The Oneness

My writing buddy, Jan Morrill, aka Gypsy/Samurai Jan, has written the next New York Times Best Seller and Tony Award winning play, Broken Dolls.   Broken Dolls is a touching, powerful story about the treatment of Japanese/Americans during World War II told through the eyes of nine year old, Sachi Kimura.  In the story, Sachi, her mother, and brother, Nobu are internees held at Rohwer, Arkansas.  

In real life, George Takei (Mr. Sulu on Star Trek) was interned at Rowher.



George Takei



Universe works her magic in strange and mysterious ways.  When Jan heard that Mr. Takei was performing with the Little Rock Symphony last weekend, she immediately took this as a sign to meet Mr. Takei and speak to him about Broken Dolls.  She invited me to come along for the adventure.

Alas, even though George stood only three feet away of us, Jan wasn’t able to talk to him.  But.  Do not despair. Jan’s bold energy surrounded George Takei and set into motion a series of events that must manifest.  It’s called the Law of Attraction.  Only positive things will come from this back yard meeting.

Now for the rest of the story:

When I was in elementary school and junior high, I played the violin in the school’s orchestra.  I was also a member of the Fayetteville High School A Cappella choir and performed in many concerts. I’m an actress as well. (Hard to believe I’m a drama queen, isn’t it?)  I majored in drama at the University of Arkansas and acted in several school plays as well as the Rogers Little Theatre.  It had been quite awhile however since I attended any kind of a performance and years since hearing a symphony. 

I had forgotten the excitement.

I had forgotten the power of a collective consciousness.

Back stage at a play is chaos—makeup, costumes, runaway nerves, high energy straining at the reins to break loose and manifest.  The heavy curtains shut the audience off from this corralled wildness.  Everything seems calm out front but back stage actors run amok.  

Until . . .

The director speaks.

The overture begins.

Actors settle. Calmness seeps through every pore and melts the panic. Magic happens. An unexplainable yet wonderful Oneness unites everyone into a collective consciousness aimed at giving the best performance possible.

Before a symphony, the Wood-Winds tune up, the Strings run scales, drums emit a low thunder, horns blare, the four-hundred person chorus files in, laughter, noise. Mass confusion reigns.

Until . . .

The Conductor steps onto the podium.

The silence is deafening.

Every eye is trained on one person.  The baton he holds becomes a magic wand that unites hundreds of people into one collective consciousness working toward the same goal.  

The result is overwhelming.

This Oneness happens in sports as well.  Ever watch a football team warm up?  Men running everywhere.  No rhyme or reason to what they’re doing.  Confusion.

Until . . .

The Quarterback brings them to the line of scrimmage.

The Oneness takes over.   

The power of a collective consciousness is overwhelming.  Think of the possibilities.  If for one second, every mind united and concentrated all energy toward the same goal, sickness could be healed, famine destroyed, struggle and strife, gone.  Peace and love would rule.  

It would only take one second to change the world into paradise.  One second!

Maybe that’s why plays, symphonies, sports, and the like attract so many people.  Subconsciously we are looking for that director, quarterback, or conductor.  After all, it’s only natural.  

 

            We were created by a supreme Oneness.

The Legend of Dixie Dandelion

My fire-fighting friend, Gypsy Jan posted this picture on her blog,  (Jan Morrill's Thoughts Over Coffee. blogspot.com.)  It was inspired from a real-life experience that hit close to home for Dixie.
Over 150 years ago, Dixie Dandelion fought a similar battle.  Here is her story:

Fire!

The horses! Had to save the horses!

Without thought or hesitation, I ran toward the fledging flames, peeling off my buckskin jacket as I ran. The tanned leather wouldn’t catch fire, would be heavy enough to smother the embers.  But the wind whipped the sparks into frenzy.  Flames danced an evil, mocking tune.  They licked my boots, pulled my pants leg, sneered and laughed at my desperation.   

I flogged the beast with the coat. Frantic.  The barn twisted and yelled for help in the grips of a violent death struggle.   Oh, God!  The horses! Slaughtered!  Who would do such a thing?

Lips cracked from the heat, stealing my spit.  Eyes blurred and burned from the smoke. All around me the smell of burning grass and wood.  Unwillingly I drank the scent in, throat raspy and rough, coughed up black soot.  

