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An Excerpt from My Upcoming Memoir

In the picture to the right, I’m the little one, Tom is to the left, Andy is in the middle, and of course my mother…
I am still exploring options, so I don’t have a publication date yet, but here’s a snippet to tide you over. In this excerpt, I’m five years old and I’ve been told my mother slipped, fell, and will be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. 
From Chapter 3 of Enjoying the Ride: Following in My Mother’s Tracks 
We scurried through the maze of hallways at Eastern Maine Medical Center, an hour’s drive from our house. A few weeks had passed since Mom’s accident, and my brothers and I were visiting her for the first time. Dad coached us as we walked.
“Don’t cry or look scared. It will upset your mother.”
I kept falling behind the three longer-legged Sturgeons.
“She’s going to look different, but don’t stare.”
I slipped farther back until Dad took pity, stopped my brothers, and waited for me.
“Does everyone understand what I’ve just said?” he asked, looking from boy to boy.
I peeked at my brothers. Yes. The answer was yes. Three heads bobbed up and down.
Dad took us into the room, one at a time. I went last. Everything shone bright white or shiny steel. The room smelled like our kitchen after Mom had mopped the floor, but with the faint odor of pee. The collection of high-tech equipment reminded me of TV shows about space ships. A person lay in the middle of it all, hands folded on belly.
Something wasn’t right. Dad had said we would be visiting Mom, but I didn’t see her anywhere.  She had long, beautiful black hair. This person’s head had been shaved, and two shiny steel rods were bolted to the top of the skull. Besides, Mom would be in a wheelchair. Andy had said so.
As if sneaking up on a frog in our backyard, I inched closer.

   The eyes… the nose… her mouth. These are familiar. It’s a woman.

   She wore bright red lipstick—a flowering rosebush in a snowstorm. When those lips broke into the smile I had enjoyed nearly every day of my life, I recognized my mother. 

   She couldn’t turn to look at me. The rods kept her head aimed straight up at the ceiling. “Come here, Mitchy. I won’t bite. How do you like kindergarten?” Mom spoke in her usual, cheerful way. Her eyes soothed; her voice comforted.


 Dad must have told her not to cry, too.
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My Book Update

In a previous blog post regarding
my memoir, dated March 13, 2016, I declared “it’s done!”

Oops.

It wasn’t done. I sent out
query letters (letters of introduction about me and my book) to a group
of literary agents in March and April, and I got no bites. Maybe my query
letters weren’t enticing enough. Perhaps my sample chapters weren’t compelling
enough. It’s quite possible I didn’t query the right agents. Who knows?
Since April, I’ve worked extensively on both my query letter template and the
manuscript itself. That brings me to today.

Now that summer is over and Kim is back to work, I have no excuses. It’s time for me to really
finish the book and get out query letters to the next round of literary agents.
Then I’ll wait six to eight weeks to see if I get any responses. While I
wait, I plan to be productive. On the assumption that I won’t land an agent,
which is a statistical likelihood given the ratio of aspiring authors to
literary agents, I will pull together a strategy for self-publishing. That way,
once I have exhausted the traditional publishing route, I won’t have to wait
long before getting the book out on my own.

And if, surprise of surprises,
I get any interest from literary agents, then so much the better.

I’ve had many people help
me on the book—friends, relatives, writing group members, beta readers, a
freelance editor from New York. Everybody told me that it’s well done, but I
remained skeptical. Most of these folks had a stake in making me feel good
about myself. Recently I submitted an essay to a mid-sized monthly magazine (circulation approximately 100,000 per issue), and they accepted it. Not only will I be published in their November
edition, but they paid me (heck, I would’ve paid them). 

Given that the essay is an
excerpt from my book, this experience has provided me with a boost in confidence.

The name of the magazine? I’ll
let you know in a future blog post, closer to the date of publication, which is
late October.

