Tag: actor

Margerumalia – Local Author Fair

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – April 18, 2025

BOOK SIGNING

Tomorrow is the Local Author Fair at the Tippecanoe County Public Library and I’ve been practicing a short reading from Chapter 6 of MAMLA. It’s the part where Maria and her mom take an elevator up to the clouds and have quite the ride getting there!

I wrote in my January Margerumalia about a resolution to retrain myself to speak with the kind of clarity I’d developed as an actor, and I’m just a little nervous in spite of daily practice. I know I’ll be my own worst critic, but it’s because I used to be able to do this so easily.

I have a remarkable confidence about getting up before a group of people, and I’m continually surprised now when I stumble over my words. The words that I can hear so clearly in my head.

Please keep me in mind and send me good vibes so I can give my listeners an entertaining piece of the story.

If you’re nearby, the Local Author Fair is April 19th from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM. I’ll be signing books, and giving away mazes and bookmarks. There ought to be many more interesting authors to meet and greet as well.

SOPHOMORE EFFORT

As a freshman in college everything is new, everyone seems to know so much, and it’s all you can do to find your place in the scheme of things. 

Returning as a sophomore you now know how all the pieces fit together, and you laugh with superiority at the foolish freshmen who are so hopelessly lost. 

By the time you hit your stride in your junior year, you’re working hard and have more than a little compassion for the new class of hapless frosh. 

Senior year brings the stunning reality that you’ll soon be leaving this safe haven, and have to earn a living in the big bad world. 

I’m reminded of this quotation of Dōgen, the 13th Century father of Zen Buddhism: 

“Before one studies Zen, mountains are mountains and waters are waters; after a first glimpse into the truth of Zen, mountains are no longer mountains and waters are no longer waters; after enlightenment, mountains are once again mountains and waters once again waters.”

In writing The Most Amazing Museum of Chicago, I’m suddenly aware of my sophomore effort. I want the sequel to be able to stand alone, but also bear a resemblance to the first book. I thought I knew how to proceed. “Hey, I’ve done this once already!” But now I’m starting to realize how much I don’t know about how I did it the first time. 

The mountains and the waters are so much more than merely mountains and waters. I’m on a journey to see them once more as just mountains and waters. 

My acting teacher used to remind me, “Anything can happen.” If I take that Zen-like approach without the loaded expectations, I can still forge ahead.

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Margerumalia – The Star Trek Consultant 

Eric Margerum

Newsletter – April 11, 2025

PHOTO CREDIT: paramountplus.com

I was working the early morning shift at a coffeehouse in Los Angeles called The Blue Parrot (named after the bar in Casablanca). It was sort of a tropical-themed Starbuck’s where I learned how to froth milk—whole and skim—make croissant sandwiches, and wipe down each and every table on the patio with steaming soapy water before we opened at seven.

A morning regular who struck up daily conversations with me when I brought him his latte and English Muffin told me he was a science consultant for “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” I enjoyed asking him questions about the series and he indulged me because I was a bit of a fan as well as an aspiring actor.

When “Star Trek III” came out I told him I had seen it and really enjoyed the story about the “Search for Spock.” He eyed me for a few seconds and asked me if I noticed anything else about the movie. 

I knew he wasn’t consulting for any of the movies so he wouldn’t be offended if I pointed out a discrepancy. 

“Well, there was one thing…” I said. 

“Yes?” he leaned into the question, obviously keen to hear my answer. 

“When the Klingons used the cloaking device, the Enterprise couldn’t fire on them because they couldn’t tell where they were. But then Sulu came up with a solution to launch a photon torpedo that followed the ion trail of the Klingon ship.” 

“And the problem with that…?” 

“Well, the cloaking device was introduced back in the original series. If a photon torpedo could track an ion trail they would have done that a long time ago.” 

“Thank You!” he said, practically leaping out of his chair in righteous victory. “If YOU could see that, why didn’t any of the science types see that?”

He wasn’t insulting my intelligence but he did seem to have a bone to pick with the folk making the movies.

“Do you think they didn’t catch it?” I asked. 

“No,” he said firmly, “I think the producers wanted an easy solution and told the consultants to ignore the problem because no one would notice.”

I learned something that day about storytelling: integrity. I’m not talking about moral principles, I’m talking about the integrity of a dam that successfully holds back the floodwaters. Whether it’s a science fiction story, a whodunnit, or a romance, there is an internal logic that has to be followed, the integrity of the story. Otherwise you lose the audience and they won’t trust you the next time. 

By the way, my wife and I figured out that she had been coming to The Blue Parrot for months before we met but she always arrived after my morning shift. I picture a romantic comedy in which the couple keep missing each other until the inevitable meet-cute. 

Live Long and Prosper 

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My middle grade novel, The Most Amazing Museum of Los Angeles, is available through The BookBaby Bookshop at https://store.bookbaby.com/book/the-most-amazing-museum-of-los-angeles