Authors Interviewing Characters: Carla Malden

PLAYBACK

34-year-old Mari Caldwell is fiercely disappointed in herself. She’s done the one thing she always promised herself she would never do: raise her young daughter in a broken home, just as she had been raised. Professionally, making a living by photographing real estate has subsumed her dream of becoming a rock ‘n’ roll photographer. Anxious, disillusioned, and overwhelmed by modern-day living — that’s Mari — until a twist of fate plunges her decades into the past, back to the pinnacle of Hippie culture: Haight-Ashbury, 1967. The last gasps of the Summer of Love.

Mari lands among peace signs, flowers-in-your-hair, and the constant soundtrack of strumming guitars and jangling tambourines. There, she uncovers an authenticity, optimism and idealism absent from her present-day life. Not only does she fall in love with the times, she falls madly in love with singer-songwriter, Jimmy Westwood. Immersed in those times and that love, she re-discovers herself. Ultimately, she is faced with the impossible: choosing between staying in the Sixties or returning to her real life.

PLAYBACK shines a light on a seminal time in American history, the disquietude of our current moment, and the timeless love of a mother for her child. 

Author:

Mari, what did you think when you suddenly realized you’d been transported to 1967?

Mari:

First thought: “Not again!” (since this happened to me before, half my lifetime ago, at the age of 17).  I wondered why I, of all people, seem to have a way of sliding through a kink in the time-space continuum. I was never one of those time-travel gamer nerds, so why me? But also… whoa!… San Francisco in 1967 was so colorful, so alive. 

Author:

What was the most fun about being in 1967?

Mari:

Easy: Jimmy. Everything Jimmy. He made me feel like myself, but not the self I spent my whole life trying to escape. An actual comfortable self. You can wait a lifetime for that feeling and never capture it. Lucky me. So… the short answer: Jimmy. But also Vic – my grandfather. At the risk of waxing corny, meeting the grandfather I never knew (even if he didn’t know he was my grandfather) was its own kind of falling in love. Anyone would love Vic. He’s just what you’d want from a grandfather – quirky, sweet… twinkly.  I miss him all the time, but I can hear his voice in my head. Family connection – that’s a force. 

Author:

What did you miss about the present when you were in 1967?

Mari: 

Besides my little girl? You’d think I’d miss all the tech. But no, it turns out a non-functioning iPhone is strangely liberating. I was so present in the past (cue brain explosion) that I didn’t miss screens at all. I certainly didn’t miss the news. Without the constant barrage, it was like my psychic shoulders were finally able to drop. I’m well aware: all the things that spoil us (a.k.a.: allow us to be lazy) are supposed to free up huge swaths of brain territory for more important pastimes. But there’s a fine line between freedom and atrophy, cranially-speaking. I don’t see anyone solving climate change because they can use an ATM instead of interacting with a human inside the bank. I sound like a crotchety old person… but since I spent some time being 17 in ‘67, depending on how you do the math, maybe I am.

Author:

What qualities of the Sixties have you carried with you into the present?

Mari:

I hope I brought some of the qualities from my friend Jennifer: openness, warmth, ease, but also strength. Basically, she was the mirror image of me… in reverse. I’d like to say that since coming back, I radiate peace-and-love wherever I go, but who am I kidding? My default position, personality-wise, is so the opposite of a lavender-aura kumbaya moment. Au contraire. I’ve made my own weird peace with that, or I’ve tried to. But maybe the sharp quills of my me-against-the-world exterior have been filed down a bit. The Sixties did that. Those people in that time.

Author:

What would drive you back to the Sixties?

Mari:

Third time’s the charm, right? But twice was plenty, thank you very much. Even if I were tempted to go back, I’d be too afraid of being trapped there. That short time when I thought I’d never get back to Joni was the most terrifying episode of my life… in any era. Embarrassingly, I continue to discover that my heart soaked up the peace-and-love… on a good day anyway. That would be the only reason to go back — for the peace-and-love. Clichéd, I know, but that’s the best way to sum up the feeling I had strolling down Haight Street with music drifting out of every window. 

Author:

Speaking of music wafting through the air, is there a song that transports you back to that weekend you spent in the waning days of the Summer of Love?

Mari:

OMG – you’re right – it was just a weekend!  It felt like a lifetime! There are so many songs that whisk me right back to that time and place. “Sgt. Pepper”… “Renaissance Faire” by the Byrds… anything by Jefferson Airplane.  And, of course, “Tamara Moonlight.” That song crystallizes my personal time-travel conundrum. I was named for that song… so how could it be that it was written for me?! It’s my song in so many ways it makes you go cross-eyed. The harmony between Jimmy and Nina is pretty gorgeous, too. There’s no denying they made beautiful music together.

Author:

Speaking of Nina…

Mari:

Must we?

Author:

Uh-oh!

Mari:

I’m just kidding… sort of… no, really, I am. 

Author:

Once a rival, always a rival?

Mari:

Not at all. Well, maybe just a little.  I was a moment in Jimmy’s life. Nina was his life. I’m finally mature enough to understand that. 

Author:

Anything you want the people who read your story to know?

Mari:

You know what they say: if you remember the Sixties, you weren’t really there. Maybe that’s true. Maybe I remember them because I wasn’t really there… or maybe I only think I remember them because I really was there. Who knows? Not me. I’ve studied time travel up the proverbial wazoo, and all I know for sure is that I believe I was there and that my time there changed me. It taught me that when you take a photograph, high res doesn’t matter as much your connection with the subject… that worrying about your children isn’t as important as laughing with them. Be here now and if you don’t like that now, change it. 

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Raised in Los Angeles, Carla Malden began her career working in motion picture production and development before becoming a screenwriter. Along with her father, Academy Award winning actor Karl Malden, she co-authored his critically acclaimed memoir When Do I Start?

Carla’s feature writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, highlighting the marvels and foibles of Southern California and Hollywood. She sits on the Board of the Geffen Playhouse. Her previous novels include Search Heartache, Shine Until Tomorrow, and My Two and Only.

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, Interviews, On Writing