Coming Home Tour - Reflections

The Bad

• 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.
• Payment issues forcing me to pay everything in advance unexpectedly.Luckily, I saved for this trip, but the inconvenience was there anyway.
• The Westin nickel and diming everything.
• 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.
• The pillows at the Westin. There really is such a thing as too damn soft.
• The A/C at the Westin was bipolar—didn’t know if it wanted to work consistently or at all.
• 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.
• Not being able to connect with my cousins. L Damn vibrate mode!
• The Waffle House in Downtown Atlanta full of rude-ass college students blocking precious parking. Rude. 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 Reconstructing Jada Channing anyway).

The Good

• Getting to and from Atlanta safely in my non-cruise-control-having car, praise be to God.
• Someone actually coming to the Meet and Greet! *shout out Courtnie & her peeps and please learn Javier’s real name!*
• The Sun Dial Restaurant being delicious (if slightly overpriced) with gorgeous views. Gorgeous. 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. There may be shorts.

(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!)

• The cutie bouncer at the pub next door to the Westin. He wore the mess out of a black Security T-shirt.
• Learning I like Baileys Irish Cream. A lot. I’m sure both Aaron and Patrick are proud of this.
• The photo shoot. Had “I Feel Pretty” playing in my head. Sevan Photography, shout out—can’t wait to see the results and Shannon is good people. Thanks Nuri for hipping me to them! If you need photos done, go to them, seriously.
• Smith’s Olde Bar 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 The Way That You Play It). Favorite parts of the band: the hottie Black T-shirt!Rhythm Guitarist and the Percussionist—both of whom couldn’t even give the slightest of damns. It was hot.
• 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. There may be shorts.

The Epic

• FINALLY MEETING BJ!!!
• Finally meeting BJ (it beared repeating.)!
• Breaking 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 not 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 assumed any attention would go to her. Lesson learned.).

(le white dress. Apparently, it was a hit...)

• Ironically realizing it’s much harder to do marathon conversations in person.
• A very tacky flashing Cinderella pumpkin-esque horse-drawn carriage. There may be shorts.
• Realizing someone you’ve been fangirling for years is actually someone who calls you a friend and being extremely humbled by that.
• BJ realizing I really am a sports girl. Hee.
• 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.
• Having 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).

• Friendships being affirmed.

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.

Question Set #3 - Coming Home Tour Countdown

Reminder: In order to be in the running for my giveaway, all you have to do is answer three questions correctly that pertain to either Reconstructing Jada Channing or Being Plumville. Answers only count if replied onto the blogpost--no e-mails please.

~~~

1.) In what class does Coralee tutor Benjamin?

2.) What is Jada's grandmother's name?

3.) What scene left the most impact on you from either book?

Coming Home Tour Countdown - The ATL

Afternoon, everyone! Here's the third official blog post for the Coming Home Tour Countdown! This week, BJ 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!

~~~

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.

That plan never did pan out.

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.

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.

The next time I'm in Atlanta is in 2005. The new pope was being named and my college choir 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!).

The reason why I'd chosen Atlanta as a central location in Reconstructing Jada Channing, 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 her 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?

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 Being Plumville 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!

~ bana

Question Set #2 - Coming Home Tour Countdown

Reminder: In order to be in the running for my giveaway, all you have to do is answer three questions correctly that pertain to either Reconstructing Jada Channing or Being Plumville. Answers only count if replied onto the blogpost--no e-mails please.

~~~

1.) What kind of firm is McKensie Lowman?

2.) What is the name of Jada's family's restaurant?

3.) In what year do the main events of Being Plumville begin?

Coming Home Tour Countdown - RJC Deleted Scene

Afternoon, everyone! Here's the second official blog post for the Coming Home Tour Countdown! This week, BJ and I are including deleted or extended scenes from our work; and for me, it was such a walk down memory lane. My goodness, Reconstructing Jada Channing 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!


~~~~~


"Squirt Drabble"

(c) 2011, 2004 by Savannah J. Frierson

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.

