What Is This Historic Mystery Stone?

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By Sue Coletta

One of my recent research trips led me to the New Hampshire Historical Society and Museum. I went there to copy two diaries — one from 1880, another from 1881 — written by a close family friend of the victims and female serial killer, a man who gave a fascinating firsthand account of daily life before, during, and after the murders. Reading the handwriting is a challenge that I’m still working on.

Quick research tip: if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, it helps to photograph the handwritten pages so you can enlarge the chicken-scratch at home.

After I finished photographing the diaries, my husband and I toured the museum, and we stumbled across an intriguing unsolved mystery.

In 1872 construction workers unearthed a suspicious lump of clay near the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee (also in New Hampshire). The clay casing hid an egg-shaped stone with nine carvings, depicting a face, a teepee, and an ear of corn, along with strange geometric designs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amateur and professional archaeologists have speculated about the “mystery stone” ever since. At the time, the American Naturalist described it as “a remarkable Indian relic.” In the 1880s and early 1890s, sources claimed, “this stone has attracted the wonder of the scientific world, European savants having vainly tried to obtain it.”

A geological study of the stone conducted in the 1990s found it to be made of quartzite or mylonite, material not known to be otherwise present in New Hampshire. The “mystery stone” is perfectly shaped and unblemished by any distortions or markings other than the pictogram carvings. Recent examinations with a microscope suggest that the hole bored through the stone may actually have been drilled by a machine. Whether carved by hand or power tools, the stone’s manufacture indicates it lands somewhere in the mid to late 19th century. But does it?

The stone quickly gained public attention, with the New Hampshire Patriot and State Gazette, the leading newspaper in the Granite State at the time, running a piece on July 17, 1872, announcing the stone’s discovery.

With such publicity, word of the stone reached far and wide, even to European scientists, who could not discern any more about the stone’s history than the Americans. In succeeding years, newspaper stories about the stone popped up at random intervals. In 1895, the Manchester Union reported that “the strange relic has attracted much attention,” even from the likes of the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, DC. A geological survey conducted by the State of New Hampshire in 1994 failed to shed much light on the stone, either.

To this day, amateur and professional archaeologists have speculated about the Mystery Stone’s origins.

NH Historical Society writes…

The most prevalent explanation has been that the Mystery Stone is a prehistoric Native American artifact. The discovery of an unusual Indian relic was not unprecedented at the time, encouraged by a highly romanticized view of America’s native heritage developed in the mid-19th century, especially in the East where fears of Anglo-Indian conflict were generations in the past.

An increasing reverence for the power of nature combined with nostalgia for a pre-industrial America combined to elevate Native Americans to the role of “noble savages” for many Americans. Indians’ perceived ability to commune with a pristine and unspoiled environment lent an air of mystery to the natural world, suggesting that natives could somehow unlock the secrets of the universe in a way that “civilized” men and women were no longer able to do, bound as they were by an overreliance on logic and reason and wholly cut off from their more intuitive and emotional natures by the standards of society.

The anomaly of the stone’s alleged “machine-made carvings” and the fact that it was composed of a rock type not found in New Hampshire could never be explained, nor does it support the idea that the stone is of Native American origin. The native culture depicted on the stone bear no resemblance to the Abenaki, New Hampshire’s native people. The face on the stone likens more to Eskimo or Aztec culture, and the carved teepee leans more toward natives in the American West.

Some Mystery Stone enthusiasts have suggested that the stone has spiritual significance for a prehistoric native culture that once covered most of North America. If that’s true, the stone may depict the forging of a treaty between two different tribes, or it may have been part of a ritual that accompanied a water burial for a native figure of importance in New Hampshire.

Over the years, other theories as to the stone’s origin have been posited. In 1931 a letter-writer suggested to the president of the New Hampshire Historical Society that the Mystery Stone was actually a thunderstone (rocks that fall from the sky during lightening storms), calling it “the most perfectly worked thunder-stone ever discovered.”

Another more recent theory argues that it is a lodestone, a natural magnetized mineral used for navigational purposes in the 16th century as an alternative to a compass. Other theories link the Mystery Stone to numerology, aliens, massive planetary shifts, or a worldwide apocalypse.

Facts 

We know the stone was found encased in clay in 1872 at Lake Winnepasaukee. The stone is either quartzite or mylonite, neither rock type found in New Hampshire. There is a hole bored through both ends, done with different sized bits — 1/8″ at the narrow end, 3/8″ at the broad end. Each bore is straight, not tapered. Scratches on the stone’s lower bore suggests it was placed on a metal shaft and removed several times (which might make sense if it’s lodestone and was used as a compass). There’s a notch or divot in the bore. Perhaps it’s some sort of “key” for mounting the stone?

