Karen Sandler

Karen’s Blog

  • On the Back of a Winged Horse

    All through grade school, I had one best friend–Suzy. We were in the same class from kindergarten through 6th grade. The summer before 7th grade, I moved with my mom and two older sisters to the San Bernardino mountains about 100 miles east of Los Angeles. Suzy and I kept in touch via letters and would get together when I’d go back to L.A. to see my dad or grandma.

    We were pretty much glued at the hip during elementary school. We’d hang out at her house or mine (they were about a block away from each other), stroll around the corner to the house where Carl, Brian, and Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys lived just to stare at it, or go to the little neighborhood store for wax lips and candy cigarettes. Sometimes we’d head over to the school that was nearer to her house (our school was nearer to mine) and sneak under the fence to play in the playground. It’s a little hard to see, but at left is a particularly flattering picture (ahem, not) of me with my sweatshirt snagged on the fence while I’m trying to shimmy through.

    One thing we definitely had in common was a love of books and stories. We hung out in the school library so much that the librarian fell in love with us. She liked us so much she took me and Suzy to Marineland over in Palos Verdes, a fabulous (but now defunct) aquarium/marine life exhibit on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

    And Suzy and I loved to make up stories. I remember sitting in Suzy’s garage one time while she created and told a story that involved us flying around on winged horses, traveling around the clouds (they were solid so we could walk on them). Another friend of ours, Janet, was also featured in the story with us. But at some point, Janet fell off her winged horse and was killed. We had nothing against Janet; that was just the way the story went.

    Of course when we got to school the next day and Janet was absent, we were a little freaked out. Luckily, it wasn’t our fictional death that did her in. She was just sick for the day.

    When I moved to the Lake Arrowhead area for those four years, I did make a new friend (Virginia), but I kept in touch with Suzy. I hadn’t realized how many letters I wrote to her until a few years ago she sent me a cool spiral-bound book filled with old photographs (like the ones above) and several of my letters. The one at left is pretty typical. I loved playing with words even then (a cackle of witches, a waddle of ducks).

    Suzy attended my wedding 30+ years ago, then we lost touch for a long time. I think it was my mom’s death that reconnected us (which is when she sent the book). Then with the miracle that is Facebook, we’re at least virtually back in each other’s lives. I keep hoping that one of my trips to L.A. we’ll be able to meet IRL.

    Meanwhile, I’ll just unreel the memories from time to time and keep that winged horse handy.

  • Programming DNA

    In the world of my book Tankborn, Genetically Engineered Non-humans (GENs) are controlled via electronics installed in their nervous system and brain. I read an article this week which describes an intriguing study whose results I might just have to steal for a future book. The researchers have actually managed to program DNA itself.

    Stanford post-doc Jerome Bonnet worked with graduate student Pakpoom Subsoontorn and assistant professor Drew Endy to induce the DNA in microbes to switch direction so that they would glow a different color under an ultraviolet light. After three years of work getting the correct balance of enzymes which control the orientation of the DNA, they were able to create the equivalent of a bio data storage unit. They call the device used a “recombinase addressable data” module, or RAD. They’re only able to store one bit of “data,” but have plans to expand their research to an entire byte.

    While the scientists engaged in this study expect that this data storage ability would be used for worthy efforts such as studying cancer, my writer’s mind can’t seem to help going in an entirely different direction. If we could store data in DNA, couldn’t we pass ultra-secret messages that way? Or maybe it’s not just data, but actual programming in the brain that affects behavior. Maybe in a future world, it could heal a mental illness or something could go awry and the treatment would create someone with extraordinary mental powers.

    Okay, I’m letting my imagination get the best of me. These are all fictional scenarios. The actual science will take years to reach fruition. And in the real world, it will likely provide benefits, like to signal that cells are splitting too rapidly. Catch that early and we can prevent cancer.

    Still, it’s fun to take this intriguing study and run with it as an author. After all, who doesn’t want mental superpowers?

  • Buddy, Please Don’t Loan Me a Dime

    I got my car detailed yesterday. This wasn’t just a run through the auto-wash with a couple guys swabbing it off with shammies. This was a full court press, inside and out, upholstery and carpet steam-cleaned, the dash wiped down with some miracle restorer, the trunk vacuumed out and even the carpet in there cleaned.

    It cost me a pretty penny. But other than those nicks and dents and that tree sap on the trunk lid, my 1997 Camry looks pretty darn new. And since I just put in a breath-stealing amount of money in miscellaneous maintenance, I’m tickled to have a newish-looking car to drive around now.

    You might wonder what insanity possessed me to put bucks-bucks-bucks into a 15-year-old car with nearly 270K miles on it. I’m a pretty thrifty person and throwing all that money into such a geriatric vehicle might not make much sense.

