best dress and has set up the parlor to reveal a picture of a romantic moment from their high school days—when George said he would “lasso the moon” for Mary.
But that was then.
Now, as Mary does everything she can to rekindle the romance, George shoots her down at every turn. Finally Mary has had enough. She smashes the phonograph record of “Buffalo Gals” just as she receives a phone call from her suitor, Sam Wainwright. Sam asks to speak to George. He proceeds to offer George a “ground floor” position at his new plastics firm.
Mary…plastics…money…
George’s turmoil explodes to the surface. He grabs Mary by the shoulders, shakes her. “Now you listen to me! I don’t want any plastics! I don’t want any ground floors, and I don’t want to get married – ever – to anyone! You understand that? I want to do what I want to do. And you’re…you’re…”
George pulls Mary to him in a fierce embrace. Love has conquered his rage.
Lesson: Readers love to read about love. But be it a romance plot or a romance subplot, the path of love must have obstacles. In a scene of high intensity, find a competing emotion that fights for supremacy inside the character.
The Mirror Moment
There’s a perfect mirror moment in the middle of the film. George is forced to look at himself and choose what kind of man he’s going to be.
Old man Potter has been trying to take over—or ruin—the Bailey Building and Loan Company, so his firm will be the only one building homes for the community. But George has frustrated those plans. And while he’s now married with children, George is not rolling in dough like his friend Sam Wainwright (see above) who made a killing in plastics during the war.
Knowing this, Potter calls George in for a meeting and hands him a big, fat cigar. He starts with the flattery, then offers George a job—at ten times George’s current take-home!
“You wouldn’t mind living in the nicest house in town,” Potter says, “buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, a couple of business trips to New York a year, maybe once in a while Europe. You wouldn’t mind that, would you, George?”
George is stunned. And tempted! To travel like that has been his dream. To have money to lavish on his wife, who has had to make the best of his meager salary, has always been his desire. He’s considering the offer when he asks what will become of the Building and Loan.
“Confound it, man, are you afraid of success?” Potter says. “I’m offering you a three-year contract at twenty-thousand dollars a year, starting today. Is it a deal or isn’t it?”
We read the conflict in George’s eyes. Who am I? he is thinking. What will happen if I take this offer?
He asks Potter for a day to think it over. Potter consents, tells George to go talk it over with his wife and meanwhile he’ll draw up the papers. He offers his hand.
The script describes what happens next: As they shake hands, George feels a physical revulsion. Potter’s hand feels like a cold mackerel to him. In that moment of physical contact he knows he could never be associated with this man. George drops his hand with a shudder. He peers intently into Potter’s face.
George says: “No…no…no…no, now wait a minute here! I don’t have to talk to anybody. I know right now, and the answer is no. NO! Doggone it!”
George has decided who he must be, but will that be enough to sustain him? That’s what the rest of the movie is about.
Lesson: At some point in your writing—the planning stage or at any point along the pantsing highway—brainstorm five possible deep questions your Lead can ask about himself. What is the central inner issue at this point in the story? You’ll often find that the third, fourth or fifth idea is the one that jumps out at you as original and on point. And that’s when you know what your story is really all about.
Transformation
At the end of every great story is a transformation of the Lead. In this case, George is transformed from a bitter and discouraged man to one who has realized that his gift to the world has been right there in his little hometown. Because of his sacrifices and generosity, Bedford Falls is a lovely place to live, as opposed to the Pottersville of the alternate world (where George had never been born).
Note that this transformation is an answer to the question raised by the mirror moment.
And here’s a little technique that will add depth to all this: the argument against transformation.
That’s a beat early in Act 1 where the Lead makes a case for the opposite of the transformation. For example, Rick in Casablanca is transformed into a self-sacrificing hero at the end. So what does he say early on? “I stick my neck out for nobody.”
In Wonderful Life, George’s realization about his town’s love is argued against in Act 1. That’s when the young George Bailey tells the two girls, Mary and Violet, the following:
You don’t like coconuts! Say, brainless, don’t you know where coconuts come from. Lookit here – from Tahiti – Fiji Islands, the Coral Sea!
MARY: A new magazine! I never saw it before.