The mystery…

Who made the stone?

Who carved the stone?

For what purpose was the stone made?

How old is it?

How was the stone carved, by hand or machine?

No one else has ever reported finding another stone like this anywhere in the United States. The one thing that most Mystery Stone interpreters can agree on is that it’s an “out-of-place artifact.” Meaning, it should never have been discovered in New Hampshire.

Any guesses what the Mystery Stone might be?

 

Learning From the Movies: The King’s Speech

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush in The King’s Speech

Imagine a hungry young screenwriter getting invited to a pitch session on a studio lot.

“What’ve you got for me, kid?” the producer says.

“Okay,” the screenwriter says, “we have this guy, see, he’s a king, see, and he’s got to make a speech. Only the guy stutters.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?”

“The movie!”

“That’s it. That’s the movie! And at the end, see, he makes the speech.”

“Security!”

And yet The King’s Speech (2010) won Oscars for Best Picture, Actor, Director, and Screenwriter. How did they pull that off?

Through the power of character bonding and the magic of story structure. You can do just about anything with your novel so long as you have a reader intensely and emotionally invested in your Lead and put him through the beats of a well-crafted tale.

Let’s talk about emotional investment first. In Plot & Structure I discuss various ways a writer can join reader and character in the bonds of holy storytelling. One of the strongest bonding agents is hardship—at the beginning we are introduced to a character who faces a physical or emotional challenge.

In The King’s Speech, the hardship is both physical and psychological. Prince Albert, the Duke of York (Colin Firth) has a severe stammer which not only prevents him from delivering a simple speech; it also keeps him locked in a prison of self-doubt.

As the movie opens we see Albert nervously stepping up to a microphone to speak to a crowd. His stuttering talk bombs. People look embarrassed and disappointed. Prince Albert’s hardship has caused him massive public humiliation.

We’ve all been embarrassed, though not on so grand a scale. So we have immediate sympathy.

But that’s not all. There’s another powerful bonding agent I call the Care Package. This is a relationship in place before the story begins, showing that the Lead is not merely self interested. If we see someone who cares about someone else, it gives us hope for his ultimate redemption.

Early in Act 1 there is a lovely scene that gets me every time. Prince Albert, all done up in a tux, comes to say good-night to his two daughters. They want a story! “Can’t I be a penguin instead?” he asks. Clearly, he doubts even his ability to tell his children a simple bedtime tale. But they insist!

And so, out of love and fatherly duty, he makes the attempt. He tells a story about two princesses whose papa was changed by a witch into a penguin. This made him sad, for a penguin does not have arms to embrace his children. Not only that, the witch banished him to the South Pole. It’s obvious he is talking, metaphorically, about himself. The story ends with a restored father hugging his daughters. We can’t help but wonder if Albert will be healed, too. By now we hope so, because we are firmly invested in him.

The Duchess (Helena Bonham Carter) arranges a meeting for Albert with an eccentric speech therapist named Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush). Here we get another structural beat: The Argument Against Transformation. Unconvinced Lionel can help him, Albert is about to leave when Lionel asks him to try something. He puts headphones on the prince and plays classical music while having the prince read the famous soliloquy from Hamlet. After a minute or so Albert rips off the headphones and shouts, “Hopeless!” Then: “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t…feel this is for me.”

This sets up the arc of transformation that pays off at the end. (In Casablanca, Rick argues against his ultimate transformation by saying, “I stick my neck out for nobody.” At the end, of course, he does that very thing.)

The First Doorway of No Return

In a movie we need to get into the death stakes of Act 2 by the 25% mark (for novels, I advise 20% at the latest). That happens when the Lead is forced—either physically or emotionally—through a doorway that slams shut behind him (meaning he can never go back to his ordinary world). In The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind, it’s physical (a tornado and the start of the Civil War, respectively). In Casablanca, it’s emotional (the arrival of Rick’s lost love, Ilsa).

In The King’s Speech, Albert is emotionally thrust through the doorway by his domineering father, King George V. Sitting his son down in front of microphones he says, “With your older brother shirking his duties, you’re going to have to do a lot more of this.”

Albert tries, but can’t get started. “Do it!” the king demands.

Later, in emotional torment over what he must be—and firmly believes he can never be—Albert puts on the recording Lionel made. And to his astonishment he’s read the soliloquy perfectly. Now he must place his trust in Lionel or “die” inside by letting down his entire country.

Mirror Moment

In the dead center of great stories the Lead is forced to look at himself, as if in a mirror (usually metaphorical, but it’s amazing how often there’s a physical mirror involved). Sometimes this is caused by another character forcing the issue.

That’s what happens in the middle of The King’s Speech. Albert is terrified at the prospect of being king (which will happen soon, for his brother is going to marry a divorcee). Lionel knows this fear is what’s holding Albert back as a speaker, a royal, and a person.