Now, time for me to get back
to those query letters…

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Book Update – It’s Done

The Apple Didn’t Fall, my memoir about growing up with a disabled mother only to become disabled myself, is complete at 48 chapters, 342 pages, 93397 words.

I’m currently exploring publishing options, of which there are many. This could take a while. I’ll update you when I figure out how I’m going to get this on bookshelves.

In the process of editing and re-editing the manuscript, I cut some perfectly good scenes and chapters for a variety of reasons. I kept everything that I deleted, however, in case I wanted to bring it back someday or use it in my next project. In The Apple Didn’t Fall, I skimmed over the period between my youth and when MS started to show up in my late 30s. I had fun summarizing everything that happened during those years in a single, humorous chapter. Alas, that mini-chapter didn’t survive editing, but I thought I would share it with you here. Enjoy.


 Chapter 8 – Thirteen Years

 Because I need to move this story along, I will summarize the next thirteen years, from the time I was twenty-two until the time I was thirty-five, in 500 words or less. Even more remarkably, I will accomplish this by using only dialogue and age markers.

Age 22
Kim: “I do.”
Mitch: “I do.”
Kim: “Why did you take a job in Cleveland?”
Mitch: “Because there were no jobs in Detroit?”
Mitch: “How do you like the apartment I chose for us?”
Kim: “On the 21st floor? I married an idiot.”
Age 23
Kim, at my company outing: “Who wants to get some drinks afterward?”
All the people in Cleveland that we met because of Kim, and who remain our lifelong friends: “You guys are fun, especially Kim.”
Age 24
Kim: “Living in Cleveland for two years has been great, but let’s move back to the east coast.”
Mitch: “I found this tiny paper mill I can work at in Northwestern Vermont. Close enough?”
Kim: “Do they have bars in Vermont?”
Mitch: “Burlington is a college town, so yes, they have tons of them.”
Kim: “Count me in.”
Three months after moving, still age 24
Kim: “I’m pregnant.”
Mitch: “Here are the car keys. You’re the designated driver.”
Nine months later, age 25
Kim: “Ouch. That hurt.”
Mitch: “She is beautiful. Let’s name her Amy.”
Eleven days later, still age 25
Mitch: “I thought I might move back to our hometown of Lincoln, Maine when I was 100 years old, not when I was 25.”
Kim: “Can you believe you are going to work as a chemical engineer at the same paper mill where your grandfather and your father worked before you?”
Mitch: “You’re right. You did marry an idiot. But at least our parents will be thrilled that we’re moving home.”
Three months later, and still age 25
Mitch: “Congratulations on your first paycheck as a full-fledged teacher. How much money did you earn?”
Kim: “Bite me.”
Mitch: “I probably deserved that.”
Age 28
Kim: “Ouch. That hurt again.”
Mitch: “He is beautiful. Let’s name him Zachary.”
Kim: “That is such a bold and unusual name. Dare we?”
Mitch: “At least he’ll be a one-of-a-kind name. He’ll be unique.”
Age 29
Mitch: “Ouch. That hurt.”
Kim: “After what I went through in childbirth, you dare complain about a vasectomy?”
Mitch: “I totally would’ve gone through childbirth for you if I could have.”
Kim: “You are full of shit.”
Age 31
Kim: “Congratulations on getting your MBA. How much of a raise did the mill give you?”
Mitch: “Bite me.”
Kim: “I probably deserved that.”
Age 35
Mitch: “How much bigger will your paycheck be next year, now that you have your master’s degree, and you’re a guidance counselor instead of a teacher?”
Kim: “Quite a bit, actually. Look at these numbers.”
Mitch: “Nice. You definitely deserve that.”
Kim: “Do these pants make me look fat?”
Mitch: “I would love to answer that question, but we have passed the 500-word limit.”
Kim: “Lucky bastard.”
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Learning the Craft

I’m doing everything I can to learn the craft of memoir writing, short of going back to college. I may have only one book in me, and I want to get it right. A couple of months ago, I found the perfect opportunity.

