Monthly Archives: September 2014

Singing a Motown Story

Motown playbill“A song is like a short story with a beginning, middle and end,”[1] instructs Berry Gordy. He’s speaking to his friend, Smokey Robinson, who hasn’t written a timely ending to a song. It’s early in both their careers, and the insightful Gordy shows Robinson a way to improve his songwriting skills. In this case, it’s by truncating Robinson’s lyrics once they’ve become redundant and are no longer adding value. (Sound familiar to any writers out there?) That one line from Motown the Musical resonated for me. I had to agree that songs do tell concise stories. The musical was loaded with about sixty of them. Each one was skillfully placed so that by the end of the main story, the giant Motown story, audience members were left wondering if the sensational songs were indeed inspired by the experiences of the rising stars who sang their way into history.

The Broadway production was based upon Gordy’s book, To Be Loved: The Music, the Magic, the Memories of Motown, which was first published in 1994. Subsequently, an electronic version was released in 2013, most likely to coincide with the debut of the musical. Think: strategic marketing. It worked on me. Having enjoyed the play, I was enticed to download his e-book. In the not-to-be overlooked preface, Gordy explained why he penned his life’s story. He wanted to preserve his perspective and offer to readers the truth, as he experienced it, surrounding the entity he had created. He wrote, “…misconceptions about me and Motown became so great I finally had to deal with them.”[2]

Similarly, the musical story presents Gordy’s point of view to theater patrons. During the second scene, we learn of his upbringing in Detroit. A young Gordy and his family gather near a radio in their home and cheer on Joe Louis as he defeats German heavyweight champion, Max Schmeling, in a one round, knockout fight. The triumph is a source of pride for many people throughout the United States and impresses upon Gordy “a burning desire to be special, to win, to be somebody.”[3] The following scenes depict how Gordy achieves those things over a span of thirty years. Having written the script, he takes viewers through the rise and fall of his record label, unveils once-private moments, and sends a consistent message of the uniting force of love. Through civil riots, hate crimes, injustice and prejudice, Motown music spreads love and destroys boundaries between blacks and whites.

Although some serious subject matter permeates the show, the action moves so quickly there isn’t time to dwell on somber moments. Through Broadway magic and over 350 costumes,[4] the cast transforms into the characters they represent. All the favorites: Diana Ross and the Supremes, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5, The Four Tops, The Temptations, The Commodores, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, Gladys Knight and the Pips, The Marvelettes, and more.

At some point, I stopped comparing the actors to the originals. Their singing, dancing, and portrayals made the show entertaining and fun, engaging, and convincing. The most conflicting thought I had while sitting in the audience was whether or not it would be rude to sing along. (Well, there was also the immediate development of my cougar-crush for Eric LaJuan Summers when he came onstage as Rick James. Until then, I hadn’t fully appreciated how hard he works…out.)

Still sharing his talents with the world, Mr. Gordy turns 85 years old on November 28th and doesn’t seem to be done telling stories just yet. He continues to invent ways of keeping our beloved Motown Sound alive and, in so doing, serves as inspiration to us writers. Motown the Musical complements his legacy and earns its own place in history.

Congratulations to everyone involved in the production, including Detroit’s own Jawan M. Jackson. Well done.

Detroiters, Motown is coming to the Fisher Theatre October 21-November 16. Hope to see you there, singing and dancing in the seats.

[1] Motown the Musical. By Berry Gordy. Dir. Charles Randolph-Wright. Perf. Josh Tower. Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, New York City. 10 Aug. 2014.

[2] Gordy, Berry. To Be Loved: The Music, the Magic, the Memories of Motown. (1994; New York: RosettaBooks LLC, Electronic Edition for iPad 2013) 20.

[3] Ibid., 41.

[4] Backstage at Motown: the Musical with Marva Hicks! (Video file). Retrieved from

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTUx5tPmX18#t=76.

The Monarch

Knape, Wendi. Monarch Butterfly, 2008. Ink and watercolor on paper.

Knape, Wendi. Monarch Butterfly, 2008.
Ink and watercolor on paper.

In my last blog Clarity I talked about how much my work has improved since I started writing. What you don’t know is the inspiration that started my writing journey was a monarch butterfly.