A shadow loomed beside me stomping at the flames.  Who?  Didn’t matter. Thank God I wasn’t alone.

Inky’s booming voice outshouted the roar of  blood in my ears.  “They’s free, Miss Dixie.  They’s free.”

I heard the mares gallop past, the frightened whinnies of their colt’s right behind them.  Safe. All safe.

The shadow grabbed my arm, pulled me away.  No! I fought against his firm grasp.  Had to save the barn! 

“It’s too late, lassie.”

I struggled against Big Mike’s meaty arms when he pinned me against his big barrel chest. Tears sizzled on my cheeks.  I cried at my helplessness to stop the snapping beast from devouring wood, nails, hay, and leather. One last death rattle and the barn’s scorched shoulders folded and collapsed to the dirt.  

Dead.

Anger deep inside my belly hollered and fed unknown strength into exhausted muscle and bone.  I ripped loose from Big Mike and stormed the cabin.  My hands shook as I buckled the 45 around my waist and grabbed the rifle from above the fire place.  Those son-of-a-bitches! I’d kill every one of them.

Big Mike caught my arm as I tore past. 

“Ya can’t shoot them all, lassie.  Let it go.”

I whirled and stared at his ruddy face.

“Let it go!  Are you loco?  They burned down my goddamn barn!”

“Let Jackson handle it lass. Don’t take the law into your own hands.”

“Jackson?”  I sputtered.  “Jackson?”

I kicked at him and screamed.  “Jackson ain’t here, remember? He rode away.  Just like he always does.   Just like that day on the wagon train. Rode away and left me to fight off Whitaker. Alone.  Always alone.”

“Dixie!”

And there he was.  Bigger than life. Stepping down from his gallant black stallion like a knight returning from some far-off crusade.  Long legs ate up the ground between us and he grabbed my forearms.  My heart quickened as the look of worry and concern inched across his chiseled face.

“Damn it, woman!"  He growled.  “Just say the words!”  

 He dropped his arms.  The heat from his stare withered my courage and my heart.

            “I keep waiting, Dixie.  But ya never say them.  Ya never once just say, ‘Stay.’”

Booger County Twilight Zone

My writing sister and close freind, Jan Morrill challenges us every week to "show not tell" with a writing prompt on her blog, Jan Morrill's Thoughts Over Coffee. blogspot.com..  This week's test comes from this picture.  Too long to put in the comments of her blog, my story is as follows:

 Spooky that’s what it is.  Down- right spooky.

  I shouldn’t have stayed so long at the party.  

  Shouldn’t have drunk “just one more.”  What did they care all safe and snug in the warmth of their beds?  I’m the one that has to drive home in the wee, small hours of the morning—alone.

Damn trees, so friendly in the daylight, but in the dark—ominous, live spirits. Their naked bodies and skeleton arms reach out to catch the door handle of my weary yet spunky, baby-shit- green VW bug.   Hit the gas!  Ha!  Missed me.  Long, brittle fingers only rake the fender.

Heart pounding now, blood roaring in my ears, I check the rear-view mirror praying for pin pricks of light to appear, to reassure me I haven’t fallen into some scene straight out of the Twilight Zone.  Home is only a few miles away. But the road stretches before me like a slimy, slippery black snake.  Will it never end? Even the full moon is evil, hanging there in the inky sky—one giant orange eye keeping pace with me as I speed even faster down the serpentine road.

 What’s that?  High beams catch an iridescent glow and reflect back in a blinding, white light.   A person?  A deer?  Big Foot ?   All shimmering and silver the little figure glides toward me.  Slam on the brakes! Screeching like a banshee from hell, smelling like black, hot tar they catch hold.  The seat beat locks, snaps me flat against the faded, Tinker Bell seatcover.  

The little grey stares.  Huge, onyx eyes shine like glassy black orbs in the night.

A terrified heart hammers my ribs fighting to escape my heaving chest.  Guts twist into knots.  Sweat pops on my forehead.

 A light so brilliant my eyes ache pierces the dark.  An eighteen-wheeler!  A blessed truck driver!  I’m saved.

An eerie deathly- silent yet haunting hum.   Then nothing!

Blackness surrounds me.   No little gray man.  Gone.   

Reality or imagination? 

Somewhere Rod Serling is laughing.

