Michelle Garren Flye's Blog, page 55

Introducing Arjay, writer and magician

I’m lucky enough to have a very special guest today. Arjay/R.J. Lewis has won awards for his screenplays and is the author of three novels. He is also an accomplished actor who has appeared on Broadway, in film and on television. And he’s a professional magician who I’ve actually seen in action, so having him on my blog today to help me celebrate the release of Movie Magic is a tremendous event for me.

Before I get to Arjay’s actual interview, though, I’d like to give you a little background about how our paths crossed this past August.

I’d been looking forward to the first week of August for the better part of a year. We all had because we were going as a family on a cruise to Alaska. That doesn’t happen every day, right? Little did we know what that cruise had in store for us.

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R.J. Lewis, magician, in action on the Ruby Princess. This is from the kids’ fair, not the show we saw earlier in the week.

On the second day of our cruise on the Ruby Princess, all three kids went off to do their own thing, my husband had a meeting, and I decided to use the afternoon to write. I sat on my balcony looking out at the water speeding past and began a new novel, which I’d already titled in my head, Magic at Sea. I knew it was silly to write this already. I have plans to write the next Sleight of Hand novel during National Novel Writing Month. Magic at Sea would be the one after that one. But I write what I write when I write it and always have, so I began Magic at Sea, created characters I fell in love with and started the quest to get them together.

A few hours later, my daughter came back from her youth club glowing and chattering about her afternoon. “There was a magician and he picked me to help him. And I don’t know how he did it. He told me to hold the ball in my fist and he held one in his hand and then it disappeared and I opened my hand and it was there!”

I couldn’t help but smile. I have a working knowledge of some simple magic tricks, so I have an idea of how it was pulled off. But I also know most of the magic is in the presentation, so I figured this guy must be pretty good, especially when she said, solemnly, “I think it was real magic.”

No way was I going to kill that. Especially when my teenage sons joined us for dinner, also talking about the same magician and a trick he did with a big penny. “He was hilarious!” said the middle one.

Understand that I collect magical experiences, all starting with that magic carpet trick when I was a little girl. I hired a local magician for one of my kids’ birthday parties. I’ve seen David Copperfield and Mac King and Penn & Teller. I never pass up a chance to see a magician in action. It’s kind of my thing. So naturally, I asked, “What’s his name?”

“R.J. something,” my oldest said. “He’s going to be in one of the lounges this week.”

His name, as it turned out, was R.J. Lewis, and he had two shows scheduled in the Explorers’ Lounge. We got there in time to stand in the back for the first one. I could tell it was very good, even from that distance. So when the lounge emptied out from the first show, my kids and I got right up front for seats for the second, and ended up thoroughly enjoying it.

He kicked it off with a song sung in a splendid baritone voice. He continued with some card tricks and even called my middle son up to help with one of the better performances of the Chinese linking rings that I’ve seen.

At the end of the show, R.J. introduced us to the fact that he is also a writer whose book The Muse would be out later that week under the author name Arjay Lewis. How cool, I thought. A magician who’s also a writer. And I write about magicians. Maybe I should introduce myself.

So…I approached him, half intending to do so. But I chickened out and just took the signed postcard he offered and told him we’d enjoyed his show. I decided, in my usual introverted way, to read his book and then tweet him if I liked it.

I did like it. I read most of it on the plane ride home. The Muse is a dark, twisted, addictive journey through the lives of some pretty compelling characters. I recommend it to my horror fanatic friends.

And that’s the story of how I met Arjay Lewis. Now that you know who Arjay is and how I met him, I hope you’ll join us for the interview that’s coming up in the next hour.

October 31 and magic

Why do I launch my magic books on October 31? Could be one of several reasons. For instance, did you know on October 31, 2011, the global population reached seven billion for the first time in history? Yep. That day is officially known as the Day of Seven Billion. So, you know, lots of potential readers out there.

But that’s not it.

October 31 is, of course, All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints’ Day or Halloween, depending on your religion or lack of it. It’s a day for remembering the dead. A day for spirits and magick.

But that’s not it.

When I first started out my quest to make magic romantic, I did a lot of research about magicians. I read about magicians and magic through history. I researched different types of magic from illusion to mentalism. I watched videos, old and new. From David Copperfield and David Blaine to Houdini. I found out that Harry Houdini, master escape magician whose water torture escapes still elude much of the magical community, died on October 31.

And that’s it.

That’s it because not only did he die on October 31 but because of a pact with his wife, Bess, to do his best to contact her from beyond the grave, a seance is still held every year on the anniversary of his death. In fact, multiple seances are held. There’s even an online one. Harry Houdini, 91 years after death, is still encouraging people to believe.

