Strolling down Memory Lane toward My Goal

I'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.

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).

I first heard this from Evelyn Palfrey, 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.

Yet.

Self-Publishing (in My Opinion)

I'm up at 3:50 in the morning; I hope I go back to sleep soon. But in the meantime, I'll write this blog post because I 1.) need to do better about blogging and 2.) two different people (one being fellow writer & friend BJ Thornton) asked me this question, although phrased differently: What is the role of self-publishing for the 21st-century writer. Okay, clearly neither question was so succinct as that, but that's my synopsis of their two queries. However, my answer is fairly succinct: a godsend. I say that because no longer are writers at the mercies of agents (even though I have a great one) or publishers (even though I'm affiliated with an awesome one), but DIY publishing is actually a great way for the writer to truly learn about the publishing process, something I don't think strictly traditionally published authors learn until deep in their careers, if at all.

Because you publish your books yourself, you understand and appreciate the costs it requires to put a book together--the editor, the proofreader, the cover art, the formatting, how to price the book, which format(s) to release the book, how to distribute the book, where to distribute the book, how to market the book. You are responsible for it all, either yourself exclusively or finding reliable people to provide the services. Little known fact is the majority of publishers hire freelance editors and proofreaders outside of the "editor" responsible for your project in the house. In that sense, "editor" is actually synonymous for "project manager" than anything else. This isn't a bad thing, because every book should have a champion, and that's what the editor is for the larger publishing houses. For electronic houses, "editor" more often used in its traditional definition than not, but that person is still the author's champion. When you self-published, the author is the book's champion and the editor is as-defined usually. Unfortunately, most self-published authors cannot afford the going rate of the average editor (3-5 cents/word) so they skimp on that level or do it themselves. I do my own editing, for one, and even with my professional experience as an editor/proofreader, it's always good to have an extra pair (or two) of eyes to look over one's work. Shoddy editing/proofreading is a convenient excuse for the industry not to take self-published authors seriously or think they have something worthwile to say (never mind I see many mistakes in traditionally published material...)

Which brings me to the "stigma" of self-publishing. Obviously, I think it's unfair; though not because I'm a self-published author myself. There's the general belief (although I think it's starting to change) that self-published authors are the authors who "can't hack it" in traditional publishing; they are the second/third/fourth tier of talent, relegated to self-publishing purgatory in favor of the ones with true talent. To that, I obviously say, "ha". First and foremost, publishing is a business; publishers will pass up truly well-crafted writing if they don't think there's a big enough market for it. the keywords here, then , are "money" and "big market". That's why many books on the shelves aren't War and Peace or Tale of Two Cities anymore. There's a reason why many books on the shelf are either "genre" or "commercial" fiction. If an author writes this fantastic story, but an agent/editor/publisher doesn't think it'll move thousands (if it's a big publisher) or high hundreds (if it's an small/e-publisher), then it's not going to publish it--no matter how well constructed and written the story is. Of course, there is the basic "nontalented" writer who is obvious to spot, but it's those great talent-small market authors who get caught in the quagmire of the slush pile. Most of the rejections I've gotten have had less to do with my writing talent (in fact, most give me kudos on that) but rather they cannot "see" the market for my work (that is a blog post for another day). Even I approached self-publishing more as a way to give me a boost into the traditional publishing world, even 'dismissing' the fact I was a "true" author because I'd self-published my book.

Almost four years later, I wish someone would tell me I wasn't a genuine author because I had the temerity to not wait for a publisher to tell me I was good enough. But it wasn't until I spoke to a colleague of mine (who'd had much success finding agents but less so finding publishing houses) that she wanted to know about the self-publishing track. I showed her my books, and she seemed pleasantly surprised by the quality, almost shocked. My spine straightened so much and I told her of course it's quality; I don' t know why one would think most authors would willingly put their names on crap. Of course, some do to make that quick (very overpriced) buck; but for those who are serious, we do our homework on the business. And as for myself, so many doors have opened for me because I opened the first one on my own terms, and I like my own terms. I know have more ammo and knowledge when I do talk to the more traditional authors. I'm not blinded and dazzled by the author contract--I can now ask "What can you do for me?" instead of lapping up what the publishers say I can do for them. There's a freedom in not needing the publisher, because you will be a stronger negotiator. You'll know what you're worth in terms of advances, royalties, which rights you need to retain for yourself, how long the publishers should be able to retain the rights to your blood, sweat, and tears. Publishers are genuinely just providing distribution channels--that's it. Unless you're a household name, you're not going to get those publicity and marketing blitzes you see for the JK Rowlings and the Nora Robertses and the Nicholas Sparkses. Unfortunately, many authors are lucky to get to midlist in their publishing houses, and I've spoken to so many traditionally published authors who want more information on DIY publishing because they have stories the publishers aren't interested in releasing but their fans are clamoring to read. The bottom line for the publisher, again, is money, not necessarily the readers. Self-publishing does give the author flexibility as to what his or her bottom line will be.

Self-publishing, to me, is another avenue the author can pursue to reach the most people he or she can. There are advantages and disadvantages to all publishing avenues; but as for me, I don't think there's a reason to bar oneself from any of them, and I'm personally glad I decided to give self-publishing a try.

Reverb 10: Day 25 – Photo

December 25 – Photo – a present to yourself.

Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

I took this picture of myself after I'd spent an afternoon at a port of call during the Romance Slam Jam cruise. I hadn't intended to stay long off the boat--just go onto the island, snap a few shots, and get back on the ship just to say I'd "been" to Jamaica. I was alone, so that had been the plan, until a group of readers adopted me for the afternoon and we met one of the readers' friends who'd moved to Jamaica a few years ago. During that trip I'd gotten hit on, bartered two of my books for two bracelets, and bought some Jamaican soap as souvenirs. It was a great afternoon; it told me that life is full of unexpected surprises, people can be truly lovely, and I'm so dope the men all pause! ;p Also, this picture is a good indicator of my hair lenght back in April, as it's grown much more since then!

Reverb 10: Days 12 - 13

December 12 – Body Integration.