Monica Wood is a beloved Maine author, writing instructor, and now playwright. She has published seven books, and her eighth will be released in April of 2016. I devoured her memoir, When We Were the Kennedys, and became a fan. After I saw her play, Papermaker, this summer in Portland, my admiration grew all the more. When I learned that Monica would be teaching a two-day seminar on memoir writing at the 2015 Harvest Writers Retreat, I couldn’t sign up fast enough.

Although I am in no way comparing myself to Monica, my memoir will have some similarities to hers.

Her memoir opens with a description of Mexico, Maine, the mill town where she was born and raised. Mine opens with a description of Lincoln, Maine, the mill town where I grew up. Her father worked at the Oxford Paper Company. My father worked at Lincoln Pulp and Paper. In her memoir, tragedy strikes the family during her childhood. In mine, yeah, tragedy strikes in childhood.

Another odd coincidence, which I don’t write about in my book, is that I worked for a time at the mill in Rumford, Maine, the same one Monica grew up near (I think it’s silly that Mexico and Rumford are considered two different towns). Of all the places in the country I could have interned at in 1984 and 1985 when I was a chemical engineering student at the University of Maine, I landed at the Rumford mill. So, for all of you card carrying members of the everything happens for a reason club, I was perhaps predestined to attend this seminar. I’m not a member of the club, yet I must admit these peculiar connections keep wriggling their way into my life.

The conference took place last weekend at a lovely old resort in Kennebunkport, Maine, called the Colony Hotel. It’s a lot of work for Kim and me to stay in a hotel. So, given that this was only a forty-five-minute drive from our house, Kim shuttled me down and back each day. Before the conference, I worked on accessibility issues with Josh Bodwell, Executive Director of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance, the organization that hosted the event. Because of Josh, Monica, the hotel staff, the other course participants, and most of all Kim, I didn’t encounter any significant access issues.

On Saturday morning, Monica taught us techniques for crafting prose that is unadorned yet compelling. I’m already in the process of combing through my manuscript, page by page, and applying these principles wherever I can.

On Saturday afternoon, I sat with Monica one-on-one and laid out the structure of my book for her: the basic story line, the order in which I present the material, the complicating event, the climax, etc. I wasn’t surprised when she suggested a change that would improve the readability of the manuscript. I made the modification that evening, and it worked beautifully. But we weren’t done.

On Sunday morning, we focused on structure, the same issue we had touched upon Saturday afternoon, but in more detail. Each of the twelve students identified twenty scenes from their book and wrote a name for the scene on a Post-it note. We then placed the Post-it notes on large sheets of paper in a way that identified the flow of our books, the structure. I was impressed with my classmates. Mine was not the only moving story in the group. One by one, Monica led us in a discussion and critique of each student’s memoir structure.

Yup, more changes for me, and I couldn’t be happier.

This conference provided just what I needed, just what my book needed. I can’t say enough about Monica’s teaching style. She possesses a rare combination of knowledge, enthusiasm, and the ability to connect with students. If I hadn’t attended this conference, I would have considered my book nearly complete. Now, because of what I’ve learned, I’ll be writing and revising for a bit longer. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.

Note: You can see by the cover sketch at the top of this post, I’m going with The Apple Didn’t Fall… for now. I’ve changed up the subtitle, so it reads The True Story of a Mother and Son’s Mutual Suffering and Shared Resilience, but I think there’s still room for improvement. Please give me suggestions in the comments below or by emailing me here.

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Working Title and Cover Layout for My Book

I teased you a few of months ago when I wrote that I had a working title and cover idea for my book. I actually have four title ideas, which are slight variations on the theme pictured to the right. The only differences are the wording and the punctuation at the very top. I am soliciting your feedback on whether you like the title and cover concept at all, and if so, which of the four options you prefer. But first, for your reading pleasure, the updated synopsis and a short excerpt:

 Synopsis

Paralysis can strike without warning – one moment you’re a dynamic and independent person and the next, a quadriplegic. That’s what happened to my late mother when she crushed her cervical spinal cord at the age of 35. But sometimes paralysis chips away at your movements, a tiny bit every day, until you become locked inside the useless shell of a body. That’s what has been happening to me since an aggressive form of MS began to ravage my cervical spinal cord. Although we followed different paths, we ended up at a similar place.