“Jada, honey,…relax…everything will be fine…”

“But he was cryin’ when we left—”

“Mama will take good care of Joshua, love; besides, she has done this type of thing before…”

Jada nodded and took a long sip from her own punch, her hand clutching the glass as if it were a lifeline. The wreaths, garland, ornaments, and other holiday fare did little to lift her sprits, though Christmas was one of her favorite times of year. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d left Joshua in the hands of a caregiver, but it was the first time anyone from Aaron’s side of the family did the caring. 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. 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.

Aaron kissed her temple this time, the hands caressing her flat abdomen lightly. “I know this is new for you, Jaybird, but I promise nothing ill-toward will happen to you or my son…or the little one inside you now…”

She laughed shortly, giving him a playfully skeptical look. “Sometimes I wonder if you married me because I’m the mother of your children—”

“That’s not true,” he said emphatically, pulling away to meet her eyes. “I married you so you wouldn’t be the mother of someone else’s children!”

“Selfish rich boy—”

“And your rich boy, too. Only yours…”

He kissed her, in front of all those high-class people, and very unapologetic of his actions, she could tell. 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.

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 her over something more appropriate.

Men didn’t marry girls like her; they sowed wild oats with girls like her. If anything she was fertile, becoming pregnant the two times he “sowed”, but Jada knew there was more to it than that. She and Aaron fit somehow, on such a deeper level even Jada couldn’t figure out why. But who was she to analyze it? Her grandmother always taught her to be thankful for the blessings she received, and she was certainly thankful for Aaron.

“Ahem.”

Jada tensed, but Aaron gently took her chin, not letting go until he was finished kissing her. He broke apart with smaller kisses, rubbing her cheek with his thumb in a contented gesture. Jada glanced at their new guest and offered a small smile, even as she dabbed Aaron’s mouth to wipe away imaginary lipstick.

Aaron tightened the arm around Jada’s waist and brought her closer to him, nodding curtly at their visitor. “Father.”

Alexander McKensie II stared at his new daughter-in-law shrewdly, as if searching for the flaw on her, and yet…“Flawless.”

“Isn’t she?” Aaron said even as he kissed her temple, bursting with pride. Jada could barely manage a “thank you”, so surprised by Alexander’s approval. 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. 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.

“You’re enchanting everyone, child.” That was certainly a view, but Jada was much better with her “thank you”, this time. “Anyway, I’m actually here to pass on a message from Izzy, or rather, my grandson: ‘I want Mommy,’ I believe, is the request…”

Jada sighed even as Aaron hid his laughter in the crown of her head. Even Alexander’s mouth twitched with mirth, but he cleared his throat and kept his composure, looking every bit the sophisticate. “I feel the party can survive without your presence, Son.”

“I never liked coming to these company parties anyway, Father,” Aaron muttered under his breath.

Alexander raised his eyebrow and scratched the side of his nose briefly. “Indeed…give your mother and my grandson a kiss for me, shall we?” The older man bussed Jada’s knuckles before disappearing back into the crowd and wielding the McKensie charm.

“I daresay father is warming up to you…” Aaron said into her hair as he led them to the coat check.

“He terrifies me.”

“He’s really a big ole softie…just ask Mama…”

“He loves your mother,” Jada said by way of explanation.

The checker retrieved their coats and Aaron helped Jada into her mink before putting on his own wool trench. Hand in hand, they left the party going down to the garage where the valet sent for their limousine. 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.

He kissed the back of her newly gloved hand and winked at her, tipping the valet as their ride appeared. 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. 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.

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. She had the urge to shut the elevator doors in her husband’s face, but changed her mind at the last second.

“He’s my son, too,” he teased, taking her hand again.

“He ain’t ask for you now did he?”

“Harsh, love, harsh…”

The elevator couldn’t get to the 25^th floor fast enough, and Aaron had to squeeze her hand to calm her. When they finally reached the blessed floor, Jada pushed the “Door Open” button repeatedly until the doors crept open. 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. Aaron knew better than to interfere with his wife’s mission so he hung back, keeping his humor to himself.

Isabella opened the door, but there was no sign of Joshua.

“Where is he?”

Isabella grinned, kissing Jada, then Aaron on the cheek. “The little darling is asleep! 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!”

Jada’s brown eyes sparkled as she glanced from mother to son, clearly impressed. “I’ll have to use that trick more often!”