That’s what I want to do with my writing. It’s why I started writing about magicians. I love that magicians can help us believe in something beyond ourselves, even when we know there’s a trick. A well-performed magic trick can, even for an instant, help us believe that maybe there’s something more out there.

Speaking of believing: This is the 90th year of the Houdini Seance. Do you believe Houdini will choose this year to contact us?

Happy Launch Day, Movie Magic! (Check out the reading at the end…)

It’s October 31, and that means the launch of my new book, Movie Magic. I so enjoyed writing this one, and I’m so hoping you will enjoy reading it.

Today, we celebrate. At the end of the day (about 5 p.m.), I’ll draw names from all my commenters for prizes. Everything from signed copies of Movie Magic to Amazon gift cards. Every comment is eligible, and multiple entries are encouraged.

By the way, Ann Marie was the winner of the special edition Sleight of Hand perfume from Waft.com. I’ll be in touch with her to arrange delivery!

I leave you with this. It’s me, reading from chapter one of Movie Magic. I’m not big on public performances, but I really believe in this book.

Plastic fiction: What happens when writers give up on soul

Three years ago, Ursula K. Le Guin gave an impassioned speech in which she basically implored writers to write what they wanted to write and not what the publishing industry told them to write. She asked that literature in all forms return to being considered an art form. “Books aren’t just commodities,” she said.

I’ve often wondered if I would sell out if someone offered me the opportunity to sign with a big publisher that would basically guarantee my book would be a bestseller with an awesome marketing plan and everything all taken care of—but I had to write a book the publisher wanted with the plot all spelled out for me. Would I do it? Would I sell out? Would I turn out a plastic fiction book with no soul and no art just to gain readers?

I can’t answer that question. I fear I might. It’d probably be easy enough to write if I didn’t have to come up with the plot myself. And I have a respectable backlist now. Surely I should consider that in the equation. If I gained lots of readers with my plastic fiction—readers who enjoyed my style of writing and who would then consume my other books—wouldn’t it be worth it? But then, too, I’d be feeding the plastic fiction industry that has taken over the publishing world and made it more difficult for writers to be the artists they are meant to be.

Not sure you know what I mean by plastic fiction? Oh yes, you do. It’s especially prevalent in my chosen genre at the moment. For a while it was vampire romances (which has now morphed to include werewolves and shapeshifters and lots of other paranormals). I’m not saying these are all bad. I’ve even read a few that are exceptionally good. But those can be hard to find. And then there’s the fifty-shades phenomenon that is reflected in everything from content (way more explicit than just a few years ago) to covers (haven’t you noticed the trend to monochromatic still life since Christian Grey’s silk tie?).

I think the surge in independent publishing has been a reaction to writers trying to avoid the plastic fiction publishing industry. I’m proud to be a part of that surge. I love what I write, and I love publishing my little bits of art. They aren’t the highest quality—maybe they’re made of aluminum instead of gold or silver—but they aren’t plastic, either. I know this because they come from my heart and contain bits of my soul.

Just a week and a day away from magic.

Movie Magic, my twelfth novel, hits the virtual bookshelves next Tuesday. I’m happy to say this is my best novel yet because it means I’m still improving. I’ve always believed that if you ever think you know everything about the art you practice, you are (a) wrong and (b) gonna get bored fast.

Art is a truly funny thing. It’s everywhere in so many different forms you sometimes miss it. Most people think of art as painting or drawing, but in truth, art is everywhere you look. Everything that someone has put some thought and inspiration and work into in order to create, that’s art. Everything from gardens to cars and buildings. Leonardo DaVinci said we should study the science of art and the art of science in order to learn how everything connects to everything else.

I think this is what I mean when I say there’s magic everywhere and in everyone’s lives if they learn how to look. Right now, I’m watching the wind blow leaves from the trees outside. There’s science there—the biology, physics, meteorology—but what I’m most interested in is the beauty of the yellow-green leaves glinting in the sunlight as they twirl their way down, sometimes lifting a little to sail on the wind a little before continuing their downward dance.

It’s like a play that’s gone from the playwright’s dreams to a director’s plans to the actors’ interpretations—a three-dimensional painting combining art and science and resulting in magic.

Don’t forget to leave me a comment on here for your chance to win the Movie Magic Contest. Leave a comment on any post on this blog telling me about a time you experienced magic for a chance to win a bottle of the magic-inspired perfume I created on Waft.com and a copy of Movie Magic. Contest ends October 28, 2017 and winner will be announced at 10 a.m. Eastern October 31, 2017 on this blog as part of my release day festivities for Movie Magic. Entrants should check this blog for details on how to provide me with a shipping address in case they win.

