Lighting a Cigar With a Crisp Hundred Dollar Bill

I was very happy to be invited by writer, screenwriter, and graphic artist, Anthony Schiavino, to participate in his Fall Guest Blogger series. I was even happier when I read the questions he gave me...the kind of questions most of us think about, but rarely have the opportunity to answer.

You can read the whole interview below:

This week we have writer Karla S. Bryant, who brings a little bit of “old soul” to the mix. Her short story, ‘Not My Secret to Tell’, retitled ‘Catch and Release’, is currently in pre-production as a short film by Mondall Films.

What would you say you do?

I say I write. Because it’s what I do. There are a number of goals I want to achieve as a writer, and I’m doing the work now to get there. Earlier, I wondered if I should wait until I was making more money from my writing before calling myself a “writer”. Then I wondered what that criterion would be. At $50,000, would I be a writer? $75,000?  Would I have to wait until I made six figures? I realized that made no sense. Money has never been the deciding factor in determining if someone is a writer, or a filmmaker, or an artist of any kind.

Before you sit down to write, what gets you going?

Story. I have to have a strong story in my head. Without that, who cares about the characters or setting? It’s like a film that looks fantastic, but makes you feel nothing. Most of the time, I’m drawn to what’s playing out beneath the surface. So often, what people are thinking and feeling are very different from their words. When people do something that seems totally unexpected, they’re usually acting from that deeper level. Conflict between a character’s thoughts and their dialogue builds suspense and subtext. Keep pushing both and it makes a satisfying read.
Recently, I’d felt I was getting bogged down with formatting issues on a screenplay. I could feel the focus of my writing shift. Coming back to the mantra of story-above-all-else, I wrote a short story and submitted it on Trigger Street Labs. It became a Featured Short Story eight times before being chosen as the Short Story Spotlight selection for July 2012. That was all the affirmation I needed that story comes first. Always.

Drop some names.

I’m not sure if I’m blessed or cursed that research for both my writing and genealogy projects often involve the same books. Both tracks have led me to an old series of the tawdriest kind of “non-fiction” pulp: the “Confidential” series by Jack Lait and Lee Moritmer, published in the ‘40s and early ‘50s. So far, I’ve made it through Chicago Confidential, Washington, D.C. Confidential, USA Confidential, and I’m trying to get my hands on a copy of New York Confidential. Love that the blurb reads, “Rough, tough, and well informed.” about advice that reads, “Never give a babe a break, or her parents your real name.” and “Chorus dames are okay for dates, but make sure that when she tells you she’s got to get home to ma, that it’s not an oboe player instead.” Most of my reading lately has been related to research…or reading drafts of work that friends have written.
Television shows that I never miss are Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Modern Family, Game of Thrones, and Boardwalk Empire. I’m consistently amazed at how good they are and how much better other shows could be. Vince Gilligan and Terrence Winter have brilliantly elevated the bar for TV.

What's in your glass?

It depends on the time, place, and company. If I’m laser-focused on a writing project—especially if the word “deadline” is involved at all—I’m downing a Metromint Chocolatemint Water. I like to tell myself it’s an energy drink. Which it isn’t. But, it somehow keeps me going. If it’s a night out with my husband or friends, it’s either a cosmo or sangria. I do occasionally enjoy a glass of red wine while watching “Mad Men” or “Boardwalk Empire.” It just seems fitting to raise a glass with Don Draper or Nucky Thompson.

What's the first thing you buy after lighting your cigar with a crisp hundred dollar bill?

Well, my fantasy has always been to have a small writing space of my own…a separate building, not just a room. There are about three variations in rotation in my mind…a cottage near a beach, a condo in a city, or a cozy cabin in the woods. I have no idea if I’d be a more productive writer in a space like that or not. But, I certainly want to experience it and find out.
Once I settle in my cottage/condo/cabin, I’ll light a second cigar with another crisp hundred dollar bill.

I know a guy, but how can other people find you/your work?

You can find me at www.karlabry.blogspot.com.

(You can read more about Anthony Schiavino and his current projects at: http://sgtzero.wordpress.com/ )

Stories: Past, Present, and Future

What happens when you return to your hometown when you haven't been back for decades? You begin to understand the genesis for the series LOST (ignoring--temporarily--it's sub-par finale). Your back stories and your current life keep crossing lines, intersecting at unexpected points, fading in and out, and resulting in theories that take weeks to process.

As a writer, I knew the experience would be good fodder for future projects. But, I hadn't expected it to be quite the mother lode it was. Which was more unlikely: the fact that with one sentence, I picked up where I'd left off 30+ years ago with old friends? Or that the main street of the small town was almost completely unchanged? I could have held up an old, faded postcard and it would have matched what was in front of me. It felt at once weirdly wonderful and a little unnerving. If I was time travelling, where was my DeLorean?

Mash into the experience the fact that it was also a reunion weekend for all graduating years (it's a very small town) and the crush of memories got more dense. I tried to keep straight who had moved away (and to where), who had never left, and who had moved away and recently moved back. I tried to hide my sorrow for those whose lives had not been as happy as they might have been. I was thrilled for those who, against the odds, had made a success of their lives on multiple levels. The fact is, all of us are still on the journey. As I spoke with one person after another, the old Rod Stewart song, "Every Picture Tells a Story" came back to me, but I heard it as, "Every Person Tells a Story." And they do. With their words, or their demeanor, or with an unguarded expression or two.

There were moments that rattled me. Not having known someone's son had died until the still-grieving father told me in a choked voice, "No parent should ever have to bury their child.". Realizing, mid-conversation, that another person I was speaking with had not emotionally evolved past their 16 year old self. There were moments that delighted me, especially when I was able to say, "Thank you," face to face with my influential junior high English teacher. Or when we were in town and I brought my husband and son to eat in the old soda shop where I'd worked during high school. It was so unchanged, I could have slipped behind the counter and made a sundae without hesitation. (Yes, I realize that sounds like I was in high school in the 1950's. I promise, I wasn't even born then.)

I made sure there was time set aside to be with those I'd been closest to all those years ago. I savored reconnecting with them, and expected regret on my part that I'd kept my distance for so long. But, I truly believe things happen when they're meant to happen and so, joy took the place of regret. Interestingly, there were very few sentences that began with, "Do you remember when...?" We were in the present. Whatever had connected us in the past, connected us now. Some discussions carried a depth and mutual empathy that was lacking when we first knew each other, when we were too young to have had much weight of experience on our shoulders. Some conversations were enlightening, others raised unanswered questions. Some new stories began and some old stories had new chapters. Most of the stories, though, are just waiting to be written.