Lionel: I’m trying to get you to realize you needn’t be governed by fear.

Albert: I’ve had enough of this.

Lionel: What are you so afraid of?

Albert: Your poisonous words!

Lionel: Why did you come to me? You’re not some middle-class banker who wants elocution lessons so you can chitchat.

Albert: Don’t attempt to instruct me on my duties! I am the son of a … king.

And the brother of a king.

Albert: You’re the disappointing son of a brewer. A jumped-up jackeroo from the outback. You’re a nobody!

That last line is a knife through Lionel’s heart. In Casablanca, the same thing happens when Rick basically calls Ilsa a whore. Both Rick and Albert must now “look at themselves” and wonder, “Is this who I have become? Is this who I will always be?” (In film, these thoughts are rendered visually; in a novel, you can also use interior monologue.)

The Second Doorway

To get into Act 3, where the final battle takes place, we need another doorway. It’s going to be a clue or discovery, or a major crisis or setback—something that makes the ending possible and/or inevitable.

In The King’s Speech it’s a major crisis: Hitler invades Poland. A state of war exists. And Albert has just been crowned King George VI! Now it is his duty to address his kingdom, and in such a way as to inspire iron resolve for what is coming.

No pressure.

The Q Factor

Just before the climax, the Lead takes inspiration from an emotional jolt, giving him the courage to fight. I call this The Q Factor (named after the Bond character who sets up in Act 1 the gadgets Bond will need to escape in Act 3). In story structure, it’s an emotional connection that pays off by providing the last bit of courage the Lead needs. In Star Wars, for example, Luke hears the voice of his beloved mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobe, reminding him to “use The Force.”

In The King’s Speech, just as Albert steps to the microphone, Lionel tells him, “Say it to me, as a friend.” Not simply a teacher, a friend! That trust which began in Act 1 now enables the victory as Albert delivers an inspirational speech. The movie ends by proving the transformation: Albert—King George VI—steps out on the balcony with his wife and daughters and confidently waves to the adoring crowd.

Character bonding, the right structural beats (and great acting!)—that’s how a movie about a man who stutters became a huge, award-winning hit. (I discuss the fourteen super structure beats in my book of the same name. End of commercial!)

You can think about these beats before you write; you will develop a solid outline that way. Or you can think about them during revision as you try to figure out why your editor or beta readers aren’t as enthusiastic about your story as you are.

Either way, they are here to help. Because, after all, story and structure absolutely love each other!

Giving and Receiving

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Photo courtesy of Gregor McEwan on unsplash.com

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving. The following took place in the weeks leading up to it. You will please note that I am still sorting it all out. 

I received on Thursday, November 7 an invitation to an email casting call for extras to be used in a feature film. The invitation requested a headshot, a full-length photo, my name, telephone number, height, and weight. I was advised that if I were chosen I would receive an email on Monday, November 11, with instructions for the time and location of the scene shoot on November 12 and 13. 

I didn’t receive an email. That’s okay. It wasn’t my first rodeo. Anyone who has ever been involved in the arts in any capacity either gets used to receiving rejections or finds something else to do. Life goes on. 

Flash forward a week or so. It was a cold and rainy day, the type where Churchill’s black dog runs off its leash. I was coming out of my local supermarket of choice and walking to my car when I saw a guy sitting forlornly on one of those motorized shopping carts which was stopped by a car, parked in a handicapped spot, with its trunk open. The shopping cart contained, among other things, a fifty-pound bag of dog food. Folks were hurrying by in both directions with their heads down. I couldn’t blame them. We’re all in a hurry even on the best of days and that day wasn’t one of them. There was also something about the tableau that was a little off. I’m still not sure what it was. But. But. I walked over anyway and asked the gent if he needed some help. “I sure could,” he said. The guy was disheveled. He looked like he’d been living rough. He also had a speech impediment which made him difficult to understand. I picked up the bag and put it into his trunk, placing his other smaller purchases in there for good measure. He got off the cart seat, took a couple of steps, and hugged me. Closely, cheek to cheek.  I hadn’t really signed up for gratitude, particularly of this nature,  but I kind of hugged him back and started to politely disengage. Just before he let go he whispered in my ear — no speech impediment present — and said, “What you wanted will be yours. Thank you.” I nodded and smiled — the type of smile you give to a stranger who you are attempting to politely leave behind — before walking to my own car and driving home.

I spent the remainder of the day working. UPS did not deliver a five-pound box of money. Sandra Bullock did not call to ask me to drive down to New Orleans and keep her company. A soon-to-be-published, world-wide best seller-to-be did not materialize on my computer in “Joe’s Manuscripts.” The phone, however, did ring at 10:20 PM. It was a representative of the talent agency which had sent me the email on November 7. They had another shoot scheduled for the same film-in-progress on November 27 and they wondered if I would be available. 