In a straightforward, irreverent, and sometimes inspirational manner, I tell the story of a mother and son’s mutual suffering and shared resilience. I revisit a childhood growing up with my extraordinary mother then take the reader on a journey through more than a decade of my adult life spent battling primary progressive MS.

My mother prepared me for challenges we could never have imagined I would face. And through the writing process I grew closer to her by finding new meaning in the legacy she left behind.

Excerpt from Chapter 1 – The Birch Trees

Parents raised their children differently in 1969. At the beginning of the summer, Mom told me, “You can go anywhere on the street until suppertime.” It was a big street for a five-year-old. 

One day, I grabbed a hatchet from the garage, went to the far side of the field behind our house, and chopped down a medium-sized white birch. It dropped into the field. I placed the hatchet back in the garage and burst into the house, more than a little pleased with myself. Mom had already seen my handiwork from the kitchen window.

With arms folded across her chest, but an amused look on her face, she said, “Oh, Mitchy, you can’t do that. It’s not our property.” This detail concerned her more than my having brandished a sharp instrument and felled a tree without gloves, safety goggles, hard hat, adult supervision, or a Forestry degree from an accredited university.

My shoulders slumped, and I wondered how much trouble I was in. Mom said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Dad about the tree, and neither should you.” She patted me on the head, but I still felt awful for what I had done.

My parents served these opposing roles in my life – disciplinarian and protector. As a child, I didn’t like to try new foods, and my mother accommodated me. Once, Dad became so fed up with my fussy eating that he pointed his finger at me and declared, “You will sit there until you eat those green beans. I don’t care if it takes you all night.”

Nothing in this world could have made me eat even one of those slimy, green snots. I remained closemouthed until Dad went to bed. Mom picked up the beans, threw them away, and whispered, “We’ll just tell Dad you ate them all, but you still don’t like them.” As an adult, I enjoy a wide variety of foods, but I won’t touch green beans. Dad is long gone, but I refuse to capitulate.

Book Title and Cover Design

The title and artwork idea came to me in the middle of the night. The next morning, I asked Kim if she could draw it for me. She said, “I can’t, but I know a sixth-grader, Devan, who probably can.”

Devan did a great job producing the basic sketch, which I modified only slightly and added the captions to in Photoshop. I have a professional artist ready to go with this idea if I like it enough. I need your help to determine if I do.

Please respond to the poll on the top right of this page, entitled, Which Title Do You Prefer? But also give me your thoughts in the comment section or in whatever way you prefer communicating with me. If you are receiving this post as an email, click here to go to my webpage where you can vote on the top right.

Here are the title/cover ideas:

Option 1

Option 2

Option 3

Option 4

Option 5 – none of the above

The editing of my book continues in earnest. I expect to finish the manuscript in the first quarter of next year and then begin the long process of shopping it around. It’s conceivable that I’ll publish in 2016, but it could slip into 2017.

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A Few Items…

Apple Watch Update


Last week I wrote about my Apple Watch. The only complaint I had was that I couldn’t use Siri, hands-free, to call 911. When I tried, the watch gave me a message indicating that I needed to complete the operation from my iPhone. What if I fall and I can’t reach my iPhone?

I had a long chat session with Apple technical support. I wore out two levels of technicians before I found myself with Melanie, a Senior Advisor. At the end of our chat conversation, she said that she would need to speak with the software engineers to determine if I was doing something wrong, or if this feature simply wasn’t supported.

She called me a couple of days later and said, “It’s not supported.”

