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Writing

What the Campaign is About: I’m asking for help to raise $2,500 to self-publish my next book, a thriller called The List.

There are two ways to live a life – in theory or in practice. One involves talking about what might happen and the other requires taking risks and letting go of the outcome. I was stuck in the first camp for a long time, which meant I preferred to turn over most of the work, the rewards and what I saw as the risk of failure to a traditional publishing house. The results are Wired, The Sitting Sisters and A Place to Call Home – three great books that have been well received. It seemed like enough.

But then in 2009 I was told I had cancer and only a one percent chance of living longer than one more year. I walked out of the doctor’s office shaking, trying to come up with something comforting to say to my 21-year-old son, Louie. Instead, he looked at me and said very firmly, “You weren’t listening. They said there was hope.” Something clicked and I realized that I was going to have to figure out how to be present for every day I had left rather than stare at my death.

It turns out that for now the doctors were wrong about the year but I’ve had four more operations for cancer since then. I’ve had to learn how to live with cancer without making it the focus and to be grateful for the rewards that come along with being reminded that life isn’t a guarantee.

The biggest reward I’ve gotten so far is learning how to ask for help from friends and family. At times I’ve really needed it because I couldn’t walk very well or because my face was bandaged and I couldn’t speak. I’ve learned that help can also be about just needing comfort and company like watching a scary movie with friends or throwing together a potluck or learning how to ride a bike again. That one took four spectacular spills but eventually I stayed on the bike. This past year I even started acting like I plan to live a long time and lost 86 pounds.

It doesn’t have to be complicated.

So, I’m doing my best to let go of old ideas about everything and learn to live in the moment. To make writing more about why I started – to share something – including the journey to get the book in your hands as well as every conversation afterwards. If you want to join in you can take a look at the different things you can get by making a donation. You can even be a part of what is turning into an amazing journey just by letting your friends know about The List Campaign. Share the link www.igg.me/at/MarthaCarr-TheListCampaign.com. Or use the share buttons at the site.

Thank you so much for your ongoing love and support. I am really looking forward to seeing what comes next, whatever it is – and to walking through it, to enjoying it with all of you.

What the Book is About:

The List is a novel of suspense about a happy family caught between two old political powers that have always existed behind the scenes, invisible to most of the public. The two sides have battled over control for hundreds of years actively recruiting new members at a young age to groom them for politics, Wall Street, Corporate corner offices and the military. Good Old Boy networks, private clubs and political action committees were all formed with the same idea in mind to grease the wheels of life because we all want to ensure a nice, fat piece of the American pie, especially for our children. However, families find out a little too late that once they’ve joined there’s no out clause.

 

What You Can Do & What You Can Get*:

  • First Level: $25 – You receive a signed copy of The List.
  • Second Level: $35 – You receive a signed copy of The List and your name in the dedication.
  • Third Level: $50 – You receive a signed copy of The List, your name in the dedication AND a password that lets you read the next three chapters of the sequel, The Keeper.
  • Fourth Level: $100 – You receive a signed copy of The List, your name in the dedication, a password that lets you read the next three chapters of the sequel, The Keeper AND a Skype visit from me to a meeting of your book club.
  • Fifth Level: $250 – You receive a signed copy of The List, your name in the dedication, a password that lets you read the next three chapters of the sequel, The Keeper, a Skype visit from me to a meeting of your book club and a character in The Keeper named after you. (Only two available at this level.)
  • Sixth Level: $500 – You receive a signed copy of The List, your name in the dedication, a password that lets you read the next three chapters of the sequel, The Keeper and a Skype visit from me to a meeting of your book club, AND an appearance by me, to speak at an event** for the local charity of your choice. All proceeds from book sales on that day will go to your charity.

 

*All rewards will be processed after March 31st at the close of the campaign.

**Event to be organized by the person or group who chooses this level.

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From left: Mary, Katherine, Mimi, me, Linda, Libba and Tammy. Great women who are part of the Class of '77. Go Green!

It took me 35 years to get back for a high school reunion at my alma mater, St. Agnes School, class of ’77. In the intervening years the school merged with our brother school, St. Stephen’s and has become known more by its initials, SSSAS. A rose by any other name is still a rose and I owe a lot to my high school, like my profession.

Miss Meyers, a history teacher, took me out into the hall and gently taught me how to take copious notes. When I got there in 9th grade I had no idea how to do that and that talent would serve me well, years later as a journalist. Mrs. Fuller was the first person to tell me I was a good writer and submitted an essay I wrote to the school magazine and then told me about it. She correctly gathered that left to my own devices I’d have stuck to the middle of the pack and not sent in a single word. Her faith in me would come in handy years later when I sent my first novel, Wired around and would get all of those letters of rejection. Miss Levins taught me about Fitzgerald and Hemingway and her favorite, Faulkner and set me on the road to being a published novelist.

All of the teachers at St. Agnes never gave out multiple choice questions and instead we had to work out math problems by hand and write essays, a lot of essays. The answers had to restate the question and then build a concise argument that led to a logical conclusion, every time. Not only did that make me a strong writer, I became good at looking at a problem or an opportunity from every angle looking for solutions.