I told the representative “no.”

I’m kidding of course. I told him “yea, yea, and yea again” and found myself on the day appointed driving to Cleveland at 3:30 AM so that I could demonstrate my acting skills by pretending for several hours to act cold, wet, and forlorn on a suburban Cleveland street corner on a rainy and windy day. And yeah. What I wanted was mine. 

I believe in coincidences in the sense that a coincidence is a higher power acting anonymously. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe not. My younger brother told me that it was nothing more or less than me helping a stranger on the same day that the agency decided it needed what my brother called “an affable fat f**k” for the scene in question. A very wise friend of mine, however,  said with all of the assurance in the world that I had been tested by an angel. That conclusion is above my pay grade but he may be right. Or not. 

I have the foregoing — and so much more — to be thankful for this week and every week. As always I am thankful for friends like you and for family. I couldn’t ask for any more than that at this stage of the journey.

That’s all I have today. Thanks for dropping by. Enjoy your weekend. And don’t be surprised if you’re tested as well. 

Reader Friday: Writer or Reader Gifts

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What’s the best writerly gift you’ve ever received? Why was it so helpful?

Are you hoping for a writerly gift this year? If so, what?

Bonus Questions:

What’s the best gift you’ve received from an author? What made it so special?

Do you include reader gifts in your holiday promotions? Care to share where you create/buy your promotional gifts?

True Crime Thanksgiving

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by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

!

Happy Thanksgiving! 

For True Crime Thursday, I dug up a few Thanksgiving stories about fowl play–go ahead and groan, you won’t hurt my feelings.

The fight against retail theft leads to new technology at self-checkout stations. Would-be turkey-nappers leave the bird in the basket without scanning it; or they place the turkey on the scale but enter a code for a cheaper item, e.g. 59 cent/pound bananas. Here’s a link.

Thanksgiving in Canada was October 14. This video caught a woman in Ontario who thought she could stuff the bird under her shirt and masquerade as pregnant. No report if she suffered frostbitten belly.

Thieves stole 85 turkeys and pheasants from Gary and Val Ertman’s Thumb Egg Ranch in Unionville, Michigan.

According to the Saginaw/Bay City News: “The farm produces birds for purchase as babies, egg layers, and meat for a variety of customers. The farm raises ducks, geese, pheasants, quail, peacocks, chickens, and turkeys. The Ertmans also sell young birds to 4-H kids for their poultry projects.”

Normally, the Ertmans butcher turkeys on the Monday before Thanksgiving for customers who want a fresh bird. Unfortunately this year, there’s no time to raise stock to replace the stolen poultry.

“If somebody is hungry, we would feed them…but don’t steal that many,” said Gary Ertman.