Aaron laughed, helping Jada out of her coat. “Why don’t you just not go to the parties at all?”

“Even better!”

Jada gave Isabella a large hug. “Joshie wasn’t too much trouble, was he?”

“A darling, he was, an absolute darling. You’ve raised him beautifully, Jada…”

“Thanks,” she replied on a deep sigh. She looked to her husband and shrugged. “I’m going to check on him anyway…”

Aaron nodded and smiled, his eyes following her progress as she went down the hall to their son’s bedroom.

Isabella went to her son, holding grasping his upper arms. “Need me to do anything else?”

Aaron snorted. “Probably save Papa from his own party.”

“He insisted on throwing it,” Isabella said unapologetically, thanking her son as he helped her into her coat. “I tell him every year not to, but he never listens…”

“He will one day.”

“Eh. He’s stubborn…like his son…” Aaron blushed but Isabella cupped her son’s cheeks. “I’m proud of you, Aaron.”

“Love you, Mama.”

With one last kiss, Isabella left, and Aaron went down the hall, undoing his tuxedo as he went. Jada was sitting on Joshua’s bed, brushing the curls from his forehead, unaware of his presence in the doorway.

“All fingers and toes accounted for?” Aaron asked in jest.

Jada never looked from her son. “Everything’s perfect.” She kissed Joshua’s forehead before leaving the bed and going to her husband. She wrapped her arms around him and accepted his kiss before snuggling into him. “Everything is absolutely perfect.”

“Good. Let’s call it a night, shall we?”

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 was where she belonged, safe in Aaron’s arms as their son slept peacefully down the hall.

Question Set #1 - Coming Home Tour Countdown

I think these will be simple, yes? Yes. Remember, answers only count if they're replies to this blog post; no e-mails!

1.) What is Jada Channing's college alma mater?

2.) What is Coralee Simmons's college alma mater?

3.) In which city/town is Coralee's alma mater located?

Good luck!

Coming Home...Well, One of Aaron and Jada's Homes...

I drive up the Spanish moss–canopied dirt lane toward the big house of LeMay Plantation, mouth agape, but I don’t care. 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.

But I suppose that has to do more with nerves than anything else.

I park beside an even older-model gold Acura and grin. 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. 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. I’m far too old to fidget the way I am, but I don’t much care, and I ring the doorbell.

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. I hide my face in my hands, but they pulled them away, and the younger one wraps me in her arms. The elder rubs my back.

Savannah J. Frierson (SJF): Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I hadn’t…

Coralee Simmons Drummond (CSD): Mama’s crying.

Jada Channing McKensie: (JCM): Can you blame her? We’re basically her kids!

CSD: All grown up.

JCM: Yes, we are! You’re proud of us, aren’t you?

SJF: *Nods* I have no words, none at all. I just want to thank you so much—

CSD: Ma, I don’t know why you’re thanking us!

JCM: Seriously! Without you, we wouldn’t even be here!

CSD: And that’s just a tragedy to even think about!

JCM: But in the meantime, come on in! It’s hot as Hades outside and Miss Coralee made some sweet tea!

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!

They loop one of their arms through each of mine and usher me inside, Jada pausing to close the door behind her. The space is modern, updated, and gorgeous, with plush furniture, carpeting, and rich hardwood floors. It takes everything I have not to whip out my PDA to look up the type of wood that had been used.

They lead me to the screen-in porch overlooking the marsh where two men were watching something on their pad PDA. They suddenly shout and the elder one does an awkward jig that makes me snort. Both men look up, and the dancing man immediately smiles and all but runs toward me.

Benjamin Drummond (BD): *hugs me tightly* Savannah J. Frierson, as I live and breathe!

CDS: And snore—be glad it’s not naptime!

BD: *pouts* You’re not funny, Ceelee.

JCM: I’ll have to disagree with that; I think she’s hilarious!

BD: Freda’s still a bad influence—

Aaron McKensie (AM): I see your bad influence and raise you Deshae Green.

BD: *grins* I bet Deshae learned at Freda’s knee.

JCM: *laughs* You just like her because she flirts with you all the time!

CDS: Deshae flirts with everyone all the time.

BD: She has good taste, darlin’; what’s it the kids used to say—don’t hate!

