tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-245967632024-03-07T16:15:11.394-05:00The Spinner's Yarn: Love Stories for the Mind, Body, and SoulSavannah J. Frierson's blog about her journey as an author.Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.comBlogger253125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-89933354502573275322011-08-26T21:25:00.012-04:002013-01-25T09:49:03.014-05:00Coming Home Tour - Reflections<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span">The Bad</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li>The car I rented didn’t have cruise control and it teased me with promises of Sirius XM Radio only to find out there was no subscription. That’s five hours of my foot on the gas and praying the radio had something good on and my mp3 player didn’t decide to die despite me charging it the night before.</li>
<li>Payment issues forcing me to pay everything in advance unexpectedly.Luckily, I saved for this trip, but the inconvenience was there anyway.</li>
<li>The Westin nickel and diming everything.</li>
<li>The Westin turning into a club on a Saturday night. Would’ve been nice to have a head’s up that was going to happen.</li>
<li>The pillows at the Westin. There really is such a thing as too damn soft.</li>
<li>The A/C at the Westin was bipolar—didn’t know if it wanted to work consistently or at all.</li>
<li>The cabbie taking us on an unwanted tour of Atlanta to go basically three miles down Piedmont to Smith's Olde Bar. I got us to around there in five minutes driving blind the next day.</li>
<li>Not being able to connect with my cousins. <span _mce_style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;" style="font-family: Wingdings;">L</span> Damn vibrate mode!</li>
<li>The Waffle House in Downtown Atlanta full of rude-ass college students blocking precious parking. <i>Rude</i>. Like, I had no words for the rudeness, so thus explaining why there is no Waffle House photo or reflection coming (I was so flabbergasted I forgot to snap a photo…and I had to drive all the way back to SC less the waffle I had anticipated all damn weekend. My consolation is this wasn’t the Waffle House I’d envisioned in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Jada-Channing-ebook/dp/B003UD88OY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314408411&sr=8-1">Reconstructing Jada Channing</a></i> anyway).</li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span">The Good</span></b><br />
<ul>
<li>Getting to and from Atlanta safely in my non-cruise-control-having car, praise be to God.</li>
<li>Someone actually coming to the Meet and Greet! *shout out Courtnie & her peeps and <i>please</i> learn Javier’s <i>real</i> name!*</li>
<li><a _mce_href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&cd=3&sqi=2&ved=0CCgQjBhttp://www.sundialrestaurant.com" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&cd=3&sqi=2&ved=0CCgQjBhttp://www.sundialrestaurant.com" style="color: #007bff;">The Sun Dial Restaurant</a> being delicious (if slightly overpriced) with gorgeous views. <i>Gorgeous</i>. Though, as it turns out, there is no dance floor per se, I figured out what Jada Mae will be craving when she’s pregnant. <s>There may be shorts.</s></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><img _mce_src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9lrZgrn1qajeoy.jpg" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9lrZgrn1qajeoy.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="200" /> </span><img _mce_src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9pfOCVK1qajeoy.jpg" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9pfOCVK1qajeoy.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Jada's sweet tea...with vanilla and orange - yum) and cheesecake. There was also a shrimp fondue-type thing in which you dip toasted bread and just yum, yum, yum!)</div>
<ul>
<li>The cutie bouncer at the pub next door to the Westin. He wore the mess out of a black <span _mce_style="font-variant: small-caps;" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Security</span> T-shirt.</li>
<li>Learning I like Baileys Irish Cream. A lot. I’m sure both Aaron and Patrick are proud of this.</li>
<li>The photo shoot. Had “I Feel Pretty” playing in my head. <a _mce_href="http://sevanphotography.com/" href="http://sevanphotography.com/" style="color: #007bff;">Sevan Photography</a>, shout out—can’t wait to see the results and Shannon is good people. Thanks <a _mce_href="http://www.nuriabdurrauf.com/" href="http://www.nuriabdurrauf.com/" style="color: #007bff;">Nuri</a> for hipping me to them! If you need photos done, go to them, seriously.</li>
<li><a _mce_href="http://www.smithsoldebar.com/" href="http://www.smithsoldebar.com/" style="color: #007bff;">Smith’s Olde Bar</a> had some tater tots that brought me to a happy place, yes. Also, after fighting off some sleepiness, enjoyed the first band that performed that night (bonus Trent from <i><a _mce_href="http://omnificpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=19&products_id=51" href="http://omnificpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=19&products_id=51" style="color: #007bff;">The Way That You Play It</a></i>). Favorite parts of the band: the <s>hottie</s> Black T-shirt!Rhythm Guitarist and the Percussionist—both of whom couldn’t even give the slightest of damns. It was hot.</li>
<li>Traveling to the spots featured in our novels. My favorite has got to be the “underwhelming” Island Def Jam Music Group location, but apparently it’s a recording studio so…welp? I literally thought the GPS had led us to someplace we should’ve never gone but nope, there it was! That was a cool surprise. Piedmont Park is large and it was ridiculously hot. My favorite, though, was probably the Plaza Theater. <s>There may be shorts.</s></li>
</ul>
<span class="Apple-style-span">
</span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="260" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gYglcj0uldM" width="410"></iframe></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">The Epic</span></b></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span">
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<ul>
<li><i><a _mce_href="http://www.bjthornton.com/" href="http://www.bjthornton.com/" style="color: #007bff;">FINALLY MEETING BJ!!!</a></i></li>
<li>Finally meeting BJ (it beared repeating.)!</li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span">B</span>reaking out of my shell slightly (This is includes wearing one of BJ's dresses a dress I’d bought over a year ago but not having worn until this trip…1.) I’m not a dress person and 2.) this is a dress that’s grown and, dare I say, sexy, and I’m still working on being both; although I apparently failed a test because a guy was waving at me (I was not wearing the grown-and-sexy dress; I was wearing my birthday dress…incidentally a dress that I’d also purchased last year and hadn’t worn out until my birthday, heh) and I did <i>not</i> notice it at all. Almost 12 hours later BJ deigns to tell me some guy was trying to let me know his interest. Well, hell, I can’t be blamed for this because BJ was looking fierce so I naturally <i>assumed</i> any attention would go to her. Lesson learned.).</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<img _mce_src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9tdhkWY1qajeoy.jpg" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqk9tdhkWY1qajeoy.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span">(le white dress. Apparently, it was a hit...)</span></div>
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span">Ir</span>onically realizing it’s much harder to do marathon conversations in person.</li>
<li>A very tacky flashing Cinderella pumpkin-esque horse-drawn carriage. <s>There may be shorts.</s></li>
<li>Realizing someone you’ve been fangirling for years is actually someone who calls you a friend and being extremely humbled by that.</li>
<li>BJ realizing I really am a sports girl. Hee.</li>
<li><span _mce_style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";" style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>BJ accusing me of holding out on her re: my sense of humor. I call shenanigans on that, although my NASCAR analogy was pretty awesome. Don’t ask me what I was comparing, however; I’d just had alcohol and I was sleepy.</li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span">H</span>aving two camera-averse people tasked with taking pictures for their respective blogs…BJ did a better job than I did, admittedly. I was even a good sport and didn’t run away from the camera (that wasn’t the photo-shoot!camera. Y’all be proud).</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Friendships being affirmed.</li>
</ul>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span">All in all, I consider the weekend a success; as first-times go for something like this, there were hiccups and disappointments, but I think if this is done again, it’ll be far more laidback and chill. I realized I’m personally not a huge Atlanta-as-a-city fan, although I do like it as a choice as a hub for my characters’ in the universe that’s being created with them. I do hope to do more trips like this with BJ and other author friends; and hopefully with more readers too.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<br />Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-25449893618877218282011-08-12T19:30:00.004-04:002011-08-12T19:39:39.948-04:00Question Set #3 - Coming Home Tour Countdown<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Reminder: In order to be in the running for <a href="http://bana05.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-it-beginscoming-home-countdown.html" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(213, 42, 51); ">my giveaway</a>, all you have to do is answer three questions correctly that pertain to either <i>Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> or <i>Being Plumville. </i>Answers only count if replied onto the blogpost--no e-mails please.
<br />
<br />~~~
<br />
<br />1.) In what class does Coralee tutor Benjamin?
<br />
<br />2.) What is Jada's grandmother's name?
