Today’s special guest is mystery author Thomas White and we’re chatting about his new time travel romance, The Edison Enigma.
Bio:
Tom began his career as an actor. Several years later he found himself as the Artistic Director for a theatre in Los Angeles and the winner of several Drama-Logue and Critics awards for directing. He directed and co-produced the world tour of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Coming Out Of Their Shells”. The show toured for over two years, was translated into seven different languages and seen by close to a million children. Tom served as President and Creative Director for Maiden Lane Entertainment for 24 years and worked on many large-scale productions that included Harley-Davisdon, Microsoft, Medtronic Diabetes and dozens of others. The Edison Enigma is Tom’s third novel following up Justice Rules (which was a finalist in the Pacific Northwest Writers Association 2010 Literary Contest) and The Siren’s Scream.
Welcome, Thomas. Please tell us about your current release.
Dr. Tom Edison, a present-day physicist, discovers the secret to time travel. He soon learns that he wasn’t the first to make this discovery. He also finds out that the discovery was used to change the history of the world. Dr. Edison goes back to correct this intrusion of time and restore the Earth to its original destiny, until fate takes a turn.
What inspired you to write this book?
The idea for The Edison Enigma came from a corporate event that I produced many years ago. I was working with the Saturn company and they had developed an electric car. They made a wonderful commercial where all of the electric appliances in the houses up and down the street, ran to the curb to see the electric car run by. Everyone was very excited about the reveal. ASNd then, it disappeared. Several years went by and I began to wonder what happened to the electric car? After some light research I uncovered quite a lot of evidence that at some point in time, m this may have been manipulated and attention thrown to the internal combustion engine. From there, the idea blossomed and even though I never found any evidence of congressional involvement at the turn of the 20th century, I ran with it.
Excerpt from The Edison Enigma:
Chapter 18
Tom materialized in mid-air about fifteen feet off the ground. He fell to Earth with a massive thud. He was dazed and shaken but essentially unhurt. He tested each limb and held his back as he stood.
“I guess we should move the Time Tube to the ground floor. That’s a hell of an entrance.”
He dusted himself off and looked around. Behind him, he heard a thundering roar. Instinct alone made him jump out of the roadway just in time to see a 1903 Duesenberg speed by at almost thirty miles per hour. The driver waved, and Tom could see the delight in his eyes as the car motored past. Not many people in this time had experienced the thrill of driving, and this gentleman was enjoying his shot.
Tom patted his jacket and pants. His clothes had made it through. His knapsack was on his shoulder, and he seemed physically intact. Bewildered, he took in his surroundings. In the distance, he could see the Chicago skyline of 1904. He was standing in an empty lot by a road that would one day hold the Barrington Scientific Research Center. Looking up and down Central Ave, he was surprised by the remarkable growth. The city of Cicero was well on its way to becoming a significant player in the 20thcentury. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect this type of progress. In his mind, things should have been much more rustic. Northeast of his position, he saw a tower through a dim haze. He knew from his research that the tower was 600 W. Chicago Ave., the Montgomery Ward Warehouse. That particular building did not exist in Tom’s time, but the land did house a newer version of the warehouse. Many buildings that were new in this era still lived in Tom’s. The Cassidy Tire Location had stood until a few years earlier when developers razed it to build a new apartment tower. The Chicago Public Library opened in 1904 with a donation from Isabella Blackstone in Hyde Park. That building not only existed but was still a functioning library. A few miles east, they had begun constructing the Westinghouse Telephone Equipment manufacturing plant. That facility alone would open in the next year and employ over twenty thousand employees, which was more than the population of Cicero at that moment. Given these facts, the images in Tom’s mind about 1904 were more suited to 1850. Technology was booming, and the town was becoming more of the city that he would recognize back in his own time.
He started walking toward downtown, focusing on the Montgomery Ward tower as a landmark.
Tom walked east on 47th St. to Archer and then turned north toward Chinatown, or what would become Chinatown. As he wandered, he was continually amazed at the sprawling landscape. While there were commercial and residential buildings along the way, there was still a good amount of open land. The buildings were primarily wooden structures and spread out. It had only been 30 years since the big Chicago fire, and it seemed no one wanted to be too close to one another in the event it happened again. The air was dank and smelled of smoke the closer he got to the center of town. He had read that there was a significant air pollution problem in this time period, mainly from the burning of coal.