Everyone groans except Jada, who giggles into my shoulder.

BD: *scowls* You should be nicer to your elders, Miss Jada.

Jada rolls her eyes but kisses Benjamin’s cheek, and he beams. 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. Aaron is there and wraps me in a far less exuberant but no less intimate hug, and I all but cling to him.

AM: Hello, love.

SJF: You shouldn’t call me that.

AM: I do a lot of things I shouldn’t…and all of them with your tacit permission!

JCM: Naw! Don’t even try to blame her for your ninja sperm! Knocking me up like you did!

AM: Did she, or did she not, allow me to be your husband?

CSD: Ooh…you hear how he said that, Benny? Never too old to take notes, baby!

BD: Notes! Ha! I lecture now—paid my dues and all those student loans already!

JCM: Let’s not discuss student loans.

AM: You know she still brings up the fact I paid hers?

JCM: I gotta keep our kids humble, Aaron McKensie! Some of us didn’t come out poopin’ Benjamins out our butts!

BD: Excuse me?

CSD: Amen!

Aaron and Benjamin sigh heavily but sit next to their wives. Benny wraps an arm around Coralee shoulders while Aaron tangles his fingers with Jada’s. I search around for a place to sit, but Coralee pats the space between them.

CSD: You’re sitting right here right now.

I blanche. It’s not in me to refuse an elder, except, technically, I’m older, but old lessons are hard to unlearn. 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. The McKensie boys are certainly not babies anymore!

Charles Augustus “Chaz” McKensie (CM): Ohh! Hey, I’m Chaz—but you already know that, and I love older women—but you already know that too. Yes, I will marry you—you probably didn’t know that, but you do now—

Joshua Alexander Channing McKensie (JAM): *kisses my cheek, effectively interrupting his brother* Did you know he’d be this silly when you wrote him?

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.

Jada glares at her husband.

JCM: Savannah, how many kids was I originally supposed to have?

SJF: *shifts uncomfortably* Two. A boy and a girl.

AM: Double your pleasure, double your fun!

The wide grin he gives leaves Jada unmoved and she rolls her eyes.

CSD: I’m appreciative of the one you gave me.

I squeeze Coralee’s hand.

SJF: That’s all I saw; I’m sorry.

BD: *kisses his wife’s temple.* Simone is perfect. I don’t even mind that Powell boy she married.

CSD: Also known as your godson.

AM: Like that makes a difference!

JCM: It should! Acting like these boys are brand spanking new—

AM: Operative word is boy!

I shared a look with Coralee and Jada, and we all rolled our eyes. Joshua and Chaz had already made their getaways.

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.

CSD: Amen!

JCM: They want to keep their daughters five years old; it doesn’t work that way.

BD: It should!

CSD: If it did, you wouldn’t have these daughters in the first place because you wouldn’t have us!

That makes the men pause for a split second, but then they both shake their heads.

BD: We’re different!

JCM: *snorts* Unicorns?

AM: Leprechauns!

CSD: You’re too tall to be a leprechaun, dear.

AM: I don’t know the Italian equivalent.

JCM: How about an ass?

AM: *smirks* You like my ass.

Jada huffs but can’t control her grin when her husband starts necking her. I sigh with exasperation, thinking of how they’ve only gotten worse with the public displays of affection the longer I’ve known them. If they weren’t so adorable, my teeth would ache. 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. She still has her gorgeous smile and Benjamin still stares at her as if she were the most beautiful creation God has ever made.

BD: Felix sends his love, by the way. He’d be here but he’s at St. Simon’s with the missus.

CSD: And Felix has aged very well, I can assure you—

Benjamin clears his voice much more loudly than is required. My PDA dings and I notice a forward from Aaron. I open it and I see a thirty-page invoice attached.

AM: That’s Rodrigo’s therapy bill for making him have all girls.

JCM: Karma is such a beautiful thing!

My PDA dings again and this time it’s an e-mail from Veronica with a picture of her family attached.

JCM: We’re going to meet up around Christmas, I believe, babe?

AM: New Year’s. We’re going to India for our wedding anniversary.

JCM: Twenty-three years?

AM: That’s it?

They laugh as they kiss and Coralee winks at me.

