Milka—What?

I, for one, didn’t give a single thought to actress/party-girl Lindsay Lohan when I first saw the E-Trade commercial that originally aired during the Super Bowl. And now, thanks to her $100 million lawsuit alleging E-Trade illegally used her name, she’s forever attached to this commercial.

Does anyone else smell a publicity hoax? It’s an absurd lawsuit that has succeeded at getting her name in the news and E-Trade’s commercial shown again and again on television. And this is just the kind of crap the media laps up. Lindsay has already been labeled as a lesbian, a lunatic and a lime-light-loving narcissist. Why should she be phased by being called a “milka-holic?” If anything, that’s the kindest thing she’s been called.

If she owns a copyright on the name “Lindsay,” or has any supplemental rights to its use, why isn’t she suing the hundreds of thousands of parents who’ve opted to give their children this name?

Two years ago I was in a copyright dispute over use of the word BUNCO (or BUNKO), which we wanted to use in the title of my second novel (ultimately called It’s Not Your Mother’s Bridge Club). Prior to publication, my publisher contacted the World Bunco Association, located in southern California, announcing the title (The Bunco Chronicles), which was a story about a group of women who play the popular dice game. He hoped to generate an association with this organization and promote book sales to this target audience. Instead the response he received was to “cease and desist” in the name of copyright infringement.

Leslie Crouch, association president, claimed to hold all rights to the use of this word for many things, including book titles. In spite of my publisher’s and his attorney’s rejection of this claim, we met with her and attempted to negotiate a deal. Turns out she wanted fifty percent of the royalties, which most would agree was almost as absurd as Lindsay Lohan’s price tag. Considering most copyright deals fall between three and ten percent, it all felt like a great big bunco operation.

We soon learned the World Bunco Association only had “supplemental” rights to the word and according to our research (which included conversations with ten different attorneys) Crouch wasn’t entitled to have exclusive use of the word. This doesn’t mean she didn’t have the right to sue if we did use it. And although we believed she wouldn’t win the case, we’d spend far too much in legal fees defending our right to use the word bunco (even if we spelled it with a K). No one but the lawyers would have made a dime off my little bunko novel.

It could have been a win-win situation for the book and the association but everything about the ordeal ended up feeling wrong. So, we changed the name of the book.

Reviews were good but sales were modest at best. My small publisher doesn’t have a big publicity department and I, unfortunately, am not as narcissistic and lime-light-loving as Lindsay Lohan. I haven’t pounded the publicity pavement as much as I should have if I wanted the novel to be a true success.

Damn! Why didn’t I give my alcoholic character (Tara) the name Lindsay? Maybe Lindsay Lohan would have sued me for $100 million (or fifty percent of the profits) and my book would have been all over the news.

Live and learn.

Local Author Pens Another Winner

By Joyce Laabs
Features Editor

Summer resident Michele Van Ort Cozzens, who with her husband, Mike, owns and operates the Sandy Point Resort in Lac du Flambeau, has written another winner.

It's Not Your Mother's Bridge Club (McKenna Publishing Group) is set in the Rattlesnake Valley, a desert community in southern Arizona. (The Cozzens make their winter home in Tucson).

It’s the story of the members of "The Snake Eyes Dice Club" - eight middle-aged women who try to meet monthly to play Bunko. For many in the club this represents their only social outing.

The members: Sylvia, Brandy, Tootsie, Chloe, Amanda, Blanca, Tara and the narrator of all that happens, Shonah.

Members take turns hosting the monthly meetings, and preparing is quite a production in itself. There are also rules: No men or children allowed; and no drink counters.

The reader sees each woman evolve as they meet the challenges in their lives. We learn of their joys and frustrations through their own words.

Although Cozzens has been a member of a bunko group in Arizona for several years, she insists the ladies of the Snake Eyes Dice Club, are all products of her imagination - and that is good - for most members of the club border on dysfunctional - but perhaps if you dig deep enough in any person's life you will find most dysfunction in some area.

We loved the book, and empathized with each and every member of the club; and what a diverse group - from the very wealthy to just making ends meet - from obsessively scheduled to "living free" - from social drinker to alcoholic - they all had their unique characteristics.

Through their conversations at bunko parties and intimate thoughts on their relationships with members of the club, revealed by Cozzens' pen, the women come alive, and you will probably recognize someone you know.

Shonah, whose childhood friend founded the club, gave up her journalistic dreams when she married, but keeps a piece of it alive as a columnist for the local newspaper. Each chapter begins with a quote from her column titled "The Dice Club Chronicles."

I'm not sure I would have liked to have been a member of this particular bunko club - much too stressful for what is supposed to be a fun night with the girls - but it makes for a really great read.

There is another plus - you learn bunko.

The 240-page soft cover book sells for $19.95, and can be purchased at the gift shop at Sandy Point Resort or through amazon.com.

Five dollars from the sale of each book are donated to "Bunko for Breast Cancer" chapters across America for the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Cozzens is a soccer mom, jewelry-designer and resort owner; married to the man of her dreams. They have two daughters, and as we said, divide their time between Northern Wisconsin and Tucson, Ariz.

