Monday, March 09, 2009

The Little Ladies


My children's series - The Little Ladies, is finally making its debut to the world. I am excited and genuienly humbled at the same time. I have had a number of projects floating in the air for sometime now, to see them settling down into tangible books is like watching dreams become real. There are aleady 5 books per series, and there are three series, so each book will be released as the paint dries...


We were going for a classic look with African American children, the anti hip hop, anti exagerated imagery that we often see. Something timeless, kind of a "Mary Jane" vibe, capturing their childhood in pencilled colors that make each book have a "memories" sensation. I know we captured it with this logo.
I will update you upon the completion of the first book...until then, here is the series logo. hope you like.


Saturday, March 07, 2009

Chris Brown and Rihanna

Chris Brown and Rihanna. I tried to avoid discussing this. In fact, I haven't stated my opinion to anyone really. I guess its because I don't have an opinion. Not really. Not an opinion about who is right and who is wrong. Life just ain't that simple. I am glad it wasn't my child - son or daughter. But, beyond that, I haven't felt an overwhelming need to damn anybody for their decisions, reactions, etc...until recently.

Picking up on the most recent developments - Rihanna went back to Mr. Brown. Ok, that saddens me. Greatly. I don't know what he did or didn't do, but I do know that women in love believe in change, in redemption, in regret. I saw the TMZ picture, in which her face was busted up. She definitely caught a couple of 'bows, I don't know who threw them. But, no matter how she got her ass whipped, at the end of the day she was left alone on the street. Meaning, if he didn't do it, he left her after it was done to her.

He left her.

So returning to a man who fled the scene for whatever reason, leaving me busted up, seems unimaginable to me. Don't leave me. Have you ever been to LA? Puleeze!! And her decision to marry him (allegedly) makes me wonder about her state of mind, her idea of love, her idea of self worth. She expresses regret about hurting his career - but what about her healing process, her career, her heart? What is she talking about?

At what age do we teach little black girls that they are to bear the brunt of their partners flaws - cause they can't put down a brotha who was making it? When do they begin to understand that they are expected to stand by a black man in the media, no matter what?

Was it when we forever damned Robin Givens and subsequently determined that the pageant contestant (whose name escapes me) deserved to be raped/or was lying, as we poured community support of Mike Tyson- whom we now know is capable of anything. Was it when our community ridiculed Anita Hill, a university professor and well educated women, because she was speaking against Clarence Thomas, who we now also know is capable of anything. Or maybe the message came through loud and clear when R. Kelly was allowed to go so far as piss on underage girls then sing about it and call himself the "pied piper" (the man who lures children away from their homes with music) and STILL got the black community's support. How about everytime we by Cam'ron's album after he rapped about raping Nas's then four year old daughter.

How many woman that you know - even now - expressed anger or outrage that Rihanna took down the image of Chris Brown. OK - no takers? I will raise my hand. When it first came out, I was saddened that this young girl from the islands had destroyed the image of one of OUR boys who was making it. Yep, I that was the very first thought. Why did she call the police? Why didn't she handle it in house, I thought. What about his career. No way he would have done this - WHAT DID SHE DO TO CAUSE IT?

Just as soon as the thoughts crossed my mind, my more mature self had to correct me. What the hell was I thinking? Why had my mind immediately gone to crucifying her and protecting him? Mother of a similarly aged son? Maybe. But more likely, this is what black women do, what we have been taught to do. And our little girls suffer.

Have we put any reigns on the terrific mysogyny in the music flooding the radios and infiltrating our children's minds. Nope - instead its cute when our little girls start gyrating their hips, imitating video hos, and learning at the young age that their role in life is to be the disgusting sex dream of some man who hasn't earned or developed respect for himself or anybody else.

That is what we are. It is a mistake to say that we, as a community, aren't hip hop. We are. the world has given us that label, they have extended it to be synonymous with our culture. So we are compared against it in every thing we do. And Chris Brown and Rihanna's generation have grown up with that type of backward thinking being ingrained in them as standard since they were young. Apparently, also being dipped in the music business as young people didn't help things much.