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present? (Author: Patrick Reynolds)

It was actually while my grandmother was in the hospital. We were alone, no doctors, the other family and friends were gone for this period. I just sat with her, held her hand, and sang to her. I just allowed myself to be in the moment with her and she was in and out, but I know she heard me. It was a peaceful feeling. Hopefully, I can get that back without death being present in the room.

December 13 – Action.

When it comes to aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step? (Author: Scott Belsky)

My next step is to do better about manuscript submissions. I let that slack off this year but I need to get back on that. As much as I like where I've gone and what I've done self-publishing, I have a bigger audience in mind for my work and I'll need help getting my work out there. So, more traditional publishers it is.

Accidental Hiatus

I truly did not mean to just peace out the way I have, so I apologize. I think part of the reason I became so silent is because so much was going on and there is so much to say but not enough words to say them. So, this is my apology for that and thank you very much for sticking with me and by me.

The high points:

- I've been writing! As you know, I released Go with Your Heart back in August and the response for that has been wonderful. Beautiful Trouble Publishing is a supportive publisher and I appreciate them giving me the chance to tell that story and for trusting me to help format their books! I just finished this year's NaNo (still in the RJC universe, but this time it's about Henry's parents Lydia and Takeshiro Inoue!) and as exhausting as that experience was, I was grateful for the challenge. I really enjoy writing these two!

- I made a contact with an editor at Harlequin who was so giving of her time and dispensed very useful advice. The trick now is for me to follow it!

- Kwame Alexander has offered me wonderful opportunities this fall, including being part of his Kwame and Friends (including Marcus Amaker and Joanna Crowell) reading at the John. L. Dart Public Library at the beginning of October and being a panelist at the Capital BookFest in November, along with Heidi Durrow and Noni Carter. Both women are fantastic writers and wonderful people, so it was truly an honor to share the panel wtih them! I also met Carol Mackey, who was so gracious, and Ms. Dori Sanders, with whom I had a fangirl moment. She said I could write! Y'all, I was definitely beaming like a kid in a candy store (speaking of which, definitely need to read Clover again! I also met another writer, Nana Ekua Brew-Hammond who encouraged me to keep my chin up and don't give up on traditional publishing. I took a picture with Victoria Rowell (that didn't save to my phone! *cries*), who is as gorgeous and talented in real life as she is on screen and I watched her panel with AlTonya Washington. I started talking to a young student who was also presenting because she was part of Kwame Alexander's Book-in-a-Day Program, and that was one of the most worthwhile conversations I'd ever had. I have every confidence this young lady will go far! The final panel was with Ms. Tananarive Due and Tina McElroy Ansa, who were fantastic and spoke some serious truth about what it means to be a writer and a community of writers. It was the perfect way to begin NaNo and a recharge of why I wake up at five or earlier every morning and start writing.

- Please go support my girl BJ Thornton. She's awesome and I want to write like her when I grow up. And Karen Lord. She was reviewed in The New York Times. Holla!


The low point:

I lost a very dear friend to me, Ruthy Charlot, in mid-October, which just really threw me for a loop because it was so unexpected. But every writer has their go-to cheerleaders, and Lord knows she'd become one of mine. She challenged me to be better, not in terms of skill, but in terms of having the courage to tell the story I truly want to tell...or the story that truly needed to be told. She made me more discerning about what I say, how I say it, and to whom I listen. She was even editing a story for me that was to be published back in November (That's on indefinite hold right now, but it will be released at some point.). She was brilliant, encouraging, and one of the most beautiful people I knew. She's missed. Dearly.


So, in these last four weeks of 2010, I hope I continue being productive and that 2011 sees more of me on your bookshelves and this blog, quite frankly!

New Release--"Trolling Nights: Interludes"

Hey, y'all! Have you missed Tim and Bevin Capshaw? Fret not! I just posted up a collection of short stories featuring the Capshaws. Two may be familiar to you while one is completely new. I'm trying a new publisher/distributor, also. Please let me know if there are any issues. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your support!