<br />
<br />3.) What scene left the most impact on you from either book?</span>
<br />
<br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=102120" type="text/javascript" ></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-25401225871428032542011-08-12T19:00:00.004-04:002011-08-12T19:29:13.544-04:00Coming Home Tour Countdown - The ATLAfternoon, everyone! Here's the third official blog post for the <a href="http://bana05.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-it-beginscoming-home-countdown.html" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(213, 42, 51); ">Coming Home Tour Countdown</a>! This week, <a href="http://bjthornton.com/thewaythatyouplayit.html" style="text-decoration: none; color: rgb(213, 42, 51); ">BJ</a> and I are basically answering the unasked question - why Atlanta? - and giving you an idea of landmarks we plan to visit once we get there. And remember to answer the questions on my blog to be eligible for the giveaway!<div>
<br /></div><div>~~~</div><div>
<br /></div>When I was 9, me and one of my dearest friends (still to this day) swore we were going to Spelman for college because it was the best all-girl black college out there.<div>
<br /></div><div>That plan never did pan out.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>When I was thirteen, my uncle, sister, and I went to the Olympics and saw various events--track & field and gymnastics are the two that particularly stick out to me. Dominique Dawes was a tiny little dot when she was performing, but we didn't care because it was awesome for us to see our favorite gymnast in person.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>A year or so later, we went to Turner Field to catch an Atlanta Braves game (our favorite baseball team) in the nosebleed seats of the brand new facility. I couldn't tell you who won, but it was fun.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The next time I'm in Atlanta is in 2005. The new pope was being named and my <a href="http://www.kuumbasingers.org/">college choir</a> was doing a tour of Atlanta. We toured the MLK site and sat in Ebenezer Baptist Church, and I had a moment. We sang at CNN. There were too many Peachtrees for my mostly non-Southern compatriots. And as soon as we hit our first Southern stop (we took a bus down from Boston and we stopped in Charlotte), I cried over the double waffle order I had at Waffle House because it was so good to be "home" after a long, cold, arduous senior year of finals and thesis writing (that'd I'd, incidentally, turned in days before I'd left for the Atlanta tour!).</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The reason why I'd chosen Atlanta as a central location in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Jada-Channing-ebook/dp/B003UD88OY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312573705&sr=8-1">Reconstructing Jada Channing</a></i>, and then Georgia for Plumville, was because it was a central location in the South, and a "big Southern city" people would recognize. Whenever people think of cities, the South isn't usually where people mentally go, but cities are also associated with diversity and progressiveness, even though many times that's merely a facade. So, I thought it was a good reference point, but then I could create towns like Plumville and little communities like the one Jada's from, and flesh it out for everyday people just living everyday lives, but those lives are extraordinary to them. And for someone like Jada, though she sees the Westin in the skyline many a time, she's never set foot in it. Or though Atlanta is merely an hour away for Coralee, she doesn't have the freedom Benny has to make those weekend trips to the movies like he can; in fact, the only reason why anyone goes to Atlanta, in <i>her</i> world, is because of some sort of trouble. And how is it one city can change so much over generations, but, in many ways, stay the same?</div><div>
<br /></div><div>I'm excited to go back to Atlanta, particularly now since I have family there - both actual and fictive. I'm excited to go with my girl BJ, because this reunion has certainly been a long time coming. She was one of the first people to read <i>Being Plumville</i> when it was in its infancy and her comments were so invaluable to me, y'all don't know. I'm excited to meet those who've read my work, and a little nervous too, not gonna lie! I'm just excited and I hope all of you can come and share in this with us. I promise you won't regret it!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>~ bana</div><div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=102120" type="text/javascript" ></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-12906753471544158812011-08-05T16:20:00.003-04:002011-08-05T16:27:51.768-04:00Question Set #2 - Coming Home Tour CountdownReminder: In order to be in the running for <a href="http://bana05.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-it-beginscoming-home-countdown.html">my giveaway</a>, all you have to do is answer three questions correctly that pertain to either <i>Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> or <i>Being Plumville. </i>Answers only count if replied onto the blogpost--no e-mails please.<br /><br />~~~<br /><br />1.) What kind of firm is McKensie Lowman?<br /><br />2.) What is the name of Jada's family's restaurant?<br /><br />3.) In what year do the main events of <span style="font-style: italic;">Being Plumville</span> begin?<br /><br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=101016" type="text/javascript" ></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-73772212013522260112011-08-05T16:00:00.004-04:002011-08-05T16:17:38.509-04:00Coming Home Tour Countdown - BP Deleted SceneIn a funny twist, this <span style="font-style: italic;">Being Plumville</span> drabble is even older than the <span style="font-style: italic;">Reconstructing Jada Channing</span> ficlet I'd just posted. I tell this story every time I speak, but <span style="font-style: italic;">Being Plumville</span> came about because I was having serious angst about RJC (at the time it was called <span style="font-style: italic;">The Life to Live</span>...yeah, I was deep in my soap opera watching during college! lol), so I'd started plotting what would eventually be <span style="font-style: italic;">Being Plumville</span>. My friend, again the wonderful Thalia, had given me a prompt to help get the creative juices flowing even if I couldn't truly start writing the actual story until November for National Novel Writing Month. Below is the prompt and then the drabble that I wrote to go along with it. It's unbeta'ed, so please forgive errors and enjoy!<br /><br />~~~~<br /><br />"Song Lyric Prompt for NaNo '04"<br /><br />(c) 2011, 2004 by Savannah J. Frierson<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Song Lyric</span> - <span style="font-style: italic;">'The worst is over now and we can breathe again. I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away...'</span> ~<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Broken_%28Seether_song%29"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Seether and Amy Lee, "Broken"</span></a><br /><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal">His hand was sweaty, yet impossibly tight around hers as they ran across the quad towards an ill-located patch of trees…well, ill-located under normal circumstances. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">The riot had been a long time coming, danced around and implicated in veiled words…even the looks between the students on campus held a promise of <i>something</i>--but no one knew it would be like this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>This</i> was their own personal Watts, the explosion of frustration, anger and hurt unleashed by a people fed up with being second class; the searching for the explanation why their leader—their <i>savior</i> was shot to death on a Tennessee balcony six months ago…everyone thought they’d avoided such violence, such blatant disrespect of the status quo that many people—his people—fell into their safe, insular bubble of small-town Southern life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But other people—her people—had had enough. This new generation would not kowtow to intimidation and threats. Dogs and water hoses didn’t scare them, at least not as much as the thought of being unfree did, and the well of patience had been overflowing long before now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes, this clash was long overdue.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">She stumbled over a hidden rock but he pulled her along, telling her they were almost there. The trees’ branches beckoned them, ready to ensconce them in their natural sanctuary. They’d reached their oasis, but he didn’t stop until they were well on the other side, at the farthest extremity from the Armageddon across the yard.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A gunshot sounded and she jumped. He leaned against the tree and brought her tight against him, hoping his arms would shield her from the ugliness they heard. It was hard to believe they were on opposite sides of the confrontation, right before the detonation. It was hard to believe they were such close friends in their single-digit years, he protecting her from hurtful words and teasing shoves.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fifteen years later, he was doing the same. Looking across that invisible line, that arbitrary line, made him realize he didn’t like where he stood. He didn’t <i>like</i> being a physical representation of her unseen, deep-seeded oppression. His place was beside her, behind her, around her—not in front, and certainly not above. She’d looked at no one but him during the face-off, as if trying to reconcile the man before her with the boy she used to know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The boy who promised to protect her always.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The riot’s noise was growing faint, and soon there was tense silence. His arms tightened around her, and he rested his chin atop her head. She burrowed into him, squeezing his arms around his middle. It was a familiar embrace, full of the childhood innocence that sheltered them from “the way things were;” but now there was a new feeling, a more profound aura.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was the embrace of the way things could become.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=101016" type="text/javascript"></script><br /></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-19839564098964093122011-08-05T15:35:00.004-04:002011-08-05T15:49:41.079-04:00Coming Home Tour Countdown - RJC Deleted SceneAfternoon, everyone! Here's the second official blog post for the <a href="http://bana05.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-it-beginscoming-home-countdown.html">Coming Home Tour Countdown</a>! This week, <a href="http://bjthornton.com/thewaythatyouplayit.html">BJ</a> and I are including deleted or extended scenes from our work; and for me, it was such a walk down memory lane. My goodness, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Jada-Channing-ebook/dp/B003UD88OY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1312573705&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">Reconstructing Jada Channing</span></a> especially has certainly grown and expanded from its original seed as my senior creative thesis novella; but the essence of Jada, Aaron, and Joshua has remained. In fact, this scene I'm going to post right now is one of the earliest drafts of their "post-thesis" story arc that I ever wrote, and I did it for a very good friend of mine who'd been holding my hand at the time--Thalia. I'm posting just as I sent it to her, so please forgive any errors or inconsistencies and enjoy!<br /><br /><br />~~~~~<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />"Squirt Drabble"</span><br /><br />(c) 2011, 2004 by Savannah J. Frierson<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal">His hands were cool from the punch glass he’d held previously, and they trailed from her bare, tense shoulders to settle on her abdomen, his arms tight around her waist he dropped a kiss to the space below her earlobe.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height: 115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Jada, honey,…relax…everything will be fine…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“But he was cryin’ when we left—”<span style="font-size: 9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Mama will take good care of Joshua, love; besides, she <i>has</i> done this type of thing before…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada nodded and took a long sip from her own punch, her hand clutching the glass as if it were a lifeline.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The wreaths, garland, ornaments, and other holiday fare did little to lift her sprits, though Christmas was one of her favorite times of year.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d left Joshua in the hands of a caregiver, but it <i>was</i> the first time anyone from Aaron’s side of the family did the caring.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For years, it had been her grandmother or her cousin or even her best friend Deshae, but now they were in New York, being the proper New York socialite couple, and doing the rounds on the town in order to keep up business and appearances.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Admittedly, Jada would rather be home with her son and even with her new mother-in-law, but this was part and parcel to being Mrs. Aaron Alexander McKensie, and she would have to get used to it eventually.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron kissed her temple this time, the hands caressing her flat abdomen lightly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I know this is new for you, Jaybird, but I promise nothing ill-toward will happen to you <i>or</i> my son…or the little one inside you now…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She laughed shortly, giving him a playfully skeptical look.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Sometimes I wonder if you married me because I’m the mother of your children—”<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That’s not true,” he said emphatically, pulling away to meet her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I married you so you wouldn’t be the mother of someone <i>else’s</i> children!”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Selfish rich boy—”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">your</i> rich boy, too.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Only yours…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">He kissed her, in front of all those high-class people, and very unapologetic of his actions, she could tell.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Suddenly she didn’t care everyone was staring at her, at least not at the moment, because all her attention was on the man holding her, showing his love for her in spite of everyone else telling him he shouldn’t.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height: 115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That was what those stares meant, stares that said “you don’t belong”, or “you’re a fleeting fancy”; they were trying to place her, tolerating her because the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">her</i> over something more appropriate.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Men didn’t marry girls like her; they sowed wild oats with girls like her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If anything she was fertile, becoming pregnant the two times he “sowed”, but Jada knew there was more to it than that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She and Aaron <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">fit</i> somehow, on such a deeper level even Jada couldn’t figure out why.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But who was she to analyze it?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Her grandmother always taught her to be thankful for the blessings she received, and she was certainly thankful for Aaron.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Ahem.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi- line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada tensed, but Aaron gently took her chin, not letting go until he was finished kissing her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He broke apart with smaller kisses, rubbing her cheek with his thumb in a contented gesture.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada glanced at their new guest and offered a small smile, even as she dabbed Aaron’s mouth to wipe away imaginary lipstick.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi- line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron tightened the arm around Jada’s waist and brought her closer to him, nodding curtly at their visitor.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Father.