CSD: Well, I’ve felt every single one of our fifty years.

BD: We cannot have been married for fifty years when you barely look a day over forty.

CSD: That’s actually really mean; My head wasn’t this gray when I was forty!

Benjamin kisses the top of her head and holds her close. Jada and Aaron look at them fondly.

JCM: I wanna be y’all when I grow up.

AM: I thought you wanted to be my parents.

JCM: I want to be anyone who makes it. I certainly don’t want to be my parents…

SJF: *squeezes her shoulder* Sorry about that.

JCM: I just love you left off all those revelations out the first book. Like the stuff about my dad and my brother.

Aaron looks everywhere but at them and I arch an eyebrow, popping a bite of a sweet roll in my mouth. 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. But if he keeps on being such a hard-nose about Ava and her boo, that may have to change.

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!

BD: We don’t bother you, Savannah…then again, that’s because Felix hogging the microphone.

SJF: Felix is a sweetie; always has been. He waited, what, two years before deciding to tell me his story. Bless his heart.

CSD: Say that again. 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.

I take a long gulp of my sweet tea and blush at Coralee’s laugh.

CSD: I know you’ll finish it, sweetheart. You’ve got a lot of demands upon you.

BD: Interlopers.

AM: Excuse me? If I recall, Mr. Drummond, Savannah had been working on our story for months until something called “National Novel Writing Month” and “thesis angst” got her to start writing your story—

BD: Ours is better—

JCM: Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry—

CSD: You didn’t just turn into a five year old before our eyes, did you?

BD: Everyone says so!

Aaron glowers at the coffee table and Jada rubs his back. I shake my head and shrug.

SJF: I cannot control audience response. Your stories resonate differently, but I love you both. 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. I’m so glad you chose me to tell your stories, and that’s all I’m going to say on that matter.

Jada and Coralee hug me and Aaron stands, stretching.

AM: I’m hungry. Are you hungry?

BD: *stands with help from his wife* I think I smell your son making more of those sweet rolls?

The men leave us alone and Jada and Coralee laugh, both leaning forward conspiratorially.

JCM: So…what’s this I hear about Joshie’s story being written?

CSM: And my grandbaby, Freelee, I hear tell there is some percolating going on with her story!

I laugh and eat more of the sweet roll and give a coy shrug.

SJF: Joshua’s story is already written and your granddaughter is like the wind—can’t really catch it for long. But if Freelee sits down long enough, her story will be told. I promise.

CSM: Good. Nothing like love to get you to slow down, huh, Jada Mae?

JCM: Nothing like it at all!

So It Begins...COMING HOME Countdown!

Hello, everyone! Welcome to the "Blog Countdown" to BJ's and my Coming Home Tour! The title comes from the title of Reconstructing Jada Channing's sequel Coming Home, 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 Being Plumville--as a National Novel Writing Month project, and I enjoyed revisiting my very first original couple ever--Jada and Aaron.

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--BJ Thornton and you!

My relationship with BJ...I don't exactly remember how it started other than a mutual stanning of each other's work. I'm beyond excited for her new release, The Way That You Play It, 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? Check out the interview BJ did with the couple!

If you want an opportunity to maybe even interview us 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 Smith's Old Bar 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 Reconstructing Jada Channing or Being Plumville, 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.

Good luck and thank you all for your support!

Coming Home to Atlanta!

I'm so excited to be doing this venture with my girl and fantastic, fantastic author BJ Thornton! 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!