Laid off from an at-will company (the company didn’t have to tell me why they let me go) in 2003, I felt lost. My mind spit out all sorts of detritus about why I was let go, bogging me down in a depression that had its claws deep. I was unsure of my talent in my chosen field, which was architectural design. I didn’t know how I should move forward with my career, though I knew that I needed to do something that I would enjoy. At the time I decided to focus more on my family; it just wasn’t going to be enough. The stay-at-home-mom label wasn’t for me. There’s nothing wrong with the designation. Parenting is hard work, and raising my children so they become good adults is important to me, I just wanted something more, so I let my thoughts percolate.

Drawing and painting is a passion of mine, but having the time to do it was hard with a full time job so, I always put it off for another day. Reading is another joy that helped me through some awful days too. Getting lost in worlds that other people create was something that helped pull me out of my mental fog. Eventually, the idea of taking my talent in art and my love of reading got me thinking about pushing my career in a new direction. I asked myself, was it viable? The problem was I didn’t know what it was. Did I have what it would take to make something out of my love of art and reading? Could I help support my family by drawing or painting? How could I take the joy of reading and make it into something worthwhile? I didn’t know, so the thoughts kept going round and round, making me undecided on what street to walk down.

My mind was in a continual loop of worry, as I drove to the store, when a monarch butterfly flew past my windshield. The first thing that popped into my head was, I should paint that. The second thing was what if I wrote a story about the monarch. Could I write as well as the authors I read? I was reading children’s books at the time, my two girls ages were five and three, and those books were illustrated. Could I write and illustrate a book?

That was my ‘aha’ moment. I felt lighter than I had in a long time and got excited about what it could mean for my family and me. Seeing the butterfly wasn’t the only factor, but a primary one, allowing me to throw away thoughts circling in my head that weren’t doing any good. I started illustrating and writing my first picture book, Becoming Lucy, a story about a painted lady caterpillar being bullied because she had yet to go through her metamorphosis.

Knape, Wendi. Painted Lady w/ Ladybug, 2008. Ink and colored pencil on paper.

Knape, Wendi. Painted Lady w/ Ladybug, 2008.
Ink and colored pencil on paper.

You’re probably wondering how I went from writing and illustrating children’s picture books to writing paranormal romance novels. It was a gradual shift, moving from the picture book to middle grade stories, to young adult and finally to adult stories. It was a better headspace for me. Some people would tell you children’s genres are easy to write, but they are not. Getting into the mindset of a child, pre-teen or teen is difficult. I was too serious as a kid and I couldn’t remember how to be a kid and wasn’t able to capture the essence of one. Therefore, I shifted my thinking and tried my hand at something I love to read, romance, eventually paranormal romance.

Already in the Deadwood Writers Group, with their support and encouragement the other writers told me I should try my hand at the romance genre. The change was nerve racking, but I gave it a go and wrote my first sex scene, jumping head first into the deep end of the pool. It felt weird and exhilarating all at the same time, I even laughed aloud because I couldn’t believe I was writing one. It was like a river racing toward a waterfall. Ideas started pouring from my mind into a large pool, it harboring ideas for later. It was fun and I haven’t stopped since. I’m comfortable here. It’s not an easy business to break into but I keep my hope close to my chest that one day it will pay off. I still draw and paint, but writing is my inspiration, and I’m very satisfied.

Happy writing!

The Java Script: Where Genres Come to Life

The following post is one of several reasons I love my job. Travel can be tough, like the time I worked in 3 different states in one week while fighting flu-like symptoms. Then there are times like this trip that introduced me to The Java Script. I met people who love their job, running a unique and impressive bookstore that I happened upon via Yelp. It’s stores like these that gives me hope that the independent bookstores can thrive. As I continue these journeys I’ll be adding more pictures to my Pinterest board, and tweeting about them at @jmccarthyeds. There are many precious gems to keep alive. Here’s another one. Enjoy.

The Java Script: Where Genres Come to Life by John McCarthy

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Texarkanna is a tale of two states shared by one city. Three hours away from Dallas, its distant cousin—Texarkanna is a center where all roads must pass through. Some might look upon the city with its many pawn shops and see what might have been. This would be an error of lack of vision. Like any urban community, the city has many worthwhile places to stay, eat, and visit. One such gem is The Java Script, a mom and pop (literally) bookstore on the Arkansas side, a block away from one of the main thoroughfares.