Best,

bana

~~~~

"The First Weekend" Timothy Capshaw celebrates his first weekend in Charleston and sees someone he knows will make his trip more worthwhile than he'd ever imagined.

"Always Sweet" Bevin Moore's act of charity unsettles her in delicious ways.

"Welcome Home" Tim's return to an empty house from a three-month mission overseas wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

"TROLLING NIGHTS: INTERLUDES"

Brainstorming

Would anyone be interested in buying short stories featuring the characters from established novels as I write them or should I wait until I have several and publish them all at once? Quick reads, so to speak? I'm trying to figure out the best way to do this. I may go to a different self-publishing company to do this... *hmm*

Making Moves

So, it's close to 1:30 in the morning and while I'm not wide awake, I'm definitely awake enough to type this. It doesn't help it's kind of hot in my apartment right now, which that, and the fact I left my pot roast and sweet potato souffle on the stove because I really conked out around 9 this evening (but didn't go to sleep; that process took an entire hour, but I was definitely willing it with all my might), woke me up around midnight, I'm also just anxious. My book sales have been trickling, but luckily I can still say I'm selling books even though it's really been over a year since I released anything brand new. In that year has been a period of adjustment--new job, making more networking contacts in the publishing industry, losing my grandmother, car accidents (yes, that's plural), and the fact I'm essentially a secretary at my day job with no benefits and not the kind of security that makes my family happy. I really like what I do there, but the type of job it is really is in the distinction--temporary. I knew that when I applied and when I accepted it, but my coworkers are so supportive and they're really good. I can say I've been lucky to have worked in two different places where the people I'm with support each other and encourage each other. I can admit fear to losing that should I move on, but I do have to consider that now, especially when my authoring/editing income has been a little lean. This isn't to say I haven't been writing; while I wouldn't say I've been writing like a fiend, I've finished a novel and two short stories this spring/summer, not to mention the other work that's already done that needs somewhere to go.

Oh, and I have an epublishing agent as well. If I didn't mention that before, I definitely am now. That was a big scary step to get that agent because I've been doing it by myself for so long (and I could make that analogy extend to my lack of a love life, but I may just give that to a character. Heh.), but I knew it was necessary. It's okay to have help along the way, and my Lent project has helped me not only accept it when offered, but seek it out. Except, I didn't seek out this agent, she sought me out, and I liked what she had to say, so I'm excited and realistically hopeful. I'm also going to be part of the Capital BookFest Charleston in November. Peep the appearance list. Yes...y'all think I can multitask being an author and a fan?

I also format books for Beautiful Trouble Publishing, and I've been asked to write something for them. Hopefully, y'all will like it. It's a historical short story (actually closer to a novella) featuring an ex-slave who is reunited with the Confederate soldier who helped her and her brothers escape a Confederate camp during the Civil War. As soon as I let you know how I managed to keep that short I'll tell you!

Okay, the A/C cut on and off, so maybe it's a bit cooler for me to attempt sleep. But if you're up also reading this blog, I have some other things you can read that actually feature plot. And happy endings. Those are awesome, yes.

2010 RSJ Cruise Recap

It would’ve been much wiser for me to write a log of what happened each day I was away, but that would’ve been too logical, so I didn’t do it. Instead, I let myself experience everything—including my going to bed much earlier than any self-respecting twenty-something should, but bump that because when a woman’s tired she’s tired! Yet my waking hours—none of them was wasted. I was rarely bored, and unlike the last time I’d gone to this conference, few of my waking hours were spent in my room by myself (although at the last Romance Slam Jam, I was writing Trolling Nights—so I was productive!). I think the best way to do this is to go day by day, although I’m sure to combine some days as some thoughts may flow into the other.

Wednesday through Friday

My coworker/friend hosted me Wednesday night and gave me a ride to the train station Thursday morning. The train pulled out of Charleston at 5AM and I pulled into Miami around 6:45PM. What did I do on the train? Sleep. I tried some writing and I tried some reading, but I primarily slept. It was frigids on the train, and if I didn’t have too much stuff because of my books, I would’ve packed a blanket, no lie. I also called my friend because it was her birthday, and then my grandma and sis. But other than that, Travel Thursday was uneventful. Also, the hotel in Miami was okay. It was very “It will do, pig” and nothing epically awesome or epically tragic.

Friday had me taking an unexpected, unwise, and highly blessed romp through Miami in an effort to get my nails did. I got off too early from the bus, because the street I wanted was 8^th street, but there are apparently 80 “8^th Streets” in Miami, and the one I was on wasn’t mine. I walked through a Miami neighborhood that was no South Beach. There were fenced-in yards, “Beware of Dogs” signs on said fences, and bars on the windows on my way to the nail salon. This is where Boston/city living kicked in, because I walked like I knew where I was going (thank god for VZ Navigator!) and though I’m sure maybe three black people (and probably none of them American) lived in that neighborhood, I greeted people I saw and kept it moving. Damn near kissed the nail salon when I found it! The place was definitely not tourist-Miami. It was a neighborhood joint, complete with the meat man selling beef (all of this is in Spanish and I could follow a little). Busted out my Kindle and started talking to another woman beside me about ebook readers and the types of books we like to read. Didn’t mention I was an author but that’s okay. At the end of it all, my polish on the left pinky and right thumb didn’t make it pristine like out of the salon, but I’m not so vain that I whined too much. I’m a writer—I use my hands, it was bound to happen; but my feet were tight.

Friday evening was the book signing. Rochelle Alers remembered me from RSJ 2008 and gave me a hug. I…was shocked as hell…and so squeed on the inside! And then Pamela Leigh Starr—one of the first authors I read who wrote IR remembered me and we chatted a bit. Sat next to Shirley Hailstock, who was an RWA president and one of the foremothers of Black romance (and I love her voice; it’s such a calming, soothing tone). Finally met Iris Bolling—fellow self-published author, although she took a step beyond me and owns her own small publishing company—who won Debut Author of the Year, and she gave me a hug and said there was no reason for me to shy and lack confidence. Met Lissa Woodson, aka Naleighna Kai, who basically taught a master class on “getting your hustle on” all week. She was sold out at the book signing and STILL managed to sell more on the cruise to everyone—and I mean everyone. Met people who kept saying “I keep seeing your book on Amazon…” and then they look at me oddly like they cannot believe I wrote that book and then the six others I have published. I was much calmer this year, something Monique Lamont noted when we saw each other (I was a hot mess, last time, wet behind the ears and high strung don’t even begin to cover it!). Deatri King-Bey, Evelyn Palfrey, Denise Jeffries, AC Arthur, Gwyneth Bolton, Viola Walker, and Victoria Wells were all people I (re)connected with at the signing. Every one of these authors was so gracious and excited to see one another. It was bolstering, and the traditionally published ones had much advice for me and wanted to learn more about self-publishing and the wealth and willingness to share information was invigorating.

And because I was more comfortable with myself, over the course of the three years since Being Plumville came out, I was more comfortable approaching readers who might not have ever heard of me; but then there was one woman who’d e-mailed me before the event wanting to know if I had books. I met her and we got into a discussion about black romance and black love, black women in love, interracial love, and it was so great! And then other readers willing to give me a chance just based off of another author speaking to me or buying my book or telling me they’ll check me out—it was so great! Considering I’d arrived to the signing DIRECTLY after getting off the bus from the nail salon (the return trip was drama-free!), it was great.

