Selene Castrovilla's Blog, page 7

My Heart Belongs to George Washington

The Marquis de Lafayette remained constantly loyal to General George Washington, and convinced the French king to join our fight.

I fell for George Washington when I was thirty-six. It was an unexpected love affair, which forever altered my life’s direction and focus.

I’d been floundering around trying to get a contract for a picture book about a mischievous moose who moves in with a Long Island family. I still love that story, and every once and a while I’ll pull up the file and query someone. Hey, Olivia was in the drawer for years.

One day I took a break from pimping out my moose to visit a sick friend. He’d just moved away from Setauket, Long Island. He was sad, which I couldn’t understand, because Setauket is so very far away from life (aka: New York City) and it seemed to have little to do. He’d moved to Merrick, so much closer to New York! What could be the problem?

“Why do you miss Setauket?” I asked him.

“Because it’s so historical there,” he lamented.

“What’s historical about it?” I asked, to be polite. Local history equaled snooze time to me.

“George Washington had a spy ring that operated out of Setauket,” he said. “A woman hung her laundry as signals to the spies.”

Whoa! I sat up, in disbelief. I’d never heard of such a thing. I grew up on Long Island. And no one mentioned us being involved in the war – let along a spy ring run by George Washington!

He told me what he knew. When I went home I started Googling, and found out about The Culper Spy Ring. Washington didn’t have enough men to fight the British, so he turned to espionage.

I became smitten with this man who refused to give up. Against seemingly impossible odds, he would simply maneuver around them. A powerful, timeless lesson. George Washington was, from then on, my hero.

When I researched the spy ring, it was tough going. That’s because they were spies. Top secret. I read the memoir of Colonel Benjamin Tallmadge, who organized the ring under Washington’s direction. He didn’t mention being a spy. That’s because they were spies. Top secret.

Also it was not a glorified thing to be a spy. And one spy in particular wrestled with the moral implications of lying. (If you want to know more about all this, it’s in my book Upon Secrecy.)

So Tallmadge remained mum about the Culpers, but he did write about losing at the Battle of Long Island, and sitting in a trench waiting to die. But he didn’t die – because George Washington devised a plan to sneak his troops across the East River in ten small boats. Back and forth they rowed all night long, and then a fortuitous fog settled in. The result: The American Army was safe, and ready to fight another day!

OMG! This was clearly George Washington’s greatest moment! But no one talked about it. It was all about the Delaware. But they never would’ve gotten to the Delaware if they hadn’t gotten across the East River first. (If you want to know more about this, it’s in my book By the Sword.)

Too bad no one made a painting of George Washington crossing the East River.

Human moments like this are what move me to write about American history. To reveal George Washington as the flesh and blood man that he was – not just a guy with wooden teeth and an axe.

The extraordinary friendship between George Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette is the subject of my book REVOLUTIONARY FRIENDS.

There is so much glory and purpose to be gleaned from The American Revolution. But the one person who was utterly indispensable was George Washington.

Happy birthday George! I love you.

PS: Anyone want to publish a book about a moose?

Bye for now.

This is When I Tell You I Loved THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU

I don’t normally review movies, but I wanted to tell you that This Is Where I Leave You was so satisfying that I felt like I’d read a novel. I got to know the characters – which was a feat with this ensemble cast – and I cared about them. All of them!

The title alone made me want to see the film. It’s evocative.

And of course I love Jason Bateman. He plays the same guy every time. You know, the fantasy guy. The guy that’s good-looking, caring and wants to work on himself. We women want to help him!

This movie was remarkable because it didn’t provide a “happy ending” but rather a “hopeful” ending – and not even that hopeful for some of the characters – but it was so on the mark that I felt not only satisfied but complete.

Yes, this movie completed me.

(It also had me at hello – from when I first saw the billboard in Manhattan!)

I missed it at the movies, but I snagged it at Redbox the other night. And I highly recommend it for anyone age 40 and up. I’m not sure how younger people will relate. This is a story you that works if you’ve been there, in some way. And anyone over 40 has been there – trust me.

I can’t say enough about the writing job on this script. I’m studying script-writing, and this is one I’d like to read. As I said, it’s an ensemble cast. To make us care about each one of the characters is stunning. Also stunning is Jane Fonda. You go girl!

Tina Fey was funny but in a more poignant way than her usual. I admire her for breaking through her comfort zone. Well-done.

