This is the story of the patent war between Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse told through the eyes of a young patent attorney, Paul Cravath. Cravath—a real person–was hired by Westinghouse to defend him against 312 lawsuits filed by Edison over the invention of the light bulb and whether A/C or D/C will become the standard. Who will win is always in doubt. The stakes were high. The outcome would change the course of American innovation, industrialism, and even the practice of patent law forever.
“If <Edison’s patent> held, no one but Edison could manufacture and sell incandescent bulbs within the United States…. If Paul could not break the patent claim, Thomas Edison would have a monopoly on light itself.”
Paul Cravath believed, “It was not the job of a litigator to determine facts; it was his job to construct a story from those facts by which a clear oral conclusion would be unavoidable.”
Other real characters such as J.P. Morgan, Stanford White, Alexander Graham Bell, and Nikola Tesla populate this well-researched work of historical fiction.
“Edison loved the audience. For him it was the performance. It was the crowd. …Westinghouse was different. He loved the products themselves. And he made them better than anyone. He is the ultimate craftsman, isn’t he? He didn’t want to sell the most light bulbs. He wanted to make the best light bulbs…Then there’s Tesla. He was the third leg in this tripod. He didn’t care a bit about Edison’s public, or Westinghouse’s products. No, Tesla cared only for the ideas themselves…. Telsa was his own audience, and his ideas were his product, for consumption by himself alone…. Once he knew he’d solved a problem, he moved on.”
A movie of version of this story is in the works with authorGraham Moore writing the screenplay. Moore won his first Oscar for writing the screenplay for “The Imitation Game.” Actor Eddie Redmayne is set to star as Paul Cravath.
If you have someone on your gift list who likes history, science, or the law, this might be just the thing. Of course, if those subjects interest you, you might want to read it before you give it away. Just sayin’.
This post is in response to a brief blog-versation I had with the charming Brian over at Bonnywood Manorafter he kindly nominated me for a Liebster Award. Liebster means “favorite” in German and the nomination carries along with it some obligations, which I am politely, humbly, and gratefully ignoring. Brian was curious about my creative process and the critique group to which I belong. Therefore, instead of accepting the award, I wrote this. If you have something to say about writing, creativity, or lifelong learning, please do so in the comments. I’d love to hear your thoughts. XO
In this photo, my granddaughter is celebrating her 100th day of kindergarten and being “100 DAYS SMARTER.” It got me thinking, shouldn’t we all celebrate getting smarter? Am I still learning?
I like to think so, but some of that learning is accidental. For example, perhaps we should have gotten an estimate to replace the roof on this twenty-year-old house before we made our offer. Or maybe drinking several cups of tea with my sushi at dinner the other night wasn’t such a good idea. I guess that’s what they mean by “live and learn.”
Other times, however, I’ve set out to learn a new skill. On purpose. I’ve put myself in the uncomfortable situation of being potentially and embarrassingly bad at something. Like blogging. Or yoga. In short, I’ve risked failure. At my age, being new at anything is refreshing—scary and humbling–but refreshing. Even exhilarating.
Case in point, at the urging of my friend, Joan, I wrote a “novel” in 2009 during NaNoWriMo.The quotes are because my “novel” was merely 70,000 words of collected scenes and sketches, held together with hope, Dove wrappers, and sticky notes. It added up to a word count, but little else. I knew I needed help massaging it into something meaningful (readable even?), but what kind of help? How much? And who do I ask?
Enter another friend, Marilee, who just happened to be a legendary writing instructor at Western Nevada Collegeand founder of Lone Mountain Writers, a local critique group. LMW has been meeting every other week for over twenty years and has among its past and present members several published poets and authors such as romance writer, Wilma Counts. Marilee invited me to join. I accepted.
During my first few meetings, I observed the protocol and learned the ground rules. Up to four pieces are emailed to the group ahead of time so we have a chance to read deeply and make notes. Submissions can be up to fifteen pages. The group responds round-robin style with each of our oral comments limited to two or three minutes, all while the author remains stoically silent. We hand over our marked up copy to the author who only at the end may ask questions, defend, or clarify something.
I was profoundly impressed by the variety and quality of writing. Many people were working on novels. And for the most part, they didn’t need help with grammar or punctuation. The discussions focused on elements of fiction: plot, point of view, character, structure, pacing, voice, etc. These are the things a reader may not even notice, except in their absence. It’s what makes a reader want to invest time and thought and heart in the work. That stuff.
Consequently, I waited months before I worked up the courage to submit. I’d been writing personal narratives and opinions for years, but fiction was new to me. I polished my first chapters until (I thought) they sparkled. I just knew the group would be blown away by my literary genius. Instead, what I heard–repeatedly–was, “This is excellent writing, but you don’t have a story here.” Apparently, what I had was a mess of good writing.
But the story in my head kept pushing me forward. It wouldn’t let me give up.
So I kept listening and learning. I read books on writing and revising. I rewrote and resubmitted. I attended a local writers conference and got feedback from a real, live editor. I “killed my darlings,” deleting lovely little bits of writing that didn’t serve my story. I learned not to take any critique personally and to listen to those who shared my vision for my story. I smiled and respectfully set aside advice from those who wanted my story to become theirs. (It needs more explosions! How about some robots?)
Now, five years and countless drafts and revisions later, what I hear is, “This is the best thing you’ve submitted,” and “I finally like this character. I understand her now.” Whew.
So while I may not have a cute hat to wear to celebrate getting smarter, I nonetheless feel a sense of accomplishment. That’s enough to keep me going. Good thing, because it’s not done yet. But neither am I. I’ve invested too much time and energy to quit now. I’m smart enough to know that.
Resilience is a survival skill, something we need to cultivate in ourselves and our children. The Martian by Andy Weir served as inspiration for my latest Fresh Ideas column in the Nevada Appeal. It’s about Failureand how we can give our children the skills to overcome it. Click on over to read.