I had dinner with Gwyneth Bolton and her husband afterwards, and it was wonderful getting to know them. Afterwards, I think I met my roommate (I say think because by this point I was doing the slow-blink so my memory’s a bit fuzzy!).

Saturday

In the future, I’m going to need this hotel to be on point with its breakfast service on cruise embarkation day. They know everyone and her cousin is trying to get on a boat somewhere, so why was service so slow? The poor hostess had to do double shifts by being a server too! Be that as it may, when we finally got the food, it was good. Ate with Victoria Wells and her sister, along with some other readers, but there was minimal conversation outside of “where’s the waiter?” Yes, it was that problematic. As we checked out of the hotel, the readers and the authors got a chance to chat more, so I hung out with my roomie, Monique Lamont, and Denise Jeffries while we waited on transportation to the pier. Those two women are mad funny and very nice for letting us tag along with them! Also, I will say Carnival Cruises is one of the most efficient operations I’ve ever seen in my life. Considering how many people were waiting to get on the boat, the embarkation process was swift.

Once on the boat, had some of the best cheesecake ever and that was the last time I saw it all trip! When I say I was hunting for that cheesecake…I know I should be ashamed to admit it, but I was. It was so good! We met the people with whom we would be eating dinner with for the next five nights and they were from Houston, DC, and California by way of Kansas City. I met one of the readers before at Beverly Jenkins’s Pajama Party in October, so small world! But they were wonderful dinner companions. They were picture happy too. Y’all should be proud of me, because I didn’t try to lean out the pictures! After dinner, we had the welcome reception, and I finally met Bridget Midway there, who is also someone I’d like to be when I grow up in terms of hustling and getting her name out there. I sold more books (practicing my hustle!) and I even drank some alcohol (I don’t drink normally, but...I’m not going to turn down free liquor!). And then I promptly went to sleep.

I blame the liquor.

Sunday

Started off my day taking pictures of Cuba and walking the track on the deck. That wind…grace of God I didn’t go blowing overboard—it was so strong! I don’t know how many laps I did, but I think I earned the melons, pancakes, grits, eggs, sausage, croissants I had for breakfast. I sat and talked a long while with Niambi Brown Davis and another reader, and they thanked me for doing their walking for them! Lol After that I got ready for my day, including getting my netbook because I was going to do some writing, dammit! Except, I didn’t. Instead, I sat with Ms. Alers, Gwyneth, Deatri, Lissa and some readers and we just talked for the next four hours about everything from television to movies to fandom (yeah, that was me lol) to healthcare, to courtesy in society to black identity to publishing, romance as a genre to black writers in general and it was good! It started to pour-down rain while we were talking, but we weren’t on an exposed area of the deck and where we were, there was a retractable dome, so it was all good. But, yo, I can say I shot the breeze with these women; and even though I was the youngest at the table, people still included me and I really should’ve taken notes listening to them. They were so full of wealth and wisdom and I’m very lucky I was included in that conversation. Sooner than we thought, it was time for dinner. It was the Captain’s night, but I didn’t go meet him. I wanted my cheesecake! That I didn’t get…alas. But I did dress up-ish, nice top and black slacks. After dinner I talked with Iris about ebook publishing and I felt every rock on that boat on that 8 deck (my cabin was on deck 1 and the aft—not a bad cabin, actually). And then, because I was determined to do some writing, I went on the main deck and find a little corner tucked away. I started writing, and I bounced my knee, which caught the attention of some guy. He came and made small talk, first about my knee, then made the assumption I was worried about something. I said not really, then told him I was a writer. I gave him my card; he asked what I wrote about. He told me about his wife and kid and then he said he would buy a book. Awesome, but I was getting sleepy, so he said he was going to get the money and come back. I signed the book because I needed this to be a quick transaction because I was sleepy.

Dude never came back. I was too sleepy to feel rooked.

Monday

It was raining (and by raining, I mean torrents), so I had to go to the gym to do my walking. It was as if the entire ship was in there, but luckily I timed it just right so a treadmill became available as soon as I walked in. I preferred the deck, but during my twenty-minute exercise, found out Sherlock Holmes was coming on later that day; but in the meantime, I caught the beginning of The Time Traveler’s Wife as I walked. Then I ate breakfast alone and took too many pictures of the Ocho Rios port. I couldn’t meet my friend in Jamaica. :( However, even though those plans fell through, I said there was no way I wasn’t getting off the boat and actually go to Jamaica. So I waited a few hours (and finished watching The Time Traveler’s Wife. It was definitely a wait for cable movie IMO) after the rush off and I was content to just stay right by the dock and get back on. Besides, Sherlock Holmes was coming on later and I hadn’t seen it yet. Come to meet some of my dinner-table buddies waiting for a friend who now lived on Jamaica! I’d intended to just sit with them and then go back to the boat when their friend arrived, but they invited me along and…I went! Man, as soon as you got on the street, folks were trying to sell you something, take you somewhere, etc. One woman said she’d twist my hair. Of course I said no—as nice as her hair was; if they’re anything like black hair salons, I would’ve been wherever she’d do my hair well after the boat set sail! And…it’s just not that safe to do. Anyway, we are browsing the stores for things and as I browse, I see a guy sitting against the wall near a store. He looked like he was wearing a uniform so when he looked at me I acknowledged him. No, he wasn’t the authorities, but a vendor, selling bracelets (1 for $3 and 2 for $5). And…he started to hit on me: “I like a woman with big breasts, big hips, big thighs, big ass—” *record scratch* I wasn’t ready for all of that! I said “Oh…” I mean, what do I say in response? This is all as he’s trying to sell me his bracelets, by the way. So I told him I’d take two bracelets in exchange for one of my books (because I had them with me; and yes, I sold some books in Jamaica). So he did (and he took a picture with some of my books) and then he asked for my number. I said no, because those International charges aren’t cute, but he could e-mail me. He said he didn’t know how to e-mail. I told him go to a library and ask for help (but much more nicely; I’m trying to keep this recap as efficient as possible! lol). Then we left and I had some Jamaican rum at a restaurant on the island (not…a local hangout spot by any stretch—definitely for cruise folk). Then we said goodbye to the tablemate’s friend (we exchanged cards) and returned to the boat in time for me to miss the first 20 minutes of Sherlock Holmes. I don’t think those 20 minutes were very important anyway.

That evening was the dinner and the Emma Awards, which honors the best in black romance and Ms. Alers gave the keynote address. She touched on a lot that we spoke about on the confab Sunday afternoon, and it was awesome. The awards ceremony was nice and quick too! I wasn’t up for anything but everyone who was nominated and won were very deserving. Afterwards…I went to bed. I’d had liquor at the ceremony.

It was free! It was green! I was feeling adventurous…

Tuesday

Grand Cayman Island day! Today was being lazy on the beach day too, hence no walking this morning. My roomie, who’d gone to a Jamaican beach the day before, decided to take it easy today and just go on shore when she felt like it. So, I was by myself and got on the tender to shore (if you didn’t catch the last tender at 3:15pm ship’s time, you’re SOL because the boat was leaving at 4pm, so this was a day you really had to be mindful of the time—especially when GC is an hour behind!), Kindle at the ready because I have books to read! Except, AlTonya Washington was also on this excursion. She had a book too.

We did no reading.

We pretty much talked the entire time and, like before, it was a great conversation! Here’s an author traditionally published with THE premier romance publishing company, and she’s self-publishing as well and we started talking about the state of publishing, especially for African-American writers, and it went into a discussion about relationships, etc. She’s a SC native, so we had that connection. I gave her The Beauty Within to have and I have her books on my Kindle. After returning to the ship, we had lunch and talked some more. Learned a lot from her!

