Well, I’m sure my vast audience of blog readers are dying to hear all about my book release party! (Except that they were both at the party and already know the details.) (Hi Rachael. Hi Shelley.)
Still, it was a glorious event. And even if this posting falls only on the eyes of some random Google searcher in Slicklizzard, Alabama looking for a good deal on patio furniture, the details of the Legends of the Plastic Chairs Official Book Release Party deserve to be broadcast.
I will begin by reiterating a line from my last posting: “I do not have conventional friends.”
That reality was never so apparent than between the hours of 2 and 5 PM at the Thai Swan Restaurant in Orange last Sunday.
What a joy it was for me to scan the crowd and observe the classical composer bent in rapt attention toward the vitamin salesman; the insurance investigator, the rocket scientist, and my neighbor Tom mixing it up over a joke; Neil the MySpace guy and the children’s theater director debating the best forum for a screenplay; the eighty-year-olds and the rock band guitar player scrutinizing Beth’s flawed emerald ring; the audiologist, the core sample driller, the bookkeeper, and the church choir director teasing the Brooklyn Italian over his tough guy accent. There was my old boss talking recipes with Aree the restaurant owner, my son Ryan flanked by two doe-eyed beauties who he thinks just want to be his friend, the software developer and her daughter, the amateur photographer who seemed to be everywhere at once. There was the shy, quiet one who stood aloof much of the time, the old friends who told funny stories about me, a couple of charming ex-husbands, and a best friend who flitted about like a beautiful social butterfly making sure no one was left out.
The weather was a perfect 73 degrees. Aree’s food was fabulous. I sold enough books to pay next month’s rent. The gathering was every bit as extraordinary as I had predicted.
My friends are an unconventional lot, and I love them all for it.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The "Legends of the Plastic Chairs" Official Book Release Party
My official book release party is coming up on Sunday, November 25th. For this momentous occasion, my friends at Dog Ear Publishing have rented the ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. Naturally, all of Hollywood’s elite will be attending, and Sting is slated to perform as a warm-up to my reading.
Bruce Willis has requested to be my date.
Mmm hmmm...
In reality, my official book release party will be considerably less ostentatious than all that. But I don’t mind. From humble beginnings come great artists. The “Legends of the Plastic Chairs” Official Book Release Party will be held proudly on Sunday at the Thai Swan Restaurant in Orange, California. There may not be any celebrities in attendance, but all the important people in my life will be there. And that’s what it’s all about.
The Thai Swan is a bit of a hole in the wall, but not in a bad way. In a good way! It feels authentic. It’s small, immaculate, smartly decorated, and most importantly there is no finer Thai food in all of Southern California. Lucky for me, the owner of the restaurant is dear friend, Aree Shepard.
Aree is from Thailand and learned to prepare all her sumptuous dishes growing up there. Did you know that Thailand has four distinct culinary regions? Because Thailand is bordered by many countries, the cuisine is a blend of Indian, Chinese, and Malaysian influences. I can’t wait for my friends to try Aree’s delicacies at the party. I’m nearly as excited about promoting her food as I am about pimping my book.
I’ve invited another writer to join the celebration with me. His name is Dave Seymer and his book is a teen thriller entitled “One Wicked Summer,” a suspenseful and hilarious story about 12-year-old Jake Andrews and his friends, and the wickedly unbelievable adventures they have one summer vacation. It will be fun having Dave at the party. He and I graduated from college together, both with the dream of writing a book someday. I’m delighted we achieved our dream in the very same year.
I’ve also invited a musician friend whose latest CD will provide the lyrical backdrop for the event. Dwight Mikkelsen primarily writes movie scores, but he also composes and records the most gorgeous contemporary classical music to ever to grace one’s ears. Dwight was actually the person who came up with the title for my book, “Legends of the Plastic Chairs”. You can read that story here.
The guests at my party will include a conglomeration of family, friends, and acquaintances. A sprinkling of my MySpace contacts have committed to making an appearance. I’m looking forward to meeting these particular people in person. I’ve enjoyed getting to know them electronically and I’m impressed with the support they’ve shown. I really appreciate my eclectic little circle of MySpace “friends.”
The party will go from 2 to 5 PM on Sunday, and I expect a turnout of about 60 people. I have another friend who will be photographing the event so I can display photos on my website later on. I don’t expect that this will turn out to be a conventional book release party…but then again how could it? I am not a conventional writer. “Legends of the Plastic Chairs” is not a conventional book. And I do not have conventional friends.
