Monthly Archives: April 2015

Undressed

In the past few weeks, I’ve been taking an hour out of my day to develop several meet-cutes. A meet-cute is a term used in the movie industry illustrating how the main characters in a romance meet for the first time in a funny way. You can see the full definition on dictionary.com under the idiom for cute.

Generating story ideas for future projects can be daunting. A meet-cute is a fun way to jumpstart the creative process. What follows is one of the ideas that came out of this brainstorming.

 

"Die Geheimnisse Der Liebe", Harper’s Bazaar Germany, October 1996 Photographer : Pamela Hanson Models : Valeria Mazza & Jason lewis

“Die Geheimnisse Der Liebe”, Harper’s Bazaar Germany, October 1996
Photographer : Pamela Hanson
Models : Valeria Mazza & Jason lewis

“You’re not going to school dressed like that!” Sierra Pierson couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the vision of her 15-year-old daughter baring more skin then a whore in a heat wave. Penelope, her sweet, innocent daughter, the daughter that still sleeps cuddling her Teddy, who still asks for a kiss good night, stood in the hallway wearing a skirt so high and tight that if she sat down the action would expose her to all of the free world. And the top…Sierra didn’t even want to think about the image burned on the back of her eyelids.

A curse upon her family was early onset Boobitis, and unfortunately, Penelope had grown into said curse in the last year.

“Penelope Olivia Pierson,” Sierra said, pointing to her daughter’s room. “Go change right now.”

Poppy stiffened. Her mouth just started to open as a knock sounded at the front door. They both looked down the stairs.

“Go!” Sierra said. She wondered who would come knocking so early in the morning.

“Mom!”

“No Poppy. I don’t have time for this.” Sierra shook her head and pointed to her daughter. She could tell Poppy was eager for a fight. “I’m late. Why did this have to happen on the first day at the new office? She thought. Dammit!  She huffed in exasperation. “Please go change.”

Sierra started to turn for the stairs. The knocking got louder.

“Just a minute!” she yelled. Poppy hadn’t budged.

“Can I at least wear the shirt?” she whined.

Sierra rubbed her temple where a headache started tap dancing, looked up at the cracked ceiling and sighed. The house needed a lot of work and so did Poppy’s sense of decency. Eyes back on Poppy, she gave her her best evil eye that would melt the paint off an icy flagpole. “Only if you keep on your hoody.”

Sierra watched Poppy smirk. Oh, she thought she could get away with something. Not this time.

“You better keep it zipped. I’ll know if you don’t. I have eyes and ears all over this town, even at your school.” She crossed her arms under her own ample breasts.

Her daughter squinted, gave her the lip-curl and looked like she was going to snarl her displeasure, but decided against it. Good thing otherwise Sierra would have to remind her, what a crazy mother could do to embarrass said daughter. In a swirl of thwarted slutdom, Poppy left Sierra to answer the persistent knocking. Sierra ran down the stairs and yanked the door open as her mind whirled with all she had yet to do to get ready for her new job. “What!”

****

Detective Lawrence (Low) Renicki rolled up to the two-story prairie style house in his pick-up truck and pulled to a stop.  Why his best friend, Burk, couldn’t deliver a package to his sister himself, he would never know. But he owed him, and this was the payoff.

Low reached over, grabbed the small brown box and winced.  He slowly sat back up and took a couple deep breaths controlling the pain that snuck up on him. It wasn’t as bad as a couple days ago; it was enough to dampen the line of his brow and upper lip though. He’d be dead if it hadn’t for his best friend and partner, Burk, tackling a suspect who’d pulled a weapon and got off a shot.

Low had been recovering for a few weeks now, but it would be a few more before he got back to work. He’d rather be sitting watching a ball game then out running errands, but he owed his friend big time. And this was easy compared to what Burk could have asked for. Walking with a shortened gate, he knocked on the front door.  There was no immediate answer but he did hear some yelling. He looked to the side through the narrow window but couldn’t see much through the thin curtain. It sounded like an argument. He lifted his fist and knocked again, his side throbbing with each bang. Low thought he should just go. He needed to get this done and get back home. Before he could knock again, the door opened in a flourish and he almost dropped the small package but his jaw dropped open instead.

“What!”

All Low could do was stare.

Burk’s sister leaned on the solid wood doorframe, one arm above her head, the other fisted on her hip, the fabric of her very tight, very sheer white camisole, stretched to within an inch of its life. Barely hiding her lace bra, also white, it left little to the imagination. And thank the fashion gods for that, he thought, because they had blessed this woman with the most luscious breasts he’d had ever seen.