I already had one workaround in place (see my previous post), and she gave me a second workaround. By making a contact called “HELP,” and making that contact a favorite, and giving the contact a phone number of 911, I can place a call to 911 from my watch with a couple of button pushes. I just can’t do it completely hands-free.

But the best news is, Apple now realizes that hands-free, voice calling for 911, is a desirable feature for the Apple Watch, and they will try to add it to a future software revision. We shall see.

Oh, and more good news. They read last week’s blog post, and liked it so much they passed it around inside Apple.

Book Title and Cover Design

I have decided on a title for my book, and a basic cover design. I understand that if I work with a publisher they may want to change that, but I like the idea of coming in with a solid idea. One of Kim’s sixth grade students sketched it for me, and I showed it to 15 or 20 folks. I got about 80% positive feedback. My niece Erin, who is an art education major in college, is working up another version for me. As soon as she’s done, I’ll share it here.

Who came up with the idea? Who gets the free lobster dinner? Me, at least I think so. I thought of the title and the cover design in the middle the night a couple weeks ago. But sometimes I think I have an original idea, when it was actually whispered in my ear by somebody else. So, if in fact it turns out that one of you did give me this idea, or something very close to it, I’ll gladly give you all the credit, and the lobster dinner.

Biotin

I’m a little over six weeks in, and I’ve noticed no changes yet. It’s still very early, and I am by no means discouraged. I’ll keep plugging away and update you every now and then.

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Update on My Book

In February I announced that I’m writing a memoir. I spent most of 2014 pulling together the first draft. In January of this year I started the second draft and completed it this morning. The two processes couldn’t have been more different.

The first draft called for free writing – getting ideas out of my head and into documents, with little scrutiny. I let the creative juices flow. My first draft was unreadable, and that’s what I had expected it to be. Oh, it contained some nice passages here and there, but I wouldn’t show it to anybody.

In the second draft I concentrated on making the text more reader friendly. I minimized use of passive voice (replaced the glasses were filled with Mitchell filled the glasses). Because adverb-verb pairings bore the reader, I substituted more interesting verbs (replaced ran fast with dashed). Good writing avoids overused words, so I searched the document for a list including: very, that, just, almost, really, etc. Perhaps most importantly, I looked for opportunities to identify bland passages and bring them to life.

At the end of the second draft I find myself with 34 chapters, about 95,000 words. This will produce a book of about 350 pages. That feels right.

So, what’s next? Obviously, the third draft. I’ll continue to look for the same things I did in my second draft. In addition, I’ll contemplate big picture issues such as theme, pace, structure, and more.

I have a compelling story to share, and I show flashes of writing ability, but it will take a lot of work to make this publishing-ready. I don’t want anyone to read the book because they know me, and they feel obligated. Instead, I hope people will sample or purchase this book because it is well marketed and has positive reviews. Ideally, they will keep reading this book because they can’t put it down. When they finish they will wish it had been longer, not shorter. I look forward to comments like, “I enjoyed the book, and it made me think about things differently.” I’ll continue improving the manuscript until I feel it meets these criteria. I’m in no hurry.

My friend and local author Joe Souza helped me improve the all important opening chapter. My friends at the Portland Writers Group are still giving me outstanding feedback, and I will involve other folks as the project moves along.

In my February announcement I asked readers to submit ideas for the title. The majority suggested the book title be the same as this blog. But I wanted a subtitle, and you gave me some great suggestions. Here are my top choices so far, but I’m not convinced the perfect title is in this list yet:

Enjoying the Ride: A Story of Mutual Suffering and Shared Resilience
Enjoying the Ride: A Mother and Son’s Mutual Suffering and Shared Resilience
Enjoying the Ride: A Family Adapted
Enjoying the Ride: A Mother and Son Adapted
Enjoying the Ride: The Story of a Second-Generation Quadriplegic
Enjoying the Ride: The Courageous Story of Mother and Son Quadriplegics
Enjoying the Ride: Holding It Together When Everything Is Falling Apart

For those of you who missed the first post, here is my synopsis of the book:

Paralysis can strike without warning – one moment you’re a dynamic and independent person and the next, a quadriplegic. That’s what happened to my late mother when she crushed her cervical spinal cord at the age of 35. But sometimes paralysis chips away at your movements, a tiny bit every day, until you become locked inside the useless shell of a body. That’s what has been happening to me since the age of 38 when an aggressive form of MS began to ravage my cervical spinal cord – at an eerily similar location to my mother’s injury. Although we followed different paths, we ended up at the same place.