The party is destined to be extraordinary.
Bruce Willis has requested to be my date.
Mmm hmmm...
In reality, my official book release party will be considerably less ostentatious than all that. But I don’t mind. From humble beginnings come great artists. The “Legends of the Plastic Chairs” Official Book Release Party will be held proudly on Sunday at the Thai Swan Restaurant in Orange, California. There may not be any celebrities in attendance, but all the important people in my life will be there. And that’s what it’s all about.
The Thai Swan is a bit of a hole in the wall, but not in a bad way. In a good way! It feels authentic. It’s small, immaculate, smartly decorated, and most importantly there is no finer Thai food in all of Southern California. Lucky for me, the owner of the restaurant is dear friend, Aree Shepard.
Aree is from Thailand and learned to prepare all her sumptuous dishes growing up there. Did you know that Thailand has four distinct culinary regions? Because Thailand is bordered by many countries, the cuisine is a blend of Indian, Chinese, and Malaysian influences. I can’t wait for my friends to try Aree’s delicacies at the party. I’m nearly as excited about promoting her food as I am about pimping my book.
I’ve invited another writer to join the celebration with me. His name is Dave Seymer and his book is a teen thriller entitled “One Wicked Summer,” a suspenseful and hilarious story about 12-year-old Jake Andrews and his friends, and the wickedly unbelievable adventures they have one summer vacation. It will be fun having Dave at the party. He and I graduated from college together, both with the dream of writing a book someday. I’m delighted we achieved our dream in the very same year.
I’ve also invited a musician friend whose latest CD will provide the lyrical backdrop for the event. Dwight Mikkelsen primarily writes movie scores, but he also composes and records the most gorgeous contemporary classical music to ever to grace one’s ears. Dwight was actually the person who came up with the title for my book, “Legends of the Plastic Chairs”. You can read that story here.
The guests at my party will include a conglomeration of family, friends, and acquaintances. A sprinkling of my MySpace contacts have committed to making an appearance. I’m looking forward to meeting these particular people in person. I’ve enjoyed getting to know them electronically and I’m impressed with the support they’ve shown. I really appreciate my eclectic little circle of MySpace “friends.”
The party will go from 2 to 5 PM on Sunday, and I expect a turnout of about 60 people. I have another friend who will be photographing the event so I can display photos on my website later on. I don’t expect that this will turn out to be a conventional book release party…but then again how could it? I am not a conventional writer. “Legends of the Plastic Chairs” is not a conventional book. And I do not have conventional friends.
The party is destined to be extraordinary.
Monday, November 12, 2007
“Legends of the Plastic Chairs” Gets Its Very First Review!
There is a blog out there called The PODler whose soul function is to review self-published works, and to hand out their annual “International Print on Demand Award” to the very best POD book they encounter long the way.
Although The PODler specializes in reviewing “the independent novel,” they mention in the fine print that basically anything goes:
With great anticipation, I completed their simple submission instructions and began the wait for news. They do not promise your book will be reviewed. You just have to wait and watch. To my delight, it was only four days before my first official book review appeared in the glassy lights of The PODler's pages. The reviewer made a startling confession in the very first sentence:
Now think of it. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, my little book was the first non-fiction submission The PODler had ever received. That came as a bit of a surprise to me. Reading on, their unfamiliarity with non-fiction became evermore apparent.
(See entire review here.)
Even though I only scored a “C” on their rating scale, I rather enjoyed my first review. It was full of fascinating observations. At one turn, they called me a mystic and a Saint; at another, they claimed my ability to hear “The Voice” was an outright lie. (I wonder, would it have been more believable if I was writing it in a novel?)
Their main criticism of the book, however, was a lack of detail:
Now, I could take this personal, but I won’t. I will continue to bear in mind that this reviewer was stacking my one little inspirational submission up against a mountain of fictional submissions. Fiction relies on detail. We all know that. Fiction is detail. But my book does not need the details of my job at Kragen Auto Supply in order to get across a message of hope to persons who have been emotionally brutalized. I got my message across care-fully and elegantly. And even the reviewer admitted to that. (OK, not really, but I'm going to imagine they did.)
The bottom line is, I got a decent review from a reputable blogger and I am happy with it.
My little book that could is going to become a best seller someday. Mark my words.