GEORGE: Of course you never. Only us explorers can get it. I’ve been nominated for membership in the National Geographic Society. I’m going out exploring some day, you watch. And I’m going to have a couple of harems, and maybe three or four wives. Wait and see.
Lesson: Once you know the transformation, give your Lead a line or two in Act 1 that is expressing the opposite view. The readers will experience a most satisfying character arc that way.
And that is why It’s a Wonderful Life is a classic of its time—and for all time.
This is JSB at the Movies, signing off.
The End.
by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Carla Hoch
It’s my pleasure to introduce you to Carla Hoch, author of Fight Write: How to Write Believable Fight Scenes (Writer’s Digest Books). It’s a fantastic resource, jam-packed with info, tips, and techniques on virtually every aspect of physical altercations. As such it is useful both as a resource (to make sure you know what you’re writing about) and a brainstorming tool (providing abundant ideas for making your fight scenes vivid and original). It’s also a pleasure to read in Carla’s jaunty, entertaining voice. Carla is a writer herself and a trained fighter with experience in nearly one dozen martial arts and fighting styles. Settle in, this is a lengthy interview, but entirely worth your time. Without further fondue:
One of the great benefits of your book is as a reference when planning a fight scene. With all the possibilities of strikes, moves, weapons, size disparities of the opponents and so on, one can create an almost infinite variety of fight scenes, just as there is almost an infinite variety of chess moves, right?
Absolutely, and the proficiency of the fighter isn’t just in how many different techniques they know but also in their ability to combine them productively. A fighter can know a hundred moves, but if the fighter can’t combine them, they are basically knowledge rich but skill poor.
You advocate working backwards, starting with the type of injury you want to have at the end of the fight scene. Then choreographing the scene by actually moving around physically and doing the strikes yourself. This is best done privately and not at Starbucks, I assume. Can you expand on this?
If you walk through your fight scene in Starbucks, do it before you give them your name for your order. Or, use a different name, like, I don’t know, Jim Bell.
Every writer has their own process. But, I, as a writer and fighter, highly suggest blocking your fight around the injury goal. For one, starting with the injury in mind gives you a destination, and it’s much easier to get somewhere if you know where you should end up. Having an injury goal also keeps the story front and center. Whatever harm you mean to inflict in the scene has to further the plot or bring the reader into the story. So, basing movements around that harm ensures that you will have the wound your plot or character development requires. I teach a whole class on injuries and what they offer your story. They can really be great tools.
The injury goal also determines the movement. A character who aims to break someone’s nose will move differently than a character who means to hobble someone. Also, if you want the injury to be mild, that immediately negates certain weaponry and moves. If I need the character to die, then I know I need to create a scenario where that could happen.
I really do suggest moving around and doing a bit of the blocking to know how your character’s body will be oriented. This is especially important if you have no fight training. And, don’t worry, you don’t have to be able to do the moves as well as your character can. But move around to see if the moves you are linking can actually connect.
As you move, think about how the actions impact each fighter not only offensively but defensively. Let’s say your character is being struck under the chin with an upper cut. If you were punched under your chin with straight, upward momentum, what would your head do? It would kick backward. So, if that strike knocked you out, in what direction would you likely fall? Look straight up as far as you can and see how your body moves. You’ll notice that your whole body tilts backward. Knocked out, you’d likely fall onto your back. If your character needs to fall forward, you now know, because you moved your body, that an upper cut isn’t the punch to accomplish that.
Bodily response is a part of fight strategy. Fighters do certain techniques in order to get certain responses from their opponent. For example, if I’m boxing and want to punch my opponent’s jaw but they are guarding their face well, I will punch at their midsection. If I make contact with the abdomen, great, but I don’t have to. What I want is for my opponent to drop their hands to guard their midsection, thereby exposing their jaw, or crunch their abs which brings their head down. Even if I can’t make contact with their jaw, with their head down their temples are likely accessible and temples are good targets too.