In a straightforward, irreverent, and hopefully inspirational manner, I tell the story of a mother and son’s mutual suffering and shared resilience. I revisit a childhood growing up with my extraordinary mother then take the reader on a journey through more than a decade of my adult life spent battling primary progressive MS.

My mother prepared me for challenges we could never have imagined I would face. And through the writing process I grew closer to her by finding new meaning in the legacy she left behind.


I’ll keep you updated!

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I’m Writing a Book

It’s the secret project I referred to in a previous blog post.

In fact, I’ve been writing this book for over a year now, and I still have a long way to go. I’m almost afraid to finish because I doubt I’ll ever find another project I’m as passionate about as this one.

I completed my first draft in December. The process of filling up blank pages is over, and the work of revising – of crafting and molding the story into something readers will enjoy – has begun.

It’s no small feat to transform an engineer into a writer, so I’ve not been shy about getting help. I’ve solicited advice from amateur and professional writers. I’ve taken online courses and attended writing workshops. There are so many blogs and magazines and books about the art of writing books, and I’ve read a lot of them. Perhaps most importantly, I spend time with a talented group of authors at the Portland Writers Group, where we critique one another’s material.

One day I’ll have to let this book leave the nest and see if it can fly. If no publishing houses show an interest, I’ll gladly self-publish. I dream of having a New York Times bestseller, but I’ll be thrilled if just a few people read the book and tell me it was worth their time, and it helped them in some way.

What’s the book about? I’m glad you asked. Here’s a brief synopsis:

Paralysis can strike without warning – one moment you’re a dynamic and independent person and the next, a quadriplegic. That’s what happened to my late mother when she crushed her cervical spinal cord at the age of 35. But sometimes paralysis chips away at your movements, a tiny bit every day, until you become locked inside the useless shell of a body. That’s what has been happening to me since the age of 38, when an aggressive form of MS began to ravage my cervical spinal cord – at an eerily similar location to my mother’s injury. Although we followed different paths, we ended up at the same place. 

In a straightforward, irreverent, and hopefully inspirational manner, I tell the story of a mother and son’s mutual suffering and shared resilience. I revisit a childhood growing up with my extraordinary mother then take the reader on a journey through more than a decade of my adult life spent battling primary progressive MS. 

My mother prepared me for challenges we could never have imagined I would face. And through the writing process I grew closer to her by finding new meaning in the legacy she left behind.

What’s the title of the book? I have no idea. I thought about using the title of this blog, something like:

Enjoying the Ride: the Story of…


But now I’m not so sure. Maybe I need a title that is fresh and new. Either way, it must convey the theme that I presented in the synopsis, above.

If you have any title ideas, please send them to me at email@enjoyingtheride.com. How many times in your life do you get your name listed in the acknowledgments of a published book, with the potential for circulation in the triple digits? And for the person who provides the best title idea, Kim and I will treat you to a lobster dinner on our patio this summer, if you can make it to South Portland, Maine. If not, I’ll ship you some lobsters.

As you know, my blog posts draw heavily from my personal experiences, and working on this book for an hour or two a day has become a huge part of my life. I’d like to occasionally share the journey with you instead of hiding it from you.

And I’m serious about the book title. I’ve got nothing.

Note, 5 hours after posting: I’m getting a lot of support for the title Enjoying the Ride, but I would still need a subtitle, Enjoying the Ride: something