Although The PODler specializes in reviewing “the independent novel,” they mention in the fine print that basically anything goes:
“I review the following: thriller (any: medical, political, techno, etc.), mystery, historical, suspense, espionage, sci-fi, fantasy, literary with any of the above genre elements, (for instance, a book along the lines of House of Sand and Fog.), literary (coming of age, growing up, immigrant) mixed genres (for instance alternate history detective as in Fatherland). Some YA adult novels are okay, as long as they are along the lines of Dragon Rider, that is fantasy/ sci-fi/ adventure. Please query if unsure. We also welcome non-fiction (memoir, biography, history, current events/politics).”
With great anticipation, I completed their simple submission instructions and began the wait for news. They do not promise your book will be reviewed. You just have to wait and watch. To my delight, it was only four days before my first official book review appeared in the glassy lights of The PODler's pages. The reviewer made a startling confession in the very first sentence:
“Legends of the Plastic Chairs is our first non-fiction submission and it comes from Patricia Curtis.”
Now think of it. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, my little book was the first non-fiction submission The PODler had ever received. That came as a bit of a surprise to me. Reading on, their unfamiliarity with non-fiction became evermore apparent.
(See entire review here.)
Even though I only scored a “C” on their rating scale, I rather enjoyed my first review. It was full of fascinating observations. At one turn, they called me a mystic and a Saint; at another, they claimed my ability to hear “The Voice” was an outright lie. (I wonder, would it have been more believable if I was writing it in a novel?)
Their main criticism of the book, however, was a lack of detail:
“Although I like the underlying story, I have some problems with the execution--one huge problem is the lack of more details; the author tells and summarizes too much instead of really getting into the moments of her life by vividly presenting events in form of scenes. This lack of detail makes the story seem thin and sometimes less than believable. This is too bad because the story is an important one.”
Now, I could take this personal, but I won’t. I will continue to bear in mind that this reviewer was stacking my one little inspirational submission up against a mountain of fictional submissions. Fiction relies on detail. We all know that. Fiction is detail. But my book does not need the details of my job at Kragen Auto Supply in order to get across a message of hope to persons who have been emotionally brutalized. I got my message across care-fully and elegantly. And even the reviewer admitted to that. (OK, not really, but I'm going to imagine they did.)
The bottom line is, I got a decent review from a reputable blogger and I am happy with it.
My little book that could is going to become a best seller someday. Mark my words.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
It's Official!
I feel like such a rockstar now.
Last Wednesday I received a delivery from UPS, 150 copies of my new book, Legends of the Plastic Chairs. It’s finally official. I am a published author. I have the proof right here in my hands. And not only that, but my book is now listed on Amazon.com
Amazon.com: Legends of the Plastic Chairs by Patricia Curtis
My friend over at Dog Ear Publishing, Matt, informs me it may take a bit longer before Barnes and Noble picks up my listing. I guess they’ve got a backlog of new books or something. But that does not dismay me. I am a published author and a rockstar and nothing can diminish my joy.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Choosing the Right Self-Publisher For Me
It wasn’t a tough decision for me to self-publish. The odds of being picked up by a conventional publisher were astronomically stacked against me. (As most writers know.) Plus, I was told by an editor of one of those big publishing houses that I would need to dumb my manuscript down to even be remotely considered. And I quote, “Turn on your television and watch when the cameras scan across the audience of the Ricki Lake show. That’s who you need to write your book to…a sixth grade level individual.”
What an insult.
My apologies to the audience members of the Ricki Lake show. For what it’s worth, I’d take their advice over what that editor had to say any day.
Obviously, I didn’t want to dumb my manuscript down. I actually didn’t want to lose any editorial control at all. An artist wouldn’t allow a gallery owner to come in and fool around with their painting. Right? So, self-publishing was by choice my only option.
I took a long time searching out the just right self-publisher for me. I didn’t have a lot of money to invest up front, so cost was my number one consideration. I didn’t have a lot of time, either. I wanted my book out well before Christmas. A simple Google search of the most popular self-publishers helped me understand that it could possibly take up to eight months before I actually had books in my hands. (In other words, it wasn’t hard to find complaints from various authors about the prolonged production process with iUniverse, xLibris, and AuthorHouse.) No way could I wait that long. I kept looking for a publisher who would commit to a strict time schedule.
Cutting to the chase, I eventually landed on the website of Dog Ear Publishing. It was such a well-done site, and it said everything the writer in me wanted to hear. I couldn’t help getting my hopes up. I scrutinized every page of the site looking for the discouraging small print, but there simply wasn’t a catch. Dog Ear Publishing appeared to be ideal for me.