“Uh, uh?” Low stammered.

“Well? What do you want?” Sierra questioned with an irritated snap.

Clomping of shoes snapped his eyes to the sound coming down from the second floor. What was her name? Poppy, that was it, Low thought, she was the exact duplicate of her mother, blond hair, blue eyes, a little less curve in the hips, still growing into herself. He guessed, just getting a good hold on her teenage years, maybe.

The girl smiled, looked to her mother and he couldn’t help but look back at Sierra, caught again by all her curves. His fingers twitched to smooth them under the hem of the slick pencil skirt that she had paired with the camisole. He would wrinkle it up as he peeled back the fabric that hugged her hips. Low licked his lips.

When the daughter started laughing, his head snapped up. The woman’s eyes glanced over her shoulder, and then quickly down at where Poppy pointed and laughed. Sierra’s eyes came back up to his and he smiled. He couldn’t help it.

“Oh, shit!” Faster than a cheetah, Sierra disappeared up the stairs. “Just a minute,” she yelled down.

Low chuckled.

As Poppy turned away and walked through an open doorway toward the back of the house, Low thought he heard her say, “Well, that was fun.” And for the life of him he couldn’t remember why he even stopped by. Oh right, he remembered, the package, and laughed again, waiting for the very sexy Sierra to come back down.

His morning just got a whole lot better.

Call Me Plankton, Not Ishmael

Quality literary journals aim to publish works worthy of inclusion in anthologies such as Best American Short Stories (BASS) or the Pushcart Prize. With that very serious statement, I’m more of the mind to consider the acronym, BASS, and fall to the temptation of dreaming about fly fishing and lures named Woolly Bugger and Sneeky Pete Popper. Oh, I didn’t stop there. Videos on the Orvis How to Fly Fish Center show graceful casting and educate in short one minute segments. It occurs to me the pursuit of bass for sport and BASS (Best American Short Stories) for literature require some of the same techniques for casting and choosing lures.

In the great literary fish tank, the food chain dominates. As an emerging author, I am small, like plankton floating among the smallest of fish. Editors in journals or magazines prefer to publish as big a fish as possible. Often, submissions are skewed to published authors with novels on their resumes, and hence, no plankton need apply. Selective editors prefer certain lures with statements of “no simultaneous submissions” to avoid chum tossed overboard and a feeding frenzy.

For the sake of this article, let’s assume BASS is a large mouth bass, which swims in deeper and slower water. Like the aquatic fish, BASS wants only smaller fish that are published in American and Canadian national journals. These journals, the first publishers of a great short story, are baitfish for BASS. And from my research, BASS prefers certain fish more than others. Some might also argue that the editors of these journals work much harder to get selected by BASS.

John Fox, on Bookfox, ranks literary journals and magazines for the ability to publish stories which are eventually selected for the annual BASS anthology. He assigns points for both appearance and mentions. Every Writers’ Resource also ranks the journals using different criteria such as the number of years a journal has been in publication and a broader range of anthologies are considered. The favorite baitfish in these rankings are: The New Yorker, Tin House, Ploughshares, Atlantic Monthly, Harper’s Magazine, Glimmer Train, Granta, McSweeney’s Quarterly, Georgia Review, New England Review, The Kenyon Review and Paris Review.

The Pushcart Prize is the best of the worlds’ small presses for poetry, short stories, essays, memoirs or excerpts from novels. If in our example, Pushcart is a small mouth bass, then expect feeding on the surface in moving water, around rocks and ledges. According to the Orvis videos, a fisherman should observe the food sources in the water and emulate the food with the lure. Upon seeing baby crayfish, use the lure with the reddish-orange feathers and fur.  Clifford Garstang’s Pushcart Prize Rankings also list Tin House, Ploughshares and Paris Review as top ten favorites, but Pushcart draws heavily from Conjunctions, One Story, Southern Review, A Public Space, Zoetrope: All Story, Kenyon Review, and Three Penny.

As the apex predator, the reader, I want what is considered the best, but quite honestly, I enjoy reading everything. At bottom of the food chain, as the emerging writer, I learn and submit to places which might offer an opportunity. My goal is to create my own top ten list and submit them to death. However, I did submit to a February contest in the BASS top ten feeder journals. Although my probability of winning is low, actually infinitesimal, I receive a subscription to the review which makes it a win for plankton, apex readers and the journal’s overall readership.