That’s enough. I’m no reviewer. Just see it!

Bye for now.

America’s First Valentine and George Washington’s Spies

The beginning of America’s first Valentine, presented on Long Island on February 14, 1779

Valentine’s Day and President’s Day have something in common. America’s first Valentine is tied in with George Washington’s Culper Spy Ring! Washington might never have gotten to be president – and America might never have become a country – without his spies.

This Valentine had quite a setting behind it: British occupation, our desperate fight for freedom, and loyalties divided between faith, country and romance.

It was presented by Lt. Col. John Graves Simcoe to Miss Sarah Townsend on February 14, 1779. Simcoe was the commander of the Queen’s Rangers, a sector of His Majesty’s Army known for its skill and brutality. Simcoe was brutal; torturing, terrorizing and even imprisoning and hanging some residents of occupied Long Island.

But Simcoe (age 27) apparently had a heart, and he gave it to 19 year old Sarah Townsend.

Here’s the declaration of love he presented to her:

Fairest Maid, where all is fair, Beauty’s pride and Nature’s care;

To you my heart I must resign, O choose me for your Valentine!

Love, Mighty God! Thou know’st full well, where all thy Mother’s graces dwell,

Where they inhabit and combine to fix thy power with spells divine;

Thou know’st what powerful magick lies within the round of Sarah’s eyes,

Or darted thence like lightning fires, and Heaven’s own joys around inspires;

Thou know’st my heart will always prove the shrine of pure unchanging love!

Say; awful God! Since to thy throne two ways that lead are only known—

Here gay Variety presides, and many a youthful circle guides

Through paths where lilies, roses sweet, bloom and decay beneath their feet;

Here constancy with sober mien regardless of the flowery Scene

With Myrtle crowned that never fades, in silence seeks the Cypress Shades,

Or fixed near Contemplation’s cell, chief with the Muses loves to dwell,

Leads those who inward feel and burn and often clasp the abandon’d urn,–

Say, awful God! Did’st thou not prove my heart was formed for Constant love?

Thou saw’st me once on every plain to Delia pour the artless strain—

Thou wept’sd her death and bad’st me change my happier days no more to range

O’er hill, o’er dale, in sweet Employ, of singing Delia, Nature’s joy;

Thou bad’st me change the pastoral scene forget my Crook; with haughty mien

To raise the iron Spear of War, victim of Grief and deep Despair:

Say, must I all my joys forego and still maintain this outward show?

Say, shall this breast that’s pained to feel be ever clad in horrid steel?

Nor swell with other joys than those of conquest o’er unworthy foes?

Shall no fair maid with equal fire awake the flames of soft desire:

My bosom born, for transport, burn and raise my thoughts from Delia’s urn?

“Fond Youth,” the God of Love replies, “Your answer take from Sarah’s eyes.”

Sarah shared her home with Simcoe, but it was not by choice. Her family owned the largest house in Oyster Bay, and when the Queen’s Rangers burst into town Simcoe claimed it as his quarters. The peaceful Quaker family was allowed to stay – in fact, they were required to serve him and his men. However, this didn’t spare Sarah’s father from being imprisoned, for failure to pledge allegiance to the crown.

Portrait of John Graves Simcoe, painted in 1791 by Jean-Laurent Mosnier, in the Collection of the Toronto Public Library

There are a lot of facts we don’t know about this situation. Much has been speculated, and fictionalized (most recently on AMC’s TURN.) Ironically, we know more about George Washington’s Culper Spy Ring, who operated on Long Island and in Manhattan and were largely responsible for Washington’s eventual victory, than we do about the personal relationship between John and Sarah. Did she respond favorable to his overture? There is no way to know for sure. Clearly Simcoe struggled with his heart’s desires, for the Valentine refers to his dilemma of loving an enemy. Clearly the Valentine meant something to Sarah, for she kept it always. It was found in her possessions after her death at age 82.

 

Nor is there any way to know for sure whether Sarah helped The Culper Spy Ring, except for a bill for a horse she once ordered, to carry a message to her brother in Manhattan. Robert Townsend was a reporter for The Rivington Gazette, New York’s loyalist newspaper. He was also a merchant who sold dry goods. Presumably, Sally was sending a request to her brother for merchandise. But Robert was secretly Culper Junior, Washington’s top spy. It was he who provided the crucial information Washington needed, largely because British soldiers bragged to him to see their names in print! But the possibility is strong that Sally sent information at least once to her brother, tipping him off to what she’d heard at home. A house guest of interest was Major John Andre, British head of spies, who was Simcoe’s close friend. Sarah probably got quite the earful on his visits, especially because of Simcoe’s soft spot for her. She may have been his Achilles heel.