My favorite moments this past weekend, though are the ones where I realized 35 years can go by but in the end it doesn’t matter. Time compresses and suddenly I realize these women are a part of my family and I really need to do a better job of staying in touch with many more of them. More adventures to follow.

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Here’s a question that’s been rolling around in my head and I’d love to hear from all of you what you think your personal answer is to it:

If no one was really going to ever read what you write and you were never going to make much money from it, if any, would you still write?

Apparently, my answer to that is no and I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or not. After watching my latest book languish for almost two years, (yep, you read that right – two years – but things are changing on that front too), I found it harder and harder to want to write another word. Three books and hundreds of columns later and I was out of words. I’m not sure if it was because it might mean no one would be reading along with me and sharing their experiences or because I was really out of things to say.

The latter seemed a little hard to swallow since I had always gotten the same kind of internal high from writing that a really good stretch of running had given me. There was a connection to some greater feeling even while typing away, alone at the keyboard. But I had spent two years immersing myself in social media, publicity, and setting up a suitable blog until most of my writing was reduced to less than 140 characters. The business side of writing seemed to be draining all the joy of writing, right out of me.

So, I’m waving the white flag and going back to focusing on what I love, the writing and letting go of the virtual arm-waving to attract more followers or readers or whatever you might want to call it.

Part of my resurgence of joy and optimism has to do with the new agent I’ve connected with who’s going old school and wants me to focus on writing. Genius.

I’m still going to tweet or update but without the frenzy or sense of urgency and just trust that it’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to. All of that time that was spent trying to do what every other writer seemed to be doing is going to get redirected to just hanging out with other writers in my hometown of Chicago and not so we can just talk about writing. Some of that will be spent talking about our spouses or children or even the weather. Then, when I sit down to write I’ll actually be glad to spin another tale. More adventures to follow.

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The List - a new political thriller - excerpt on the Books page

It seems like I keep working on the same things but at deeper levels. The only difference is that over time I’ve gotten some miracles of sorts that can act as proof while I try to take yet another contrary action into the unknown. Moved to New York City and had a blast for a couple of years – check. Moved again, this time to Chicago, my second choice and set up a home and got to know my son again – check and check. Found a good job, bought a car, made some good friends – all check. Lost 70 pounds so far and have relearned how to ride a bike, gotten faster in swimming and can run farther – still all check.

Okay, here’s where things get a bit rocky. Wrote my 4th book under my name, a thriller and set out to get an agent and get it published. Hold it right there – in fact hold on for a few years. For a variety of reasons, which really don’t matter, the relationship with the agent didn’t work out, we parted ways and here I am starting over again.

It’s tough when a dream that’s a pretty big one that has some traction doesn’t exactly take off. However, I have a new agent out of New York, Lori Ames, who’s on fire about the new thriller and this week we take off. Sometimes, I think the hardest emotion is hope because hope requires us to keep going despite the old evidence to the contrary. However, when I was told I only had a year left to live back in 2009, my good friend Juanita asked me what I wanted to believe for. I said I wanted to believe I was going to live for a good long time and would beat the cancer. She said, calmly and with conviction, “Then that’s what we’ll believe for.” My resolve grew from there.

So, a publishing deal for my best writing yet and a really good, fun political thriller is what I’m going to believe for.

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Airborne Run - Photo by U.S. Army

I was supposed to be at a group run tonight. I was at the right location, pretty much on time and there was a group and I was running but I was never anywhere near the group – unless you count the times they lapped me to the left. One nice old guy kept saying, “Good job!” every time he passed me. Very annoying.

I was the only beginner who showed up and it was obvious after about 30 seconds that not only did everybody know each other really well, they knew each other from 100 mile relay runs. I have to run/walk a mile.

So, while they ran a mile as fast as they possibly could in order to get a time to challenge themselves so they could run even faster, faster – I chugged around the track trying to keep my head up and butt tucked. After three times around one of the coaches tried to insist that I already had done a fourth time and completed the mile, even asking me, “Are you sure?”

It’s going to take a little gumption to get me to go back and be the lone, beginner runner again but even now I have a feeling I’ll be pounding around the circle again next week hoping they don’t lap me quite as often. Tomorrow, I get on a bike for the first time in 30 years. Tonight, I wonder why I’m doing this at all. Thank goodness tomorrow’s a new day.

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More adventures to follow...

It’s been six months since I’ve written in this blog. The last time was about the disappearance of my young cousin, Ian Burnet who vanished in New York City last December. There is still no further clues. It felt a little bit like the wind was knocked out of me and I needed a break from thinking in general. Lately, though, I’ve missed the connections that I’ve made with all of you and maybe it’s time to start again.

This time, I’m going to keep it short and just be myself. That seems to be the strongest, lingering change after Ian’s disappearance. I can’t work up the enthusiasm to create large pieces that aren’t fun or don’t really reflect me. Success used to really drive me forward but now, I’m happy just writing and I’m even happier when it’s more like letters back and forth between the readers and myself. Thank you for all of the well-wishes, prayers and even texts I’ve gotten from people who wanted to let me know I was remembered as well.