But just to be safe, I went out on Google and tried to find the dirt on these guys. Interesting, after a rather lengthy search, I came up empty-handed. Everything I found about Dog Ear was positive – so either they really were a great operation or they had figured out how to scrub anything negative about them from the Internet. I placed my hopes on the prior.
My next step was to speak directly with one of the three owners – which was simple considering he answered the phone when I called. His name was Ray Robinson, and talking to him was a pleasure. He patiently answered every single question and assured me his company could work within my timeframe. I gave the decision a couple more days, then sent Ray a check for the Professional Level package along with an extra $500 to add the expediting feature. With this feature, Dog Ear guarantees your book will be ready for press within 30 business days of receiving the initial contract obligations.
Perfect.
Well, it was a long 30 business days and certainly not without its ups and downs, but my book did go to print (on the 31st business day) and tomorrow I will be receiving my first shipment of books. Dog Ear Publishing really is a terrific self-publishing company – the best out there in my opinion. It’s been great working with them. But there are a couple of minor things to watch out for if you opt to go with them.
1. The website would have you believe you’ll be working closely with the design team during the production stages and your enthusiasm is encouraged.
In reality, you will never speak to a designer. You may not even speak to Ray or either of the other two owners. Most likely, a young gentleman by the name of Matt Murry will be your “Author Representative who provides support throughout the publishing process,” another enticing feature touted on the website. But that’s ok. Matt is sharp and extremely helpful. I really appreciated working with him.
2. If you have an urgent question or matter to discuss, don't take your chances on the toll free number and forget about emailing. It’s best to just call the direct number: 1-317-228-3656. Matt will probably answer. He does a good job of handling things. If it goes to the answer machine, don't bother leaving a message. Chances are no one will call you back. Best to just wait a bit and then try the call again.
And that’s it. That’s the entire downside of my experience with Dog Ear Publishing. And even at that, I believe it boiled down to them just being extremely busy. They’re probably busy because they’re good. And that’s not a bad thing for a publisher to be.
What an insult.
My apologies to the audience members of the Ricki Lake show. For what it’s worth, I’d take their advice over what that editor had to say any day.
Obviously, I didn’t want to dumb my manuscript down. I actually didn’t want to lose any editorial control at all. An artist wouldn’t allow a gallery owner to come in and fool around with their painting. Right? So, self-publishing was by choice my only option.
I took a long time searching out the just right self-publisher for me. I didn’t have a lot of money to invest up front, so cost was my number one consideration. I didn’t have a lot of time, either. I wanted my book out well before Christmas. A simple Google search of the most popular self-publishers helped me understand that it could possibly take up to eight months before I actually had books in my hands. (In other words, it wasn’t hard to find complaints from various authors about the prolonged production process with iUniverse, xLibris, and AuthorHouse.) No way could I wait that long. I kept looking for a publisher who would commit to a strict time schedule.
Cutting to the chase, I eventually landed on the website of Dog Ear Publishing. It was such a well-done site, and it said everything the writer in me wanted to hear. I couldn’t help getting my hopes up. I scrutinized every page of the site looking for the discouraging small print, but there simply wasn’t a catch. Dog Ear Publishing appeared to be ideal for me.
But just to be safe, I went out on Google and tried to find the dirt on these guys. Interesting, after a rather lengthy search, I came up empty-handed. Everything I found about Dog Ear was positive – so either they really were a great operation or they had figured out how to scrub anything negative about them from the Internet. I placed my hopes on the prior.
My next step was to speak directly with one of the three owners – which was simple considering he answered the phone when I called. His name was Ray Robinson, and talking to him was a pleasure. He patiently answered every single question and assured me his company could work within my timeframe. I gave the decision a couple more days, then sent Ray a check for the Professional Level package along with an extra $500 to add the expediting feature. With this feature, Dog Ear guarantees your book will be ready for press within 30 business days of receiving the initial contract obligations.
Perfect.
Well, it was a long 30 business days and certainly not without its ups and downs, but my book did go to print (on the 31st business day) and tomorrow I will be receiving my first shipment of books. Dog Ear Publishing really is a terrific self-publishing company – the best out there in my opinion. It’s been great working with them. But there are a couple of minor things to watch out for if you opt to go with them.
1. The website would have you believe you’ll be working closely with the design team during the production stages and your enthusiasm is encouraged.
