Margie is interviewed by *lizzie

Welcome to your interview, Margie! How about starting at the beginning?
I was born on the top of a hill. (I always wanted to say that.) The original St. Joseph's Hospital is no longer there... so I can stand down at the bottom of the hill and say, "I was born on the top of this hill, in mid-air."



Readers always love to hear about where an author comes from, about their family. What about yours?
My Dad’s parents were both born in Poland, though they met in Omaha. They learned English from their children, who learned it from the nuns when they went to school,

My Mom’s parents have been in America quite a while. Her families on both sides have kept up a really intense genealogy chart. When I found it a few years ago I was astonished. They have where they found the information, the name of the church, graveyard, old bibles and census. The charts go back hundreds of years. There are so many people, and all grandparents. This is something that doesn’t really hit you until you see names and dates when they were born, married, died. Most of these ancestors are traced back to England and Scotland. In Scotland I found the Black Knight of Lorne, and quite a bit of royalty from both England and Scotland as well as an assortment of European countries.. Guess once you hit one King you hit them all, since they all married each other. I also found a famous Native American. A drop of blood….






Hmm, sounds like we might have some common ancestors. Fun to look into the past, isn't it?
There are lots of stories there. For instance, when my Great Grandpa was a young teenager; his family came from England -- Arnold Notts, in Nottingham, near Sherwood Forest. Their family made lace stockings with machines that were brought to their home. Even the children worked. Records exist of his family in that area as far back as 1500.
He died years before I was born, but my Grandma kept him alive by telling me stories about him and things he'd do and say. She told me her Dad was the bravest man around. Quite a few ghost stories center around a phrase she said he used: Owl-light…when spirits walk.



Cool! But how about something a little closer to now?
My Dad was in the Army during World War II. He wanted to open a book store when he retired, but he died when he was only 62. A lot of my old books are his. My Mom is an artist.
I'm the oldest of seven children, the only girl. So I was delighted when I had three beautiful little girls of my own. Now they are grown, but have gifted me with eleven awesome grandchildren. Eight girls and three boys ranging in age from 2 years old to 25. Two in diapers, two in high school two in college and a flock in the middle. Along about Wednesday I begin getting calls, "Grandma, can I spend the night?" So my weekends are pretty full.



Sounds like your grandkids love to fill up your time. What are some of your favorite things to do with them? Are any of them interested in following in Grandma’s writing footsteps?
They love movies. We watch lots of those together. Stardust is our current favorite. We make popcorn and the little ones like to tell me stories. We color and draw and play with dolls and their dollhouse. We read. They love books. And they love my notebooks, which they beg me to give them, and then use to write their own stories, asking me how to spell every other word. Since there are so many of my grandchildren, I could write volumes about each one. So I will just say that they are beautiful, fun and witty, I am indeed blessed. (Do I sound like a Grandma?)




Now, to the writing part of your life! What’s your writing history?
I've been telling stories, writing stories, writing poems and songs since I could talk. Somewhere I have a picture of me sitting behind my Tom Thumb typewriter. I was about five.

When I was eleven I began sending my "poems" to the music companies that advertised in the Hit Parade song lyrics magazines. One of them was Capitol Records. I'd get back “contracts” that wanted about $25+ to put my poems to music. Back when songs like Purple People Eater and the Little Blue Man came out, I wrote songs like "The Landing of the Martians" and one I called "Tender or Rare". The last line in that one was: "How do you like your love man, tender or rare?" Real Fonzie stuff. Of course Daddy laughed and said paying for music was just a gimmick for the big shots to make money off of the suckers. It was the '50's and we didn't have money for stuff like that. Daddy always thought it was cool that the record companies seemed to like my poems though.. Later I found out Neil Diamond and even Johnny Cash started out in those same record companies. (f course, they had their own music. Just think... I could have gone a whole different direction. lol

In the 60's (am I rambling yet?) when I was in high school I wrote for the South High Tooter in Journalism class. I also entertained my friends with poems of heartache, doom and gloom. My favorite was "Hide These Tears." It must have been a premonition. (I do share my birthday with Nostradamus) I graduated, got married a year later to a dreamy guy from Pennsylvania who was stationed at Offutt Air Force Base. I was starry-eyed, believed in fairy tale endings and love that lasts forever. We lived happily ever after for about 16 years. When I realized the illusion that love sometimes becomes, I froze. I couldn’t write for a long time. How could I write about love when I didn’t believe in love anymore? But then I wrote feverishly in starts and stops. I never stopped writing but didn't finish anything besides poems.. I thought I'd have time when my girls grew up. Before long I was helping with their kids and one day realized... Hey! My time is running out. I have a lot of stories I need to write. So....