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi- line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Alexander McKensie II stared at his new daughter-in-law shrewdly, as if searching for the flaw on her, and yet…“Flawless.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Isn’t she?” Aaron said even as he kissed her temple, bursting with pride.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada could barely manage a “thank you”, so surprised by Alexander’s approval.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was no secret Alexander was against the marriage, particularly when Aaron’s former fiancée was the daughter of a wealthy partner, and joining of their children would’ve made them much wealthier men.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But Alexander knew how his son felt, particularly when he was caught in the same conundrum with Aaron’s mother, and though they didn’t have the racial aspect to deal with, a parent’s disapproval was, nevertheless, a difficult hurdle to overcome.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’re enchanting everyone, child.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">That</i> was certainly a view, but Jada was much better with her “thank you”, this time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Anyway, I’m actually here to pass on a message from Izzy, or rather, my grandson:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>‘I want Mommy,’ I believe, is the request…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada sighed even as Aaron hid his laughter in the crown of her head.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even Alexander’s mouth twitched with mirth, but he cleared his throat and kept his composure, looking every bit the sophisticate.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I feel the party can survive without your presence, Son.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I never liked coming to these company parties anyway, Father,” Aaron muttered under his breath.<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Alexander raised his eyebrow and scratched the side of his nose briefly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Indeed…give your mother and my grandson a kiss for me, shall we?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The older man bussed Jada’s knuckles before disappearing back into the crowd and wielding the McKensie charm.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I daresay father is warming up to you…” Aaron said into her hair as he led them to the coat check.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He terrifies me.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He’s really a big ole softie…just ask Mama…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He loves your mother,” Jada said by way of explanation.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The checker retrieved their coats and Aaron helped Jada into her mink before putting on his own wool trench.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hand in hand, they left the party going down to the garage where the valet sent for their limousine.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada was still unused to the world of valets and cars she didn’t have to drive, and she grasped Aaron’s hand harder in reflex.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">He kissed the back of her newly gloved hand and winked at her, tipping the valet as their ride appeared.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Aaron assisted her first, then entered, settling in the seat with Jada close to his side as they traveled to their penthouse on Madison Avenue.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They said little on the trip home, Aaron alternating between caressing her hair and her shoulders, and she just anxious to get home to her little boy.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When they finally reached their home, Jada nodded a quick hello to the bellhop before rushing to the elevators, Aaron’s laughter following her the whole while.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She had the urge to shut the elevator doors in her husband’s face, but changed her mind at the last second.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi- line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He’s my son, too,” he teased, taking her hand again.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He ain’t ask for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">you</i> now did he?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height: 115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Harsh, love, harsh…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The elevator couldn’t get to the 25<sup>th</sup> floor fast enough, and Aaron had to squeeze her hand to calm her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When they finally reached the blessed floor, Jada pushed the “Door Open” button repeatedly until the doors crept open.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She exited as soon as there was enough room to pass through, yet she was so anxious that once she reached the door to her apartment, she rang the doorbell instead of unlocking the door.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Aaron knew better than to interfere with his wife’s mission so he hung back, keeping his humor to himself.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Isabella opened the door, but there was no sign of Joshua.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Where is he?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Isabella grinned, kissing Jada, then Aaron on the cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“The little darling is asleep!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I just called Alexander so you two could come home…I know how absolutely horrid those parties are—it’s a trick I used when Aaron was younger!”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada’s brown eyes sparkled as she glanced from mother to son, clearly impressed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I’ll have to use that trick more often!”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron laughed, helping Jada out of her coat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Why don’t you just not go to the parties at all?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Even better!”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada gave Isabella a large hug.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Joshie wasn’t too much trouble, was he?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“A darling, he was, an absolute darling.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You’ve raised him beautifully, Jada…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Thanks,” she replied on a deep sigh.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She looked to her husband and shrugged.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I’m going to check on him anyway…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron nodded and smiled, his eyes following her progress as she went down the hall to their son’s bedroom.<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Isabella went to her son, holding grasping his upper arms.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Need me to do anything else?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron snorted.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Probably save Papa from his own party.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt; mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He insisted on throwing it,” Isabella said unapologetically, thanking her son as he helped her into her coat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I tell him every year not to, but he never listens…”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height: 115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“He will one day.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Eh.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He’s stubborn…like his son…”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Aaron blushed but Isabella cupped her son’s cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“I’m proud of you, Aaron.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height: 115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Love you, Mama.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">With one last kiss, Isabella left, and Aaron went down the hall, undoing his tuxedo as he went.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada was sitting on Joshua’s bed, brushing the curls from his forehead, unaware of his presence in the doorway.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“All fingers and toes accounted for?” Aaron asked in jest.<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada never looked from her son.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Everything’s perfect.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She kissed Joshua’s forehead before leaving the bed and going to her husband.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She wrapped her arms around him and accepted his kiss before snuggling into him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Everything is absolutely perfect.”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi-line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Good.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let’s call it a night, shall we?”<span style="font-size:9.0pt;mso-bidi- line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-bidi-Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidifont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;" ></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And as she lay in the bed that night, Jada realized it didn’t matter if high class New York didn’t think she fit in; this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">was</i> where she belonged, safe in Aaron’s arms as their son slept peacefully down the hall.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=101016" type="text/javascript"></script><br /></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-25338756287955875172011-07-29T19:55:00.005-04:002011-07-29T20:03:24.173-04:00Question Set #1 - Coming Home Tour CountdownI think these will be simple, yes? Yes. Remember, answers only count if they're replies to this blog post; no e-mails!<div><br /></div><div>1.) What is Jada Channing's college alma mater?</div><div><br /></div><div>2.) What is Coralee Simmons's college alma mater?</div><div><br /></div><div>3.) In which city/town is Coralee's alma mater located?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Good luck!</div><br /><br /><br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=100029" type="text/javascript" ></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-26518359723137661532011-07-29T19:40:00.004-04:002011-07-29T19:51:32.986-04:00Coming Home...Well, One of Aaron and Jada's Homes...<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I drive up the Spanish moss–canopied dirt lane toward the big house of LeMay Plantation, mouth agape, but I don’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The A/C of my late-model Volvo is on full blast even though it is not yet noon in Beaufort, SC, and perspiration breaks at my temple.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">But I suppose that has to do more with nerves than anything else.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I park beside an even older-model gold Acura and grin.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My clothes stick to her skin as soon as I get out of my car, and my polarized shades seem to make the Old-South scene even grander without them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I walk by more automobiles, not the least bit surprised at the Buick crossover or the Porsche SUV, and start to twirl a soft coil of her hair as I approach the vast porch and front door.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m far too old to fidget the way I am, but I don’t much care, and I ring the doorbell.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">A small, yet regal woman opens the door and tears immediately spring into my eyes; and they only come faster when another woman, with gray hair now streaking her head, stands beside the first.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I hide my face in my hands, but they pulled them away, and the younger one wraps me in her arms.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The elder rubs my back.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Savannah J. Frierson (SJF): Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I hadn’t…<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Coralee Simmons Drummond (CSD): Mama’s crying.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jada Channing McKensie: (JCM): Can you blame her?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’re basically her kids!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: All grown up.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Yes, we are! You’re proud of us, aren’t you?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: *Nods* I have no words, none at all. I just want to thank you so much—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: Ma, I don’t know why you’re thanking us!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Seriously! <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Without you, we wouldn’t even be here!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: And that’s just a tragedy to even think about!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: But in the meantime, come on in!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s hot as Hades outside and Miss Coralee made some sweet tea!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CDS: And Jada made those sweet rolls…I don’t know why you made her make these delicious sweet rolls—don’t know whether to cuss you or praise you!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">They loop one of their arms through each of mine and usher me inside, Jada pausing to close the door behind her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The space is modern, updated, and gorgeous, with plush furniture, carpeting, and rich hardwood floors.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It takes everything I have not to whip out my PDA to look up the type of wood that had been used.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">They lead me to the screen-in porch overlooking the marsh where two men were watching something on their pad PDA.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They suddenly shout and the elder one does an awkward jig that makes me snort.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Both men look up, and the dancing man immediately smiles and all but runs toward me.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Benjamin Drummond (BD):<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>*hugs me tightly*<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Savannah J. Frierson, as I live and breathe!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CDS: And snore—be glad it’s not naptime!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: *pouts* You’re not funny, Ceelee.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: I’ll have to disagree with that; I think she’s hilarious!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Freda’s still a bad influence—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Aaron McKensie (AM): I see your bad influence and raise you Deshae Green.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: *grins* I bet Deshae learned at Freda’s knee.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: *laughs* You just like her because she flirts with you all the time!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CDS: Deshae flirts with everyone all the time.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: She has good taste, darlin’; what’s it the kids used to say—don’t hate!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Everyone groans except Jada, who giggles into my shoulder.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: *scowls* You should be nicer to your elders, Miss Jada.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Jada rolls her eyes but kisses Benjamin’s cheek, and he beams.</i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I try to hover at the door, as if to make a break for it, but Coralee shakes her head and leads me to the couch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Aaron is there and wraps me in a far less exuberant but no less intimate hug, and I all but cling to him.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hello, love.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You shouldn’t call me that.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I do a lot of things I shouldn’t…and all of them with your tacit permission!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Naw!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Don’t even try to blame her for your ninja sperm!