But we don’t know. Which is why I never wrote a book about Sarah and Simcoe. Historical fiction is fine for some, but not for me. I’m dedicated to presenting the truth.

The truth is, both Robert and Sarah Townsend never married anyone. He was most likely consumed with guilt over breaking his vow to God. (Quakers are not supposed to lie.) She is presumed to have had a broken heart over Simcoe – and perhaps she felt like she’d betrayed the love of her life. Yes, he was a cruel bastard. But you know how some women love their “bad boys.”

After the war, Simcoe returned to England and married Elizabeth Posthuma Gwillim in 1782. Robert returned to the Townsend home in Oyster Bay, and eventually he and Sarah lived there alone: each others consolation for what they’d experienced and done.

You can visit Raynham Hall, the Townsend’s homestead where this excitement took place. I highly recommend it!

If you’d like to know more about The Culper Spy Ring, I provide all the details in UPON SECRECY:

To purchase: http://www.amazon.com/Upon-Secrecy-Se...

The title UPON SECRECY comes from one of George Washington’s spy letters.

If you live in the NYC area, come see me at SCBWI-Metro NY’s Professional Series on March 10. I’ll be speaking about my methods of researching and writing about the humanity in American history, such as in the story of Washington’s spies.

Here’s the link for tickets:

http://www.eventbrite.com/e/picture-b...

Bye for now.

Writing Triage: Learning to Control the Hemorrhage

Ernest Hemingway is correct about the bleeding – but I do think there’s a pattern for the blood splatter. You don’t just spirt it out all over the place. You need to learn method. You need to control your drip, drip, dripping onto the page.

I’m a firm believer in mastering craft. If you want to write – or even if you do write – it behooves you to hone. Writing is fun, yes, but it also takes work and dedication. TONS. I have a master’s degree, but in the beginning I took any creative writing class I could find. Not only did I learn, but I was also immersed in a pool with like-minded people. It helps to make friends (who I have kept all these years!)

I’m not often in a position to recommend classes, but I do know of two now. If you live in Suffolk County, Long Island, my friend Julia Noonan is giving two continuing education classes at Suffolk County Community College.

I’m sorry for the horrible quality of the picture. It’s a screenshot of a PDF. (I’m soooo bad at this technical stuff!)

The pertinent information is that the first class – Introduction to Writing for Children’s Books – starts on 2/18, 7-10 pm.

The second class – Advanced Writing for Creation – starts on 4/8, 6:30-10 pm.

If you don’t live in Suffolk, I suggest you get out there somewhere. It’s like going to the gym – you have to start a regime to get into shape. A class will not only teach you: it will give you focus and motivation as well!

Bird by Bird has the most unique and calming insights into the writing process I’ve ever found!

I also recommend Anne Lamott’s book on writing: Bird by Bird. It’s my writing bible. Also wonderful is Stephen King’s On Writing, if only to remind you that people are not born published. Mr. King was a summer custodian at a high school, cleaning the girl’s locker room, when inspiration struck for Carrie. Enough said.

Bye for now.

 

 

Wine, wine everywhere; and not a drop to drink.

This seems to be today’s philosophy as well.

 

It’s a challenge not to drink in this world. Social activity seems to revolve around inebriation. But I have managed to not drink since I first reported “day one” -nearly two weeks ago, I think. The trick is to tell myself that I “can” have it, but I “choose not to.”

I learned this from my wise aunt, the renowned and beloved Olga Bloom*, who recited Socrates-like phrases daily. One of her most tried and true was “Opposition breeds opposition.” And looking at the state of the world, who could argue that one? I’ve decided this applies internally as well.

I want to shed weight, which I believe was a manifestation of the burden I’d been feeling in my heart. It may be winter outside, but it’s spring inside me: I’ve re-awakened and am blossoming.

I have a healthy diet. The only thing I was doing wrong was drinking wine. More and more. (Well, there are only about four cups in a bottle, right?)

Bottom line: I’m working to feel better, and wine doesn’t fit in with the program. But I still “can” have a glass if I so desire.

I will not oppose myself! And this decision feels pretty good.

Bye for now.