Facing fear of publishing (with excerpt from Movie Magic)

In January I made the usual New Year’s resolutions: eat healthier, exercise more, etc. But I also made a resolution I had never made before. Fight fear.

Fear has held me back my entire life. I’m a timid person by nature, though I’ve overcome much of that through the love of my family. Yet still, I have more than my share of phobias. Spiders, stage fright, dentists (that’s a big one).

I haven’t overcome these phobias, but I have forced myself to face them. Just last week I smashed a spider that had my daughter cornered. In a gesture at fighting off my general timidity, I recently took the opportunity to travel with my son to Germany. And I tried out for and got a bit part in our local theater’s production of “A Christmas Carol”. So, yeah, I’m working on it.

And this morning, I went to the dentist for the first time in…a while. My teeth are still sore. Like everything, I began to draw a parallel between sore teeth and publishing a book.

When you write a novel, you bare a part of your soul, and the more covering you can pull away (just like the dental hygienist did to my teeth this morning), the better your writing will be. And just like my teeth, which are now sore and more exposed to temperature changes, so the writer’s soul becomes exposed to critics.

The temptation is to keep part of the soul covered. A thin veil. Remove yourself from the story and tell yourself it’s the characters’ story you’re telling. And while this is true to a point, the truth is, the writer is in every story she tells. And once that story is published, the writer is exposed. Perhaps this is why Emily Dickinson published less than a dozen poems in her lifetime. So much of her soul exposed through her poems might have been too much for her to bear.

So publishing is a leap of faith in our own work and our own souls. It might be ignored or disliked or even loved, but it’s bound to be painful in one way or another. With that thought in mind, I present a taste of my soul in the form of an excerpt from Movie Magic:

“What’ll it be, Cowboy?” Her eyes flickered over him in a just slightly less than shameless fashion.

“What would you recommend, Gypsy?”

The woman looked pleased that he remembered her name. “Depends. Are you just here to drink tonight, Walt, or are you eating?”

“You know I’m not going to pass up the burgers.” He leaned on the bar. “We want beer. Maybe one of those pepper beers you guys are so proud of.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and looked at Sabrina. She nodded, her appraisal obviously satisfactory. “Two ghost brews coming up.” She reached beneath the counter and with a flick of her wrist produced two bottles with a label bearing a picture of an ethereal white spirit sporting a pirate hat. She stopped short of handing it to them. “They’re on the house if you do that trick again.”

“Which trick?” Walt raised his eyebrows, trying to look innocent.

“You know which trick.” She uncapped the beer and set it in front of him.

He glanced at the beer, then back to her. “You got a glass?”

“Better than that. I’ve got a bottle of cheap beer back here. You don’t even have to waste yours.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” He looked anxious.

Sabrina laughed and Gypsy grinned at her. “I like this one. She’s got faith.”

“I kind of like her too.” Walt’s sideways grin warmed Sabrina and she couldn’t help smiling back. Walt tapped the bar. “Bring it on, Gypsy. I’m up to any challenge tonight.”

Gypsy let out a whoop that attracted the attention of everyone in the bar area. By the time she’d set the bottle of beer and a glass in front of Walt, the other patrons were crowding around. Sabrina enjoyed her front row seat as she watched Walt pick up the bottle, unscrew the top and take a swig. Then he upended the bottle on the bar with a flourish, somehow not spilling a drop. The crowd oohed appreciatively, then waited as Walt placed a coaster on the bottom of the upended bottle, flipped it back over the right way, then upended it again over the glass. When nothing happened, he pretended to be confused, peered inside for a second while Sabrina and probably the rest of the crowd held their breath, then held it over the glass again, removed the coaster and tapped the bottom of the bottle, producing a gush of beer into the mug. Walt handed the mug to Gypsy with a bow while everyone applauded.

 

Admiring the mystery and magic of life

Harry Houdini once said, “I am a great admirer of mystery and magic. Look at this life—all mystery and magic.” He also claimed that scientists could not accept magic as a science simply because they couldn’t understand it. And though he worked for years to discredit fake mediums, the anniversary of his death (October 31) is still celebrated by some with a séance in the hopes of that he will send a message proving he’s still out there…somewhere.

Houdini guarded his secrets closely, even having his assistants sign secrecy agreements. He obviously knew that the magic of his performance lay in the ignorance of his audience to his methods. So why—to this day—does his name still bear so much magic? I believe the answer is simple. Houdini believed, and that belief carries on.