    Hubby and I thought long and hard about the choice to preserve and protect my old Camry or to buy a new (well, newer used) car. The repairs that needed to be made to the Camry were maintenance issues (timing belt and struts that were overdue by 10K miles), but expensive. My mechanic felt pretty confident that once those were taken care of, I’d be good for a few more years, with nothing but oil changes and new tires.

    If we bought a new (used) car, we’d either be taking a big chunk out of savings (ugh) or we’d have to borrow (triple-ugh). I really-really-really dislike debt. I do not want to be owing the bank or the car company monthly payments. And on top of those payments, there’s the increased insurance and increased registration fee. That would be hundreds more dollars a year on top of a monthly car payment. I could buy a lot of repairs for that money.

    So I gave my old Camry a spa day instead. I still have to treat her to some new tires and an alignment, then I might even splurge on a new windshield. And if I’m feeling really flush, maybe I’ll indulge her in a brand-spanking-new steering wheel cover. Yes, I’m a wild thing.

  • 3 Tricks to Energize an Expository Scene

    Has this ever happened to you? You’re working on your manuscript and you’ve come to a point where you need to reveal information to your reader. It might be something crucial to the plot, or a vital revelation about your main character. You start writing the scene, but somehow it’s flat and boring. It sounds like a couple of talking heads. You start to feel completely blocked.

    If it hasn’t happened to you, you’re lucky. I’ve experienced this scenario any number of times writing my 20+ books. Early on in my career, I would flounder for a solution, but now I rely on a few go-to methods to freshen and energize the scene.

    1. Change the setting

    If it’s not working to have your characters sitting in a restaurant while they hash over their next step in defeating the alien zombie-vampires, get them up and moving. Your characters can walk through a park, or drive in a car, or climb up the hill to where they think the talisman is hidden. Sometimes an intimate, static setting is appropriate—in her room, or hidden in the cave safe from those AZVs. But if the scene is coming off too blah, get your characters up and out.

    2. Change the POV

    If you’re using the point of view of more than one character, sometimes all it takes to brighten up a scene is to switch to another character’s POV. That other character will have an entirely different perspective on the situation. That perspective might generate more conflict, which is exactly what will keep your reader reading.

    3. Do it with action

    This is a step beyond just getting your characters moving. Write your expository scene as an action scene. They’re fighting those AZVs, and in the process shouting out to each other what the reader needs to know—that he’s the one who left her that love note in third grade, or she stole from the church donation box to post his bail. Or you reveal information with the action itself—that AZVs have to be staked, beheaded, and tasered to be destroyed.

    So if your expository scene is lying there deader than a staked-beheaded-tasered AZV, give these tricks a try and get your book moving again.

  • Bubble Gum and Pineapple Crush Memories

    Back in the early ’70s, I lived with my dad and two older sisters in Inglewood, CA in a little 2-bedroom, 1-bathroom house. My dad had the big front bedroom and my sisters and I were squeezed into the smaller back bedroom. The house was right under the flight path for LAX, and boy those jet planes were loud going overhead.

    On the other side of our street, half a block down, was a little corner grocery store. A family of Mexican heritage owned the store and they made these fantastic tamales that we’d sometimes pick up for dinner. My dad loved tamales.

    The store also sold the usual small grocery stuff, including soda, candy, and bubblegum. I certainly ate my share of candy (3 Musketeers was a favorite), but I was more often down there for a bottle of Crush and a supply of bubblegum.

    Rather than the typical Bazooka Joe flat rectangle, I bought Double Bubble bubblegum, which was cylindrical and wrapped in brightly colored waxed paper that was twisted on the two flat ends. They sold for a penny apiece, and I would always buy 10 of them at a time.

    As to the Crush, I was a real connoisseur. This was back when soda came in glass bottles. The Crush bottles were very tall and slender, clear glass so it was easy to tell one flavor from another. The corner store sold Crush in the familiar orange, of course, but also grape, strawberry, and my personal favorite, pineapple. Pineapple wasn’t always available, but if it was, I snapped it up. Second choice was strawberry, third was the classic orange, and I generally avoided the grape.

    I’d take my sugary stash of bubblegum and soda back home, then I’d hang out in the living room reading (some Ray Bradbury short stories or maybe a comic book that I’d also picked up at the store). I’d chew one piece of bubblegum after the other, abandoning each one the moment it lost its sweet flavor. I washed all that sugar down with the additional sugar of the Crush. My jaws would ache by the time I’d finished all that gum.

    Even though I paid for all that indulgence with cavities and some TMJ issues, it’s such a fond memory. Not just the sugary treats, but the convenience and pleasure of little corner grocery stores like that, set right into the neighborhoods they served. We could walk right to it, get our sugar rush or the night’s dinner, without ever having to climb into a car.

    I do miss pineapple Crush and bubblegum, although I don’t dare indulge in either anymore. But maybe it’s not the soda and gum I’m nostalgic for. Maybe it’s the laziness of summer, the wonderful convenience of a corner store, and the joy of finding exactly the flavor I wanted most in the cooler.