Dare to Be Different

“It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.” – Herman Melville

 

As the only female in my undergrad speech class, I comfortably delivered the speeches required by the professor’s syllabus. Comfortable that is until we received a new assignment, a five to seven minute demonstration speech using props, pictures, or other visual effects. After each presentation, our classmates would make comments about the subject and the presentation.

Testosterone filled the classroom as each student quickly stated what his subject would be. Topics included: how to fix a lamp cord, how to replace a garbage disposal, how to change the oil and oil filter in a car, how to give basketball officials’ signals, and how to use various repair tools.

Still living at home, I was used to my father doing all household repairs. However, he did teach my sister and me the difference between a Phillips screwdriver and a slotted screwdriver, a wrench and a ratchet, as well as vise grips and pliers. He taught us how to use a hammer without damaging a finger, how to clean walls bottom up to avoid streaks, and my favorite: how to jiggle the handle of the toilet to stop it from leaking. I knew a few repair tricks, but I knew I couldn’t compete with the men in demonstrating how to fix anything.

I didn’t pick a topic immediately and chose to be the last speaker in the rotation. What could I possibly demonstrate to a group of men who would give informative speeches showing their expertise in fixing a myriad of things? After much thought, I selected my topic, practiced what I would say, and carefully prepared my props.

On the day of my presentation, I opened my bag of visual effects in front of the class and said, “Today, I’m going to teach you how to make a dress.”

The look of surprise on the male professor’s face was priceless. I held up a large piece of fabric and a simple dress pattern and said, “This is what you start with.”

Putting those items aside, I held up a piece of fabric with pattern pieces pinned in place. I held up a pair of pinking shears and explained that they were preferable to plain scissors because they prevented the cut fabric from raveling. I described how darts are made to provide a smooth fit over the curvy parts of a woman’s body. I showed how I sewed a zipper into the dress.

All eyes were on me as I ended my demonstration speech with, “This is what the finished product looks like,” as I modeled the simple black form fitting dress. The applause that followed was heartwarming, but the positive comments told me that I succeeded.

I dared to be different. When have you dared to try something different?

A Tale of 3 Bookstores in Seoul: YPBooks

A Tale of 3 Bookstores in Seoul: Part Two

YPBooks

영풍문고 종로본점

South Korea, Seoul, Jongno-gu, Seorin-dong, 33

Traveling to Seoul, South Korea was an amazing experience. The people are polite and courteous. The various places that I traveled in South Korea, including Seoul, were pristine. ‘Clean streets’ does not begin to describe how well the locals take care of their area. I’d finished a water bottle while exploring, and had to carry it until I found a public Men’s room, where I found a garbage can. One of my hosts explained to me best by sharing what was said to him by a friend: “Why should anyone else be responsible for your trash? That is your responsibility.”

The downtown area in Seoul was no exception to cleanliness. The half block walk along a busy street held so much to gawk at. The tall buildings are like any other downtown area, but for an American, seeing familiar company logos with Korean signs was something to soak in.

The entrance to YPBooks looks like a subway booth, or Dr. Who’s Tartarus (phone booth). Down a flight of stairs brings you into the book space. Like the other bookstore, Bandi Luni’s, it too has connections to the subway, and the main merchandise is books. Also like the other store, you can buy much more. What intrigued me most here was their food court were sitdown restaurants. I arrived just before the lunch hour, which my body clock would have placed as just after dinner (+13 hours in Seoul). This being my first full day in the area, I decided to have lunch as I worked to get my body clock on local time. Much of the fare was Asian–no surprise–and they were high quality. McDonalds was available on the street, but when in Rome (or Seoul)….

Local food is always my choice when traveling. Why go somewhere that you can find at home? But my one concession came at this bookstore. Starbucks. Had to settle for a Frappuccino 😉 because Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher is not an item sold in Seoul. Still it was a nice experience, even if I could not pay via my app. The WiFi was free!

The books are laid out on tables and shelves in perfectly organized rows. There are two levels to this store, where both are underground. Many of the books found in the United States are sold, although you’ll have to know Korean to read them. There is a small section of books printed in English to choose from, and could make a special gift. At the time of my visit, those books were on the top most floor. My preference was to find a beloved book that’s translated into Korean, which I’d already done at the final bookstore of this series. The one that you can expect to spend much of the day.

Moon Walker, Apollo 16

On January 5, 2011, the ms Amsterdam, of the Holland America Cruise Line, cruised around the world from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Through the Panama Canal she crossed the endless azure Pacific Ocean and stopped at the islands of Bora Bora and Tahiti for our days of swimming at the beautiful beaches in the lagoon. Then we arrived at the ports in New Zealand and Australia. We were in Christchurch, New Zealand ten days before the devastating earthquake struck and later learned that over 200 people were killed.