Magicians are performers and magic is a science that combines performance with physics, chemistry and even biology. Every trick has a secret, but when you see it performed by a capable performer—magic. But as Houdini said, life is full of magic. The Celts, as I was recently reminded, believed in “thin places” between the living world and the eternal world. For the Celts, most of these were fixed places, but I believe you can find them anywhere.

For instance:

The double rainbow I saw over the bookstore the week Steve Jobs died.
The smell of honeysuckle.
Hummingbirds.
The rainbow I saw in Germany when we were unintentionally sidetracked.
Some sunsets. Here’s one:[image error]
Moonlight on water. Almost always. Case in point:[image error]
Flowers in general, but specifically daffodils. And some roses.
Some movies.
Some books.
Alaska. I realized this when I saw salmon swimming upstream. It may be one of the last of the truly magical places, certainly in the U.S.

I could go on, but I’m really more interested in what magic means to you. Which is why I’m running the contest inviting you to share your favorite “thin place”/magical experience. (See “Movie Magic Contest”—above right—for rules.) Leave me a comment below to enter!

To my readers: Let’s get together.

In twenty-one days, Movie Magic hits virtual shelves everywhere. Meaning my part is done, and it’s up to you guys, my readers, to take it to the next level. You want to know what that feels like for the author?

For me, at least, it’s a strange sort of terrified resignation. I have such great hopes, and I know they can be dashed. Because they have before. Twelve books now—each one well-written with good plots and engaging characters (this from reviewers, not my personal assessment)—but not a bestseller among them. And no matter what I say about writing for myself, it’s not totally true, and I know it. I’m really writing for you.

Who are you? I’ve had the distinct pleasure of hearing from some of my readers. I love reviews because they give me an opportunity to know what I did right and fix what I did wrong the next time, but I never reply to them, although I always “like” them if given the option by the platform. Emails are even better. And I’ve even been invited to speak at a couple of book clubs. So much fun to discuss my book with someone who has read it!

I’m planning something special for the release of Movie Magic. A way for you guys to get to know me, if you so desire. It’s something that’s way out of my comfort zone, so I actually have to make sure it’s something I really want to do, but I’m thinking I’ll be able to do it. If you want to know more, join my Facebook party by clicking the graphic below. I look forward to seeing you there!

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Movie Magic release party!

Abracadabra: A Facebook Party!

Hope you’ll join me on Facebook on October 31 for a Movie Magic release party!

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Movie Magic release party!

Abracadabra: When writing is fun.

Movie Magic, like all of my Sleight of Hand books to date, was seriously fun to write. I wrote it a few years ago as a National Novel Writing Month project, then let it sit for a year or two to ripen. Rewriting was even more fun, and even now I can’t seem to stop re-reading parts of it. Here’s one of my favorites, which takes place during a casting call for a movie:

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

She opened her eyes to see the sandwich girl standing in front of her holding a white Styrofoam carton in her hand. She looked concerned, an expression that clashed strangely with her tattooed arms but not with her delicate features and blue eyes. Sabrina smiled but it felt like a grimace. “Sure. I’m fine. Just looking for someone who can read.” Without thinking, she handed the girl the paper. “You’d think that would be easy enough, wouldn’t you?”

The girl looked at the paper. Her eye fell on a passage and she read, her voice clear and well inflected, “I think you might do something better with the time than waste it in asking riddles with no answers.”

Sabrina sat up straighter. She didn’t have to look at the paper. “If you knew Time as well as I do, you wouldn’t talk about wasting it. It’s him.”

The girl backed up a step. “I don’t know what you mean.”

That’s it. The perfect combination of confusion and irritation. A harder edge than most people would take with Alice. Sabrina stood. “Of course you don’t. I dare say you’ve never even spoken with Time.”

The girl gave her a hooded glare of contempt. “Perhaps not. But I know I have to beat Time when I learn music.”

The others had turned by now, their attention caught by the unexpected little drama taking place. Ignoring them, Sabrina stood and waved a hand in the air. “Ah, that accounts for it. He won’t stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose it were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!”

The girl, who Sabrina couldn’t help but think of as her Alice now, shook her head, “That would be grand, certainly. But then—I shouldn’t be hungry for it, you know.”

“Not at first, perhaps.” Sabrina’s mouth curved in an almost seductive way and she took a step closer to the girl, lowering her voice in an intimate way. “But you could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked.”

This was the moment of truth, and Sabrina’s newfound Alice didn’t fail her. Her expression changed from irritation to an odd mix of disgust and hope. She held it for just a second, then laughed, dropping out of character. “That was fun!”