Last but not least, here’s tidbit of North Dakota history. In 1925, “grand theft turkey” was a felony punishable by up to five years in the penitentiary. The law was passed after a rash of thefts from farms. The most notable case involved nine stolen birds and a high-speed (50 mph) automobile chase where neighbors pursued rowdy young locals. Thieves released the birds but were caught with two feathered kidnapping victims still in the trunk of their getaway car.

~~~

Today, among many blessings, I especially give thanks for my husband, reasonably good health, and the opportunity to pursue writing surrounded by wonderful friends including TKZ readers.

Wishing you a bountiful Thanksgiving! Hope the worst crime you experience is that darn brother-in-law who steals the drumstick you had your eye on.

First Page Critique: Neander: A Time Travel Adventure

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GoDaddy stock photo

Greetings, fellow readers! It’s time for a peek at some work from one of our brave authors. Please read my comments, then add your own.

Neander: A Time Travel Adventure

I didn’t like caves.

Fears of getting stuck had often swamped my dreams. To find myself now working in one—and fighting off the panic sweats—was certainly ironic. But that’s where the best archeological evidence tended to be. I’d learned to live with it.

After rechecking the photo equipment and my to-do list again, I headed back to the entrance. Time to breathe. And call Carolyn.

I rested against the rim of Meredith’s Cave, pulled out my phone, and took in the sight of the whole Mediterranean spread out in front of me. The late morning sun danced and sparkled on the surface of the sea that surrounded Gibraltar. Gulls squawked and wheeled overhead hoping for a handout.

I spotted the whale-watching boat in the distance and pressed Carolyn’s face icon on the phone. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, future Dad,” she said.

“Is it great out there?” I asked, hoping—wishing—she wasn’t too upset about my sending her off on another excursion by herself. This was supposed to be a fun, together-trip to southern Spain. She was nearing the seven-month mark of her pregnancy, and this was her last opportunity to travel for a while.

“It’s amazing. We’ve already seen two pilot whales and a pod of dolphins. And Africa’s right there. I can almost touch it!”

Good. She sounded happy.

“How’s it going in the cave?” she asked.

“Fine,” I lied. “They’ve worked down another centimeter.”

The reality was, the tension was thick. And that was apart from the claustrophobia.

My assignment was to document the excavation’s progress for Science Alive, but my pushing to get it right with the lighting and the camera angles was annoying everyone. I knew that. But what were a few more minutes of attention to detail with a Neanderthal fossil that had been in the ground for tens of thousands of years?

I reached into my pants pocket and fingered the small, velvet ring box. I would propose to my beautifully pregnant Carolyn at dinner tonight. A thought that made me both nervous and excited.

I wanted this family so much.

“You’re not being too anal with them, are you?” she asked.

“Who me?” She was one of the few who understood my need for order, for perfection.

“Oh, there’s another whale! Gotta go.” The phone beeped and the call was gone.

Till tonight, I mouthed.

_____________________

Here we go:

I didn’t like caves.

Does this excerpt make you feel uncomfortable right off the bat? The opening line sets the tone: Our narrator is facing both mental and physical danger.

Good job, Brave Author. First lines are important.

A  possible red flag I can see is the use of past tense, which is important because we already know this will be a “time travel” story. It’s apparent that the narrator survives—at least in some place and time—to tell their story about the cave. You’ve missed an opportunity to create immediate suspense in the mind of the reader.

Fears of getting stuck had often swamped my dreams. To find myself now working in one—and fighting off the panic sweats—was certainly ironic. But that’s where the best archeological evidence tended to be. I’d learned to live with it.

This is a very calm, cool, expository explanation of the narrator’s intense reaction to a situation that certainly feels dangerous and untenable. So let’s have some true immediacy. Instead, let us feel his (I assume) hand shaking as he rechecks the photographic equipment, and his short, panicked breath, as he quickly heads outside to collapse against the entrance. Then you can note the irony of the situation, and have him be grateful for the calm of the sea.

“How’s it going in the cave?” she asked.

“Fine,” I lied. “They’ve worked down another centimeter.”

The reality was, the tension was thick. And that was apart from the claustrophobia.

I spotted the whale-watching boat in the distance and pressed Carolyn’s face icon on the phone. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, future Dad,” she said.

Should Carolyn’s whale watching boat be conveniently in the near distance? It feels coincidental. Does Carolyn have a satellite phone? Maybe I don’t know enough about these things, but such an easy cell connection seems unlikely. And “Hey, future Dad.” is confusing, as we 1) don’t yet know she’s pregnant, and 2) the time travel idea intrudes but isn’t clear.

“Is it great out there?” I asked, hoping—wishing—she wasn’t too upset about my sending her off on another excursion by herself. This was supposed to be a fun, together-trip to southern Spain. She was nearing the seven-month mark of her pregnancy, and this was her last opportunity to travel for a while.

“It’s amazing. We’ve already seen two pilot whales and a pod of dolphins. And Africa’s right there. I can almost touch it!” 

Good. She sounded happy.

This section is a well-timed mix of exposition and current action. We get a good view of Carolyn’s compassionate personality, and her state of pregnancy. The narrator sounds slightly less stiff.

“How’s it going in the cave?” she asked.

“Fine,” I lied. “They’ve worked down another centimeter.

The reality was, the tension was thick. And that was apart from the claustrophobia. 

This works. It would be a good place to add a detail about who else is down there contributing to the claustrophobic atmosphere. And be more specific about the narrator’s physical reaction to the claustrophobia. Let him own it, and continue on about how his need for order conflicts with the physical situation.

My assignment was to document the excavation’s progress for Science Alive, but my pushing to get it right with the lighting and the camera angles was annoying everyone. I knew that. But what were a few more minutes of attention to detail with a Neanderthal fossil that had been in the ground for tens of thousands of years?

See above. Let the emphasis here be on the assignment and the surprising discovery.

I reached into my pants pocket and fingered the small, velvet ring box. I would propose to my beautifully pregnant Carolyn at dinner tonight. A thought that made me both nervous and excited. 

I wanted this family so much.

“You’re not being too anal with them, are you?” she asked.

“Who me?” She was one of the few who understood my need for order, for perfection.

“Oh, there’s another whale! Gotta go.” The phone beeped and the call was gone.

Till tonight, I mouthed.

The proposal makes a really nice contrast to the tension and claustrophobia. Make sure to highlight the change in the narrator’s mood and feelings when he thinks about the proposal.

The “Till tonight,” I mouthed, is extremely awkward. Just have him say it to the empty phone line. The mouthing mention comes off as unnecessarily ominous.

Think about some alternate titles. Perhaps some TKZers will have ideas. This one has a pulp feel that the story doesn’t reflect.

Overall the action of this selection is fine. Always strive to make the story more visceral and immediate. You’ll connect better with your readers.

TKZers! Please share your thoughts with us. And Happy Almost Thanksgiving!

 

 

Happy 100th Birthday

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by Debbie Burke

@burke_writer

One hundred years ago today, my father-in-law, Arthur Burke, was born.

I’ve been kicking around the idea of writing historical fiction. Arthur’s life contains a wealth of dramatic raw material on which a novel could be based. My imagination itches to step back in time and write about that era.

Grinding poverty defined Arthur’s childhood. His father, Daniel, was a violent Irish drunkard. Periodically, he would abscond with Arthur and his brother, then leave them in Catholic orphanages in various states. Their mother, Naomi, had to track down and recover her two young sons.

Daniel Burke with his sons and second wife

Naomi

Naomi’s death in 1978 opened up a mystery. Among her papers, my husband and I found three different birth certificates in three different names with three different birth dates. The woman we’d known as “Naomi” had hidden lives.

 

Today, identities are indelibly recorded in databases. Not so in the late 1800s and early 1900s, when adopting a new name was common practice for people who wanted to leave problems behind. Reinventing one’s identity was as simple as providing a handwritten statement signed by a relative or friend. One of Naomi’s birth certificates was a sworn statement by an uncle, dated years after her supposed birth date.

On another certificate, her name was Ida Mae Dalton, listing her father as Frank Dalton, a deputy marshal related to the notorious Dalton Gang. In a sad reflection of that era, Ida Mae’s mother was not even given the respect of a name on that document but was identified only as “an Indian squaw or breed thereof.”

Who was Naomi really? Did she adopt aliases to hide from the abusive Daniel? Questions linger that can never be answered. 

Naomi worked as a waitress to support the family. They were already poor enough that they hardly noticed the Great Depression. For heat, Arthur scavenged bits of coal that fell from train cars. He told about being so hungry, he ate grass.

In 1933, his life took a turn for the better when Naomi married Leonard Bloodsworth, a Navy chief who was the Pacific Fleet heavyweight boxing champion. Daniel no longer represented a threat since Len could knock the brutal father into next week.

But growing up in San Pedro, California during the Depression was still difficult.

Stepfather Len became Arthur’s best role model and champion. He would sneak the hungry boy onto his ship for chow. Thanks to Len, Arthur saw a doctor and dentist for the first time in his life.

The gangly, red-headed, freckle-faced Arthur had a brush with Hollywood when he appeared in the pilot film for a short comedy. He played a character named Alfalfa in the Little Rascals and was paid 50 cents, a fortune to a poor Bowery kid. What a different direction his life might have taken if another boy, Carl Switzer, hadn’t wound up playing the memorable, enduring role.