Interview with JAN MORRILL: A real life Samurai Gypsy!

I met Jan Morrill at the Northwest Arkansas Writers' Workshop. Week-after-week I'd sit in awe and listen to her short stories and say to myself, "One day I hope I can write as well as Jan."

Jan Morrill

Jan is an award winning author with short stories and memoir essays in several anthologies and Chicken Soup of the Soul series. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize for her short story, Xs and Os. She is currently represented by Kathleen Anderson of Anderson Literary Management who is looking for a home for Jan's novel Broken Dolls.

But there is more to this beautiful, talented woman than what meets the eye.

Jan is a loyal, giving woman who gracefully glides through life trying to make the world a better place with her writing that is as elegant as she. I hope this interview will give you a deeper insight into the author I call Samurai Gypsy Jan and who I'm honored to have as a close friend.

Jan Morrill

1.  I always wanted to write and wrote my first story when I was ten years old. How old were you when the writing bug bit and do you remember what your first story was?

I’ve always thought of stories in my head, but until high school, those stories came out as drawings and paintings, rather than in written form. I did keep journals from about 8th grade, but didn’t attempt fiction until I enrolled in a Creative Writing class in high school. That is when I was bitten by the writing bug, and the itch has never gone away.

It’s funny you should ask this question, because just the other day, I found a folder of stories I wrote in that Creative Writing class. I smiled—even laughed—as I read. Here’s the first sentence of one of my stories, titled “Judgement.” It was dated February 6, 1976:

Susan still couldn’t believe the sight of what she had just seen.     

I’m serious. The only thing good I can say about that sentence is, I’ve come a long way.

2.  Your first novel, Broken Dolls is a powerful story about the treatment of Japanese-
Americans during WWII told from the point of view of a little girl, Sachi. What inspired you to write this story? What message do you want the reader to carry with them long after they finish reading?

My mother and her family were Japanese-American internees during World War II. When I first began writing the book, it was a fictionalized account of her years, but the book grew into a completely different story and pulled in a new character, African-American teenager, Terrence. Broken Dolls is about how their lives become entwined with prejudice, revenge and forgiveness.

I hope readers see through the eyes of my characters--Sachi, Nobu and Terrence--the effect of prejudice and misunderstanding. They are all broken dolls, yet the story also shows how one can triumph, even in adversity.

3.  All of us dream that our novels will be made into Oscar winning movies. Who would you like to see bring your Broken Dolls characters to life on the big screen?

You’re right – I have imagined the people I would like to portray my characters on the big screen. It helps to have a physical image in my mind as my characters tell me their story.

The main actor I must have in my movie is Ken Watanabe as Papa. In fact, Mr. Watanabe so perfectly captures my image of Papa that I re-wrote the role of Michio Kimura (Papa) so that Mr. Watanabe would have a bigger part in the movie one day.

I always imagined a younger version of actor, Terrence Howard as my character, Terrence Harris. You can probably tell this by the name I chose for my character. Terrence Howard has hazel eyes. It’s no coincidence that Terrence, my character, also has hazel eyes.

As for Sachi, I often imagine the little girl who played little Chiyo in Memoirs of a Geisha. But of course, she would be too old to play Sachi, who is eight years old at the beginning of Broken Dolls.

4.  What is the best advice you’ve received to date on writing and what advice would you give a beginning writer?

One of the best books (on creativity) I’ve read is The Art of War, by Steven Pressfield. This book discusses resistance, which is the enemy of creativity. Pressfield says, “Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands resistance.”

He goes on to discuss author, Somerset Maugham’s theory of resistance:

Maugham reckoned another, deeper truth: that by performing the mundane physical act of sitting down and starting to work, he sent in motion a mysterious but infallible sequence of events that would produce inspiration, as surely as if the goddess had synchronized her watch with his.”

This is just a fancy way of stating what we’ve all heard before. Just sit down and write!

Beyond that, the piece of advice I’d share with a beginning writer is to find a good critique group. It was only after I found the Northwest Arkansas Writers’ Workshop, led by Dusty Richards and Velda Brotherton, that I truly became serious about my writing. I’d go so far as to say if I hadn’t found this group, I probably would never have completed my book. They taught, encouraged and motivated me and I’ve grown ten-fold as a writer since joining the group approximately six years ago.