On that note, don’t be too fancy. Really and truly, readers want to know the implications of the moves far more than the moves themselves. Readers want a sensory experience. It’s what they can relate to! Not every knows what it’s like to punch or be punched in the eye. But everyone has gotten something in their eye. They know that when one eye hurts, the other eye squints and waters and you can’t see and then your nose gets runny and you sniffle and snort and even though it’s just dust in your eye everything comes to a screeching halt until the invasive speck is out of your eye!!! It’s maddening! Use that common, maddening experience.
How about using a blank piece of paper and drawing the scene?
If that works for you, I think that is great! It’s definitely helpful if there are a lot of people involved or if the battle scene is epic and involves troop formation.
One usually thinks of the size advantage, as in a Jack Reacher type. But you point out some of the advantages of a smaller fighter. What are those?
Well, first, the advantages are few and far between. I know this from experience. And you may hear people say that technique beats size and strength so as long as your smaller fighter is highly trained, they are fine. Let me tell ya something. Go ahead and scoot in close and let me whisper this so I don’t offend anyone who believes that lie. The only people who say technique always beats size and strength are either big or haven’t fought a day in their life!
What smaller people have to their advantage is that they are used to the size disparity and have learned to work with it. They know what they need to do to strike someone taller because it’s a problem they face often. It is also easier for smaller people to slip out of holds by larger people. My jiujitsu coach is very muscular. When he bends his arm, his bicep hits his forearm and, let me tell ya, I’m so thankful for that. Above his bicep is a little bit of space that I can use to wiggle my hand in to use as a brace. Another one of my coaches in very tall. His long limbs have a problem keeping a tight hold on me.
Physics is also on the side of the smaller person. They have a greater potential for rotation and can change their momentum more quickly than a larger person for the simple fact they have less mass. That’s one reason why gymnasts tend to be small. However, that doesn’t mean a larger person can’t be as agile or quick as a smaller person.
As a whole, however, smaller people are at a disadvantage. They have less mass which means that to create as much force in their strike as a larger person, they have to be exceptionally fast. That is one reason why combat sports have weight divisions. Larger opponents also tend to have more muscle mass. More muscle means more strength and a heavier frame. All that can be used against a smaller fighter. I have literally had larger teammates stand up with me hanging off of them still fighting as best I can. In class it’s funny. In a street fight that is death. The reason I am able to best larger opponents in combat sports is because my opponents are willing to abide by the rules of that sport and not simply pick me up and throw me or squash me like a bug.
What are some fight clichés you see over and over?
The Darth Vader hold: picking up someone by their neck. Y’all, you just can’t do that. First, the human spine isn’t meant to support the body’s weight by the cervical vertebrae at the head. That’s why hanging is a “thing.” Also, if you were held like that, the grip would be such that you couldn’t talk as so many characters in that position do. Lastly, holding that weight with one arm, especially a straight arm, would take Herculean strength and even if you had it, that much weight out in front of you would make you topple forward.
Another cliché that I see is using two swords at once. I did a little Filipino Martial Arts and it has a two-sword style known as Estilo Macabebe. I’ve written about it on my blog but have never done it. Pretty sure I’d cut my own head off immediately. I don’t have issue with a character having that style. The problem I have is why they have that style. Estilo Macabebe began with a particular purpose. Your character’s fighting style should also have a purpose that fits them and the setting of the work. They can’t just have a two-blade style because it’s showy and cool. Trust me, trained fighters are not showy. They want maximum efficiency with minimal effort. If they go to the trouble of using two swords, there’s a reason. And, yes, one of those reasons might be intimidation to hopefully avoid conflict. So, even when a fighter happens to fight fancy, there’s a purpose that goes far beyond just being cool.
That said, two-blade styles are so cool and I wish I knew one!
In all the old Westerns, fights are almost exclusively punches to the face, back and forth. Isn’t a fist to someone’s face like hitting a brick? How do you punch a guy’s jaw without ruining your hand?
Hitting someone with bare knuckles leaves the hand open to major damage. Fighters in striking sports don’t wear gloves to protect their opponent’s face. They wear them to protect their own hands. And, under those gloves is tight wrapping to pull the bones of the hand together and further protect them from breaking. Breaking the bones of the hands by punching is so common that a fracture of the bones under the ring and pinkie fingers are called “boxer’s breaks.” The bones of the hand are not created to support the impact of punching. Our moms were right. Hands weren’t made for hitting.