~~~

In high school, Arthur showed extraordinary inventiveness when he built a radar set for a science project. The FBI confiscated the set because the U.S. would soon be involved in World War II and wanted to keep advanced experimental technology a secret from enemy powers.

Despite Arthur’s genius, college seemed an unattainable dream because of poverty.

Then came a stroke of luck.

Appointments to prestigious military academies like West Point and Annapolis were granted by members of Congress, usually as political favors to wealthy constituents. However, one honest politician opened the opportunity to competitive exam, allowing any young man in his district to apply.  

On a lark, Arthur accompanied a friend to take the exam for the Naval Academy. His friend was accepted and Arthur made the cut as an alternate. When his buddy had to withdraw, Arthur took his slot.

After a cross-country train trip, he reported for duty in Annapolis, Maryland with cardboard liners as soles for his worn-out shoes. His classmates, mostly sons of wealthy, influential families, looked down their patrician noses at the lanky, malnourished kid from the Bowery.

Nevertheless, his scientific brilliance earned him a place in the top 10% of his class.

The attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 forced the U.S. into World War II and, only days afterward, led to early graduation for Arthur’s Class of 1942.

Arthur Burke and stepfather Leonard Bloodsworth

During that devastating attack, his stepfather Len was serving aboard the USS Tennessee. Eight battleships, including the Tennessee, were moored together in a group on Battleship Row in Pearl Harbor. Japanese bombs and torpedoes destroyed or disabled the most powerful ships in the U.S. fleet.

Battleship Row

As injured shipmates were pulled from fires below decks, Len threw sailors over the side of the ship into the water to save them from the onboard inferno. When the nearby Arizona exploded, searing powder and shrapnel horribly burned Len’s back. He spent a year in a hospital before returning to duty to finish out the war.