Later that night, there was a Michael Jackson tribute in one of the clubs so I went to that; later that night, I actually got up and did Karaoke (No More Rain (In This Cloud) by Angie Stone, but I have to dock 2 pts from the Karaoke machine for having no Nina Simone. How do you let that happen?!).

Wednesday

The Caribbean was not having it. That water was rough on our last day. We felt every rock on that boat—ridic. Nevertheless, the Reader Sessions were that day, and I stayed for all of them. I was also part of one. They were all informative and I’m glad I stayed for all of them. Ms. Starr and Altonya both approached me and said they loved the books of mine they were reading. That certainly helped me sell more books! Also, because I’d mentioned Mildred D. Taylor was among my favorite authors during my Readers Session, Emma Rodgers (one of the founders of the Slam Jam and the woman for whom the Emmas are named) gave me her card and recc’d 100 Years of Solitude for me to read. Considering the last time I’d read that book it was in Spanish, I think I’ll give the English version a try! I spoke with Crystal Rhodes who spoke with me as well, said she was impressed with me, bought a book from me for her daughter. She’s a playwright, traditionally published and self-published, so her encouragement meant a lot! Lutishia Lovely/Zuri Day took a look at the Trolling Nights cover and raved about it. I told her I did the cover and she was even more impressed.

Can I just say shout out to the self-published authors? True story; we are the business. Renee Flagler is on point and doing her thing. I loved the look of her books. Just classy. Ann Clay was very lovely as well and has several projects in the works. We also exchanged cards. I met some more readers, passed out more cards, then ate some lunch. I don’t really remember what all I did after the Reader Session, but probably packed because it was not a lot of down time between then and dinner. At the last dinner found out someone knew a classmate of mine from Harvard and I would be seeing this classmate this weekend. I declare the world is entirely too small! I told my friend when I saw her and she got all happy and gave me a big hug like I was the woman I’d mentioned! Lol We took more pictures and then said goodbye to everyone, thinking it would be the last time we’d see each other.

Except it wasn’t. I definitely saw Ms. Alers again, Ms. Clay, and I went with Monique and Denise to the airport (even though my friend Shayla was letting me stay with her and her family in town before taking a flight to Boston the next day—it was just easier for my friend to get me from there). So there were more goodbyes, but even these weren’t final. I’ll do better keeping in touch, I promise, and we’ll see each other, God willing, in Baltimore for the next Romance Slam Jam. And as for me; I didn’t sell all of my books; in fact, I gave a lot away, but that wasn’t the main point for me. I got exactly what I needed to get out of this trip—confidence and the chance to own what I was doing. I didn’t really own it last time in 2008, although everyone I met was encouraging. The fact people, this time, were saying how proud they were of me, how encouraging, how inspiration almost—it was a great and humbling feeling. I learned so much and I was able to teach as well. I had a really great roommate who taught me how to cruise properly and I hope she keeps up with her writing! The next RSJ, I’m going to need her to have a red badge instead of orange for aspiring! And thank you to the readers who were willing to listen and give me a chance and to the authors who were willing to listen and give me advice. Yeah, RSJ Cruise was definitely good. And if I forgot anything or anyone, that doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate the experience, just means my grandma didn’t pass on her elephantine memory to me!

Speaking Truth to Power

Last week I went to a luncheon where Beverly Jenkins was the keynote speaker. As soon as she saw me, she gave me a large hug and was genuinely pleased I was there. She called me a surprise. Now, I went in expecting her to be surprised and pleased to see me, but the genuine happiness with which she’d greeted me took me aback in a good way. I told her that I was working on my self-esteem, giving up the low variety for Lent (and beyond). That I cannot move forward professionally until I face the personal issues because those issues affect how much I’m able to put myself out there to accomplish the goals I’ve set for myself. Speaking this revelation out to her brought tears to my eyes and I almost started crying. She told me she was glad I came to that place and to remember “God doesn’t make mistakes” and that I’m not a mistake. She continued with some professional tips I should do and then the program started.

Knowing is half the battle, as the cliché goes. The rest of that cliché should be “it’s also the easiest part of the battle.” The doing is harder. It’s much harder, and because I’m so afraid of failing I’m afraid of the doing. Last week I fell back onto some counterproductive habits—dulling my own shine, cracking jokes to hide what’s really going down, minimizing just how terrified I am to go into this new territory of my life—of healing. I’m afraid to heal because I’ve gotten so used to this brokenness, I’ve figured out how to become comfortable on those cutting fragments. But that’s not really what it is, and only now can I admit it.

Healing means telling everyone I’ve been lying.

My laughter and my jokes were so I didn’t start crying about how unhappy I was—even though I had all these things going for me. They hid the guilt I had for feeling the way I did. They hid the shame I had for not using these gifts to the fullest. This world is very competitive, and when I went to Harvard especially, all I saw were people who had “better” gifts or knew what to do with the gifts better than I did. I remember freshman year, right at the beginning, and we were asking each other where we got in other than Harvard. When it was my turn I remember looking down and mumbling the places I’d gotten acceptances: Columbia, Duke, Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Yale (and Duke was my “safety school”). Those were the only places I’d applied to as well. They all looked surprised and impressed and I shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big thing because it wasn’t “a big thing” in my house. If I hadn’t gotten into those schools I would’ve been a failure. I’d messed up. It’s only now, actually, that I own that moment. Hell, yeah, I was kickass academically and all these schools knew it. And then I found this choir that became my family, and I remember asking my dad was it okay that this choir felt like more my family than my actual family, and he said that was the family I’d chosen, not the family given to me. They give you what you need and there’s nothing wrong with that. I became a leader, and the more I became a leader, the more I felt unworthy for it. Bobby McFerrin came to do a brief residency and my choir sang with him. McFerrin was so impressed he invited us to sing with him at a music festival in Germany. The director said he was only going to choose the best voices to go with him, so I automatically assumed I wasn’t going to go even though I’d auditioned for the small subsection of the group and made it—the only freshman to make it. And not only that, the women in the group were apparently concerned about me, but the director said he saw something in me, the way I interpreted the songs, and his vote of confidence got me in. That “vote of confidence” actually shook me even more because I felt as if I’d only gotten in because the director said so, not because they wanted me.

I withdrew, and it continued. I was getting frustrated because the choir was changing and not in a way I thought it should, and that it was becoming a popularity contest and that even though I was one of the leaders, I didn’t consider myself popular. Basically, without Kuumba, Lord only knows what would’ve happened to me at Harvard. That school requires a healthy sense of self-possession and esteem. Without it, you don’t make it.

Such is life.

Part of my declaration to be a writer isn’t this lofty sense of “this is what I was born to do” but as an “F-U” to my fam who said the likelihood of my success was small. And when the prediction, as logical as it was, started panning out, that really beat my already fragile self-esteem. Rejection after rejection came in. I’d submit to contests and some of the judges would determine I had no talent. For years I didn’t say I was a writer. That was a secret. Even here on LJ and other places where I posted up my work (whether fic or otherwise), I didn’t get many comments whereas someone else would have hundreds or even thousands. I took that to mean no one was reading, although I can say I’d rather get no comment than a “this is garbage”! Even after Being Plumville came out, I still didn’t mention my work because I’d self-published it. I’d done it myself, and if I didn’t do it the “traditional” way, it doesn’t count. This notion is underscored by the fact the publishing industry still considers self-published works as stepchildren. It doesn’t help that many self-published works are low in quality and high in price, but I knew mine wasn’t that…even if it took me a week to actually open the box of books I’d gotten right after the book was finished. March is the three-year anniversary of Being Plumville and I’m proud of that story. I’m not ashamed of it as I had been—I can admit that now. I’m proud and I stay I’m a writer and that I have seven published works. I see the “wow” on people’s faces when I say that. I used to joke that I had no life and the characters came in and took me over. And while part of that it’s true, it was more I could escape there and have everything work out. I had control (even if I were under my characters’ whims; I knew they wouldn’t steer me wrong). I had no such control in real life. Things happened that I couldn’t control even despite my best efforts, and that scared me, so I withdrew. I also joke that writers are one of the few people who can say “I hear voices in my head” and not be considered crazy. But even with all those voices, the one that would always resonate the most was “You won’t win.”