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Knocking me up like you did!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: Did she, or did she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">not</i>, allow me to be your husband?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Ooh</i>…you hear how he said that, Benny?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Never too old to take notes, baby!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Notes!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ha!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I lecture now—paid my dues and all those student loans already!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let’s not discuss student loans.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: You know she still brings up the fact I paid hers?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: I gotta keep our kids humble, Aaron McKensie!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some of us didn’t come out poopin’ Benjamins out our butts!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Excuse me</i>?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Amen!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Aaron and Benjamin sigh heavily but sit next to their wives.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Benny wraps an arm around Coralee shoulders while Aaron tangles his fingers with Jada’s.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I search around for a place to sit, but Coralee pats the space between them.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: You’re sitting right here right now.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I blanche.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s not in me to refuse an elder, except, technically, I’m older, but old lessons are hard to unlearn.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As soon as I sit two extremely handsome young men enter with trays full of food and pitchers of drink, and I have to blink.</i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The McKensie boys are certainly not babies anymore!</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Charles Augustus “Chaz” McKensie (CM):<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ohh!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hey, I’m Chaz—but you already know that, and I love older women—but you already know that too.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yes, I will marry you—you probably didn’t know that, but you do now—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Joshua Alexander Channing McKensie (JAM): *kisses my cheek, effectively interrupting his brother* Did you know he’d be this silly when you wrote him?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: *laughs* He was initially Ava, but then Chaz realized Iman was going to be born and decided jump in my head and skip line.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Jada glares at her husband.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Savannah, how many kids was I originally supposed to have?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: *shifts uncomfortably* Two.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A boy and a girl.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: Double your pleasure, double your fun!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The wide grin he gives leaves Jada unmoved and she rolls her eyes.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: I’m appreciative of the one you gave me.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I squeeze Coralee’s hand</i>.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: That’s all I saw; I’m sorry.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: *kisses his wife’s temple.*<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Simone is perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t even mind that Powell boy she married.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: Also known as your godson.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: Like that makes a difference!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It should!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Acting like these boys are brand spanking new—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: Operative word is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">boy</i>!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I shared a look with Coralee and Jada, and we all rolled our eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Joshua and Chaz had already made their getaways.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: I’m not getting in the middle of it, other than to say, you know your girls could do much worse than the sons of family friends you love and trust.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: Amen!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They want to keep their daughters five years old; it doesn’t work that way.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: It should!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: If it did, you wouldn’t have these daughters in the first place because you wouldn’t have us!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">That makes the men pause for a split second, but then they both shake their heads</i>.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: We’re different!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: *snorts* Unicorns?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: Leprechauns!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: You’re too tall to be a leprechaun, dear.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: I don’t know the Italian equivalent.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: How about an ass?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: *smirks* You like my ass.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Jada huffs but can’t control her grin when her husband starts necking her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I sigh with exasperation, thinking of how they’ve only gotten worse with the public displays of affection the longer I’ve known them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If they weren’t so adorable, my teeth would ache.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Coralee and Benjamin, on the other hand, spent most of their time gently teasing each other, although it is mostly Benjamin doing the teasing and Coralee giggling.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She still has her gorgeous smile and Benjamin still stares at her as if she were the most beautiful creation God has ever made.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Felix sends his love, by the way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He’d be here but he’s at St. Simon’s with the missus.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And Felix has aged <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">very</i> well, I can assure you—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Benjamin clears his voice much more loudly than is required.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My PDA dings and I notice a forward from Aaron.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I open it and I see a thirty-page invoice attached.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: That’s Rodrigo’s therapy bill for making him have all girls.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Karma is such a beautiful thing!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">My PDA dings again and this time it’s an e-mail from Veronica with a picture of her family attached.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: We’re going to meet up around Christmas, I believe, babe?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>New Year’s.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’re going to India for our wedding anniversary.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Twenty-three years?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: That’s it?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">They laugh as they kiss and Coralee winks at me.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, I’ve felt every single one of our fifty years.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We cannot have been married for fifty years when you barely look a day over forty.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: That’s actually really mean; My head wasn’t this gray when I was forty!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Benjamin kisses the top of her head and holds her close.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada and Aaron look at them fondly</i>.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: I wanna be y’all when I grow up.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: I thought you wanted to be my parents.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: I want to be anyone who makes it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I certainly don’t want to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">my</i> parents…<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: *squeezes her shoulder* Sorry about that.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: I just love you left off all those revelations out the first book.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like the stuff about my dad and my brother.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Aaron looks everywhere but at them and I arch an eyebrow, popping a bite of a sweet roll in my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He really hadn’t been on his best behavior during that period, and it’s only by my mercy I haven’t put him on blast yet for the public to see.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But if he keeps on being such a hard-nose about Ava and her boo, that may have to change.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: I didn’t know most of those revelations until the book was over, and that’s not my fault; out of all of my characters, you all talk the most and just keep telling me things all the time!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: We don’t bother you, Savannah…then again, that’s because Felix hogging the microphone.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: Felix is a sweetie; always has been.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He waited, what, two years before deciding to tell me his story.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Bless his heart.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Say that again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love Felix and I’m glad he’s finally getting his story told; although he would like an ETA of when it’ll be finished.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I take a long gulp of my sweet tea and blush at Coralee’s laugh.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: I know you’ll finish it, sweetheart.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You’ve got a lot of demands upon you.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Interlopers.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Excuse me</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If I recall, Mr. Drummond, Savannah had been working on our story for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">months</i> until something called “National Novel Writing Month” and “thesis angst” got her to start writing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">your</i> story—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Ours is better—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM: Oh, my goodness, I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">so sorry</i>—<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSD: You didn’t just turn into a five year old before our eyes, did you?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: Everyone says so!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Aaron glowers at the coffee table and Jada rubs his back.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I shake my head and shrug.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: I cannot control audience response.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Your stories resonate differently, but I love you both.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jada and Aaron’s story will always have a special place in my heart because they were first and they’ve been with me the longest; from them, I’ve spun off so many stories; but without you, Benny and Ceelee, I don’t have the universe I’ve somehow started to create.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m so glad you chose me to tell your stories, and that’s all I’m going to say on that matter.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Jada and Coralee hug me and Aaron stands, stretching.</i><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">AM: I’m hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Are you hungry?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">BD: *stands with help from his wife*<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think I smell your son making more of those sweet rolls?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The men leave us alone and Jada and Coralee laugh, both leaning forward conspiratorially.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So…what’s this I hear about Joshie’s story being written?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And my grandbaby, Freelee, I hear tell there is some percolating going on with her story!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I laugh and eat more of the sweet roll and give a coy shrug</i>.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">SJF: Joshua’s story is already written and your granddaughter is like the wind—can’t really catch it for long.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But if Freelee sits down long enough, her story will be told.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I promise.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">CSM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Good.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nothing like love to get you to slow down, huh, Jada Mae?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">JCM:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nothing like it at all!<o:p></o:p></p><br /><br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=100029" type="text/javascript" ></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-9443961412003756672011-07-29T19:15:00.007-04:002011-07-29T20:15:05.122-04:00So It Begins...COMING HOME Countdown!<a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/ui2ik265f2c9096viewattth1315d1779ea.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 483px; height: 750px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/ui2ik265f2c9096viewattth1315d1779ea.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Hello, everyone! Welcome to the "Blog Countdown" to <a href="http://www.bjthornton.com/">BJ'</a>s and my <i>Coming Home</i> <i>Tour</i>! The title comes from the title of <i>Reconstructing Jada Channing's</i> sequel <i>Coming Home</i>, and it features everyone's favorite preschooler (or, hell, just mine) Joshua Channing McKensie and his lady love. I wrote that story the same way I wrote <i>Being Plumville</i>--as a <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">National Novel Writing Month</a> project, and I enjoyed revisiting my very first original couple ever--Jada and Aaron.<br /><br />I can't call this trip to Atlanta a "full-circle" trip, because that's not what it is. Rather, it's a coming home to a place that, while isn't my hometown, is a literary "headquarters" for me and my characters. I felt, after over six years of knowing and loving the characters of these two stories in particular, it was time to take a much more intimate tour of their haunts and homes. And I have awesome partners with which to do this--<a href="http://bjthornton.com/thewaythatyouplayit.html#cominghome01">BJ Thornton</a> and you!<div><br />My relationship with BJ...I don't exactly remember how it started other than a mutual stanning of each other's work. I'm <i>beyond</i> excited for her new release, <i><a href="http://omnificpublishing.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=19&products_id=51">The Way That You Play It</a></i>, and I hope you all check it out. Trent and Caroline are a phenomenal couple, and that's all I'mma say so you all have to go out and read it! Don't believe me? <a href="http://bjthornton.com/thewaythatyouplayit.html#cominghome01">Check out the interview</a> BJ did with the couple!