Website: "All of us at Dog Ear Publishing are here to be your guides through the process of publishing your book. We can make recommendations, offer comments, suggest alternatives, even critique if you want - but first and foremost YOU are in control. We don't "own" anything you've produced - YOU retain all rights. And YOU make all the choices about your book (unless you want us to) - from start to finish. We won't pretend to know more about your book than you do, we won't think ANY of your ideas are silly or impossible, and we won't criticize you for being enthusiastic about your creative effort. We WILL be absolutely, positively, completely THRILLED to be working with you - we hope our enthusiasm for making great books will make the process FUN and REWARDING. After all, isn't that what it's about?”
In reality, you will never speak to a designer. You may not even speak to Ray or either of the other two owners. Most likely, a young gentleman by the name of Matt Murry will be your “Author Representative who provides support throughout the publishing process,” another enticing feature touted on the website. But that’s ok. Matt is sharp and extremely helpful. I really appreciated working with him.
2. If you have an urgent question or matter to discuss, don't take your chances on the toll free number and forget about emailing. It’s best to just call the direct number: 1-317-228-3656. Matt will probably answer. He does a good job of handling things. If it goes to the answer machine, don't bother leaving a message. Chances are no one will call you back. Best to just wait a bit and then try the call again.
And that’s it. That’s the entire downside of my experience with Dog Ear Publishing. And even at that, I believe it boiled down to them just being extremely busy. They’re probably busy because they’re good. And that’s not a bad thing for a publisher to be.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Self-publishing Author Counting Down the Days...
I do realize at this point that I am a complete nobody and am essentially blogging to myself.
But that’s ok.
It’s good practice for when my book catches on and a few more people begin to wander by.
As of today I have about one more week of waiting until my highly anticipated boxes of printed books arrive. I am a self-publishing author and in some ways I’m operating outside of the self-publishing box (which is operating outside of the traditional publishing box). For me, there’s really not a right way or a wrong way to go about self-publishing. I’ve relied heavily on my own inspiration throughout this process. If I tank, I tank under my own control.
One thing I did early on was secure my domain name and build myself a website. Because I’ve never done anything like that before (“html” might as well have stood for “how to make licorice” in my mind), and because I’m a tragically broke writer (as I should be), I searched around for an easy and economical way to create a web presence. I opted for Web.com because they met both criteria. By the time I finished building my website (patriciacurtis.com) I had learned a great deal about the process and became pretty darn good at it. (I went on to build websites for my sister and my ex-husband, charging them a small fee – which I immediately invested in copies of my own book to go out and market).
Having a website out there a month in advance of my book printing as been a terrific advantage. I’ve already managed to move to the top of some search engines, and to the first page of Google. This is quite an accomplishment considering I haven’t spent a dime beyond the hosting charges. There are a few tricks that push a site up the listings. It pays to study what other authors are doing.
Another thing I did was set up a MySpace page.
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=57099399
Weird, I know, but I’ve discovered that it is an effective and FUN marketing tool. I'm having a ball making good contacts out there. And glory be…my MySpace page shot to the top of the Internet searches literally overnight! By adding a blog to a MySpace page and my official website I now have a pretty good jumpstart on decent web presence.
Tomorrow I’ll be blogging about my search for a self-publishing company, my choice, and my experience producing the book. It’s been a wild ride since the first manuscript word I typed into this very computer nearly a year ago. I can’t wait to see what’s in store once I get those book in my hands next week…
Friday, September 21, 2007
An excerpt from "Legends of the Plastic Chairs" by Patricia Curtis...
The Legend Begins
It was a Thursday, and I was sitting in a white plastic chair near the ocean’s edge when something extraordinary happened.
I had a realization so singularly profound it changed my life forever.
Sometimes that’s how epiphanies happen. You might not be doing much at all when a quiet little thought floats to the front of your mind. You pause, turning your little thought over for a moment, then all at once a new realization dawns and everything instantly changes.
That’s how it was for me, that day I sat in the white plastic chair. It was like taking off a pair of glasses that didn’t belong to me. The obscure elements of my life suddenly came into perfect focus and I could see things more clearly than I had ever seen them before. The crazy woman. The misogynist. The three sisters. The Voice. The church. The three children. The two ex-husbands. The white-haired old man. And the two white plastic chairs.
That’s how the amazing thought came to be.
It all began in 1955.