The ship passed through southeast Asia, the Suez Canal, and the Mediterranean Sea. The final port was Funchal in Portugal. On April 26, 2011 the cruise ended after 112 days at Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

During the 112 days cruise many activities were provided, including watercolor painting, Tai Chi, writing classes, evening shows, and movies.  There were also lectures by resident and guest speakers in a variety of different fields from several countries. Apollo 16 astronaut, Charles Duke, talked about his moon landing.  A 30,000-mile bicycle trip from Siberia to London that took three years on one bicycle was shared by Rob Lilwall and was a very interesting topic. “The Sound of Music” and “Dr. Zhivago” were memorable movies, which I enjoyed watching several times.

On February 20, 2011, the ms Amsterdam docked at Sydney Harbor, Australia. The famous white Sydney Opera House was glittering in the late afternoon sunshine. The Sydney Harbor Bridge across from the opera house was another landmark. It took fourteen years to finish the Opera House because of conflicting ideas of architecture and construction problems.  Finally they completed a beautiful and stunning shell shaped structure on the Circular Quay, designed by a young architect, Jorn Ulzon. Inside the opera house, the colorful concert hall, restaurants and shops are with dark colors in contrast with the white roofs.

The Sydney Harbor Bridge was completed in 1932 during the depression period. It did boost the economy by hiring laborers and engineers. The bridge design and construction were a masterpiece of engineering triumph. Nicknamed as “the coat hanger”, it has arch-type steel trusses, connecting the north shore and city center. It saved a twelve-mile distance crossing between two points. The chief engineer, Dr. John Bradfield, supervised all aspects of the design and construction over a twenty-year period.

Kwang and I leaned on the rail on the top deck of the ship and admired the magnificent scenery of the bridge on our left and the beautiful opera house on our right. I got coffee from the bar and started to read “The Explorer”. It was a daily news list of activities on the ship.  It listed the guest speaker for the next four sea days from Sydney to Hong Kong. He was Brigadier General USAF Ret. Charles Duke, an astronaut with the Apollo 16 moon landing.

While holding the “Explorer” in my left hand, I sipped the lukewarm black coffee without any words to Kwang. We were both quiet for a moment. It seemed that Kwang also read the name Charles Duke”with surprise. With another sip of coffee, my thoughts went back that he was a soccer coach and astronaut in Houston, Texas. I continued, “Yes, he is Charles Duke.” My memories of the soccer field came back to me similar to a big screen cinema.

The young soccer coach ran up and down the field yelling to the players, with his hands on his mouth giving them instructions, even though he knew the players could not hear him.

“Sam, run, run, Sam.”

“John, the ball is coming to you.”

“Tom, watch out for the yellow shirt.”

“Sam, kick it, kick it.  That’s the boy,” the coach screamed.  Sam made the goal.

“Wow, wow!!  Sam, good job.  Good job.”

The parents clapped their hands, standing up from the lawn chairs instinctively.

The early evening heat in Texas was still unbearable for the parents, but the players under ten years old did not mind it at all, wiping the running sweat away with their arms or with their jerseys.  The Falcon team won two to one over the Vikings. The boys were around the coach and listened carefully to his instructions while they were drinking water or Gatorade. A couple of them poured water on their heads to eliminate the burning heat.

Our three sons and the coach’s two sons were on the Falcon team when we lived in Clearlake Forest, near the NASA Space Center in Houston, Texas for eight years.

Now, on the Amsterdam, Bruce, the ship’s Entertainment Director, introduced Brigadier General USAF Ret. Charles Duke as a guest speaker on moon landing and present and future NASA programs.  He would be talking for the next four days at sea with “moon walking” as his topic.

“It is absolutely unbelievable. What an encounter,” I told Kwang and grabbed his arm. “Kwang, Charles Duke was the soccer coach for our sons.”

Kwang was quiet, as usual.

“Remember, Kwang, the astronaut who has a twin brother who was a biologist on the cruise ship?” I continued, “Maybe he will not remember us at all.”

Kwang interrupted, “Of course not.”

During Mr. Duke’s lecture, I pictured the soccer field instead of listening to him. He was up and down in the field, lifting his foot in the air without a soccer ball, pretending to kick it to make a goal. Frequently he made a whistle to get the boys’ attention that echoed in my ear drums clearly.