Owners

The bookstore name implies a café that serves coffee. No coffee is for sale as of this posting, although if you ask Debra Hall and Gene Keller, the owners, for a cup, they might provide one, given their hospitable nature. When I entered the store, they treated me like an invited guest, and I’m sure that’s how everyone coming to the store is made to feel. Debra Hall gave me a tour of the rooms—each decorated to fit the genre theme of the books it housed. I felt like I was on a journey inside the worlds of Western, Mystery, Science Fiction, and others. My favorite was the YA & Children’s room. Carpeted in fake grass and a picnic table, the bookshelves lined one wall in the brightly lit room. In the main room there is a bookcase of books by local authors and books signed by authors.

The store once held antique typewriters and other artifacts. Unfortunately, a week prior to my visit, those items were stolen. When you visit this store, and it is worth a visit if you are within 3 hours, such as  Dallas or Little Rock, you’ll realize how depraved a robber must be to intrude on the lives of these people. I arrived at the store with an hour to spare before they closed. That day was Debra’s birthday, which they did not mention until I was ready to leave. Had I known, I would have left sooner, but such is their hospitality.

This is the first bookstore that I’ve explored that did such a brilliant job of designing the rooms based on the genres they sold. Amazing! The selection is modest, yet substantive enough that I found 5 books to enjoy.

When passing through Texarkanna, Texas, visit The Java Script. The experience will be better than a caffeine boost. What gems of bookstores have you discovered?

The Java Script

1313 Hazel Street, Texarkana, Texas 75501

http://www.javascriptbookstore.com/about-us.html

Here are pictures from some of the rooms. Can you name the genre for each room? Post your guesses in the comments 🙂

1.ReligionPhilosophy 2.SciFi 3.Western 4.YAChildren

Orchids

“Oh, no, the orchids died again.”  I almost cried as soon as I saw the white and purple orchid pots in the gray room.  I threw my heavy winter coat on the kitchen chair and dashed to the orchid pots on the glass table in the middle of the gray room and carefully touched the wide green leaves.

“The leaves are still alive, not dead yet,” I continued, looking at Kwang’s back and his shoulders, and asked his  help.“Then, Kwang, how can I make them bloom again?”

“As you know, you should take care of plants like your baby, especially orchids,” was Kwang’s blunt reply.  I almost exploded at Kwang’s unfriendly response and it ignited my grumpy mood.

“I know, but the two cactus are fine,” I spilled out my emotion with high pitch.  Quietly Kwang disappeared into his library in order to avoid the delicate situation with my emotional climax.

 He did not want to help me?  I was frustrated and it was hard to control my bitter feelings.

At the dinner table I forced a compromise on the issue of the plants with Kwang.  The first one is keeping the fresh flowers on the kitchen table while we are home and adding the silk artificial ones in the living room. Second, the plants inside the house are his responsibility and the rose garden in the back yard is mine.  He had no objection to our negotiations.  But without saying a word, we made an agreement.

“Fresh flowers on the table, it is too much money,” and he continued, “Are you sure?”

I walked away from him without any further comment to avoid more conflict with him.  I got fresh coffee. I knew what he meant and he was showing me again his frugality.

Our friends and children send me flowers for Mother’s Day and my birthdays, but Kwang has never sent me a single stem of a rose for our almost fifty years of marriage.  I have bought fresh flowers for myself from Costco without expecting them from Kwang.

It has been such a joyful and happy moment for me to cut the stems of fresh flowers, smell them and touch them, and put them into vases with bluish copper citrate compound as a preservative.  I put them on the glass table in the living room and I looked at them a while. 

Mm, it’s beautiful and it makes my day, humming around the house.

I don’t need Kwang’s flowers.  He provides me with other things more precious than flowers, I was talking to myself, humming, up and down the stairs.

Last year, a couple of months apart, I received a white orchid from one of my daughters-in-law for Mother’s Day and a purple one from a friend on my birthday.

Both blossoms lasted about two months and then their petals fell down one by one.  And they left only the straight brown stems and two wide green leaves at the bottoms of the pots.

“Kwang, throw the pots away.  They just take up space,” I commanded him when we had warm coffee at the kitchen table while looking at the white snow on the pine trees on the bump through the window.  Kwang was quiet for a moment and then responded, “Remember, my job is to take care of the plants inside of the house”.  I was stunned and speechless. 

That’s right.  We made a deal, I talked to myself and continued, I am so stupid.  Don’t step on his toes, just take care of it yourself.”  I totally forgot the deal that I forced him to make.

I should say to him, I am sorry, it’s none of my business.  I did not say that.  My ego did not allow me to mention it, but quietly I did, Yes I am sorry.