Me
The world was an interesting place in 1955. Every month of that year saw an event that touched just about everyone in one way or another.
In January, the Soviet Union formally ended the state of war with Germany.
In February, President Dwight D. Eisenhower sent over $200 million in aid to South Vietnam, a small Indochinese country attempting to resist communist takeover.
In March, a stage musical was broadcast on television for the first time. Peter Pan, starring Mary Martin, capturing the largest viewership ever.
In April, Winston Churchill resigned as England’s Prime Minister, Albert Einstein died, Ray Kroc opened his first McDonald’s, and the Salk polio vaccine was introduced to the public.
In May, West Germany became a sovereign state and joined NATO. The U.S. Supreme Court ordered school integration “with all deliberate speed.”
In June, the first diamond mine opened in Russia, and the first automobile seat belt legislation was enacted in Illinois.
In July, Disneyland opened.
In August, hurricanes Connie, Diane, and Edith pounded the Northeast after causing massive destruction in North Carolina. The Geneva Conference was held to discuss peaceful uses of atomic energy.
In September, James Dean was killed in an auto collision, the Brooklyn Dodgers took the pennant, and Chevrolet prepared to roll out a muscle car fittingly called the “Hot One.”
In October, the world’s most powerful aircraft carrier, the USS Saratoga launched.
In November, the Supreme Court of Baltimore banned segregation in public recreational areas and Elvis Presley signed his first contract with RCA Records.
And then there was December.
December 1st was also a Thursday. It was a day when all odds were against a woman named Rosa Parks. The bus driver was against her. The laws were against her. Social standards were against her. And in 1955 not a single person rallied behind the Montgomery, Alabama, seamstress who boldly refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man.
But that didn’t stop Rosa Parks.
In the year I was born, 1955, some wars began and other wars ended. Storms blew. Technology evolved. People were born. People passed away. Careers launched. Careers dwindled. Rosa.
If you think about it, people live their lives a lot like the year 1955. There is always something going on. Sometimes we go to war with a person we disagree with. Sometimes we end a war with someone we finally forgive. Sometimes our careers are soaring, and sometimes they’re in the gutter. Sometimes we have babies; sometimes we lose loved ones. Sometimes we make brilliant discoveries. And sometimes we have a life-altering Rosa moment when we decide we will no longer participate in someone else’s screwed-up ideas about who we really are.
My life is a lot like the year 1955.
I was born in Santa Monica, California, on a Tuesday morning in August.
My mother’s name was Helen. Helen is the crazy woman in this story. Her husband’s name was William. William is my father. I don’t often refer to him as my father. I prefer to call him William.
William is the misogynist.
I was the second of three daughters born to Helen and William. Their first daughter, twenty-three months my senior, is Cathy. Their third daughter, eighteen months my junior, is Danni.
We are the three sisters in this story.
Mother was just twenty-four when the first symptoms of manic-depression and schizophrenia manifested. Medical science suggests that some mental illnesses are hereditary. My mother’s mother, Sybil, had also suffered from manic-depression and schizophrenia, as did several of Mother’s siblings. It is safe to say my mother’s condition was inherited.
But that was never the way William saw it. William said Mother’s mental illness was all Danni’s fault. Mother’s first psychotic breakdown occurred just six weeks after Danni’s birth, so in William’s mind, this daughter – whom he detested his entire life – was to blame for his wife’s sickness.
Eventually he blamed all three of us.
That’s how William was. He was a hater consumed with anger.
His title, the Misogynist, may be a bit misleading. A misogynist is a woman-hater. William did hate women. He hated them openly and absolutely. He mocked them, despised them, humiliated them, and used them whenever convenient. But William also hated men. Especially men in authority.
William managed to hide his contempt for people whenever he wanted something. Or when he was covering up for something. That’s when he would pull out his Mr. Good Guy routine. Mr. Good Guy was the phony alter ego he used to impress people. Or, perhaps more accurately, to fool them with a fabricated concern in his voice or a mock display of affection...
TO LEARN MORE ABOUT LEGENDS OF THE PLASTIC CHAIRS, GO TO: www.patriciacurtis.com
It was a Thursday, and I was sitting in a white plastic chair near the ocean’s edge when something extraordinary happened.
I had a realization so singularly profound it changed my life forever.
Sometimes that’s how epiphanies happen. You might not be doing much at all when a quiet little thought floats to the front of your mind. You pause, turning your little thought over for a moment, then all at once a new realization dawns and everything instantly changes.