It’s time to step back into the pool but with a little more thoughtfulness about what really matters. There’s a lot of catching up to do. I’ve finally stuck to a diet plan and lost 55 pounds, joined a running group, found a great online budget. That’s just a start, you’ll see.Let me know what you’re up to and we can start the conversation all over again.

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William Desmond Taylor

Martha Note: This week’s Little Mystery comes to you from LAistory

Another suspect was Mabel Normand, who may have been having an affair with Taylor. She was the last to see him alive the night before he died. She was known as the “female Charlie Chaplin.” She starred in a bunch of Keystone Kops films and did a few with Fatty Arbuckle as well. The police eventually declared her innocent, but there were still rumors that her former fiancé, Mac Sennett or her drug dealers had offed him.

There was a theory involving an old army buddy of Taylor’s, and even a hitman (which could have been anyone.) So soon after the Fatty Arbuckle scandal, people began to see Hollywood as a den of sin. The studios responded by putting morals clauses into their contracts. We were out of Eden.

Though there are still avid conspiracy theorists, most people haven’t heard of William Desmond Taylor, though his death contributed to the way our city and its premiere industry is still seen today. Most of his films are gone, vanished in the river of time. The theories are nearly all we have left and they are all deeply flawed, stories like the ones Taylor told himself and others. There’s only one thing that remains certain, in the midst of all the rumors, innuendo, lies and obfuscations, Taylor died as he lived, one foot in the mist.

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Actress Mary Miles Minter

Martha Note: This week’s Little Mystery comes to you from LAistory

There were many suspects in the murder of Taylor, including both of his butlers. The first was a man named Edward Sands, who was working under an alias (and a fake cockney accent) who stole money from Taylor and ran off. Some people though that he killed him because he was his brother, Denis Deane-Tanner, bearing a grudge over a stolen fiancé. The other butler (who found Taylor prone on his living room floor) was Henry Peavy.

Peavy had been previously charged with indecent exposure, but this could have meant a number of things less pervy than the words connote – like gay cruising or having to resort to peeing al fresco after not being allowed in a whites-only bathroom. Because of the charge, it’s been speculated that Peavy was Taylor’s lover, or was, perhaps procuring boys for him.

One enterprising reporter decided he was guilty and took him to a cemetery where a co-conspirator jumped out from behind a gravestone in a sheet and accused him of the crime. Investigative reporting at its best!

A bevy of actresses were also accused, among them Taylor’s protégé, Mary Miles Minter, and her mother. Mary was sixteen, but she’d already been working for years at the behest of her showbiz mom, Charlotte Shelby. At 8, she was playing sixteen. She was in love with Taylor, and may have killed him out of jealousy.

Her mother was a suspect because she may have been angry at him for having an affair (that was never confirmed) with her daughter. The ensuing scandal destroyed Minter’s career, but she never gave it a second thought because she hated being an actress anyway.

Tomorrow: The Conclusion!

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Actor, William Desmond Taylor

Martha Note: This week’s Little Mystery comes to you from LAistory

William Desmond Taylor got pretty lucky but luck in Los Angeles can run out fast. Taylor was found dead in his Westlake Park bungalow on the morning of February 2, 1922. From the start, the investigation was a circus. Before the police arrived, a crowd of people descended on the place.

A man who said he was a doctor examined the body, declaring that Taylor had died of a stomach hemorrhage. Had this “doctor” decided to turn the body over, he would have discovered the fatal bullet wound in Taylor’s back. Authorities never found the man.

There are rumors that an entire troop of people from Paramount came through, removing objects that might have been key in the investigation, including ladies lingerie, all of Taylor’s illegal booze and any letters.

Some things were still evident. Taylor still had a two carat diamond ring, all the cash in his wallet and his pocket watch (among other things).

However, there was evidence that Taylor had taken a substantial amount of money from his bank a few days before and that was never found.

Tomorrow: Part Four!

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Actress Mabel Normand

Martha Note: This week’s Little Mystery comes to you from LAistory

His family thought it was the medical contion when Taylor vanished in 1912, turning up in Los Angeles, replete with his new name and English accent. (Taylor was not the only Tanner to pull this stunt; his brother vanished, abandoning his family as well.)With a change of scene, Taylor’s acting career took off, but before long, he was directing. His first film was The Awakening in 1914. Before he returned to Britain in 1918 (where he joined the Royal Army Service Core (or possibly the Canadian army) to fight in World War I at the age of 46), he made more than fifty films, many starring greats of the age, including Mary Pickford, Constance Talmadge and George Beban. Even as things began to work out, he continued to lie. He told people he had once spent three months in jail for the woman he loved. He cast aspersions on the mental states of many of his high profile friends.

Taylor had his kindnesses as well. When his ex-wife tracked him down (or rather, saw him on a movie screen), he began a relationship with his daughter and made her his heir. When his brother’s family turned up on his doorstep penniless, he promised to pay them fifty dollars a month until his death. He was very worried about his friend, actress Mabel Normand, who was getting increasingly involved with drugs. He picked a fight with her drug dealers.

Tomorrow: Part Three!

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