After his first lecture, he had a moment for a book-signing event for his autobiography, “Moon Walker”. I approached him. “Mr. Duke, our boys were on your soccer team with your sons.” I spoke to him quietly and cautiously, watching the expression on his face while he signed his book for other people.

“Yes, yes. Do you remember I was a coach?”  He asked me.

“Yes.  Yes, you were.” I was shocked at his memory. I was thrilled that he could remember his soccer team forty years later.  I almost jumped to the ceiling. He signed his book for me with his wife Dotty, as follows:  “To:  Family Koh, as a soccer coach in El Lago, Charles Duke.  Son, Tom, now 43, Son, Charles, now 45.” I bought his book and DVD for our children and grandchildren.

In three out of a four parts lecture series, he spoke about his childhood, schooling, finishing with a Master’s Degree in Mechanical Engineering at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) and the interesting and compelling stories about choosing to be an astronaut among tough competition. With endurance and hard work, he became an astronaut for the Apollo 16 Program and landed on the moon. The fourth part was a question and answer period covering all of his lectures.

He spoke not only on technical aspects of the Apollo programs in layman’s terms, but included some humorous incidents that took place inside of the module under zero gravity, such as candy bars and bananas floating around inside the capsule and sleeping under a chair to avoid floating. The most difficult task was disposal of human discharge. At that time, the device for vacuum suction was not available for the toilet.

He showed the different landing positions on the moon from Apollo 16, Apollo 11 and other Apollo Programs.  He also shared his indescribable emotions when he took his first step on the eight-foot high ladder from the module. Once on the surface of the moon, he spoke quietly to himself with compelling feelings, “God, thank you for this opportunity. I am proud of myself and also of working for the American people.” He continued to mumble to himself. Mr. Duke praised several times President John F. Kennedy’s compelling speech, “We want and must send a man to the moon before the turn of the century.”

He showed us pictures of himself bouncing around on the dusty surface of the moon. The Lunar Rover went around the small valleys and plains covering the tiny rocks with sand. Next, he managed to put the American flag on the surface of the moon. He added with a big smile on his wrinkled face, “Since there is no air on the surface of the moon, the flag was not flapping from airflow. When the American people saw it on the TV, the flag seemed to be flying with air.  Actually, it was a phenomenon that one astronaut waved the flag.”

The main mission of Apollo 16 was to collect valuable scientific information on the moon.  One of the tasks of these assignments was to collect as many rocks as the team possibly could.  Under zero gravity, and wearing a layered spacesuit and heavy helmet, it was very difficult to pick up the rocks from the surface. In one instance he fell.  Falling and standing up in a heavy spacesuit under zero gravity is another time consuming and challenging task, but luckily he managed well and stood up again without being caught by TV cameras.

The most beautiful, memorable event for him was that he left his family photo of his wife and his two sons on the surface of the moon. He prayed, “Eternal moment for my life and family on the moon and maybe on the planet.” The black picture frame was laid on the lonely surface of the moon. During this eleven day journey, there were a couple of minor problems, such as communication with Houston Space Control Center when returning to earth, but due to luck, or his scientific technical wit, he overcame the problems and reentered the earth’s atmosphere safely.

When he spoke of the future of NASA’s program, his face changed and he could not hide the gloomy and uncertain future fate of the space program at NASA.

“Since the cold war is over, there is no imminent threat between the superpowers to compete in the space program. The NASA programs in the future will be slowing down unless we pursue the landing on Mars. Nobody knows.” Then after a moment, “Maybe research projects on the space and landing on Mars or other planets could be active in the private sector.” Sadly, he concluded the future fate of NASA would not be bright, based on defense budget cuts and the slow economic recovery.

One of the most interesting questions he is frequently asked is, “Did our astronauts really go to the moon and put their feet on the soil of the moon?”

With a quiet smile and holding his two hands behind his back, “I am here on your cruise ship with you.” He gave us more than 100% assurance that he was on the moon. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Another frustrating comment I get from friends and people around the world is that they think all astronauts are millionaires.” To answer this, he showed us his salary and compensation package with detailed numbers. Considering the tremendous risk of life, and the extremely difficult training under zero gravity, the compensation was a ridiculously nominal amount, like a drop of water in the ocean.

Since he retired from the NASA program in the 1970’s, he has had his own investment and consulting company and is very active as a guest speaker. He is enjoying his life with his wife, Dotty, as a new-born Christian.

He was an unforgettable encounter in my life in beautiful Sydney Harbor, Australia.