First Lines of a Novel

Real Simple magazine's May issue asked readers: What is your favorite first line of a novel?

Among them was a favorite of Andrew's and one that I admit illustrates Hunter S. Thompson's talent in 18 words.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.

While I do not and never have condoned the drug culture, there is something very compelling about these 18 words, as if in so short a time, Thompson has shown himself to the world, not caring how anyone else feels about his lifestyle.

Here are some my favorite first lines from novels:

It is only at night that she has the strength to wander.----Lisa Carey, The Mermaids Singing
(The last paragraphs on page 340 of this novel are amazing as well.)

The widow Arden and her two daughters lived in a one-room cottage just outside the village of Mortlak, less than a mile from the Thames.--- Patricia C. Wrede, Snow White and Rose Red

Don't worry, David, I'm on my way.--- Spoken by Steve Earle and recorded in his biography Hardcore Troubadour: The Life and Near Death of Steve Earle by Lauren St John.

Although a good quote shouldn't need explanation, I believe the one above is the exception. Earle mutters these words to his lawyer or agent, who has brokered a multi-million dollar deal for Earle, despite the fact that Earle has fucked up his music career, upset everyone who's ever known him or helped him, and is in the midst of poverty, heading towards homelessness in South Nashville on account of his several-thousand dollar-a-day cocaine/ heroin habit.

David is waiting for Earle to make a contract negotiation meeting in New York City and Earle insists he's on his way, but he's nowhere near an airport. Instead, he's on the street about to get some blow or heroin or both, another attempt to slowly kill himself. All this, in two paragraphs of the biography go to illustrate just how a drug can ruin a man's life; how he can ruin his own with a drug.

Everybody lies---Michael Connelly, The Brass Verdict

Small Things

There's this concept, outlined beautifully in Malcolm Gladwell's book Tipping Point, about how little things can make big differences.

What if more people could grow their own produce, or afford the better, organically grown stuff served up in gourmet stores like Whole Foods? What if this led to people being a bit healthier, more immune to illness, and more fit? What if being more fit led to people exercising a bit more, increasing their "happy hormones" and being happier, calmer people in general? Could we surmise that there might be a bit less violence, road rage, etc? Maybe, healthier people wouldn't need so much insurance, or so many doctor's visits.

Here's another example. What if neighborhoods inspired beauty, even where low-income families lived? What if there were some vines, flowers, trees and grass to sit on? What if the Projects that might have inspired desperation and hopelessness, uplifted people a bit? Might they also feel better about themselves? More capable to improve their life's circumstances? What if these people got involved in community outreach groups that instilled lessons of self-reliance, hope, community and faith? What if these people inspired students and youngsters to stay in school, to go to the library after school, to get involved in their local neighborhood and city governments? What if these governments became more responsive to communities in need, and people didn't feel neglected? What if this all led to safer streets, where kids and adults could play and walk? Might these people also stave off the effects of obesity, adult on-set diabetes and other health issues?

Here's my point: what if all we needed to do to better the world was to keep at the smaller things. To attend to them carefully and with lots of observation. What if we could improve these things which would systemically improve other things.

I think we need to stop looking at life as if it were a series of lines; as if part A only affected parts B and C. Life doesn't work that way. I think life is more wholistic and connected than that. We need to start looking at life as if one thing affects everything else and vice versa. Part A affects parts G and Z of life. Changing one affects 30 other different life aspects.

I am a proponent of experimentation, study, observation and making little changes to lead to larger ones. Malcolm Gladwell is my prophet and I hope to practice, in some way, the concept that small things lead to a tipping point, a major point of change, where anything is possible.

Create, Preserve and Destroy

I am not an expert, or even well versed in the Hindu religion, but I do know that Brahma is the creator of everything, Vishnu is the preserver of the world and Shiva is the destroyer of all. All three are needed in order for there to be life and creation.

I am reminded of this tenet of Hinduism when I look at my room. I clean it, dust it, vacuum and arrange. I purge clutter. I am amazed when, months later, I still have more to purge (how is it possible for one person to accumulate so much?). The room is beautiful, tranquil and inviting. It stays this way for a few days, or if I'm lucky, a few weeks. Then, piece by piece, a scrap of paper, a receipt, two extra glasses on the bedside table, socks on the floor, shoes scattered about, the room starts to disintegrate into chaos. It gets worse until I think it can't get worse, and then it does. By this time I've spent days doing nothing but writing cover letters, resumes, article queries, ideas, blogs, emails, notes, to do lists and messages. Creation happens and it multiplies until it can't contain itself. And then the destroyer comes, when I can no longer stand it, I remember my mother's words when I get overwhelmed: pick a small corner, focus on it and get it cleaned. Then move to the next corner, focus on it, no distractions, until it is cleaned. Repeat the process.

I've created, I've preserved and I've destroyed this room time and time again. Or maybe it has created, preserved and destroyed me, thousands of times.

I'll have you know that were it not for Fleming's messy desk, his petri dish would never have laid hidden for the time it took to grow penicillin. The mess hid the dish, the penicillin grew, and now we have one of the most universally useful drugs in all of history. All thanks to a creative mess.

I believe my room shall create something worthwhile. It already created three more articles for the PW, for which I am entirely grateful. More creation, more preservation, more destruction to create again!

Things I've learned....

This is a list of things I've come to find out, learn or fully realized in the last few months....

1. Two years ago I bought a pair of Gap jeans for $50. They now have two holes in the thighs which need to be patched. Subsequently, because I've held on to these simple, waist-slung, wide leg jeans which now have holes, I have a pair of jeans that are now comparable to the trendiest $70 jeans at Gap. Sometimes it does pay to hold on to stuff.