Joyce Laabs can be reached at
features@lakelandtimes.com

Fact, Fiction and the Future.

Writing fiction is a freeing exercise. As a trained journalist and working reporter, the concepts of truth and objectivity once took precedence in everything I wrote.  When I became a columnist, truth still mattered, but I got to taste the savory flavor of injecting my own opinion into the content. Except for the occasional hate mail, it was delicious. Still, it doesn’t compare to the sweet sensation of just making shit up. Fiction gives a writer license to lie.

The novel I’m currently writing, Irish Twins, is the story of two sisters born less than twelve months apart. Without doubt, those who know us will see Gayle and me in this tale. When I first started writing it, I relived the past my sister and I shared as I typed. Somewhere around page 80, however, the concept of fiction took hold of my creative powers, and the two main characters, Jenny and Caylie, took on their own identities.  Characteristics were embellished; conversations more dramatic, and certain elements I simply didn’t want to relive were conveniently erased from existence. It’s truly a powerful thing.

 

Having just returned to our summer home, I’m still unpacking and becoming reacquainted with the place we’ve owned for 17 years. It’s filled with furniture and keepsakes, items far more representative of who we are than what we have on display at our desert dwelling.

Back in March, I posted a blog about an old typewriter that once belonged to my mother. (It's Not Your Mother's Typewriter). I waxed nostalgic about using it as a child and recalled a black and white photo of myself in front of it. It’s a photo that was sent by my mother when I was still a working journalist and she wrote a caption on the back indicating the snapshot was prophetic of my future. I knew the photo, processed in Sept., 1964, was in Wisconsin, but I didn’t realize it was in a magnet frame on the fridge.

In my fictional memory, the little girl was sitting in front of the Underwood typewriter featured in my blog. The factual reality is that it’s a child’s typewriter, one with a wheel at the top, used to dial the desired letter.  The caption I quoted in the blog was: “Was there ever a question of this girl’s future career?” Factual evidence shows my memory was close, but not entirely accurate. Here’s my mother’s quote, in tiny, tight handwriting that isn’t the least bit foggy in my memory:

For my mother, who often speaks to me as I write this new novel about the Irish Twins, I will answer her question: This photo tells me a lot about this little girl’s future. Here’s what it says:  She’ll grow up to write fiction based on fact, but she’ll take a lot of pleasure in creating her own reality. Also, she’ll always love and have that hand-hooked rug with the birds and the cats and the rose-colored house. And it’ll always be with her other childhood keepsakes in the place she calls Summer.

In my Wisconsin Bedroom

Bunko: It's Not Your Mother's Bridge Club

The Perfect Cast for 

A Line Between Friends

Searching the Internet for images for a promo video about my first novel, A Line Between Friends, I inadvertently came across actors who I think would be key in the roles of opposing narrators Joel and Noelle.

Joel: Wentworth Miller

Noelle: Amy Adams

We Are a Bunko Group

We are a bunko group. We began years ago when things like fund-raising and PTA meetings brought us together. Some of us met in school, some through exercise classes or neighborhood watch meetings. We are sisters, in-laws, business associates, teachers, consultants. We are friends. We make each other laugh. We make each other cry. But above all else, we make each other know we are not in this alone. Photo from Christmas Bunko, December, 2008. Tucson, AZ.

Do You Play Bunko?

Even if you don't belong to a bunko group, you may have heard of this dice game played by MILLIONS of American women each month. It's no secret that this game is so simple that the only brain requirement is you know how to count to 21. The main physical requirement is that you know how to roll dice.

What may be a secret, however, is that women who belong to bunko groups don't go to the monthly gatherings just to play the game. The main reason they go is to connect with the women in their group. Anyone looking for a way to get through the challenges of daily life will benefit by sharing stories (and rolling dice) with friends. Learning you're not alone is the most valuable gift women can give to one another.

Join a bunko group. You won't be sorry.

For Your Book Club

Per your requests we have provided relevant questions about the book, the characters and the dynamics of women's groups to help jump start your book club discussions. CLICK HERE.

It's Not Your Mother's Bridge Club

It's Not Your Mother's Bridge Club

By Michele VanOrt Cozzens

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From Midwest Book Review: FIVE STARS

"A fantastic piece of writing, recommended."

From Author Robin Meloy Goldsby: FIVE STARS
"I think Cozzens has herself one heck of a screenplay here. She would have actresses lined up to play all of those wonderful roles. Think of it this way: THE WOMEN meets DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES. But with a Rattlesnake Valley twist.

From Armchair Interviews: FIVE STARS 
"Cozzens has put together a fun novel. Yet it isn't simply humor. There are real problems discussed and dealt with-particularly alcoholism, but also infertility, job loss and personal insecurity. She deals with the problems in a manner that feels quite realistic, like these women could be anyone's neighbors."

From Reader Views: FIVE STARS
It's Not Your Mother's Bridge Club is tons of fun, although at times bittersweet, and I would recommend it to all of the female readers, especially those who have a number of colorful friends. As for husbands, they might want to pick up a copy as well - and they just might learn what their wives do on girls' nights out..."