So… you’re writing! Woo Hoo! Tell us about your current work in progress.
I'm working on a story I want to call Owl-Light. (That’s why I told you about my great grandfather from England.)
This story is about a guy who has been having black-outs since he came back from the war. When he got home he found out his sweetheart was spending a lot of time with his best friend while he was gone. The last thing he remembers is pulling his army gun out of the closet. Then he draws a blank. He doesn't remember what happened the rest of that night. She disappears. 40 years later, he still doesn't know what happened to her. He never lets himself go again. (Emotionally). One day while at his cabin on the Platte he's sure he sees her walking along the river. She’s like she was 40 years earlier, not like she'd be in the present. Besides, she’s kind of misty with an eerie light around her. He runs out, but she's not there. So now I have this haunted person. The narrator or viewpoint character knows that unless she helps him find out what really happened to Ginny that he is going to remain a lost soul. And that is not an option.



Sounds like an interesting story. I love ghosts. Has this been an easy tale to write?
Put it like this – I know this story. I have been breathing it, in my mind’s eye watching it like a movie for years. I know at least four of the major characters. I’ve walked with them. I’ve recognized them in the eyes of strangers. But then I have started and stopped this story more times than I want to admit.
I've gone in one direction, and decided, “No, this isn’t it.” Then I’d start over again. I would go a different way In Mark Twain's autobiography he tells about working for years on the Diary of Joan of Arc. It wouldn't flow no matter what he did. Finally, he realized he was simply going about it from the wrong viewpoint. He tried a different approach and it came out perfect.
So I thought, “That's it!” I tried it from different viewpoints. Still it just didn't seem quite right. And I... who never throw anything out, shredded some of my versions. I, who keep things forever, hit the delete button on pages I never printed. Woe to me. I know better than that. I also have decided the delete button was invented by Satan so he could have a good laugh on frustrated writers in weak moments when they feel everything that they have written is drivel.
So I am beginning again, with a really good handle on where I am going but this time I'll take Ray Bradbury's advice and like the sign he has on his typewriter, "Don't Think", I'm just going to let it flow.



Excellent advice! When you start writing--or start over as the case may be--what’s your process? Do you do a lot of plotting before hand, or just sit and write?
I am just going to start writing. I have plotted myself right out of this story. My best bet at this point is to shut up and let the story tell me what is going to happen next.




Do you know your characters before you start--or get to know them along the way? Do you have trouble finding names for your story people?
I know my characters. I dream them sometimes. I can see them, hear them. If I invent them it is on some level where I don’t realize I’m making them up. It’s more like suddenly discovering someone is standing behind you and then realizing you knew it all along.
Instead of having trouble finding names for my story people, I have to argue with them about why Micah or Eli would be much better names than Sam or Charlie. They won’t answer to my “cool” names so I wind up with the ones they choose.



Yeah, story people can be stubborn sometimes. Here’s a really important question…What are the three most important elements of writing to you?
Breathing life into the main characters, Getting into the rhythm of how they flow with or against each other as they take the first steps on their journey.
Walking along the road with them. Hearing the wind rustle through the trees. Smelling pine needles and damp earth after the rain. Knowing where they are and why they are there.
Finding the magic, the redemption. What would make them give up everything they thought they needed, everything they believed in to save another’s soul.



Do you have hobbies or collections that keep you busy when you’re not writing?
I have more books than some small libraries. I have most of the classics, and many are very old. I am a sucker for dictionaries Let’s see, there is a collection of teapots, music boxes, lighthouses, ships, lanterns, baskets, cool notebooks and assorted office supplies.
I have a full-time job where I've worked for 23 years. The end of April of this year I had the awesome opportunity of being placed in a one person satellite office. It is a totally different environment than I am used to. Less stressful. However, just today, a couple of hours before you sent this to me, I had a meeting with my supervisor/friend and the powers far higher up than he is have decided to reel me back in to the main office the end of August. This is actually a good move. I’m viewing my short furlough from chaos as a peace filled retreat where I was able to let go of deep stress. Plus, since they have let someone else have my former cube, I am going back to a nicer and better placed cubicle than I had when I left. Here’s the really cool outcome --
During my peace filled time out I joined the Heartland Writers Group. That alone will keep me strong.

I went to the Mayhem in the Midlands Mystery Writers Conference this year. I bought Nosy in Nebraska and asked Mary to sign it. While I was talking to her I mentioned that I loved to write. She thought it would be good for me to mingle with other writers. She E-Mailed me the information on how to join the Heartland Writers Group and the directions to get there. If she hadn't, I would never have found all of you wonderful people.


That's one of the many things we're here for! Anything else you’d like to tell us?
Poems are still my masterpieces.



Do you have one you’d like to share?
A fallen star
Tossed from the sky
By an angry god
I mourned in the shadows of earth
And let my flame ebb low
I was your sorrow.
Lost and weary I stumbled and fell
Surrendering my soul to despair
Then a rainbow of light
Danced into my darkness and rekindled my flame.
Hold me gently for I’m fragile and new
Soon I will be your joy.


***


Excellent! I can see why you're proud of your poetry. And now, just because it’s fun to ask and a great way to end an interview… What’s your favorite food?
Popsicles

Thanks, Margie. I’ve had a great time learning a little more about you and your writing!
You are an inspiration!