10 Facts about Me

I 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).

~~~~

1.) I was named after my maternal grandmother (Jordan—RiP Grandma Lillie, one year gone this May).

2.) I’ve sung with Bobby McFerrin (with my college choir Kuumba Singers).

3.) I played Carnegie Hall when I was 18 (orchestra/viola).

4.) I started truly writing when I was 12 years old (poetry).

5.) I haven’t been kissed since I was 18 (I’ll be 28 this month).

6.) My favorite part of my body is my eyes (they are brown, but nothing plain about them to me).

7.) My favorite novel I’ve written thus far is Reconstructing Jada Channing, which is, incidentally, the first novel I’ve ever written and my worst reviewed novel on Amazon (#kanyeshrug).

7.) My favorite desserts are cheesecake and my Grandma Katie’s pound cake (RiP, Grandma Katie, 10 years gone this August).

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).

9.) My favorite movie ever in life is Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (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).

10.) I have a ride-or-die personality when it comes to friends, and length of time between talking doesn’t negate that.

Mother's Day

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 :)

The Seeds That Were Planted

I was about five or six years old and I was at the park near my kindergarten. My mother had taken my sister and me to the park to play, and there was a white family there. 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 her!" We both looked at each other in confusion before his sister grabbed his wrist and yanked him away. 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.

This is 1988/1989, over twenty years after the end of the modern Civil Rights Movement in the United States.

I often cite Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry as the book that made me want to be a writer, which is true. 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. 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. 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. 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. I think I would've cried some ugly tears had that happened.

So, Roll of Thunder planted the seed; then Maniac Magee was the fertilizer. I loved this book. 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 Roll of Thunder. He was similar to Jeremy in many ways--a loner who didn't really care about conventions and just "did him". 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.

You know, like Martin Luther King said he wanted us to do one day. 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.

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. 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. 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. 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. 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.

*pats bb!Sav*

I do find it notable that of all the characters who are allowed that particular freedom in those early books were white and male. 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. 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. 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.

As I became older and started thinking a boy's cooties weren't necessarily a bad 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 Living Single and bemoans the fact her non-cable having self couldn't access Girlfriends because living in the country meant no UPN without it*). 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 a little in love with Cassie, but Ms. Taylor decided to pair Cassie with Moe instead (I liked Moe...Moe *snuggles him*). But I still thought of the "what if?" possibilities had Ms. Taylor decided to go the other route. 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. 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 their man.

Thus sprouted my interest in writing interracial love stories featuring a black woman and a nonblack man. 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 see in the media. 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 black; color as the foundation of a relationship will never be strong enough to have that relationship last. 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. There were some very, um, interesting 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.

I'd decided for my thesis I would write my own interracial fiction--Reconstructing Jada Channing 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 Being Plumville. Reconstructing Jada Channing 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 Being Plumville has opened so many doors for me I cannot count. 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. 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. And to get one's characters to that plane of "love is love" is my ultimate goal of all.

(Note: Felix Reynolds in Being Plumville is definitely inspired by Jeremy Simms and Ronnie Bass from the film Remember the Titans. If you're not acquainted with either, I highly recommend you check out Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry and Remember the Titans. RtT is an automatic stop-and-watch at my house, I don't even care. My sis and I quote the mess out of that film. Oh, and one more thing--Gerry & Julius = O.T.P.)

Romance Slam Jam 2011 - The End

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. I also finally met one of my aces after years of meeting everyone but 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). And she’s good. 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 Reconstructing Jada Channing universe (i.e.—the whole Inoue brothers arc? Her fault.). I side-eye her, but it is with love.

And we share a brain. It’s ridiculously creepy.

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 BJ (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. But I was good egg, got photographic evidence me and my friend really, truly did meet, and went to the Emma Awards banquet.