For a couple of months, from Kwang’s dedicated care of these two orchid pots, miraculously they started to bloom again with white and purple blossoms on the kitchen table, even during the Michigan winter.

His technique of success was to pay attention to the orchids constantly by talking with them and breathing the same air with them.

We took the Around the World Cruise in 2011 with Holland Cruise Lines’ ms Amsterdam from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, from January 5 to April 26, 2011.  Just a few days before we left home both white and purple orchids were blooming from Kwang’s engineering mind with precise temperature and humidity control.  I deeply admired his tireless efforts and  determination to achieve his goal, to get the most beautiful blossoms, yet I did not tell him.

On the ms Amsterdam I could see orchid pots on each dinner table and everywhere.  The dangling beautiful orchids flowers were in the library, at the corner of corridors and even in the women’s restrooms.  They had extremely healthy blossoms with supporting stems and wide thick green leaves.  They had small yellow flowers like forsythia in the spring, purple color like azaleas, white like white rose petals on the tables.

Normally, the ship cruised at night and docked at the port the next morning for the variety of excursions in order to observe the unique cultural events in each country.

On sea days, Kwang went to the water color painting class and I went to creative writing.  Many other activities were keeping us busy, such as Tai-Chi, lectures, dance classes, wine tasting and cooking classes.  Neither of us missed attending any Tai-Chi classes or the International Lecture series.

In his water color class Kwang painted the human faces from magazines and the beautiful scenery along the seashores and the rock statues on the shore of Easter Island were magnificent.  He demonstrated his talent perfectly on the paper.

One day he gave me a folder of his painting works including a Valentine card and several of orchids with bright colors.

“Oh, wow, a Valentine’s card.”  It was the first time I ever got a Valentine’s card, or any card from him in my life.

“Tomorrow morning the sun will rise from the west, not the east”.  We both burst out laughing and I said, “Thank you” and gave him a big hug.

“So many orchid paintings?” I asked him.

“One week’s work,” he quietly answered.

It reminded me of our orchids on the kitchen table when we left home in January.  They had beautiful white and purple flowers in each pot.  We were both speechless for a minute.  Kwang might think about orchids at home, too.

“In a couple of weeks our art class will have a silent auction with the paintings”.  I did not understand completely what he talked about, so I was quiet, but he continued, “Each student donates a couple of pieces”.  I was listening and Kwang continued, “The teacher told us it is absolutely voluntary, no obligation,” and he continued, “But I should donate a couple of pieces.”

I was stunned.  I could not agree with him at all.  We needed at least four pieces of his work on this trip to give to each of our children.  “No.  You cannot donate, because we do not have many pieces for our children.”  As usual he was quiet and he went to the sink to clean up his brushes.

The next day I found out that one piece was missing.

“Kwang, the pink orchid piece is not here, in your folder.”

“I donated it to the silent auction event.”

We did not speak to each other for a couple of hours.  I tried to comfort myself and control my anxiety.  The cold war could not thaw for several hours.

“The auction’s purpose is to help an orphanage in the Philippines.”

“You did not tell me.”

“I did not know exactly what the purpose was, and today the teacher told us clearly that this is an annual event on the ms Amsterdam”.

I felt much better than before but we could donate with money instead of his painting.  Two weeks later the paintings were on display on three long tables, about 50 pieces, in the main theater.

“What talent.  Such amazing pieces,” I told Kwang.

“Yes.  Many beautiful pieces were donated.”

“Kwang, I am sorry.  You should donate more, and your paintings of the Easter Island statues and the other scenery were astonishing products.”

“Don’t worry.  We will donate more with money, and then let’s give the rest of my paintings to our children.”

“Thanks.”

His orchid painting was sold for $25.00.

All the money that was raised was donated to the Hospicio de San Jose.

The Hospicio de San Jose (Hospice of St. Joseph) is the first social welfare agency in the Philippines.  It was originally called Hospicio General (General Hospice), The Hospice de San Jose was established in October 1778 by husband-and-wife Don Francisco Gomez Enriquez and Dona Barbara Verzosa with a donation to found the hospice that would take care of Manila’s “poor and unwanted children”, and people who are physically and mentally challenged, and also aging people.

Their goal is to design, develop and sustain innovative programs, services and curriculum to improve the quality of life of the poor.

There was no doubt the spirit of Kwang’s pink orchid was sprawling all over the Philippines and the spirit was embedded into the hearts of the people.