About three miles into his trek, a fellow on a wagon, pulled by two donkeys, came by. The man stopped, “Hey there, fella, you need a ride? Where ya headed?”
“That would be great, thanks. I’m not used to this kind of exercise.” Tom laughed as he climbed aboard the wagon. The wagon had a front seat supported by two metal shock absorbers, although he doubted that was the correct term for them. The driver wore dirty overalls with one strap undone over a faded, stained, white undershirt. He had several days of brown stubble on his chin, and his brown hair was stringy and long, poking out from underneath a straw hat.
“Where ya headed?” the man repeated.
“I have to get into town, find a bank, and then head to the train station. I’m on my way to Washington, D.C.,” Tom told him.
“Washington, D.C. You a senator or somethin’?” He let out a guffaw.
Tom smiled, “No, nothing like that. I’m just visiting friends.”
They rode in silence for the next thirty minutes. Along the way, Tom saw the city he knew so well in its infancy. The buildings became closer together as they moved further into the central area of town. They went from single-story to multi-storied buildings. He saw several factories that produced a plethora of products, i.e., buggy wheels, farm tools, and livery tools.
Breaking their silence, the man said, “Right, there’s the Central Bank. You can get directions to the train station from the teller, no doubt. A’course, you coulda got the train from Cicero right into downtown, but no matter. We got ya here.”
Tom nodded and realized he should have done a bit more research on local transportation. Hoping off the wagon, he said, “I can’t thank you enough. You have a great day.”
“A great day? Now, that’s interesting. I suppose I will.” The man whipped the reins up and down, clicked with his tongue, and the two donkeys moved on down the road.
Tom smirked. There was a train from Cicero to downtown? He wondered what else he would miss being so unfamiliar with these times and customs.
Before he walked to the bank, he took a breath. This part of the city had a different smell. There were more animals and, subsequently, animal droppings. That aroma hadn’t changed over time. Several vehicles puttered down the street. With no traffic laws yet in place, they drove wherever they liked. Women walked in pairs along the sidewalks carrying parasols and wearing long dresses over petticoats and stockings. Each wore a large hat that flopped left and right as they walked. The men wore coats and vests and ascot ties. Some wore boots with their pant legs stuffed inside or even bloomers flared out at the thigh and buckled at the knee.
Seeing this all play out before him, in real time, was something that had been inconceivable only two days before. The realization that he was standing on a Chicago Street in 1904 overwhelmed him. He needed to sit. A nearby stoop served that purpose. His head was spinning at the reality he had jumped into. Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on his own reality.
What exciting project are you working on next?
I have just started my fourth novel. I recently saw the movie American Fiction, which I highly recommend, and in it a writer produces a novel as a joke to show the absurdity of what the industry wanted form ‘black authors’. My new novel will be a satirical look at the country’s outlook on sex and all that comes with it. It’s called “Kangaroo Is My Safe Word’. We’ll see if it turns out.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I have been a director for most of my life. I would tell stories on stage using actors, sets and lighting. When I first started seeing words in my head, and then I put them to paper, I considered myself a writer. Oddly though, I never used that term with anyone else until after my second novel came out. At that point, I had proof. LOL
Do you write full-time? If so, what’s your workday like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
I do not write full time although I could get used to that. Even so, I would need breaks so my schedule is working well for me right now. I have spent my career in the theatre and in event production. I still do that here in Las Vegas. It’s a free-lance job so I go from gig to gig. I have also taken up furniture refurbishing and am enjoying that immensely.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I will write for an hour or two but then I have to move. I used to have a basketball hoop in the driveway and I shoot baskets for a while. Now, I walk up and down the stairs, just to clear my head.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I love this question, I always wanted to be a garbage man. I loved the idea of piling up junk and crushing it. As I grew older I learned enough that the smell that comes with the job was not for me. I started acting as and young teen and that filled my mind for many years. In my mid-twenties I stopped acting ad started directing. Been doing it ever since.
Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
As a writer, the two things I have learned are:
- Write. Write every day. If it sucks, you can change it. You can change what you have written, you can’t change what you haven’t written. If it’s in your head, put it on paper.
- Read “On Writing” by Stephen King. That is my bible. In it he says something that I repeat to myself every page that I write. He says, “If you have a writer who produces something along the lines of, ‘The sunset was indescribable.’ Fire him! It’s his job to describe the sunset.” I often stop, read what I wrote and say to myself, “Describe the sunset.”
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