The food was great, although I wasn’t hungry and left most of it on the plate, sadly. 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. The awards were blessedly efficient with little hiccups and everyone was gracious and a cheerleader for the winners.

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. I didn’t blog about how much angsting 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. But I was a green one then, naïve, and I have four years of professionally writing under my belt. I came in fourth out of the fourth slots, but I don’t even care. There really is no such thing as “last place” if you placed at all, and I’m so grateful. 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. But everyone was so kind to me and wished me congratulations.

And as for editors, I had another pitch earlier that day; this time with the editor of the Harlequin Kimani line. 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. I’ll say, this core of agents and editors at this 2011 Romance Slam Jam were all phenomenal, so open, so gracious, so encouraging. Pitching is one of the most nerve-wracking things an author could do, and I left both of mine so at ease and comfortable.

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.

Romance Slam Jam 2011 - The Middle

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. 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. It’s like one big family reunion and it’s wonderful.

Yesterday, I had my reader’s session, which is where a panel authors answer questions from the audience. 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. 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! I know it’s Regena….:-/). Ms. Gunn said I had a great Web site! If only y’all knew how much time and effort it takes to update that thing…that truly made my hour to hear that! And she spoke so eloquently (they both did), so I was content to listen to them! Ms. Gunn, like Ms. Beverly two years ago told me I need to work on my assertiveness. Well, I put that to the test and had a woman buy Trolling Nights on her Kindle right in front of me!

I’m getting there, I promise…

Today, I had an editor pitching session and it went really well! The editor was very nice and gracious, one of the most relaxing ones I’d ever attended. There was also a workshop about selling v. slushing regarding projects, and the agent, Nicole Resciniti from the Seymour Agency had wonderful pointers. And I think I may even have a potential editing job with a fellow author. I also spoke with some more local authors to consider a small little one-day conference maybe, perchance.

In the meantime, I’m now in my hotel room trying to put some of those pointers to paper for one of my almost completed manuscripts. I hope I don’t get distracted, because I want to be able to pitch it soon. It’s in the Reconstructing Jada Channing universe as well as the Being Plumville universe. I think you’ll enjoy it…once it’s finally finished!

SJF Books Universe

If you ever had a question for my characters, there's now a place to ask! First up is Reconstructing Jada Channing!

Happy Holidays!

I've been quiet because NaNo was in November and then I've been deep in finishing it up. If you go to my Google Group, you can see what I've been working on (which is a continuation of Reconstructing Jada Channing). Also, I'm also a diva! Thank you! Anyway, I hope everyone is having a safe holiday season and I hope you have a new year! See you then!

Savannah

Agent/Publisher Search

One of the hardest things for an "up-and-coming" author to do is choose which manuscript they think will be "the one" to get them at least a partial read, better a full request, and ultimately a contract. I have self-published four books and had an e-publisher for the fifth work, but even still, I know I have an uphill climb to go. I have five other manuscripts that I could shop (and even some people have said why not shop the novels you've already self-published?) but that's a tricky thing, isn't it? Nevertheless, I have NO idea which to shop. At least one that I'm considering has been to the second-ring of acceptance (the partial) but was ultimately passed over by an agent. One has a full request, which is a yay! , but I guess that means I can't submit that to an agent (although to be fair, that one is with a publisher also).Ironically, that manuscript has also been rejected by another publisher (but that publisher had also requested a full manuscript...hmm, I may have my answer!). Then again, this very same manuscript got rejected in full by another publisher (but they demand unsolicited queries to include the full MS, so it wasn't "requested" per se).

I then have two more manuscripts that I haven't really sent out yet, but I don't know how to label them. I think they both might be women's fiction, but I am not sure. The advice from authors is to just submit your strongest work, but the agents/editors want you to tell them what kind. One very nice lit agent said that my submission for RJC wasn't romance, but rather women's fiction. I can see what she meant by that, but for me, I am telling a love story. All of my stories are love stories...but they don't call IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK a romance even though Fonny is one of my favorite "heroes" ever. I don't know. It's like divining the future. The other complication is I'm actually doing very well with my self-publishing. . From all the articles I've read about "average" self-publishing sales, I'm doing twice as good--three times as good as those averages. Maybe the rules are different for AA writers? Word of mouth is huge, and I have a lovely crew of readers who do like to talk! And I don't know. I'm being pulled in several directions, but I don't want to "give up" and be content with the self-publishing. I'll just put my stuff out there and hope an agent likes it, I reckon. At the very least I know readers do!

The Official Web Site

Hi, all,

I've updated the reviews page on my Web site with new reviews for Reconstructing Jada Channing and The Beauty Within. I hope you check it out! Also, please tell your friends and family about the new releases as well.