Somewhere along the way, I began redefining what success was. I stopped looking at New York as the definition of success. It’s getting my book out there to as many people as possible. But beyond that, I started gaining confidence that I have something to say and that people are willing to listen. For so long, since I was young, I was told to be quiet, that I don’t have anything of worth to say, that I’m not making sense. When I first started singing in the choir, the leader of my subgroup was working with me on my first lead “Steal Away”. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with how I was singing until she stopped, her eyes went wide, and she said “You don’t open your mouth when you sing!” Of course I looked at her as if she were crazy, but then she showed me how she wanted me to sing and she said “See!” and declared it much better. That’s what this writing journey has been—opening my mouth. And that’s what my personal journey has to be too. I’ve got to open my mouth and not just let faults and problems come out. If I can own the bad then I better learn to own the good. Own my awesome. Own that I have the right to accept the good things that are on the horizon for me, and that I shouldn’t feel guilty they’re coming for me. I should stop being surprised when someone says something nice about me and stop trying to deflect it. Accept the goodness this person has seen in me instead of trying to make things “normal” by pointing out the bad.

But mostly, stop lying to people. Stop giving them what I think they want and give them the genuine me. I can’t receive the blessings due to me if I don’t present “me” to receive them.

It's February?!

And I'm so behind with my life in general. What I have been doing, however, is writing commission fiction for people donating to Haiti Relief Efforts, which has shifted me back a bit. That's a good cause and I'm glad to be doing it. Also, I've signed myself up to attend the Savannah Book Festival on tomorrow, and I feel slightly unprepared, but that's not a new feeling. I need to do better, though. And it's Super Bowl weekend. I'm conflicted because I like the Colts and don't dislike the Saints, but slight edge goes to the Colts for me. Either way, though, I won't be sad about who wins this year so I reckon that's okay.

I see the end for the Reconstructing Jada Channing sequel, aka, Coming Home. However, I don't want to write it. I'm avoiding it because it's not going to be pleasant or pretty and I think my characters talk too dang much! I've also sat on a submission request, I think, for too long, which is either my fear standing in the way or my impatience with how long the entire process will take. If I'm honest, I know it's more of the the former than the latter. I should be used to rejection; that's generally all I get. Yet in this case, it's really a matter of will it genuinely fit with this particular publisher? I'm unsure, but I reckon I should let them tell me no, right?

Oh, this game, this game. It would probably go much smoother if an agent actually liked me, but alas.

Finally met Kwame Alexander. Good people! Did I mention I really like working where I do? Because I do. My boss told him about me and I'm excited about the Capital BookFest coming to Charleston. If y'all don't know about Charleston, y'all about to!

Also, had a meeting with Dianne Johnson a few weeks ago. She's good people too! I really appreciated her taking the time out to talk to me (even got me to start seriously considering young adult genre...again). Apparently she knows my people quite well so that was a bit surreal! Nevertheless, connections are good. I have to remember that because being a writer makes it too easy to be in isolation, at least for me, anyway. I have to constantly remind myself there are people who want me to do well and succeed and are willing to help me do so. I can do bad all by myself to be sure; but everyone has help to do good.

Okay, so, hopefully I'll see some of you tomorrow. And then, hopefully, y'all will see a new release from me before the year ends!

It's Been Quiet, I Know...

I've been writing and editing, which means the publishing part has cooled down since August. I'd also started a new job back in September, so there was so much flux going on in my life that I couldn't sit down and say or do boo to anything. And I had to replenish my savings, because being unemployed for six months does make the first bit go away rather quickly.

Now, for this year, I'm facing a philosophical dilemma about continuing self-publishing or trying to go the traditional route. I'm actually quite satisfied with how I'm going now. Sure, I would love to reach a wider audience, but I can release books when I want, how I want, and take a greater share of the money than if I were with a publisher. Beyond that, though, I want to support up and coming publishers who will be responsible for the images they put forth, especially about black women. I want to be a part of something like that, empowering, invigorating, enriching, encouraging, not bottom line or bust. I do need to be more business savvy this year and still work on my shyness. I have so many people who want me to do well, but it's easy to get stuck in your head where the doubt festers and gets loud and rank. So...that's what I'm going to do. I need to set up a schedule of sorts, and learn more about cover art/bring in some folks I know to help me out as well. I gotta put more money into this in order to succeed, I know. I think now, despite the fact I'm not nearly as deep-pocketed as I was last year, I can allot those finances much smarter than I did last year.

Anyway, I'll try to update this blog and my Web site better than I did last year too.

2009 Lub-Dub Awards

Winner's List

best bbw: "Trolling Nights" by Savannah J. Frierson

author of the year: Savannah J. Frierson

Thank you for voting! Really appreciate it!

Available Now: Rerelease of AJ'S SRENDIPITY

In conjunction with Aliyah Burke's latest release from her Megalodon Series Dimitri's Moon also Available Now!

Available Now!

Greek Alejandro Melonakos hadn't been shopping for the love of his life during a routine market run for his restaurant, yet that was exactly who he found. The petite and curvy American Samara Grossman had captured his heart upon his first sight of her and he hadn't wanted it back—just hers in return. Will AJ be able to convince Samara they were meant to be together during her five-day vacation in Athens, or will his serendipitous find be all for naught?

The release features a new cover and an extra chapter for readers to enjoy!

Also get this and other titles in Kindle Format! For more, visit SJF BOOKS!

Publishing and the Privileging of White Expression

As a primarily self-published author, I take on a lot of the responsibilities of a more mainstream publishing conglomerate. I have to, obviously, do my own writing; do my own editing (with some pitfalls, admittedly, because I cannot catch everything myself despite my best efforts); my own book covers; my own book pricing; and, most importantly, my own promotion. The actual formation of the book is the easy part, funnily enough; the promoting my book is a smidge harder. There’s the belief self-published books are by authors who “can’t hack it” or aren’t good/talented enough, so they’re immediately regarded as, if not outright trash, “less than” those who could get through those “pearly” mainstream publishing gates. Let it be known that yes, I would love to have the same reach as books with mainstream publishers can achieve, but I don’t necessarily need the mainstream publisher to go with it. If not for the other perks I could get by being a more mainstream-published author (access to more distribution channels, access to writing associations that provide healthcare), I’d consider that route as less than a necessity and more of a “do it if you want.” Then again, I am probably already there more than I realize. I like the freedom I have from total control over my product, even if that means I shoulder all the responsibility, and I’m a little frustrated I can’t get my product into as many hands as I would like or people dismiss it solely because I put it out myself and not because they disliked the story. And then I realized people would be dismissing it even if it were in every Barnes and Noble and Borders and Books-a-Million this country had to offer.

