When the Titanic sank in 1912, people vaguely recalled reading a book that seemed to predict this horrible event.  Sure enough, in 1898 Morgan Robertson had written a book titled Futility.  The subtitle was Wreck of the Titan.  The fact that Robertson wrote his book 14 years before the tragedy was startling.  Quite a coincidence, yes? 

Following the disaster, Robertson was besieged with questions.  Disavowing any psychic ability or spiritual inspiration, Robertson pointed out he was a maritime expert who kept tabs on shipbuilding trends.  Robertson added he was aware of the icy hazards awaiting any ship crossing the North Atlantic.  Nevertheless, starting with the near-identical ship names, the similarities between the wreck of the Titan and the Titanic were uncanny. 

 In the fictional version as well as the actual event, both ships struck an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic. 

 The fictional collision and actual collision took place at midnight in mid-April.

 Robertson's Titan disaster took place 800 miles from Newfoundland. The Titanic disaster took place 800 miles from Newfoundland.

 In the book, since the Titan was considered unsinkable, it carried far too few lifeboats, "as few as the law allowed."  The Titanic carried just 20 lifeboats.  This was far too few for the number of people aboard, and yet this was technically legal. The law at that time based the number of lifeboats required on the gross register tonnage of a ship, not passenger capacity.

  In the book, more than half the Titan's 2500 passengers and crew drowned.  More than half the Titanic's 2200 passengers and crew died. 

When Robertson wrote his book in 1898, there was an amusing  twist to the weird Titan-Titanic coincidences.  Although Robertson was already a well-known writer of short stories, he became deeply frustrated when everyone refused to publish his latest book.  His rejection letters all said the same thing. 

"We're sorry, Mr. Robertson, but no one will ever believe this story!"

I laughed out loud when I read that.  I immediately thought of a memorable Mark Twain quote.

"Why shouldn't truth be stranger than fiction?  Fiction, after all, has to make sense." 

In other words, Robertson's Fictional Story did not make sense.  That is why it was roundly rejected. 

On a personal note, I was fascinated by Robertson's Titan tale.  His story was not some vague Nostradamus quatrain.  Quite the contrary.  His description was so accurate it was almost like Robertson had transcribed the newspaper account of the event FOURTEEN YEARS AHEAD OF TIME. 

Precognition perhaps??  Oh, I forgot.  Science says Precognition does not exist.  And neither does ESP.

After selling the dance studio in 2010, I began writing full-time.  In addition to this book, I wrote a sequel, Magic Carpet Ride, which covered the events that led to my dance career.   Both books had one thing in common: I scrupulously avoided any mention of God, Fate, Divine Intervention and Cosmic Blindness.  As for the coincidences, yes, I had no choice but include them because they played a major part in a true story.  However I refrained from pointing out my personal belief, "Coincidence is a small miracle in which God prefers to remain anonymous."  Nor was there any mention of Hindsight.  In the grand tradition of autobiography, I wrote the stories from the perspective of living my life forward with no hint of what was coming next. 

It was now October, 2014.  So far no one had read my drafts.  Nor had I published them on the website.  After all that writing I was understandably curious what people would think of my unusual stories.  Jim Dulaney was a basketball friend of mine.  Whenever we waited our turn for the next pickup basketball game, we would sit together and chat.  One day Jim said he was writing a book, then added he was a member of a writer's group.  Hmm.  Tired of writing without feedback, I asked if he would take a look at an excerpt.  Jim said he would be glad to help.  When I got home I emailed him two excerpts from this book.  One dealt with the German test cheating story.  The other was the updated 2010 version of Mrs. Ballantyne's Intervention Story. 

A week later Jim sent an email reply. 

From: Jim DuLaney
Sent: Wednesday, October 14, 2014 3:48 PM
To: Rick Archer
Subject: LETTER FROM JIM

Okay, Rick, I reviewed a few chapters of your book.  What is the purpose of your book?  Best I can tell, it is an autobiography, but that genre is usually restricted to famous people.  So I assume you are famous, right?

Your most humble and obedient servant, Jim
 

No, I wasn't famous.  However I was devastated.  Jim's response felt like a put-down, so I made a point to corner him at our next basketball game.

Jim claimed he was only teasing.  "I'm sorry you took it the wrong way, but that's the problem with email.  You never know if someone is teasing or being critical."

"Okay," I said, "that makes me feel a little better.  But I still get the sense there's something bothering you.  What's wrong?"

Bless his heart, Jim was candid.  Some people sugarcoat things, but Jim gave it to me straight.

"I'm sorry if I sound harsh, Rick, but your story reads like Charles Dickens on steroids.  There are too many coincidences.  Plus your story is unbelievably weird.  Do you really expect people will believe a story where some kid catches you cheating thanks a one-in-a-million coincidence?  Or you get rescued from the worst crisis of your life by some sort of fairy Godmother?  Seriously, these stories are so over-the-top, I bet even Charles Dickens would blush."

With a derisive chuckle at my expense, Jim had more to say. 

"What a shame you aren't Charles Dickens.  And what a shame you aren't famous.  Now, if you were as famous as Charles Dickens, you might stand a chance.  Dickens had a reputation for making strange coincidences the centerpiece of every novel he wrote.  Unfortunately, you're no Charles Dickens.  Hey, that gives me an idea.  Why not try writing your story as fiction?  Then your book might have a chance."

One moment later Jim corrected himself.

"No, on second thought, Fiction won't work.  Even if you wrote your story as Fiction, your story is still unbelievable.  Too many coincidences.  If you are going to get anyone to swallow your tale, take some of the weirdness out of it.  Start by making your story more believable."

That night I thought long and hard about Jim's criticism.  Mark Twain once said, ""Fiction is obligated to make sense."  Jim Dulaney had just said pretty much the same thing.  His suggestion was to make my story more believable.  Unfortunately, there was only one way to accomplish that.  I had no choice but to reveal my belief in Fate and make it the centerpiece of both books.  If I did that, the length of both books would double.  What a headache!  I groaned out loud.  But here was my problem.  Even if I did that, who would believe me?  That is when I thought of Morgan Robertson.

"We're sorry, Mr. Archer, but no one will ever believe your story."

It was no coincidence that Jim Dulaney had referenced Charles Dickens in his criticism of my excerpts.  In literary circles, Dickens is often cited for his heavy reliance on coincidence.  The readers love him, but the critics lampoon him.  For example, in 1898 The Saturday Review published a critique that objected to the growing canonization of Charles Dickens.  The scathing narrative referred to Dickens's reliance on 'Chance' as "the sin, most gross, most palpable, which Dickens commits everywhere in his abuse of coincidence."

Jim Dulaney had just accused me of abusing coincidence in a way similar to Dickens.  Taken at face value, his disapproval made sense, but with an asterisk.  What Jim did not know is that my coincidences were true-to-life experiences.  He had assumed I made them up using 'literary license'.  What was I supposed to do?  If I were to somehow write around my countless coincidences, perhaps my book would be more commercially palatable.  However, I would hate myself in the process.  On the other hand, if I continued to tell each story truthfully, I shuddered to think people would laugh at my overuse of coincidence in the same way they laughed at Charles Dickens. 

As much as I hated to admit it, part of me agreed with what Jim Dulaney was saying.  In my mind, the overuse of coincidence was akin to bad writing.  I had Mr. Curran to blame for that.  As I wrote in an earlier chapter, my former English teacher loved to make fun of Charles Dickens.  In the process he poisoned me against Charles Dickens for all time. 

Although I have discussed Mr. Curran's interest in Dickens before, I wish to briefly revisit this topic  Why?  Because it explains why Jim Dulaney's criticism upset me so much.