<div><br />If you want an opportunity to maybe even interview <i>us</i> in person, make sure you come down to Atlanta on August 20th, 2011, where we'll be having a very low-key meet and greet in the Westin Peachtree Lobby from 2pm - 4pm, followed by dinner and a live performance at <a href="http://www.smithsoldebar.com/rooms/">Smith's Old Bar</a> starting at 6pm. Please bring your books if you want them signed, as we won't be selling any...but we'll be giving away copies! In order to be in the running for my giveaway, all you have to do is answer three questions correctly that pertain to either <i>Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> or <i>Being Plumville, </i>which I will post on my blog--and you don't have to attend the Meet and Greet to win (although it would be sweet if you could join us!). Questions will be up until the next Friday and answers only count if replied onto the blogpost--no e-mails please.</div><div><br />Good luck and thank you all for your support!<br /><br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=100029" type="text/javascript"></script></div></div>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-15955976617299221262011-07-28T10:55:00.003-04:002011-07-28T11:06:52.892-04:00Coming Home to Atlanta!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/ui2ik265f2c9096viewattth1315d1779ea.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 483px; height: 750px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/ui2ik265f2c9096viewattth1315d1779ea.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I'm so excited to be doing this venture with my girl and fantastic, <span style="font-style: italic;">fantastic</span> author <a href="http://www.bjthornton.com">BJ Thornton</a>! This was just an idea that came about and we said, hey, why not?! Watch this space tomorrow because there is going to be a treat I'm sure you all will enjoy!<br /><br /><br /><br /><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=98768" type="text/javascript"></script>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-2245396768545575542011-07-16T12:15:00.004-04:002011-07-16T13:00:58.765-04:00What's a Month and Three-Quarters Between Friends?For all of my desire and desire to write, which is a form of communication, I am actually very bad at it when it comes to the essence of myself. I recently had a "Come to Jesus" conversation, one I'd avoided for five months because 1.) there were things on the horizon that needed to come to fruition before we spoke and 2.) I was anxious about it. And there is no better procrastinator than a writer for a lot of things. Let's recap--I don't have a major book deal; I haven't released a new book in almost a year; I haven't finished a project in half a year; I'm working a job that isn't the glitzy and glamorous one folks would expect for a Harvard graduate. But I talked him down from the ledge, basically letting him know that I had options on how to get where I need and want to be. He felt better afterwards, and I can admit I did as well. Apparently, I needed to talk it out and not just let it swarm in my mind until it becomes a convoluted mess.<div><br /></div><div>As for the hiatus from this blog, that wasn't even remotely intentional...I'd had two very bad conversations with my uncle and with my father within days of my birthday. I was hot. I was pissed. And that funky mood had lasted weeks, exacerbated by ToM showing up quite uninvited at my door and sending my mood beyond the depths of hell. I did what I normally did when I was bothered and upset--kept it inside. Went silent. Packed it away and kept it moving. When Father's Day rolled around, my father told my sister he wasn't expecting a phone call from me because I was mad at him when we spoke last.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Really?</i></div><div><br /></div><div>To complicate matters, sometime before, I had two of my closest friends over for a day at the beach...which ended up being a day at my apartment complex because it was too damn hot and gas was too damn high to drive to damn far to the too damn crowded beach. We started talking about relationships and sex, which drifted to me talking about my inexperience with both and referencing <a href="http://bana05.blogspot.com/2011/05/beautiful-bana.html">a previous post</a> about me mentioning my molestation. This was the first time one of my friends had heard this story because she hadn't read that blog, and she became <i>incredibly </i>upset. I'd refused to say who it'd been because I'm not trying to see any one of them on the evening news, but they'd reiterated something my friend <a href="http://www.bjthornton.com/">BJ</a> had been telling me for a while now--I don't let myself <i>feel</i> things. The hard things. The passionate things. And if I can't feel those things, I won't be able to experience the very things I want to experience--relationships, love, loving.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I needed these almost two months to process all of that, because I know I still hold back a lot of the times in my writing. The more I write, the more I'm getting better at letting go and letting flow, but I still have tremendous work to do. Strong emotions overwhelm and many times frighten me, because when I give into them, I say things I can't take back...and probably things I wouldn't want to take back, if I'm honest with myself. I'd be laid bare and then what? This trepidation applies for good and bad feelings too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've blown up two notable times, and it was <i>really bad</i>, to the point it's legend in the family. Because I am a writer, and I know how to string thoughts together, I could be very adroit in how to make it so words not only hurt, but pulverize, or make it so they're soaked with sap, because that's the depth of emotion I feel. But in my family, we're generally not allowed to feel that deeply--good or bad--or at the very least acknowledge that we do. So I retreat inward so I can pack it down enough in order to operate "business as usual". The things that truly, deep-down hurt me, I discuss as if I am a reporter with cool detachment so I don't focus on the nitty-gritty feelings. It's disingenuous. It shortchanges me as a full person with full feelings, and I need to work on that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah, it almost took me two months to admit that...this was supposed to be a short blog update too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Slight confession regarding those two bad conversations after my birthday--I'd felt so invigorated when I expressed my irritation with my father and didn't let my uncle make his irritation my irritation. I'd stood by both of my feelings and was proud of myself for doing so.</div>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-28682840994551820192011-05-22T21:30:00.000-04:002011-05-22T21:31:03.609-04:00My 28th Born Day<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Today is my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I went out and had breakfast at the Cracker Barrel by myself, and got a phone call from my grandmother’s cousin while I was there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then I went grocery shopping because the world didn’t end as I was promised, and I bought myself a birthday cheesecake—the cashier wished me a happy birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After that, I was at home and did some reading and hung out on the Internet, but I was also answering the most Facebook birthday greetings I’d ever received thus far and spoke with my sister and my father and my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I went to dinner at IHOP because the Chinese place where I wanted to eat didn’t deliver and the woman hung up on me after she told me!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then came back home and spoke to more relatives.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">All this to say, I spent my birthday alone, but the universe didn’t dare allow me to be lonely.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a good birthday. <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings">J</span></span><o:p></o:p></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-61952489763585194782011-05-17T21:55:00.004-04:002011-05-17T22:10:42.294-04:00Beautiful Bana<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In this society, physical attractiveness is the foundational criterion to determine someone’s self-worth; the more attractive one is, the more one is likely to be identified with positive markers, such as “goodness”, “Intelligence”, “leadership”, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is for this reason that prospective parents are often teased by people praying the baby takes after the more attractive side of the family or thinking a comment of “the baby is so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">precious</i>” instead of “cute” could be grounds for ending friendships.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">For the majority of this society, the standard of physical attractiveness is Western European Beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’re taught it from childhood with fairy tales and it is reinforced with the majority of television shows and movies that are produced this year.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even the English language, the primary language spoken in this society, has codified color terms, in which white is pureness and good and black is dirty and evil.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Therefore, there’s no wonder why you get a documentary like this:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <center><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/17fEy0q6yqc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></center> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Now, as for my journey…<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My mother didn’t let me play with white Barbies, let alone own one.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’d wanted one, though; not because the doll was white, but because the doll came with the accessories I needed to continue playing with my black dolls, and I couldn’t understand why my mother couldn’t understand that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But she did—the white doll was more expensive because it had more value, and that wasn’t just monetary, either.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- Of all the childhood games my sister and I played, I don’t ever recall playing “Princess”; maybe this is because we didn’t think, subconsciously, princesses could be black.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We played the hell out of “Shipwreck” and “Pirates”, though.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My mother was my first standard of beauty, and she still is.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Apparently, she was also a lot of men’s, too, and still is.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But that standard was rarely reflected on TV and in movies, and she died when I was nine.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My first “One True Pairing” (OTP) was Heathcliff and Clair Huxtable.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My second was Dwayne and Whitley Wayne.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I had my very first white friend in first grade when I went to Catholic school (from pre-K–5<sup>th</sup> grade I’d attended a black school save the first grade).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was blonde and blue-eyed and looked like she came right out of a fairy tale, like Cinderella before she grew up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We only hung out in the parking lot of the school at the end of the day while our mothers chit-chatted, and never went to each other’s houses like I did with my other black friends.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I never saw her again when I left that school.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I was first touched inappropriately when I was in third grade, except I didn’t know it other than I was confused why my classmate kept trying to stick his hands between my legs.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My mother marched down to that as if she had the hounds of hell on leads.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The boy didn’t return for fourth grade.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I first remember being sexualized when I was in fifth grade, because my booty was the first to transform from a child’s shape to a woman’s.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Baby Got Back” became my theme song and I hated it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was still a child; that song was entirely inappropriate for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">any</i> of us to be singing at the ages of 9–11, but that was the first realization that this society doesn’t treat black children as children, just little adults, even if none of us were savvy enough to realize that consciously.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I could never understand why Lisa Turtle, who was arguably the prettiest and flyest girl at Bayside High, could never find a mutual attraction for her, and had a dorky Screech after her for “comic relief”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Takeaway #1—liking a black girl is a funny thing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Takeaway #2—better to be single than to settle (of course, this one, I think, was far more subtle for me).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">- Living Single</i> was groundbreaking and I didn’t even know it, for it showed various-bodied-and-hued black women being regarded as sexy, beautiful, lovable, and desirable, something that I took for granted because that was my reality watching my mother and older female cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not only that, the show aged very well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>RIDE THE MAVERICK!!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I had my very first crush (a black boy) when I was three years old, but didn’t do anything because he was shy and probably thought I had cooties.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had my second crush (a white boy) when I was twelve years old, but I didn’t do anything because he was popular and probably wouldn’t be interested because I’m black.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- Also when I was twelve, someone thought my eight-year-old sister was my daughter. …<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I used to be jealous of my younger sister because everyone would say she looked like our mother, which meant she was beautiful (which she is); and few would ever say I looked like anyone, which I took to mean I wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And when they did give me a relation, it was my grandmother.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Way to make a teenage girl feel better by comparing her to her 70-something grandmother!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And what made this even worse was a boy in my 8<sup>th</sup>-grade home room said I had “grandma hands”.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- By the time I reached high school, I figured out the definition of “hot” for a girl was almost the direct opposite of me, which was just as well because I couldn’t date in high school anyway and I wasn’t attracted to many of the guys at my school (although this isn’t to say none of them were attractive).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I think I fell in love for the first time during the summer when I was thirteen and an older boy (South Asian) made me feel like a girl.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- At fourteen I started flipping through <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Sweet Valley High</i> books to see if a black girl was given some “screen time”; if not, I didn’t check it out.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- At fifteen I started following boy bands and would get excited whenever there was a black girl cast in the videos.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My third OTP, Shawn and Angela from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Boy Meets World,</i> will forever be one because for once, being in love with a black girl on a teen-oriented show wasn’t treated as a joke (yes, this includes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Family Matters</i>, even if I were rooting for Urkel/Laura).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I was sixteen years old the first time a black boy (and yes, a crush) told me he didn’t black girls, and I remember being seized with a slight panic that if black boys didn’t date black girls, who in the world did?<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My school had a clothing drive and I went to the grocery store to buy diapers for it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The cashier asked me how old my child was.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Considering I’ve always looked younger than I am, this really took me aback.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But I only looked younger in the face; my body was that of a grown woman, very curvy and shapely, and I’d always been self-conscious about drawing attention.