I’m a black author who writes about black women; and not only that, many of these black women 1.) don’t hate the fact they’re black, 2.) are involved with nonblack men, 3.) don’t hate black men.

And, of course, the only people who care to read about black women are other black women, obviously; and since only about five black women in the whole country read (if you go by mainstream publishers’ insinuations), then why put any money behind those stories, anyway? If you’re not writing something that’s salacious, overly heavy and deep ala Toni Morrison, or minimizes the “Negro Factor”, then your book will not enjoy the same amount of support as your white counterparts. Not only that, if a white author can write a similar story, his/her account will be “more authentic” than yours, because stories by white authors, no matter what the color of the characters, are always more universal than stories by Authors of Color (AoC), no matter what color the characters (and goodness help the AoC who writes about white characters)…especially if these stories are love stories.

Which are what I write.

When my first book came out, I was on a plane returning to Boston after having my very first book signing in my hometown. I was sitting beside a very happy white man (he’d been imbibing a bit), but he was chatty and friendly, and I told him I was an author. Never mind that being the first time I ever uttered those words out loud and actually meant them, but his eyes had perked up and he asked to see the book. I gave him the only copy I had on me, knowing I would get it back. He flipped through to the middle and began to read. After a few moments, he then pulled out a fifty, gave to me, and demanded I autograph “his” book. And then for the rest of the plane ride we started talking about race relations and how things have changed or haven’t, and it wasn’t those conversations where he was “challenging the authenticity of my experiences”, but an honest-to-goodness dialogue. It was the first time I realized my stories really could be universal, because I can admit this white man’s face was not among the ones I saw in the audience for whom I’d been writing. By this point, my novel had been rejected several times, one letter even going so far as to say I mentioned race too much, even though the potential agent knew the story was about a black girl and white boy who were former childhood friends reunited on a newly integrated college in 1960s Georgia.

Good luck trying to avoid mentioning race often in that story!

But it wasn’t just the white man who surprised me. It was the white women who’ve e-mailed me and said how much they just loved this book and asked to put it in their libraries; it was my white teachers from high school in South Carolina who just looked at me in amazement and couldn’t stop raving about this story. It was the black men at the book fairs who would talk me to death about the book and its relevant themes while holding it in a ninja grip. It was the black boys who saw their mama/sister/aunt in Coralee and really liked the book. It’s the white boy who, after hearing discussions about it, said he was going to buy it because the story sounded interesting.

Thank goodness I’d started self-publishing, or else I doubt I would’ve gotten to see all of this for myself. I would’ve been shuttled off into the “black sections of the bookstores”, the sections that are as far from the entrance and tucked around a corner so that nobody but those who know what they’re looking for will ever find it. I actually talked to someone from Borders Corporate about that, and she…couldn’t give me an answer. Not that it surprised me. There are arguments for and against having an African-American section and having books integrated into the bookstore as a whole. But the convenience of the section aside, I, as an author, don’t want my books separated like that. It’s like a big ole “blacks only” sign that apparently doubles as a force field to prevent those who don’t meet the melanin threshold barrier from entering the section or something. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life seen a white person come to that section whenever I’ve gone into bookstores unless they’re getting Zora Neale Hurston or Richard Wright for their kids’ English classes. And then this whole business about being “tricked” into reading black books because the cover wasn’t clear? I know all books I see have at least dust-jacket or back-cover blurbs, and if the blurb was good enough to pull you in…I don’t understand why the actual color of the characters can make a reader flip the script. Was it because these white readers really could relate to stories about black characters—especially romances? Did you know black women liked to be held tenderly? That black women liked to be courted and wooed? That black women do have jobs other than wearing a polyester uniform and taking someone’s order? That black men really do run companies they created from the ground up and then don’t run after the first white/nonblack woman they meet once they’ve made it? That black men still are attracted love black women? That black people can have healthy, loving relationships? That white/Asian/Native/Hispanic men of all races can be attracted to love a black woman without fetishizing her? That this same premise applies when the couples are same sex as well?

But there are some major “politics of respectability” going on in “black imprints” for mainstream publishers. Some of the guidelines include “heroine must not be involved with anyone but the hero; couples must use condoms; heroine isn’t allowed to get pregnant without being married or engaged”, and I’m thinking, not even white women in novels have to adhere to such strict rules! I don’t know how many “Secret Baby” stories Harlequin publishes in a month. But if the black characters don’t, it’s suddenly “street lit”, which has its own problematic connotations about suspected quality of the writers and its readers (i.e., mostly and unfairly negative, even if I don’t read street lit myself). But this either/or dichotomy over what kind of stories black authors at mainstream publishers are allowed to tell are exactly why many of us aren’t accepting any old contract we get from them. That we’re putting our books out ourselves. Because after four hundred years of not being able to say a damn thing, like hell I’m not going to say what I want and how I want now. But the publishing industry/media at large continues to have its “Time to Kill” moments and put white faces on black stories or insert white people in stories not about them, as if “White folks, or it didn’t/doesn’t happen/matter!” is the appropriate business model in a world that is certainly not majority white and, in the case of the United States, in a country that is headed by a nonwhite family and will increasingly not be nonwhite in the next few decades. The default universal experience has not been, nor will it ever be, “white”. And, sure, people have the right to write whatever they want, which includes white people writing nonwhite characters (though there doesn’t seem to be the same regard for nonwhite authors writing white characters); but when those white authors get a larger share of the market telling my stories, I just have to echo Ms. Mahalia Jackson: “How come, mister, you think you can tell me about that old song, when it was born in my mouth?”

I can carry a tune. I can sing just fine.

Available Now!: "I'll Be Your Somebody"

During her tenure as the unofficial official gatekeeper of the Femme Crew, Bevin Moore found love in Trolling Nights. Can her best friend Rosita do the same?

As the self-coronated queen of Trolling Nights, Rosita Velez has one edict: men are only good for one night, maybe two if she were feeling particularly benevolent. Yet somehow, her latest lover manages to stick around for one night...then two...then three...then four...and suddenly Rosita finds herself in the midst of a romantic coup, facing a decision that will change her life forever. Will Rosita abdicate her crown, or will she continue her reign of the one night stand?

This book is available at my storefront and in Kindle Format. I hope you enjoy!

Coming Soon: "I'll Be Your Somebody"

During her tenure as the unofficial official gatekeeper of the Femme Crew, Bevin Moore found love in Trolling Nights. Can her best friend Rosita do the same?

As the self-coronated queen of Trolling Nights, Rosita Velez has one edict: men are only good for one night, maybe two if she were feeling particularly benevolent. Yet somehow, her latest lover manages to stick around for one night...then two...then three...then four...and suddenly Rosita finds herself in the midst of a romantic coup, facing a decision that will change her life forever. Will Rosita abdicate her crown, or will she continue her reign of the one night stand?