So Rihanna went back to the man being charged for the bruises on her face and who left her alone at the crime scene. Did she wonder why he asked to marry her now - what the "legal implications" of being his wife would be, how those marital protections better protect him against prosecution? Did anyone explain to her that whether or not she wanted this role, there are millions of little girls watching and learning from this situation - so even if he is innocent, her decisions have a wider reaching and broader effect. Did anyone tell her she is gorgeous and talented and while infatuations are fleeting - deep abiding love is everlasting and that love will never, ever, render her with a busted lip and two swollen eyes.

DOES ANYONE TALK TO OUR LITTLE GIRLS???

I am sad. I am sad that any of this happened. I am NOT surprised. For some reason, young couples "play fight" alot. I don't like it. I have spoken to my young cousins about this - when they haul off and put their girl friends in a head lock, or play punch - the insunuation always moving quickly from playing to overpowering. When that is the standard, how do you stop yourself from punching her in the heat of the moment when its serious? And, truth be told, all of my male relatives that "play" that way - who had girlfriends that allowed that bullish- eventually body slammed, punched, or somehow physically hurt the girl in the heat of the moment. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

I don't know what happened. I don't want to see Chris Brown do time. I don't want to see him lose endorsements, or have his image tarnished. But that isn't my decision to make - that was on him and his people. And I don't want to see her hurt, don't want to see any young lady be the brunt of this type of scrutiny.

But, the immediacy in which she returned and in which they "married" (if true) is the real tell tale here. Maybe both have something to hide. Maybe not. Maybe she is being manipulated, maybe not. But if it's love - love gives space and time to heal, love doesn't demand a quick resolution to a recent disaster. And love doesn't leave you on the streets of LA with a busted lip and two swollen eyes and indications of an obvisous ass whipping.

I hope that one day, Rihanna discovers true love. Then she will see what a nightmare this entire situation really is...

The 30's

Something about the 30's changes the body in mind in inexplicable ways. If I wasn't experiencing it, I wouldn't believe it. I understand so many things now that I couldn't conceive of before. Things no longer need to be black and white for me to accept them, and I don't have to know every detail to believe. In fact, often times now, unlike my 20's, I prefer not to know.

In my 30's I work harder to maintain inner peace. If its messing up my vibe, I don't want to hear about it, know about it, learn about it, see it, etc... The confusion of the 20's has disappeared, I am more certain about what I will and wont tolerate, about what I care about and what I don't. Will I still have a fit if my children act up in public, probably not. I no longer care as much about what other folks think, as much as I care about the well being of my kids and their needs.

But the downside of 30 - I can't eat like I used to. LOL. I can feel everything I ingest. Its kinda gross, actually. I cant eat pizza at all anymore. Cereal is out. I am lactose intolerant, but used to ignore it. Ice cream, simply not worth the nightmare reaction. I can't take it anymore. The last slice of pizza I ate, i dreamt about being sick. And the next 2 days I was. The oils are out. The sugars and juices and minimized. when I drink too much juice I can taste it, my mouth feels coated with grime. Seriously. When I eat too much of anything, I get lethargic. I feel disgusting. I love cheesecake. But now, I glance at it and think about the aggravation, and it no longer seems worth it...so the 30's have also brought on a bizarre love of lettuce and H20. Go figure...

Monday, March 02, 2009

Hope Restored

I quit. At least, I intended to. I don't know why, really, there was not one thing that I could put my finger on. But a culmination of disappointments turned into an insurmountable lump of disappointment resulting in putting the pen down. And being unable to find the energy to pick it up.

Not a conscious effort, I found myself just out of enthusiasm. Novels circled my brain, new and creative storylines that I found intriguing. Then, I would simply glance at the mounting pile of manuscripts already gathering dust on my shelf and, instead, click on the television. I have watched more television in the last two months than I have in the past 5 years.

It occurred to me - its a "kinda" writing depression.