All that said, people punch other people in the face all the time. If they don’t suffer a boxer’s break from the punch they are either lucky, much bigger than the target of the punch or have a job that has made the bones of their hands thicker. The best way to punch and not break the bones of the hand is not to punch at all. I know, I hate that answer too. It’s like when I ask my jiujitsu coach how to get out of something and his reply his, “don’t get in that position.”
When I teach self-defense, I suggest using hammer fists, defensive slaps and palm strikes. A hammer fist is a downward strike with a fist. It’s the same motion as hammering, thus, the name. If you are striking downward, hammer fist is the way to go. A defensive slap is a slap delivered with a cupped hand. You get your whole body into it like a punch. And don’t let the “slap” part mislead you. Defensive slaps are used in combat sports and will knock you out. They can also rupture an ear drum. They are great to use if you have sideways momentum. A palm strike is great for straight strikes that go directly in front of you or upward. You make contact with the base of your palm. Palm strikes can break a nose, bust lips and severely damage an eye.
And if your character gets a Tyson-like punch in the face, what’s that going to feel like?
If Iron Mike punched your character in the face they wouldn’t feel a thing. They’d be dead. Seriously. The force of Tyson’s punch is about a ton per square inch. It would break the average person’s neck. Fighters don’t just train to deliver punches. They train to take them. They strengthen their necks and learn to move with a punch to lessen the force of it.
You suggest that the winner of a fight carries around some physical and psychological trauma afterward. It seems to me some of that needs to be depicted and makes the whole thing more realistic. Tell us more.
Hurting people hurts. Period. Physically, beating someone up can leave your muscles sore and beat up your hands. Light swords grow heavy after a while. Even shooting for long periods of time can make your body ache.
Harming another is also damaging to the psyche. The closer an assailant is to the person they assault/kill, the higher the incidence of PTSD, especially if they see the victim’s face. And, yes, bad guys get PTSD. They just don’t talk about it. But, if you watch interviews with murderers, you will hear them say that they have nightmares about the person(s) they killed. Or you may notice that they are completely numb, not registering any emotion in connection to their actions. The latter is a much unhealthier state because they are not allowing their mind to deal with what they have done.
Those whose job may require them to harm another go through training that primes their brain to do so. I go through several aspects of this sort of training in my book. Some of the most common techniques are firing upon targets with a human form and referring to people with words that don’t call to mind their humanity. This is why you will hear policemen or soldiers use words like “perp”, “suspect,” “insurgent,” “assailant.” They aren’t using those words because they don’t value people. Policemen and soldiers do their job because they do value people. They use these words because they are trained to use those words, and they are trained to use those words in the case they must kill that person to save another. It is more palpable to the brain to “dispatch a target,” than “kill a human.” But, even with mental training, the mind suffers. The term PTSD came directly from work with Vietnam Vets.
Explain what JACA stands for.
JACA is a matrix used by threat assessment specialists to determine whether a threat made is credible. It was coined by Gavin deBecker, writer of the book The Gift of Fear. Everyone should read that book!
JACA is an acronym that helps predict violence. When a person makes a threat, you have to ask if that person has:
Justification – Does the person have justification for their threatened action? Were they jilted, fired, humiliated? Do they have what they see as a legitimate reason to do what they are threatening to do?
Alternatives – Does the person see alternatives to their proposed violence? In other words, does the person legitimately see no other way to handle the situation other than violence.
Consequences – Does the person see the risk of violence as worth the reward? Do they care about what could happen to them as a result?
Ability – Is the person able to carry out the threat? Are they close enough in proximity? Do they have the weaponry or physical skillset?
We have a plethora today in the movies of females kicking butt. Unless it’s a superhero, how can we bring more realism when it’s a woman doing the fighting?
Good question. Pardon me while I assemble my soap box. (hammering, hammering) Ok, here we go. Ahem! First, if your character is a trained fighter, she will fight no differently than a man. Fighters base their game on their body type and natural abilities not their gender. I have trained in ten fighting styles in as many years. Not once has a coach/sensei separated the class to teach gender specific techniques. Techniques are based in science, usually physics, and science isn’t sexist.