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I was seventeen when I got my first “marriage proposal” as well as when the first unrelated male told me I was beautiful. (two separate boys, only one was serious.)<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were told to write down something nice about our classmates, and the majority was the usual “funny”, “smart”, “nice” accolades I’d get; but the “beautiful” one stunned me so much that later that evening I’d asked him if he’d meant it, afraid it was joke.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He said he meant it, and I barely contained my tears.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The first time I thought I was beautiful was later that year when I was in a cotillion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unfortunately, nobody mentioned it.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- Eighteen was a busy year—first kiss, second molestation, although this molestation was by a man old enough to be my father.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It took me months to tell someone because I didn’t think anyone would believe me or folks would think it was my fault.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But last time I checked, being braless and wearing shorts in one’s own home during the summer in the South wasn’t grounds for uninvited touches.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I’d never felt uglier, unwanted, and unlovable in my life than during my four years of college and the four years after it—The Boston Years.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was as if I were living out a rom-com where I was the black, fat, sassy, asexual mammy/BFF who provided the laughs and the sage advice but would never be in consideration for a romantic “happily ever after”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The one and only date I went on during this time was with an ex-con who worked security at my summer job—mind, I didn’t know he was an ex-con until we were on the date.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And he kept asking if I could cook (which I must be able to do because I’m a big black woman from the South and all), so yeah, that was a no-go.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Incidentally, this is also the time I decided I would give a shot at the writing thing.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- On the other hand, around this time interracial pairings on soap operas featuring black women had, for some reason exploded on soap operas…and quite predictably crashed and burned; but while they were on there, they were awesome.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My favorites were Fox/Whitney—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Passions</i> (I’m still bitter by how they destroyed this one), Nik/Gia—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">General Hospital</i>, Paco/Preta—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Da Cor do Pecado</i> (a Portuguese telenovela dubbed in Spanish was how I watched, loved this one, probably because this was the only one that got a happily ever after), and Evangeline/almost anyone—<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">One Life to Live</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And now I can admit another reason why these relationships were frustrating was because just about all of them were “standard-acceptable” beauties; basically the Lisa Turtles who finally got some loving (as did Lisa for one episode, with Zach…yeah, bitter about that too).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- My heroines tend to fit my very first standard of beauty, that of my mother and other women in my family, which means they are usually short, usually curvy/full-figured, and usually dark to medium-toned in skin color.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The more society-standard beauties are usually secondary/tertiary characters.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I know for a lot of people, romances are about the fantasy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, one of my fantasies is for people who look like me to be unapologetically loved and considered beautiful.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- I get ridiculously excited whenever I see a black woman being loved in real life and in media because the sight is about as frequent as Halley’s Comet.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It gives me hope that could be me one day.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- One of my good friends from home gave me an assignment to pick one thing I liked about myself, with special emphasis on the physical self.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had extreme difficulty with the exercise.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- Barack and Michelle Obama are fourth OTP because for once, a black woman being loved is something that cannot be dismissed or ignored on a national stage.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If they ever break up (which I forbid them to do) I will be shedding some seriously fugly tears.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- When I was twenty-five I attracted another security guard’s attention, another man old enough to be my father.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was disconcerting because he would always stare at me when I walked in the building and continue to stare until I got on the elevator.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Finally one day he said “You have a nice walk.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Freaked me out so badly I muttered a quick thanks and sped-walked to the elevator because I could not determine if his comment was lust or genuine admiration.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- When I was twenty-six, Disney finally decided to create a Black princess, yet I couldn’t be as thrilled as I liked because she spent the majority of the film as a frog.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- For Lent 2010, I decided I would give up low self-esteem, which meant I had to stop sipping on the “I’m Not Good Enough” syrup that had been my BFF since birth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The withdrawal was brutal, and there are still times I fall off the wagon; but I’m much better at running to catch up to it now than before.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One of the things I’ve accepted about myself was I’ll never be a single-digit dress size no matter how much weight I lose; and it was okay for me to like the curves I have.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And my walk.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- When I was about to turn twenty-seven, my grandmother died.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>During this time I took a lot of pictures with my camera phone of old pictures of her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was beautiful, so I guess that means I’m beautiful too (and yes, as soon as I typed that out I burst in to tears, because that, right then, was the first time I said it and truly, truly meant it).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">- <a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fimg17.imageshack.us%2Fimg17%2F9247%2Fwhyareblackwomenlessphy.png&h=d7549">Yesterday, there was an article explaining why black women were ugly</a>, and I was laughing to myself about the utter nonsense of it all until I became irate that this “PhD” was passing off his conclusions as “scientific fact” instead of his racist opinion. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But my favorite part was the author’s confusion why the black women in his “study” thought of themselves as physically attractive when “science” says they’re not.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And just thinking about my long, winding struggle to get to a revelation many women never reach, let alone black women, and his attempt to nullify these black women’s opinions of themselves because they do not conform to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">his/</i>Western-European standard of beauty really pissed me off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But now, I want to give these women high fives for owning their beauty for themselves and refusing to sip the “You’re Not Good Enough” syrup this “PhD” was trying to shove down their throats.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Perhaps it is threatening to some when black women stop believing they can only be asexual mammies or hypersexual Jezebels, or that they can only consider themselves beautiful when a Western European society deems them so…or they have to have enough European or nonblack blood to even hope to be considered beautiful in the first place.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>That their bodies are always there for the taking—whether by permission or not, and rarely with tenderness and care—and that little black girls (and boys) aren’t little black girls (and boys) because they are merely pre-adults.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The politics of respectability are alive and well, making black women scared of their femininity and being unreceptive to genuine, respectful appreciation or not treating themselves as the valuable beings they truly are because being marked as “ugly” means unvaluable, so they treat their bodies any kind of way and allow others to do the same.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Every damn day we’re told black women aren’t capable of being loving or being loved; that just because can “do bad all by ourselves” (why it gotta be bad?) we don’t desire to “do good with a supportive partner”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m tired of trying to reach a standard I was never supposed to meet; but more importantly I’m tired of being fed the line there is only one standard to meet in the first damn place.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t need to be beautiful for everyone—hell, I don’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">need</i> to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">beautiful</i>—but I do need to be a good person, and that has nothing to do with my dress size or the perfect symmetry of my face.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">All that to say, I’m fierce as hell, and you can kick rocks if you disagree.<o:p></o:p></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-28905539312069779282011-05-12T15:31:00.001-04:002011-05-18T05:39:08.742-04:0010 Facts about MeI was in the process of writing a long blog post, but then I got a little distracted and began rambling and meh. So, here's a meme I did for one of my online hangouts. Maybe I'll continue working on the original post...or maybe not, right now it looks daunting (which probably means I should keep working on it #le sigh).<br /><br />~~~~<br /><br /><p>1.) I was named after my maternal grandmother (Jordan—RiP Grandma Lillie, one year gone this May).</p> <p>2.) I’ve sung with Bobby McFerrin (with my college choir <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Kuumba_Singers_of_Harvard_College" target="_blank">Kuumba Singers</a>).</p> <p>3.) I played Carnegie Hall when I was 18 (orchestra/viola).</p> <p>4.) I started truly writing when I was 12 years old (poetry).</p> <p>5.) I haven’t been kissed since I was 18 (I’ll be 28 this month).</p> <p>6.) My favorite part of my body is my eyes (they are brown, but nothing plain about them to me).</p> <p>7.) My favorite novel I’ve written thus far is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reconstructing-Jada-Channing-ebook/dp/B003UD88OY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1305222243&sr=8-1" target="_blank"><em>Reconstructing Jada Channing</em></a>, which is, incidentally, the first novel I’ve ever written and my worst reviewed novel on Amazon (#kanyeshrug).</p> <p>7.) My favorite desserts are cheesecake and my Grandma Katie’s pound cake (RiP, Grandma Katie, 10 years gone this August).</p> <p>8.) I love the feel of my natural hair against my fingertips, and it’s a quirk I’ve inherited from my mother, apparently (RiP Mama, 19 years gone this November).</p> <p>9.) My favorite movie ever in life is <em>Seven Brides for Seven Brothers</em> (Frank all day; this was also my Grandma Lillie’s least favorite movie because we watched it all the time…back to back…#can’t be tamed).</p> <p>10.) I have a ride-or-die personality when it comes to friends, and length of time between talking doesn’t negate that.</p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-73184405437086396042011-05-09T21:25:00.004-04:002011-05-10T09:36:37.259-04:00A Year Ago Today. This Minute.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/30268_725291163531_2281_39170489_4939160_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 265px;" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/30268_725291163531_2281_39170489_4939160_n.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:enableopentypekerning/> <w:dontflipmirrorindents/> <w:overridetablestylehps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathpr> <m:mathfont val="Cambria Math"> <m:brkbin val="before"> <m:brkbinsub val="--"> <m:smallfrac val="off"> <m:dispdef/> <m:lmargin val="0"> <m:rmargin val="0"> <m:defjc val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent val="1440"> <m:intlim val="subSup"> <m:narylim val="undOvr"> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" defunhidewhenused="true" defsemihidden="true" defqformat="false" defpriority="99" latentstylecount="267"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="0" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Normal"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="heading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="35" qformat="true" name="caption"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="10" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" name="Default Paragraph Font"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="11" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtitle"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="22" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Strong"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="20" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="59" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Table Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Placeholder Text"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="No Spacing"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Revision"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="34" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="List Paragraph"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="29" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="30" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="19" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="21" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="31" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I didn’t spend a lot of time yesterday talking about my Grandma Lillie, the woman who raised me and my sister, in the audio blog, and that wasn’t necessarily intentional.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>However, considering today is the actual anniversary of her death, it’s probably more important I do this now than before.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Now, I often say I didn’t have a nickname until I got to college and then was dubbed the “Sav”, but that’s not the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I just never considered it a nickname because it wasn’t “nicked”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But my grandmother had given me another name since I had functional memory.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“Butt-Butt”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Apparently, even at the age of 2/3, my tush was something to behold—that Jordan Body in its early stage.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But not only that, I’d even run up to my grandmother and sing “Pat the butt, Grandma, pat the butt!”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So she’d call me Butt-Butt and pat my tushie as she’d sing the “Pat the Butt-Butt!” song.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Clearly, I was crazy, because there other times when I’d run and hide from when she’d want to “whoop that ass!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was not a game.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">But then my younger sister came along, complete with the Jordan Body herself, so my Grandmother snatched my first name from me and tacked it onto her!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Probably one of the reasons from age BIRTH to about SEVEN of my sis I couldn’t stand her, but then Grandma gave me a new name.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Bana.