The wind beneath my sails drifted away. The internet socializing thing led to disaster. People aren't who they represent themselves to be. I should know that, but am always surprised and disappointed to find out the opposite. I am a little too open. Still. Too believing. Still. Unable to spot crazy, when in hindsight the maniacal truth was in my face the entire time.

Why is that relevant? - well, on some levels, it shouldn't be. I forced myself to socialize in an effort to meet other authors, to make alliances, to better my art. And I have done that. So many amazing opportunities have come to me because of that, and I don't want to begrudge them. I love writing reviews, I love editing for folks, I love receiving an email requesting I participate in an anthology, read or speak at an event, consider working on a future project. That has all happened because of interent socializing.

But my personality is prone to overlook the 100 wonderful things and be devastated by the one or two bad things. So a couple of mistaken relationships were entered into. And then my current projects are in publishing limbo. So I am having to, for the one millionth time, consider self publishing. Lord knows I don't want to. And the not wanting to, in and of itself, is crazy. There is no discernable reason why I shouldn't. Self publishing, especially in this market, has limited downside. Why wouldn't I want to have 100% ownership of my own material, why wouldn't I want control over the look and direction of my work?

What is wrong with me?

Like trying to find a needle in a haystack, too many things hit me at one time and, for the first time in a long time, I just stopped. Sat still. Watched television. Thought. Wondered if I could stand to not write for a while. Then, when I tried, I found that I couldn't write, I couldn't resume the discipline of writing for simple writing.

And I quit. For a sum total of 20.5 hours.

I decided I was done. The work I had would never see the light of day, and I was fine with it. I had a decent run. Screw it. I give up.

I hadn't told my husband. Sunday he was pressed to go to church. I hadn't been in a few weeks and I missed it. Pastor Jenkins preached Hebrews 12 and entitled it "Keep Running." Yep, an entire sermon devoted to not giving up. And, since we arrived so early, I heard the end of the prior service too - so 2 sermons - on not quitting.

When I arrived home after church, a story I have been waiting to form, which previously felt blocked from me, just filled my mind like a flood. It was the craziest experience, I couldn't capture all the new characters and ideas they were coming so fully formed. Then a good friend sent an email - asked me to edit her next project. Of course I would do it for her, even if I wasn't writing anymore. As I answered her email, another email popped into my box, asking for my participation in an upcoming young adult anthology. Can't pass that up...

Then I spoke to my editor about a project of mine he was working on and he started hitting me with the Spoken Word, which made my heart jump a little. He challenged me to return with something and I was blank. So you know what that meant, off to the blog to pull up some old pieces, and get back into my poetic/spoken word vibe so that I could challenge him. Then my photographer and theme creator for my teen series called - he and the models finished up a photo shoot and he was ready to show me. What? Photo shoot? Models? I didn't even know he had started moving forward.

And, just like that, my pity party was forced to end. Just like that the writing machine kicked back in all around me and the treadmill began to slowly start its rotation. I am like the Bee movie, I guess, the machine has to keep cranking - who knows the outcome.

Which reminded me of all these blogs I have out there lingering, people who have loyally tolerated my writing temper tantrums and silent spells and still take the time to read me. I don't deserve you and I am humbled for you. thank you so much. I have some new things coming and they are fresh and unique and I hope you will like them.

So, I am calling an end to my self imposed writing retirement. Pastor said we have to stop comparing ourselves to others, have to do what we are called to do. I know the calling, I was just frustrated that it wasn't happening how I wanted it to. I was frustrated that I allowed internet socializing to distract me, that I didn't keep up the necessary borders to not get sucked into the fb/myspace time killing traps.

I am finally relinquishing the manmade goals, I am going to keep writing and see where it leads...

Friday, January 30, 2009

Invincibility

So I was driving home weighing my options. About my life. About books. About the hustle and grind of promotion, the uncertainty of publishing, the disappointment of representation, the merry go round of authorhood.