The Pearl Harbor attack left the U.S. badly outnumbered and outgunned. A battered handful of surviving ships, including the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise CV-6, represented the only defense against the advancing Japanese fleet and probable invasion of the U.S. west coast.

Arthur served on the Enterprise which became the most decorated ship of World War II.

Painting of USS Enterprise by Richard DeRosset

Painting of USS Enterprise by Richard DeRosset

He described the feeling of being totally alone, desperate, and vulnerable in the vast Pacific Ocean while being hunted by the enemy. Before radar and other detection systems were commonplace, ships operated under strict blackout rules because the tiniest light could reveal the ship’s position to a patrolling submarine or plane.

One night while on watch, Arthur had a run-in with an admiral who decided to fire up his pipe on the flag bridge, a place of high visibility on the carrier. Arthur was a lowly lieutenant junior grade but he took his responsibility seriously. He told the admiral to put out the light because it was endangering the ship. The admiral refused. Arthur stood his ground and ordered the superior officer to his quarters. Fortunately the enemy didn’t spot the light.

The petty admiral never forgot and the episode dogged the rest of Arthur’s naval career, despite his stellar scientific achievements.

Arthur survived the pivotal battles of Midway and Coral Sea. During one attack, a bomb exploded in his quarters. Because he had traded duty stations with another officer, he was not in his bunk at that time and escaped death.

But, in the confusion, he was mistakenly listed as killed in action and his footlocker was shipped home. Naomi, who supported the war effort as an air raid warden, endured many grief-stricken months before she learned her son was still alive.

Arthur rose quickly through the ranks because of his scientific ability. He developed instrumental new uses for radar that played a major role in Allied victory.

Later, he returned to Annapolis to teach—not a bad achievement for a hungry kid who arrived on the Naval Academy campus with cardboard soles in his shoes.

Will Arthur’s experiences become my first historical novel? Time will tell. 