Also, a female in combat will dress like a male in combat. In other words, their armor doesn’t show their mid-drift! They don’t wear a helmet, carry a shield and wear a leather bikini. I mean, what is that?
Tell us a little bit about gaslighting as a weapon.
Gaslighting is a form of mental manipulation. It is an attempt to gain power over another person by causing them to question reality. When a person isn’t sure what is real, they have no concept of the amount of control another person has over them. It’s a common tactic of narcissists, cult leaders, dictators and my cat Dottie. Everything out of that one’s mouth is just straight up lies and manipulation.
One of the tactics of gaslighters is illusory truth. They will say something so often that others come to believe it. They will tell flagrant lies with such conviction that you will question whether you should even question them. They deny having said things even when there is proof. When backed into a corner they will deflect and tell you that you are being crazy or too sensitive.
Gaslighters thrive on confusion and amass troops, or at least make you believe they are, to “prove to you” that you are wrong. “Everybody knows how you are.” “Everyone says you’re too sensitive.” They also project and accuse you of what they are guilty of. “You are cheating on me and I know it.” “You lie all the time. Your friends told me so.” Above all, they will voraciously deny that they are gaslighters.
Victims of gaslighting often question themselves. After an interaction with the gaslighter they feel confused or crazy. They constantly apologize to the gaslighter. They feel hopeless and joyless and can’t understand why, with all that is good in their life, they feel that way. They lie to avoid put-downs from the gaslighter. They have trouble making decisions.
I cannot stress the amount of damage a gaslighter can do. It’s diabolical.
You write in your book about “the science of being knocked out.” What do writers miss?
First, I think people believe being knocked unconscious is always the result of a concussion. Sustaining a concussion from a punch can make you lose consciousness, but just because you lost consciousness doesn’t automatically mean you have a concussion. Honestly, I think more concussions happen when the person collapses and hits the floor.
Any time the body sustains a blow hard enough to disrupt blood, it can temporarily lose consciousness. It is the body’s effort to get the brain even with the heart to maximize blood flow. And, unless you can float, to get the head and chest on the same plain, you will have to lie down.
When a person goes unconscious from a punch or from being “choked out,” they don’t stay that way for long unless they do have a fair amount of brain damage. Now, I have never left a teammate unconscious to see how long it took them to come to, but I’ve been told that, left unassisted, they will likely be out for maybe ten seconds. Again, that is barring brain damage.
One of the creepiest things I see when people are knocked out, and that people who’ve never seen it don’t know, is that while unconscious people will jerk, wiggle and sometimes hiss. It honestly looks like they might be dying. Their limbs will go stiff, their toes will curl and that is all because of the body trying to “reboot” itself. Nerves are firing like crazy.
Also, when a person regains consciousness, they tend to come back to the moment before they were knocked/choked out. So, they may come to throwing punches! My jiujitsu coach was choked out a few weeks ago. I ran over to him and lifted his feet to get more blood flow to the brain – that’s what you should do. When he regained consciousness, after maybe five seconds, he immediately reached out as if in the middle of the fight. When he saw me standing above him, he asked what happened. I told him that I had had choked him out. (I hadn’t. I was tricking him. I regret nothing.) I could see him mulling it over and looking around. Finally, the moment before he blacked out returned to his mind and he looked at the guy who had bested him. Everyone laughed. But, to this day, I gaslight him and assure him that I was the one to choke him out. (Again, I regret nothing.)
Where can we find you on the internet?
My main presence is on my site, FightWrite.net. It has been listed in Writer’s Digest top sites for writers four years in a row and has won two Gold Crown Awards with CAN for media presence. There you can read my blog, going strong since 2016, buy my book, reach out to me or take a class.
I am active on Instagram and IGTV @fightwritecarla. I give lots of fight scene tips and post regular reader engagement posts. Like, today, I asked, “What move is actually better than the book?” I have some videos on IGTV as well. I have a regular post on the Writer’s Digest Blog and I also have videos on YouTube.
Thank you, Carla, for being our guest today.
No, thank YOU!
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Carla has a busy morning, but may be able to drop by later. Comments are open!