PS--go join Badazz Authors Yahoo Group. Yeah, apparently these other authors think I'm badazz. Holler!

:)

Best,

Sav

Happy New Year! Happy New Release!: Reconstructing Jada Channing

Jada Channing never thought she would see Aaron McKensie again after that night, that one glorious night when she'd lost all good sense and muzzled all the voices telling her why being with him wasn't a good idea. He was older, wealthy, and white. Jada was none of those things, and yet she'd fallen for Aaron anyway-just as her black great-great grandmother Dorcas had fallen for her white great-great grandfather Mr. Joseph all those years ago. Their relationship had been doomed from the start, and Jada saw no reason to think hers and Aaron's would be any different.

Yet what happens when Aaron reappears years later, completely oblivious to the knowledge of his child Joshua, and the feelings Jada had locked away after that one night return twice as powerfully? Will history repeat itself, or will Jada give herself the chance to create an entirely new future?

Excerpt:

“Jada?”

He was leaning against the doorway, towel haphazardly tied low on his hips, black hair still damp, and water dripping from its curled ends. His head rested on the arm he leaned against, and he stared at her with slumberous eyes. If he’d been in any other setting, Jada would consider him drowsy, but she knew better. He was very alert and all his attention was on her, filing her in a compartment in his brain because he couldn’t live his life in chaos. She pulled the sheet tighter around her bare torso as if to shield herself from his eyes and whatever category he’d designated for her. However, it was too late for that. He’d broken down whatever defenses she had had long before last night.

“Aaron.”

It was a flat sound, a plateau of a name whose owner meant far more than he should.

Jada never would’ve imagined this when they met three years ago as tutors at a community center in Roxbury. They had been colleagues and treated each other with the typical polite detachment of co-workers, only asking superficial questions and responding with superficial answers. The age difference had had much to do with it—she being a freshman in college while he a semester away from starting at the business school—but there had been something more salient keeping them at a distance, and, if she were honest, it had been more because of her than him. Yet the genuine warmth with which he had greeted her that first day and every day since then had surprised her, disoriented her to the point where she had limited contact with him. This had forced Aaron to initiate the conversations that usually, seconds later, ended with his awkward chuckle, small smile, and shy wave.

He had eventually given her a nickname: Jaybird. It had been ironic because she rarely spoke to him, but each small, brief, impersonal greeting he’d given her had paved the way to conversation, greater intimacy, friendship. It were as if she had been a block of stone and Aaron the sculptor, his conversations a chisel chipping away her unnecessary hardness to reveal the woman who was Jada Channing. She wasn’t quite sure when the sculpture had been completed—perhaps it wasn’t yet—but she knew she felt far more exposed now than she had at any other point in her life.

And that fact had nothing to do with their current nudity.

Jada watched him approach, his towel falling away mid-stride, and she detached herself from the situation enough to appreciate his body. Slightly muscular, yet strong—her preferred body type. He was well defined and hard, but he had yielded to her so well, and she shivered at the memory.

Gentle was the first word she’d think of whenever she remembered last night. His gentleness alone had made her want to cry—soft touches of his hands and lips; soft caresses of his breath and voice along her skin; soft embraces that left her too weak to leave. There was even a soft declaration of love she had convinced herself she’d imagined, and Jada didn’t have the courage to ask him to confirm it. She was so sure, now that the heat and passion of the moment were gone, the answer would change.

Jada couldn’t take a retraction.

A retraction would mean her family was right, her community was right, that a white man like him could never fully understand or love a black woman like her. This was the one time she needed her upbringing to be wrong, to know what she did last night could not be a mistake; that the feelings she’d been nursing for almost two years could blossom and grow into something that would survive long after both had taken their last breaths.

The bed dipped when he sat, and he crawled next to her, sliding a damp, pale arm around her dry, darker waist. The black, wet hairs on his arm tickled her skin and her body quivered from the contact. He moved her curly tresses from her neck and replaced them with his lips, making Jada sigh and grant him more access.

“Good morning, love.”

That was certainly a matter of opinion, but Jada responded in kind, not wanting him to know her inner turmoil. The “adverbial questions” of last night, suspended due to overwhelming feelings and long pent-up desires, seeped into her consciousness, and she drew up her covers to hide from them. What would happen now? He was leaving for New York that night and probably wouldn’t be back until graduation in the spring. When would they see each other again? Where would last night lead them today or even two months from now? How would they continue this relationship—as friends, as lovers, or, God forbid, as strangers? Why should it even matter?

It did matter.

It mattered because Jada felt like she had turned her back on everything for this man, compromised everything because she loved him. She didn’t hop into bed with just anyone; she’d been taught sex was about giving something so personal and sacred that she had to be explicitly sure and confident about her partner, regardless if she were a virgin or not. The fact Jada had chosen Aaron McKensie had consequences that reverberated well beyond themselves.