And Lauryn Hill's voice came over the airwaves. Actually, it was Lauryn and Tonya Blount, but Tonya is one of those heavy singers I can't quite tune into. I normally tune her out (I am so so sorry if that is rude to admit). So anyway, Lauryn's voice in The Eye Is On The Sparrow swept through my car and across my heart. And it reminded me of that late '90s time period, when Sister Act came out, when the Fugees first dropped. When I first encountered Lauryn Hill.

Bear with me if you have heard this story before. My then boyfriend, now husband, was part of a hip hop group named Arctic Circle and they were the opening group for a little one hit wonder hip hop trio called The Fugees. The one song was the knock, no one knew much else about The Fugees. And Lauryn was rocking the Sister Act braids on the cover of the album, so that was the female I was looking for when I met the band. During sound check, we met the other band members. I didn't see the little girl with the long braids. But this other young lady, maybe a year or so younger than me, with short afro puffs, was listening to The Arctic Circle's sound check and dancing in the middle of the club. By herself. With her arms wrapped around herself, eyes closed, and a magnetic smile. Charming. She just seemed special. I remember, standing there talking to another band member, noticing her and feeling inspired. Trying to figure out who she was and why didn't I know her, especially since I assumed she was someone from my small home town. An hour later, when she and The Fugees ripped the stage in one of the livest shows I have every experienced, I realized who she was and what they were going to be, without doubt. And there energy bounced off of me, spreading a feeling of invincibility.

Today, that memory sprang upon me. That feeling of inspiration. That was a time in my life when my husband and I really believed we were going to conquer the world. There was nothing in our way, but opportunity. The rapper of the Arctic Circle, Mike, was, and still is, a creative genius, and we would sit around his apartment for hours brainstorming, creating, strategizing. I remember when my husband and I went to Home Depot and, on a dime and desire, built an entire music studio. Developed a line of greeting cards with Mike. Created entire albums. We were laying the way for a future paved with gold.

What happened to the person I was then? When did living life become an obligatory thing wrapped around expectation and dreams became something secondary to fiddle with and tap into when time permitted. I have let my dreams down. I have let me down. I have succumbed to the desire for stability instead of courageously stepping on faith's principles that what God has for me will be for me.

Today, I longed for inspiration. And I am listening to His Eye Is On The Sparrow over and over again as I type this. I might trash signing with a publisher altogether. I am probably forever through with the agent search, the publishing search, the author search. I might simply write, self publish, promote, and let the chips fall where they may. I might just get back a touch of the inspiration I had in the'90's, a sprinkling of the determination and strong belief that I could conquer the world. Maybe if just a drop of that falls on me I will be content to use my gift however I can and let it touch who it may, even if it is only a handful of folks. Maybe that's all I was ever meant to be. Maybe that's all I was ever meant to do.

The dreams may have only been dreams, designed to tempt the soul but always escape my grasp like vapors in the night. Maybe my writing will be that small, barely noticeable scratch along the glossy paint job of the literary world. Maybe it's time I accept that. But I have to move forward - even if its just me, myself and I, me-agent, me-publisher, me-promoter.

The yo yo effect, the back and forth, the hope and damning disappointment, the staying still is killing me...

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

At Last

I am smitten, in love with my first family. Our first family. The United States of America's first family. At Last, thank you, God, At last. A sight I didn't even know would amaze me, a miracle I never realized would overwhelm me - I am so blessed just to be able to behold this, to be able to be alive on this day. The day Barack Hussein Obama became our 44th President of these United States.

At his side, a beautiful, well educated, hard working black woman - being loved before millions. Michelle, how many little girls lives will you change? I modeled my future after Claire Huxtable, my dreams of who I could be defined by a fictional character (and I will always adore Phylicia Rashad for giving life to my dream). But you, You are real. You are the truth. You really do exist. A black woman of professional ranks with dignity and grace to raise Tell me something, when have you ever seen a black woman being loved by a black man like this.

Thank you, God.

Beyonce', whom I also adore, gave a rare emotional performance that summarized love, hope, fatih, belief and overwhelming joy. Yesterday was a day beyond days. At last. At last. At last.