That’s how it was for me, that day I sat in the white plastic chair. It was like taking off a pair of glasses that didn’t belong to me. The obscure elements of my life suddenly came into perfect focus and I could see things more clearly than I had ever seen them before. The crazy woman. The misogynist. The three sisters. The Voice. The church. The three children. The two ex-husbands. The white-haired old man. And the two white plastic chairs.
That’s how the amazing thought came to be.
It all began in 1955.
Me
The world was an interesting place in 1955. Every month of that year saw an event that touched just about everyone in one way or another.
In January, the Soviet Union formally ended the state of war with Germany.
In February, President Dwight D. Eisenhower sent over $200 million in aid to South Vietnam, a small Indochinese country attempting to resist communist takeover.
In March, a stage musical was broadcast on television for the first time. Peter Pan, starring Mary Martin, capturing the largest viewership ever.
In April, Winston Churchill resigned as England’s Prime Minister, Albert Einstein died, Ray Kroc opened his first McDonald’s, and the Salk polio vaccine was introduced to the public.
In May, West Germany became a sovereign state and joined NATO. The U.S. Supreme Court ordered school integration “with all deliberate speed.”
In June, the first diamond mine opened in Russia, and the first automobile seat belt legislation was enacted in Illinois.
In July, Disneyland opened.
In August, hurricanes Connie, Diane, and Edith pounded the Northeast after causing massive destruction in North Carolina. The Geneva Conference was held to discuss peaceful uses of atomic energy.
In September, James Dean was killed in an auto collision, the Brooklyn Dodgers took the pennant, and Chevrolet prepared to roll out a muscle car fittingly called the “Hot One.”
In October, the world’s most powerful aircraft carrier, the USS Saratoga launched.
In November, the Supreme Court of Baltimore banned segregation in public recreational areas and Elvis Presley signed his first contract with RCA Records.
And then there was December.
December 1st was also a Thursday. It was a day when all odds were against a woman named Rosa Parks. The bus driver was against her. The laws were against her. Social standards were against her. And in 1955 not a single person rallied behind the Montgomery, Alabama, seamstress who boldly refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man.
But that didn’t stop Rosa Parks.
In the year I was born, 1955, some wars began and other wars ended. Storms blew. Technology evolved. People were born. People passed away. Careers launched. Careers dwindled. Rosa.
If you think about it, people live their lives a lot like the year 1955. There is always something going on. Sometimes we go to war with a person we disagree with. Sometimes we end a war with someone we finally forgive. Sometimes our careers are soaring, and sometimes they’re in the gutter. Sometimes we have babies; sometimes we lose loved ones. Sometimes we make brilliant discoveries. And sometimes we have a life-altering Rosa moment when we decide we will no longer participate in someone else’s screwed-up ideas about who we really are.
My life is a lot like the year 1955.
I was born in Santa Monica, California, on a Tuesday morning in August.
My mother’s name was Helen. Helen is the crazy woman in this story. Her husband’s name was William. William is my father. I don’t often refer to him as my father. I prefer to call him William.
William is the misogynist.
I was the second of three daughters born to Helen and William. Their first daughter, twenty-three months my senior, is Cathy. Their third daughter, eighteen months my junior, is Danni.
We are the three sisters in this story.
Mother was just twenty-four when the first symptoms of manic-depression and schizophrenia manifested. Medical science suggests that some mental illnesses are hereditary. My mother’s mother, Sybil, had also suffered from manic-depression and schizophrenia, as did several of Mother’s siblings. It is safe to say my mother’s condition was inherited.
But that was never the way William saw it. William said Mother’s mental illness was all Danni’s fault. Mother’s first psychotic breakdown occurred just six weeks after Danni’s birth, so in William’s mind, this daughter – whom he detested his entire life – was to blame for his wife’s sickness.
Eventually he blamed all three of us.
That’s how William was. He was a hater consumed with anger.
His title, the Misogynist, may be a bit misleading. A misogynist is a woman-hater. William did hate women. He hated them openly and absolutely. He mocked them, despised them, humiliated them, and used them whenever convenient. But William also hated men. Especially men in authority.
William managed to hide his contempt for people whenever he wanted something. Or when he was covering up for something. That’s when he would pull out his Mr. Good Guy routine. Mr. Good Guy was the phony alter ego he used to impress people. Or, perhaps more accurately, to fool them with a fabricated concern in his voice or a mock display of affection...
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