2. A sign that capitalism only really works for those who already have money and is skewed toward the already successful, I've come to realize that even in journalism, it takes money to make money. You need to make money to live, but you need to have money to make money, so where do you get the original money from? Therein lies the problem.

3. Usually, almost without exception, the hardest jobs and the people who work in the hardest manual labor are usually the least compensated. Even a teacher, who although doesn't physically work hard, has one of the most important jobs around, and we all know that teachers are paid poorly.

4. Hand in hand with number 3- a person's earnings are usually equated with their worth as a human and in this society, but is often inversely proportional to the important and vital work they accomplish in said society.

5. I might have over watered some of the flowers I was trying to grow, but some of them are growing. My freesia is not straight but bends to the ground with leaves that are sickly and straggly, but the freesia is blooming and I now have yellow, red and purple flowers. Some of my rannunculus may have died, but I have a few hearty stems and roses have sprung from the ground when I thought they had died. These flowers aren't perfect but despite their issues, they've come to bloom as successfully as their prettier cousins. Likewise, I'm not the prettiest, smartest, wealthiest, most successful woman around and I know I've had my issues to deal with. But despite them, I still bloom quite nicely which proves you don't perfection or the best to do well.

RIP Portland Sentinel and Thanks for All the Memories

One day in June 2008, not long after graduating from college and in a post-college comedown funk I thought would last forever, I was scheduled to have an interview with Cornelius Swart, publisher and editor-in-chief of the Portland Sentinel.

I drove past a very dated building and as my stacked pumps clattered on the dingy steps of the Sentinel office I was more than a bit worried; I was confronted with a trash bin collecting rain water and exposed rotten beams and a hole in the ceiling made me think, "what kind of business is operating in such a shack?"

I wanted the internship with the Portland Sentinel although for years I had poo-pooed the opportunity. I wasn't itching to work for free as a post-grad but I count my time with the Sentinel as one of the best in my life.

It was important for me to impress upon Cornelius that I had a passion for writing he couldn't find in any other internship candidate-although my journalism background was in features, not hard news which was the Sentinel's main trade.

I went home that day after the Sentinel interview, crying and certain I had fucked up, illustrating how green I was, proving myself to be ill equipped to be the kind of journalist the Sentinel would want.

Two days later I jumped for joy when Roger Anthony of the Sentinel called me and let me know I was on board.

An amazingly hot Northwest summer ensued as did $4-a-gallon gas, economic and personal depression, but little by little I became the kind of reporter I wanted to be. I attended (and enjoyed) neighborhood association meetings, scheduling interviews with community leaders and activists, pitching story ideas and building a portfolio of well written news stories. A friendly community of writers and fellow post-grad struggling journalists embraced me. I was invited to barbecues and Friday evening beer get-togethers. And I look back on that summer, the toughest in my life, and thank the Sentinel and Mr. Swart and Mara Grunbaum and Roger Anthony and James Reddick and everyone for giving me a home and work when I most needed it.

In years past, aspiring reporters would pitch and pitch and write for scrap money at local community publications; they would cut their teeth on smaller media outlets working up the ladders to larger, better known publications. Being a working journalist has always been hard, but what makes this line of work one of the hardest is that local and small community papers are going out of business, leaving a hole where the ladder's first rung should be. I am so proud and count myself so lucky to have cut my teeth at the Sentinel while I had the opportunity and no matter what happens in my professional future, I will always have a portfolio of the stories I've written, stories I'm proud of, stories that show a glimpse of what it was like to be scared shitless, 21, post-grad and pursuing the thing that made me happiest.

Thank you to Cornelius and the Portland Sentinel for giving me the opportunity to start my career at an amazing and award-winning news outlet. Portland is a better city because of the Sentinel's legacy. I am so sorry that the Sentinel will no longer be reporting North Portland's news

All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you.

Can I Hustle to Flow?

In my flowing I've been hustling half-heartedly
So can I hustle full tilt long enough
To flow?

Tolkein wrote, "Not all those who wander are lost." In this way I feel as though I wander sometimes because I want to and other times because I am lost. But I think that what we think of as being lost just means we are on a path that's hard to see until you're far enough along to look back and see where you came from. Only then, I think, can you see where you're going and that you are, indeed, on a path.

Feet have hit this pavement several times over
Car's driven past this spot too many times to count
And yet today
For the first time
I look down and see with all of my worry
This, transcribed in wet concrete that dried
"Don't worry about a thing,
every little thing is gonna be alright."
---Bob Marley

The Walrus said...

"The time has come, the Walrus said
to talk of many things:
of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
of cabbages--and kings--
and why the sea is boiling hot--
and whether pigs have wings."

---Lewis Carroll

Why start a blog this way, I cannot say, only that this childhood rhyme, which I used to read to myself out loud in a sing-song voice just came to me.

The time has come...perhaps this is why I chose the poem, for the time has come for me to move on from Los Angeles Magazine. A good internship I've had, and I'm leaving a sort of security net. It seems that making a choice between two important things has become increasingly difficult for me. For each road I take, I think of the other road's lost opportunities and awaiting gains. The idea that the road not taken may afford something better for me, which might ultimately change my life in a way I'd like it to, weighs heavily on me and the decision becomes more torturous to make.

I feel this way about LA Mag. I probably could remain an intern for a few more months, or even a few years, hoping to land a staff spot at the magazine. But, I am good enough to write articles, not simply fact check, and although the market may be the toughest it's ever been, I know I am a solid writer, deserving of pay for articles.

Where to now? I don't know. Am I scared? Yes. But here's at least one thing I learned during my tenure at the magazine: if you're not confident in yourself, why should anyone else be? If you're a horse you wouldn't bet on, why expect anyone else to bet on you either?