*My Aunt Olga created a world-famous classical concert hall called Bargemusic. You can Google it, or her, for more info.

Marketing: Conquering the Ever-Changing Beast!

How do I book signings? All will be revealed in April…

 

The hardest thing about today’s marketing is its ever-changing nature. It’s always been daunting enough, but you used to be able to do the same thing consistently, and get results. Now, there are so many options with new rules and offshoots. Social media is wonderful because you can do so much without leaving home: but exactly how do you do it effectively? And whom can you trust?

The best thing to do is find your tribe. A group of friends who each have unique strengths, and who will alert you to the newest trends.

But how do you find them? And how do you negotiate the tangled web that marketing has become, without getting ensnared? And how do you find time to write???

The answers to all this and more may be found at Larry Dane Brimner’s wonderful Highlights Foundation workshop: Capturing the Spotlight! http://www.highlightsfoundation.org/workshops/getting-the-gigs-2015/

If you wonder how I “came up,” a large part of it is because of the Highlights Foundation. I went to one of their conferences, where learned so much and gained confidence – and also met the person who would ultimately became my editor. I continually go to Highlights retreats, where I find renew and inspiration. I call the area “a vortex of creativity.”

This workshop is for anyone who has received a contract or published a book – or many books! It’s never too late to be the marketer you might have been.

I will be there as a guest, giving a talk about how I “get out there.” I will also bring my car, my marketing tool on wheels. I’m very big on “guerrilla” marketing. In fact, I’ve been scoffed for some of my techniques – until they proved effective. We must strive at unique, compelling marketing as much as unique, compelling writing.

Melanie Hope Greenberg and David Harrison will also be guest-speaking. (David via Skype.)

I promise you that this will be an experience you’ll never forget. And you’ll get to stay in a really cool cabin and eat gourmet food. There is also wine, to raise spirits even further.

Who could ask for anything more? (Perhaps a higher metabolism for all that food and wine.)

Bye for now.

Affecting the Reader

Hmmm.

To “affect” is a tricky thing. I agree with the first part of Mr. Stevenson’s quote, because yes: precision is crucial. There’s so much wrapped up in that statement. The literary writer must chose exact language which will set the tone and voice of the piece.

However, just because the work means something particularly to me, it doesn’t mean that the reader is obligated to feel the same. Rather, I think my job is done when I’ve made the reader feel anything at all. Good literature prods at one’s soul, and blends into memories, experiences and ambitions. It can (and should) make you look at life differently (from the slightest bit to the largest epiphany), but it’s a private, perhaps religious experience between the reader and the book. I am the conductor, delivering my story as an electrical cord facilitates light.

As a matter of fact, my favorite Broadway musical is Jekyll & Hyde. I must’ve seen it thirty times. (I realize it’s not in Stevenson’s words, but it is his creation.) I felt differently about it every time, depending on my frame of mind and what the play stirred inside.

Another example is The Catcher in the Rye. Reading it as an adolescent, I felt way differently than as an adult.

And when I read some of my past work, I feel differently than when I wrote it. What an experience it is, to be affected by one’s own writing years later!

So, it’s my contention that an author absolutely cannot induce a reader to be affected in a specific way. Nor should we want to. It would be like trying to find the cure for madness: we might create a monster instead.

There’s a fine line between lunatic and novelist.

Twittering Our Lives Away: What Would Thoreau Say?

 

So I’ve come to appreciate the sense of community on Twitter, and how I can communicate with people who share the same interests. That part is cool.

What I still don’t care for (to put it mildly) is the 140 character limit. It’s impossible to tweet anything of weight. Some people have referred to tweets as “Haiku.” Number one, I haven’t read all that many “Haiku-like” tweets. Have you? Number two, who has time to compose a Haiku every time they want to post? Brevity is one thing, but it takes me 20 minutes to whittle something down, let alone leave room for hashtags (Twitter is murder on type A’s like me) and try to still have some semblance of grammar (Twitter is also murder on grammatical types like me.)

Some people have said that Twitter is like a news-feed. I hate the news. I never listen to it or read it (except when something so horrific pops up on my AOL before I can open my mail, and I have to.) It’s like The Beatles said, “I read the news today oh boy.” My empathy wrecks me – I can’t take learning about horrible things. And what’s the point, if I can’t help the people or the situation? Have you read my work? I’ve got enough going on in my head already. I do listen to Robin Quivers’ news. Because I love Howard’s thoughts. (Not limited to 140 character!) Other than that, I’m certain that if something really bad happens that I need to know about, someone will tell me. (Certain people love to be the bearers of these things.)