Meanwhile, Happy 100th Birthday, Pop!

~~~

TKZers: What books based on real-life experiences had a big impact on you?

Have family stories inspired your own writing?

Are You An Audiobook Fan?

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This Thanksgiving week I’m already starting to worry about Christmas presents for my family – though I’m thankful that for both my sons, books are always an awesome idea – but what about someone who wants to read more but just can’t seem to find the time? (yes, hubby, I’m talking about you!)

After chatting with members of my book group, I discovered that many, if not all, prefer audiobooks these days, as it gives them much more flexibility and allows them to fit more reading time into their busy schedules. Now, apart from listening to many an audiobook in the car on long drives, I have to admit I’ve never really been a huge audiobook fan. Although I’ve enjoyed listening to them, my preferences has always been for paper or an ebook. Once I started mulling over the audiobook gift idea, however, I soon realized just how popular they are these days.

Consumer demand for audiobooks has been steadily rising over the last few years, with estimates indicating that over half of all Americans listen to audiobooks (see Publishers Weekly report here). Not surprisingly, mystery, thriller and suspense titles are the most popular genres.  Part of the appeal to listening rather than reading a book is that audiobooks apparently stimulate our “echoic memory” or the process by which sound information is stored while we wait for the next sounds to make sense of the whole (click here for the link to the article in The Guardian)… Who knew?!  Anyway, the upshot is that I’ve obviously been a luddite for too long and I need to open my mind to the benefits of audiobooks – especially as a gift that I can also enjoy:))

So TKZers, I’d love to get your input on the pros and cons of audiobook options. First of all, are you an audiobook fan? If so, do you use Audible or another service? What would you recommend? One thing I do know is that it’s all about the voice/narration – so if you love audiobooks for mysteries and thrillers, who provides the best narration? What audiobooks are on the top of your must read/listen list?

Thanking you all ahead of time for your guidance and recommendations…

Happy Thanksgiving week – and if you live anywhere like I do, travel safe in the snow!

 

What One Thing is Your Novel About?

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

In my second year of law school I was part of the Hale Moot Court Honors board. Moot court is a rite of passage for most law students. It’s a mock appellate case with rounds of oral argument before panels of law professors, local attorneys, and perhaps a judge or two. At USC, at least when I was there, the final round was in front of two federal appellate judges and one Justice of the United States Supreme Court.

This particular year our Supreme Court Justice was Thurgood Marshall.

Justice Thurgood Marshall

Marshall was, of course, the first African American appointed to the high court. He was also famous for arguing, and winning, the landmark case of Brown v. Board of Education (1954), which overturned racial segregation in public schools. Being an enthusiastic student of trial lawyers and oral advocacy, I knew that the other side of Brown was argued by one of the most successful Supreme Court lawyers of all time, John W. Davis.

So when I asked Justice Marshall what it was like to go up against Davis, he seemed pleased that I knew about him, and said he was a formidable foe.

Oh, wait. I forgot to mention that I made sure I was selected to pick up Justice Marshall and his wife, Cecilia, at LAX and drive them across town to the campus.

That’s because I wanted to ask Thurgood Marshall a specific question.

So there I was in my green Ford Maverick, sitting as close to a Supreme Court Justice as I will ever get, answering his queries about my law studies, the moot court competition, and life in Los Angeles.

At an opportune moment I said, “Justice Marshall, you’ve delivered and heard so many arguments over the years. What would you say are the characteristics of a great oral argument?”

Without hesitation he said, “The best oral arguments have one main point, and only one.”

Which surprised me. I thought he’d say something about voice and style and performance. Instead, he explained that winning arguments have a precise legal point around which everything else revolves. The advocate’s job is to find that point and apply all his powers of persuasion toward supporting it.

Years later, I heard a similar bit of wisdom from the philosopher Curly. Remember City Slickers? There’s a scene where Curly (Jack Palance) is riding next to Mitch (Billy Crystal) and says, “You know what the secret of life is?”

“No,” Mitch says. “What?

“This.” Curly raises his index finger.

“Your finger?”

“One thing. Just one thing.”

“That’s great. But what’s the one thing?”

“That’s what you gotta figure out.”

Okay, let’s bring all this to bear on writing. In my Story Grinder workshops I ask the students to give me one word that describes what their story is about. In my most recent workshop I got answers such as redemption, forgiveness, justice, revenge.

One student said, “Amnesia.” Which was true on a surface level. I asked him to dig deeper. “What one word describes the heart of your novel?” (He should have said, “I can’t remember,” but we won’t go there.) He thought about it and said, “Identity.”

That was it! He had pinpointed the blood pumping through the veins of his plot. Which is the point of the exercise. When find the right word, you’ll know it. You’ll feel it. And you can use that feeling every time you sit down to work on your story.

Think about your current WIP:

  • What is your main character longing for? Why?
  • What is your main character fighting for? Why? (I mean really…why?)
  • What will your main character know at the end that he doesn’t know at the beginning?
  • How will what he learns change him?
  • Imagine your character a year after the story ends, and another character asks, “Why on earth did you have to go through all that?” How would your character answer?

NOW…give us the one word that describes the heart of your WIP. Where did that come from? Is this a one-off, or do you see this word as a common thread in your other work?

***

NOTE: I have a FREE short story available today for your Kindle — My Father’s Birthday. It’s a story on the literary side and I hope you enjoy it.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Reader Friday: Favorite Holiday Recipe

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Photo credit: https://littleshop.fandom.com/wiki/

With the holidays in full swing, many of us have recipes somersaulting through our mind, along with a mile-long to-do list.

In the Coletta household, the first whiff of the holiday season triggers my family to drool in anticipation.

Not-so-subtle chants for almond biscotti waft through our house, similar to Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. “Feed. Me!”

I shared this recipe in the comments last year, but some of you might’ve missed it. If you’re interested in adding a tasty treat to your holiday table, the recipe is as follows…

Ingredients

3/4 C (180 ml) Whole Almonds

3 Large Eggs

1 t. Vanilla Extract

1/2 t. Almond Extract (optional)

2 C. Flour

3/4 C. Sugar

1 t. Baking Powder

1/4 t. Salt

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Spread out almonds on a baking tray and bake 8-10 minutes until light brown and fragrant. Let cool a few minutes, then chop coarsely.

Reduce over to 300 degrees and line baking sheet with parchment (wax) paper.

Whisk eggs and extracts in a separate bowl, then whisk in the dry ingredients. Lastly, fold in your almond pieces and stir till you get a doughy consistency.

Flour your cutting board (or whatever surface works for you) and divide the dough into 7″ logs that are about 3″-4″ wide. Transfer logs onto baking sheet and bake for approximately 35 minutes or until firm to the touch (log will spread during baking).

Remove and let cool on a wire rack for 10-15 minutes. Transfer to cutting board and slice 1/4″-1/2″ pieces on the diagonal. Place slices of biscotti on the baking sheet and bake an additional 10-15 minutes on each side until golden. Keep in mind, the longer you bake the crunchier they’ll be, so the time depends on your preference. My family likes them somewhere between soft and crunchy.

To Triple the Recipe (which I do; makes about 60 biscotti)

2 1/4 C. Almonds

9 Eggs

4 1/2 t. Vanilla

6 C. Flour

2 1/4 C. Sugar

3 t. Baking Powder

3/4 Salt

Be sure to make more logs so they cook all the way through. Then proceed as above.

A word of a caution: once you make almond biscotti a la Coletta ;-), you may have to do it every year.

Care to share your favorite holiday recipe?