5.  I call you Gypsy Jan because you’ve traveled the globe. Where are some of the places you’ve been?  How has travel helped your writing experience?

I’ve been to more places than I ever imagined I’d ever go in my life, and I count my blessings for the experience. I’ve been to Japan, China, Russia, Italy, France, Turkey, Greece, Thailand, Brazil, Argentina, British Virgin Islands, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Croatia, Spain, Estonia, United Arab Emirates. Travel has opened my mind to wonder, because I’ve seen so many things that I don’t see in the United States—different cultures, different landscapes, different foods. I often watch a person and wonder how they became who they are. I wonder about their histories. “What if” is a very common question in my mind, both in and out of the country. I’ve written a couple of short stories based on my travels, and while in Thailand, I came up with an idea for a book down the road. First, though, I must finish the sequel to Broken Dolls, which is titled Broken Dreams. After that, I have in mind one more sequel, and possible a prequel. So, the Thailand inspiration is way down the road.

Thank you so much for the interview, Ruth. You asked some thought-provoking questions, and Question 4 in particular, gave me renewed motivation to “just sit down and write!”

Go to: http://www.jansthoughtsovercoffee.blogspot.com/ for book trailer to Broken Dolls and much more.

YOU ARE INVITED . . .

Come join me and six additional local authors for a book signing.

Where:  Innisfree Senior Living Community, 24^th & Walnut, Rogers, AR

Time:  Saturday, July 30, at 2:00

Authors presenting will be:



Linda Apple

Linda Apple:  Linda is an inspirational writer and speaker and the Chicken Soup of the Soul queen. She has short stories in thirthteen editions and just like the Energizer Bunny, she’s still going.   Linda will be speaking on writing for Chicken Soup plus her book, Inspire. Witty, humorous and always a gracious Southern lady, Linda is a valuable friend and a wonderful author/ speaker.



Velda Brotherton



Velda Brotherton:  Velda can write it all from fiction, non-fiction, newspaper articles to cookbooks. She is bringing four of her books: Arkansas Meals & Memories, Boston Mountains, Lost in the Ozarks, her Willa award winning novel, Fly with the Mourning Dove, and Wandering Through Time. Velda is a perfect example of it’s never too late to learn. She recently branched out into E-books and will be speaking on that adventure as well.



Pam Jones



Pam Jones: Pam, aka Bigfoot Pam, is a new author whose book, Redness Goddess, was released from HighHill Press only this month. Goddess is billed as a “Southern charmer, you just can’t put down.”  She will be reading from her book, and just like the billing, Pam will charm you with her soft, southern voice and wonderful     sense of humor.



Jan Morrill



Jan Morrill:  Jan is my writing buddy who I nick-named Gypsy Jan as she and her husband are always galloping off to visit other counties, and Samurai Jan because of her passion and fierce commitment to excellent writing.  Jan recently signed with an agent/editor and is busy fine-tuning her novel, Broken Dolls. Always elegant and graceful, Jan will be sharing her computer expertise on creating short stores from Smash Words.



Barbara McMinn



Barbara McMinn: Barbara is from Miami, Oklahoma and drives 90 miles every week to our writing/critique group.  Now, that’s commitment! Barb is a mystery/romance author and will be bringing three of her books: The Seduction of Janey, Out of the Darkness, and Forbidden Desire.



Dusty Richards



Dusty Richards: Recently voted the “Greatest Living Western Writer”, and with over 104 published western novels under his belt buckle, Dusty will delight you with his cowboy, good ol’ boy down home humor and stories. His Wrangler Award winning novel, The Sundown Chaser will be available for sale as well as many more of his novels.

Ruth Burkett Weeks



Ruth Burkett Weeks: My novel, Soldiers From the Mist was released in March of this year from HighHill Press out of St Charles, MO.  I will be speaking on the unique way this story came to me by the ghost that haunts my house. I will also be the foreman for this signing and of this wild bunch so anything can and probably will happen!

Innisfree Senior Living Community is a bright and cheery home to over 100 residents who are humorous, charming, and young at heart. Come join us for a fun, entertaining afternoon with fun, entertaining people. 

Sit back, relax in the cool dining room of Innisfree, sip lemonade, eat a cookie and BUY A BOOK!