All that said, I found a cool way to tweet without worrying about all that: my Facebook page posts automatically tweet, with a link! Eureka! I could finally speak freely.

Alas, last night a friend informed me that this is bad for the algorithms. Good God. I don’t fathom any of this. All I want to do is write. I love communicating with people, but it shouldn’t be so complicated.

I don’t know how anyone gets anything cohesive done anymore, with all this twittering and flittering about. It’s odd that something which should have simplified the task of “getting out there” actually made everything so much more complex.

I do what I can. But I have to get back to the business of writing. Not only for my career, but more importantly: for myself.

I do sincerely love sharing my thoughts on social media, when I have free reign to roam. I guess it’s like Bruce Springsteen said, “Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.” (Metaphorically.)

Bye for now.

Happy Birthday Edgar Allan Poe!

Happy birthday dear Edgar, gone from us too soon!

Today is Edgar Allan Poe’s birthday, and I urge you to partake in some of his magical writing.

I want to use this occasion to address the alarming increase of bad “poetry.” Actually, it’s not poetry at all!

There are many ways to write a poem, or to simply write poetically, but listing events of your life as though you’re buying groceries is not one of them. This is the failure of many rappers, I think. (Eminem is an example of how to do it right! Brilliant! You feel every word!) Jay Z is an example of how to do it wrong. Take the song Holy Grail. He hollers things like, “Caught up in these lights and cameras.” Yeah, we know. Poor baby. This is pure hubris! The only parts of that song that make me feel are the bits from Nirvana and Justin Timberlake. Jay Z is caught up in ego-sickness, as my Aunt Olga used to say.

Even worse is Kanye West.

You must hear this. It is perhaps the most amusing thing ever:

 

“You ain’t got the answers! You ain’t been getting the education!”

Okay, I digress. But I had to.

What I’m saying (having gotten the education) is that Kanye West and Jay Z are not poets, or poetic. And this is translating to our youth. I was on the subway a couple of weeks ago, and two teenaged boys entered the car. They said they were going to recite poetry, but it was a litany of cliched circumstances about growing up disadvantaged. I have sympathy! But circumstance is no excuse for laziness and/or ignorance. If you want to be a poet, or a writer of any like, you must feel something inside and want to convey it. Imagery, passion…not a vague list of your life’s events! A poem is supposed to stimulate audience imagination, so that each person adds his own meaning to it. This is the essence of art: shared communications with depth. Those boys made me angry, because they had the audacity to call themselves poets without putting in any effort, and probably without reading any real poetry first. Writing is a craft just as any other profession. You must study it to honor it.

Poe made us feel. And he still does. Art stands the test of time. It cuts to the core.

Let us remember Poe, and let us emulate him.

Bye for now.

Poe like to write with a feline companion, as I often do!

You said it, Edgar!

Happy Belated Birthday JD Salinger!

This is my favorite line from The Catcher in the Rye!

 

If you know me, you know that I’m not great at remembering birthdays. I’m more of a “celebrate life every day” type of gal. Thanks to Facebook I get notifications – as long as I sign on (not a given.) I’m also not good at celebrity birthdays. However, I received an e-mail of literary birthdays, and I learned that JD Salinger’s birthday was January 1! A New Year’s baby! And so, I must wish him a belated birthday, because as you know, I adore his writing. (The man himself was quite disturbing, but we must separate the artist from the art.)

In tribute, I offer a post from my previous blog featuring ‘ole JD:

http://selenecastrovilla.blogspot.com/2011/11/going-hollywood-book-movies-can-play.html

I would recommend watching the documentary Salinger to learn more about Salinger’s life (it’s where I learned that he insisted on enlisting for WWI, even though they didn’t want him for some physical reason, and on D-Day he carried pages of is work inside his uniform’s jacket. He said he needed it to stay alive. It was The Catcher in the Rye.)

I love so much about The Catcher in the Rye. But I most love the relationship with his brother, Allie:

“My brother Allie had this left-handed fielder’s mitt. he was left handed. The thing that was descriptive about it though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he’d have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up to bat. He’s dead now.”

 

This relationship was one of the inspirations for The Girl Next Door, and I dedicated the book to Holden and Allie.

I hope you experience some JD, because his writing will change your life.

Bye for now.