Mark Harris
As I note in my book, I started the process of converting this story to novel form after a happenstance meeting with novelist Mark Harris (see https://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/02/sp...). I believe that meet-up was around 2003 or 2004 (the exact year is a bit fuzzy) and our introduction happened while we both stood in line for the postal counter at a local little magazine and gift shop, called the Pack and Post in Goleta (adjacent to Santa Barbara). Mark was behind me in line. As was my practice, I had a book with me and he commented about that fact. I’ve never been one to be overly happy about long lines, especially when it was a tight errand running lunch hour - but many years later when I recounted this story to Mark’s son Anthony, I realized that “I have never been happier for a line to go so slowly.” Mark had asked me if I was a writer while we stood in that slow, long line. I thought where did that come from? Though a strange question and me always hesitant to talk about my writing, there was something about Mark, “yes,” I answered. His replied “me too.” As I told Anthony I think I gasped when he told me one of his novels (and screenplays) was Bang the Drum Slowly. The Grover character in my novel is based on my baseball player grandfather-so talk about serendipity!
At his offering, Mark I then met for one lunch date to talk about writing. I learned then he had been an English professor most of his adult life, which allowed him to write his novels and still support his family. He and his wife had moved to Santa Barbara to be closer to their kids post-retirement. I did detect some cognizant challenges for Mark during our lunch date, particularly when we were ordering our sandwiches, but not at all when he started talking about writing and asking me about mine. Per Anthony Alzheimer’s had started to present itself at that time but as with many it didn’t affect the far and established memories and he stepped right back into his teacher role.
Three days at Millie Flowers’ was a screenplay at that time. “Established” in that genre as it had done pretty well at an Austin Film Festival competition a few years prior. I talked about this screenplay in particular since it involved a baseball element and also spent time talking about my grandfather since Mark was a fan of baseball. Mark listened and asked good questions, then said very matter of factly “that’s a novel.” I told him I had never written a novel and didn’t know how. Feature screenplays were already a stretch from my preferred 60-minute TV drama format. His response to my doubt was, “Yes, you do.”
I recently had the distinct privilege of connecting with Anthony Harris. It was at the urging of my mother, who instructed me to “find Mark’s family, tell them the story and give them a copy of the book.” Find an Anthony Harris?? Through some research I was able to determine when Mark and his wife had passed, also sadly their daughter, and that there two surviving sons, Anthony and Henry. But again how to find them? Then I came across the reporting of an interview with the sons a year after Mark’s death in (http://www.ronkaplansbaseballbookshel...”). I also discovered that Mark had a nephew who was an established writer, Saïd Sayrafiezadeh. His website included a means to contact Saïd, so I sent a message thinking that was a real shot in the dark. But Saïd graciously forwarded my inquiry on to Anthony. What a wonderful conversation with the son of the generous man who influenced me to take a leap and try the novel format. I am forever grateful to Mark Harris who took the time to strike up a conversation with a total stranger and provided such valuable advice, laced with a very daunting challenge.
At his offering, Mark I then met for one lunch date to talk about writing. I learned then he had been an English professor most of his adult life, which allowed him to write his novels and still support his family. He and his wife had moved to Santa Barbara to be closer to their kids post-retirement. I did detect some cognizant challenges for Mark during our lunch date, particularly when we were ordering our sandwiches, but not at all when he started talking about writing and asking me about mine. Per Anthony Alzheimer’s had started to present itself at that time but as with many it didn’t affect the far and established memories and he stepped right back into his teacher role.
Three days at Millie Flowers’ was a screenplay at that time. “Established” in that genre as it had done pretty well at an Austin Film Festival competition a few years prior. I talked about this screenplay in particular since it involved a baseball element and also spent time talking about my grandfather since Mark was a fan of baseball. Mark listened and asked good questions, then said very matter of factly “that’s a novel.” I told him I had never written a novel and didn’t know how. Feature screenplays were already a stretch from my preferred 60-minute TV drama format. His response to my doubt was, “Yes, you do.”
I recently had the distinct privilege of connecting with Anthony Harris. It was at the urging of my mother, who instructed me to “find Mark’s family, tell them the story and give them a copy of the book.” Find an Anthony Harris?? Through some research I was able to determine when Mark and his wife had passed, also sadly their daughter, and that there two surviving sons, Anthony and Henry. But again how to find them? Then I came across the reporting of an interview with the sons a year after Mark’s death in (http://www.ronkaplansbaseballbookshel...”). I also discovered that Mark had a nephew who was an established writer, Saïd Sayrafiezadeh. His website included a means to contact Saïd, so I sent a message thinking that was a real shot in the dark. But Saïd graciously forwarded my inquiry on to Anthony. What a wonderful conversation with the son of the generous man who influenced me to take a leap and try the novel format. I am forever grateful to Mark Harris who took the time to strike up a conversation with a total stranger and provided such valuable advice, laced with a very daunting challenge.
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