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And then she’d call me “Bana-Bana”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I don’t think I ever told my friends this at home, but then they started calling me that, because that’s what my grandmother called me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And then my sis calls me “Ban”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So, yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She’s never going to call me Bana anymore, and that’s really…an awful thing to never hear from her again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My poor sister has been crying on and off all day; I think she’s taking this harder than I am in a lot of ways, because she had to watch the demise up close.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was also there when Grandma passed away; I was too busy driving back home thinking she would make it another day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I miss her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There are some days that are so gorgeously sunny and I think, “Today would be a perfect day to call Grandma”, and then I remember I can’t anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Every time I drive home, or arrive from a trip, it is always bittersweet because I remember I can’t call Grandma to tell her I made it safely.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But then, so many positive things have happened to me that I can’t help but think she, my Grandma Katie, and my mama are whispering in God’s ear about me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And my sister, for that matter.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I firmly think everything happens for a reason, and the reason why I decided to move, or to start my Lent Project 2010, or to follow my own path with this writing thing, I got the strength to follow my lead from her. She supported me fully in my writing, talking me and my books up, almost annoying me with requests to ship her some autographed books from Boston so she could sell them to her classes (she taught arts and crafts) or to damn near anyone who called the house. And she got her sales too.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Grandma was boss.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I want to be that boss when I grow up, with the name she gave me.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Lillie Belle Jordan Glover: November 30, 1921 - May 9, 2010<br /></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-39250526220745161602011-05-08T18:50:00.003-04:002011-05-08T18:55:03.589-04:00Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEz7wqVSvErVh2Gc8KYe7JUM3HyKBIZmi01NaMfPx1lbLt94AK9Mx_Jb9HCSsnzuU4bpIv4Qp784URIx2a9Xt1UQwljWm1gdXDsVbsxigvnQspUYMpyKLijYFoMig61_Fg9hhKDA/s1600/My+Parents+and+Me.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEz7wqVSvErVh2Gc8KYe7JUM3HyKBIZmi01NaMfPx1lbLt94AK9Mx_Jb9HCSsnzuU4bpIv4Qp784URIx2a9Xt1UQwljWm1gdXDsVbsxigvnQspUYMpyKLijYFoMig61_Fg9hhKDA/s320/My+Parents+and+Me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604482419064303746" /></a><br /><br />I chose to use a picture with my parents instead of my grandmothers because I don't have a photo of Grandma Katie. :( But you can see Grandma Katie's smile in my father's, so :)<br /><br /><br /><center><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="audioUrl=http://www.sjfbooks.com/audio/050811Mothers.mp3" src="http://www.google.com/reader/ui/3523697345-audio-player.swf" quality="best" height="27" width="400"></embed></center>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-12047497367952052162011-05-06T19:30:00.003-04:002011-05-06T19:43:41.372-04:00More Seedlings<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/51c92B3hKLSL.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 500px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v151/bana05/51c92B3hKLSL.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mufaros-Beautiful-Daughters-Reading-Rainbow/dp/0688040454">Amazon Link</a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><center><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="audioUrl=http://www.sjfbooks.com/audio/050611Mufaro.mp3" src="http://www.google.com/reader/ui/3523697345-audio-player.swf" quality="best" height="27" width="400"></embed></center><br /><br />PS: Shout out to all my blogging friends who are trying the audio thing! Only took me a week and some change to figure out how to embed audio onto Blogger! lolBanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-71638648442921246752011-05-04T23:20:00.004-04:002011-05-04T23:31:38.726-04:00The Seeds That Were Planted<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >I was about five or six years old and I was at the park near my kindergarten.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My mother had taken my sister and me to the park to play, and there was a white family there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Somehow, I and the white boy in that family ended up playing together on the swings, in the tire rounds where the dirt was, etc, until his older sister came up to us with a scowl on her face and said to her brother, "You shouldn't be playing with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">her</i>!"<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We both looked at each other in confusion before his sister grabbed his wrist and yanked him away.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I went up to my mother bewildered by the whole thing, asking her why was that girl so mean and why couldn't I play with my new friend, and she murmured nonsense to me and guided me with sister in tow to the car to leave.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >This is 1988/1989, over twenty years after the end of the modern Civil Rights Movement in the United States. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >I often cite <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry</i> as the book that made me want to be a writer, which is true.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But when I was answering a similar question during my readers session at RSJ 2011, I realized one of the reasons why I was drawn to the book was because it humanized an interracial friendship that really shouldn't have ever happened in the 1930s South.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Jeremy Simms, a white boy, was always friendly with Cassie Logan and her family despite the entire rest of his family being almost beyond racists.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even when I was reading it the first time, Jeremy intrigued me because I wanted to know how he avoided drinking the Kool-Aid while the others in his family seemed to be drinking free refills of it every fifteen minutes or so.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was such a sweet, pure soul, and I remember praying and reading with not a little trepidation that he would end up just as racist as the rest of his family, as Uncle Hammer had portended.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think I would've cried some ugly tears had that happened.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >So, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Roll of Thunder</i> planted the seed; then <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Maniac Magee</i> was the fertilizer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I loved this book.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had it constantly checked out of the library, and it was a change of pace because now the protagonist was a white boy instead of the black girl from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Roll of Thunder</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was similar to Jeremy in many ways--a loner who didn't really care about conventions and just "did him".<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He didn't care about the "rules" of the society because he lived outside them, and with that was a certain freedom to take people as they come and make decisions based on that.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >You know, like Martin Luther King said he wanted us to do one day.<s> And actually, I have more thoughts about this particular line in a very long and insightful speech is always co-opted but never really practice but that's for another time.</s></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >I went to an all-black school from the age or three to the age of 11, with a brief interlude at Catholic school for first grade.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There was pretty much not a day that didn't go by without us hear something about Martin Luther King, Jr. or Rosa Parks, or Harriet Tubman, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I knew much about my history and was taught to be proud of it; but I could never understand why white kids didn't attend our school.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I'd even asked my mother why couldn't white kids go to my school; she said they couldn't they just chose not to attend.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I couldn't understand that at all, because I thought my school was boss; and then I'd wonder if all white people were just really light black people or if all black people were just really tan white people.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >*pats bb!Sav*</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >I do find it notable that of all the characters who are allowed that particular freedom in those early books were white and male.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Of course at the time I wasn't savvy enough to notice such a nuance, but I suppose it has to be them because white males are at the top of the societal ladder, which means they have a freedom of mobility those below don't generally have--particularly black females.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And actually, it's only now as I write this blog that I even realize just how early my interest in interracial relationships in literature really was.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>These two books were among my very favorites as a child, and they had me scouring for more books that highlighted interracial relationships among kids, and see how they bridged that racial divide.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >As I became older and started thinking a boy's cooties weren't necessarily a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">bad</i> thing, my interest became more inclusive and almost predominated by romantic interracial relationships featuring black women (or actually, relationships that featured black women, period, because those shows were just going off the air right when I needed them most *clings to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Living Single</i> and bemoans the fact her non-cable having self couldn't access <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Girlfriends</i> because living in the country meant no UPN without it*).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact, I'd wondered if one of the reasons Jeremy was so different from his folks was because Jeremy was or would end up<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> </i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>a little in love with Cassie, but Ms. Taylor decided to pair Cassie with Moe instead (I liked Moe...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Moe</i> *snuggles him*).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But I still thought of the "what if?" possibilities had Ms. Taylor decided to go the other route.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then the more I consumed media (mainly TV and movies) and started to have crushes on teen stars (who were usually white) I began to create my own stories where girls who looked like me could get some love.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It took a while for me to put those stories on paper, and even then those black girls started to look less like "the most beautiful of beautiful ever" to be worthy of said man to just "regla" girls who could be the most beautiful of beautiful for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">their man</i>.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >Thus sprouted my interest in writing interracial love stories featuring a black woman and a nonblack man.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Of course, this choice raises several eyebrows, particularly for those who know me personally because I'm very much proud to be a person of African descent and I'm very much advocate for black love in real life and the media--to the point I get ridiculously excited when I see a black couple being loving to each other because that's something you just so rarely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">see</i> in the media.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But that's the problem--it is as if it is mutually exclusive to be proud to be black/to see black love while at the same time being open to dating/loving outside one's race. And no, it's not good enough for a black couple to be together just because both parties are <span style="font-style: italic;">black</span>; color as the foundation of a relationship will never be strong enough to have that relationship last.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One of the reasons I focused my studies on interracial fiction in college because I wanted to see how interracial relationships (not strictly of the romantic variety) were handled through the ages.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There were some very, um, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">interesting</i> ideas (my "favorite" is an actual black and white striped child of an interracial union from like the late 16th century), but there was still an element of...I don't want to say fetishism, but the inability for a story to be told in such a way where the story didn't end tragically or in such a way that I was frustrated with one or both of the lead characters.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >I'd decided for my thesis I would write my own interracial fiction--<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> was the very first original story I gave a serious attempt to writing...and then I thought this was crap and decided to start writing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Being Plumville</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> garnered high praise in my departments, to the point it was named the best thesis on African-American Literature at my alma mater for the 2004-2005 school term; and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Being Plumville</i> has opened so many doors for me I cannot count.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now, I have several publications out, all of which the main focus is a black woman loving and being loved, because in the end, that's all that matters.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And in many ways, giving the heroine a hero who is different from her racially and/or culturally forces her to learn more about herself in the context of not only a black woman, but a member of humanity (and the hero, too, for that matter.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And to get one's characters to that plane of "love is love" is my ultimate goal of all.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;" >(Note: Felix Reynolds in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Being Plumville</i> is definitely inspired by Jeremy Simms and Ronnie Bass from the film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Remember the Titans.</i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If you're not acquainted with either, I highly recommend you check out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Remember the Titans</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">RtT</i> is an automatic stop-and-watch at my house, I don't even care.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My sis and I quote the mess out of that film.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh, and one more thing--Gerry & Julius = O.T.P.)</span></p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-68092935665317297022011-05-03T23:20:00.002-04:002011-05-03T23:22:45.675-04:00Can't Have One without the OtherIn the byline, if you will, of this blog, it says this is supposed to be about my journey as an author. And it has been...just weighted very heavily on the professional side of that journey. What I've been avoiding, even denying in a large sense, is that personal side of the journey; and what I am realizing is the professional can only go as far as the personal will allow. So, in that vein, I will be doing more personal blogging. Probably. Many of the things I'll discuss here I haven't told a soul...haven't even owned up to it myself. But this isn't my first time journaling, and there is something to be said about seeing the progression of moods from day to day to week to week to month to month to year to year. It's scary, humbling, and freeing to see all of this; and to give the world access to it even more so (because even though I can't really tell if people read this blog, I do know some of the few folk who do). But if I call myself a writer, I have to square with the fact I do that every time produce a book. So, be prepared for more BTS posts about what makes me tick enough to write what I write. If for nothing else, it'll probably be beneficial to me to keep myself honest and open to receiving the stories that have chosen me to tell them.Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-57246665677342088332011-05-01T08:05:00.002-04:002011-05-01T08:09:22.153-04:00Romance Slam Jam 2011 - The End<p class="MsoNormal">I’m sitting in Union Station, Washington, DC right now, a little tired, but very much blessed. The last two days was full of making even more connections, including a possible editing job for a colleague and some more inquiries about self publishing.<span style=""> </span>I also finally met one of my aces after <i style="">years</i> of meeting everyone <i style="">but</i> her (including working with her sister, meeting her mother, her brother-in-law’s family from round my way, other mutual friends—it was beyond time).<span style=""> </span>And she’s good.<span style=""> </span>Y’all, if you ever want to know why some (re: the majority) of these stories happen, is because chick sends me photos or keeps nudging formerly quiet secondary characters into screaming, especially in the <i style="">Reconstructing Jada Channing</i> universe (i.e.—the whole Inoue brothers arc? Her fault.).<span style=""> </span>I side-eye her, but it is with love.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And we share a brain.<span style=""> </span>It’s ridiculously creepy.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, she was there with me during the RSJ Mega Book Signing (I'd sold half the books I’d brought, which a significant success rate in my opinion) and got to meet several authors, and we were both very boring hanging out in my room while I bemoaned not wanting to go to the Emma Awards (my fault, I’d been up all night on the phone with <a href="http://www.bjthornton.com/">BJ</a> (we do not know how to have short conversations), who is another awesome-sauce woman whose book y’all need to buy when it comes out in June) and I’d needed to pack because my first train (the one forces tried to conspire against me to miss this morning) left at 6:23 this morning, and the Awards ended at 11pm last night.<span style=""> </span>But I was good egg, got photographic evidence me and my friend really, truly did meet, and went to the Emma Awards banquet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The food was great, although I wasn’t hungry and left most of it on the plate, sadly.<span style=""> </span>It was a bit chilly in the hotel, but that had been consistent from jump, so I was glad I’d at least had the foresight to wear an outfit with sleeves.<span style=""> </span>The awards were blessedly efficient with little hiccups and everyone was gracious and a cheerleader for the winners.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And speaking of…I placed in the Aspiring Authors Contest, which means my manuscript will be read by an editor at a major traditional house.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t blog about how much <i style="">angsting</i> I’d done with the submissions earlier this year; nor did I mention part of my trepidation was because the last time I’d participated in the contest my manuscripts had all but been ripped by the judges.<span style=""> </span>But I was a green one then, naïve, and I have four years of professionally writing under my belt.<span style=""> </span>I came in fourth out of the fourth slots, but I don’t even care.<span style=""> </span>There really is no such thing as “last place” if you placed at all, and I’m so grateful.<span style=""> </span>My “acceptance speech” was a hot mess because I 1.) didn’t think I’d win anything and 2.) wasn’t aware the winners would even have to say something.<span style=""> </span>But everyone was so kind to me and wished me congratulations.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And as for editors, I had another pitch earlier that day; this time with the editor of the Harlequin Kimani line.<span style=""> </span>Although I didn’t have anything that was the right fit for what she was looking, she was so gracious with her advice and just a warm spirit.<span style=""> </span>I’ll say, this core of agents and editors at this 2011 Romance Slam Jam were all phenomenal, so open, so gracious, so encouraging.<span style=""> </span>Pitching is one of the most nerve-wracking things an author could do, and I left both of mine so at ease and comfortable.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ll be glad when I finally get on my train back home; I’ll be able to relax a bit and really being to unpack all that went down during this conference, but it was a great experience.</p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-75453679988638815052011-04-29T17:14:00.001-04:002011-04-29T17:16:27.761-04:00Romance Slam Jam 2011 - The Middle<p class="MsoNormal">I’m recognized more now, and people are genuinely happy to see me, and are holding me accountable for not having much new output, and it’s a fantastic charge to have.<span style=""> </span>This is one of the most open conferences I’ve been to, and I’m pretty sure this will be one of the mandatory conferences as my career blooms.<span style=""> </span>It’s like one big family reunion and it’s wonderful.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yesterday, I had my reader’s session, which is where a panel authors answer questions from the audience.<span style=""> </span>I…wasn’t as assertive as I could’ve been; but those who know me know I prefer to listen than to talk about myself.<span style=""> </span>My fellow panelists were great—GiGi Gunn and an author who will be released in October through Genesis Press (I remember her actual name, but not her pen name!<span style=""> </span>I know it’s Regena….:-/).<span style=""> </span>Ms. Gunn said I had a great Web site!<span style=""> </span>If only y’all knew how much time and effort it takes to update that thing…that truly made my hour to hear that!<span style=""> </span>And she spoke so eloquently (they both did), so I was content to listen to them!<span style=""> </span>Ms. Gunn, like Ms. Beverly two years ago told me I need to work on my assertiveness.<span style=""> </span>Well, I put that to the test and had a woman buy <i style="">Trolling Nights</i> on her Kindle right in front of me!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m getting there, I promise…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today, I had an editor pitching session and it went really well!<span style=""> </span>The editor was very nice and gracious, one of the most relaxing ones I’d ever attended.<span style=""> </span>There was also a workshop about selling v. slushing regarding projects, and the agent, Nicole Resciniti from the Seymour Agency had wonderful pointers.<span style=""> </span>And I think I may even have a potential editing job with a fellow author.<span style=""> </span>I also spoke with some more local authors to consider a small little one-day conference maybe, perchance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the meantime, I’m now in my hotel room trying to put some of those pointers to paper for one of my <i style="">almost completed</i> manuscripts.<span style=""> </span>I hope I don’t get distracted, because I want to be able to pitch it soon.<span style=""> </span>It’s in the <i style="">Reconstructing Jada Channing </i>universe as well as the <i style="">Being Plumville</i> universe.<span style=""> </span>I think you’ll enjoy it…once it’s finally finished!</p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-57083691876157400042011-04-28T06:59:00.002-04:002011-04-28T07:03:27.478-04:00Romance Slam Jam 2011 - The Beginning<p class="MsoNormal">I’d entertained the idea of doing audio posts; but the glitch I found was uploading the files to create podcasts.<span style=""> </span>I’ll table that idea for now and I just write them out the semi old–fashioned way for the time being.<span style=""> </span>The trip to Baltimore for the Romance Slam Jam started off…challenging.<span style=""> </span>First of all, it was the first real day of ToM (men, ask the women in your life what that is), which means I was already miserable.<span style=""> </span>And then, found out my original departure of 9:50pm on Tuesday was pushed back to 10:30pm…then 11:45pm…then 12:15<i style="">am</i>…and I didn’t get on the train until 12:40<i style="">am</i> on Wednesday.<span style=""> </span>Bless my coworker and her husband’s hearts, the folks who’d offered to drop me at the train station.<span style=""> </span>They hung around until 11pm and told me to text them as soon as I arrived to the hotel…which didn’t occur until about 11:30 or so that morning.<span style=""> </span>Yet considering I wasn’t supposed to get to the hotel until 10-something anyway, that wasn’t so bad.<span style=""> </span>Just, the principle of the thing to wait that long at the train station AND miss my initial connecting train.<span style=""> </span>That was unnecessary stress on one of the worst days of the month for me.<span style=""> </span>But I made it!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I napped.<span style=""> </span>People, I don’t nap, but I needed to yesterday; otherwise, I would’ve been no good to anyone.<span style=""> </span>I’m just glad I do have a room to myself; I could relax in a way that I wouldn’t have been able to do so with one.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I ate lunch alone and then sat at a table with fellow RSJ people because they’d walked in just as I was finished.<span style=""> </span>Went down to dinner alone and ended up eating with a large group of authors who’ve taken me under their wings a bit.<span style=""> </span>I’m among the youngest authors here, if not the youngest.<span style=""> </span>Per usual.<span style=""> </span>They keep teasing me about my youth here, but it’s all good.<span style=""> </span>I’m always eager to learn from those who’ve been in the game longer and are being successful at it<span style=""> </span>I’m far more settled this third go round than I was when I first came to the RSJ in 2008.<span style=""> </span>I was a nervous wreck then; now I have more ownership over my space in the writing circle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">According to the schedule, I’m the only person in my reader’s session; however, I think that’s going to change considering the other session has three people in it.<span style=""> </span>Either I’ll join them or one will join me.<span style=""> </span>Or I’ll just sit in the other one, because that reader’s session features one of my mentors!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Nevertheless, I’m going to will a great RSJ 2011 into the universe, and maybe I’ll get a bit of writing done along the way.<span style=""> </span>I tend to have good luck with that, considering I’d written the majority of <i style="">Trolling Nights</i> at the 2008 iteration of it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Enjoy your day!</p>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-2176424103122586442011-04-24T14:00:00.001-04:002011-04-24T14:00:00.672-04:00I'm Gonna Do Better<div><p>I'd been doing so well with the updating and then I got really slack with it, and I apologize for that. I plan to give this another go, particularly because I have news. I have stopped publication on BEING PLUMVILLE with iUniverse. I certainly appreciate everything about that experience; without it, I wouldn't have learned the book publication process. This journey began four years ago, and it's been both professional and personal. I hope I have several more years to go on it, but thanks to iUniverse for helping me get started.</p>
</div>Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-55073712243854471102011-02-26T09:00:00.002-05:002011-02-26T09:19:55.351-05:00Support SystemsThis week I talked to several people about my writing journey. This fact isn't new or even really news, except for the first time in a long time, if ever, I took some serious ownership of my craft and crafting processes and being willing to accept whatever fruits are born from it. It was refreshing, and harkens back, actually, to my last post about not every book being for every reader. I want to support myself off my writing, and I owe my parents another "five-year plan" that I don't have other than "writing!", but to know <span style="font-style: italic;">I'll</span> have support even if I never make it humongous is awesome. <a href="http://kinktrix.com/index.html">I have friends who promote me on their Web sites</a>, who send me links to media outlets looking for something I could possibly offer. I people who work with me and ask me what my next project is and how my writing's going. I have people in <a href="http://www.forsyth.cc/library/MalloyJordan/default.aspx">libraries</a> who actively inform their patrons about "underground" authors such as myself and others. It's amazing and wonderful, and so completely <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> how I thought this career path would go. I'd always thought writing was a solitary endeavor, alone and without collaboration and corroboration. Maybe it used to be, but it cannot be that way now. I'm grateful for everyone and to everyone who's decided to take the journey along with me--even just a question of how it's going is encouraging for a writer, even if the writer is a little frustrated with the "when's the next one coming?" because the writer doesn't know! But the minute folks stop asking is the minute the writer knows she's in trouble. So, keep asking, keep pestering, even if I huff and roll my eyes a bit. I need each and every prod. It keeps me honest and humble to know I have folks who are rooting for me.Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24596763.post-30639698234973863992011-02-17T04:40:00.003-05:002011-02-17T04:48:30.698-05:00Strolling down Memory Lane toward My GoalI've been going over old writing this past week, checking out my stable, as it were, because it's writing contest/awards season; otherwise, I probably wouldn't have bothered. On the one hand, I'm looking at how much are really still works in progress. On the other, I'm looking at how good these works are. This is a change for me, folks, because before, I would nitpick at all the stuff that's wrong about these stories. This time, I'm reading and almost forgetting I wrote it because I'm getting absorbed in the story (I say almost because I'm aware enough to make changes here and there). These stories are strong, even if they don't ultimately win any contests or awards. I'm noticing how much I've improved upon my craft and it's relieving to see, actually. I'm falling in love with my characters all over again, and I know that I will be proud when these manuscripts are finally ready for publication.<br /><br />Perhaps it's the way I'm approaching this writing contest season now, in that I won't consider any response, whether good or bad, as the definitive word on my talent or the opportunities I have to make it in this industry. In fact, I went back and looked at some old "rejections" (either regarding poor scoring in contests or unsuccessful queries to publishers/editors/agents)--none of them said I couldn't write. I'd been too absorbed in the "no" to really read everything that was being said in the responses. I can write. I've had wonderful friends and mentors encourage me on that front, and every author needs to hear that from someone other than his or herself to remain sane. The real concern, for me especially, was and is truly, "does anyone but me care about this story?" That's what's great about being able to independently publish. It doesn't much matter if a publisher cosigns you or not, I as an independent author can share my story directly to the readers and have them decide if they care about the story. I don't have to worry about publishers playing the odds against my book to determine if they'll foot the bill publishing it (although that is still one goal of mine, as publisher have a larger readership pool to access than little ol' me).<br /><br />I first heard this from <a href="http://www.evelynpalfrey.com/">Evelyn Palfrey</a>, even though I'm sure countless others have said it--there is a reader for every book, but no book for every reader. I'm grateful for all the readers I get, truly. I've had so many people come up to me and say things such as, "yours is the first interracial/multicultural/fiction/African-American book I've ever read and I loved it! Comments like that help ground me and keep me focused on why I'm writing in the first place. Making a true living off my writing really is a main goal, to be sure, but I'm trying to write stories people want to read but may not be getting in mainstream publishing.<br /><br />Yet.Banahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13759237769320604546noreply@blogger.com0