~~~~

(c) 2009 by Savannah J. Frierson

The readout was missing a few letters. They spelled “Not”, as in “Not Pregnant”.

There was not a sound to be heard, a breath to be breathed, a pulse to be pulsed. Rosita and Bevin stared at each other, she on the commode and Bevin on the side of the tub. Her best friend’s golden eyes dropped to Rosita’s midsection.

“Lawdhavmercy,” Bevin rasped.

Rosita dropped the stick as if it had shot up a thousand degrees in one second and scrambled off the toilet. She stared wide-eyed at it, her mind telling her she’d suddenly become illiterate, that she did not read what she just read.

“No puedo leer en inglés,” Rosita muttered.

The shocked expression on Bevin’s midnight-hued face melted into one of amusement. “Yes, you can read English. Very well, in fact. Welcome to the club, Rosita.”

Rosita glared at Bevin, two seconds away from sticking out her tongue and cussing her out in fluent Spanish, when a knock on the door made them both jump.

“Damn! What?” Rosita snapped.

“Uh, are y’all okay in there?”

Rosita’s nostrils flared in frustration while Bevin’s flared for an entirely different reason. Rosita sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Hussy.”

Bevin glanced down at the stick, then raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Pot, kettle, innit?”

“Bevin?”

“We’re fine, baby,” Bevin called to her husband, taking a few squares of toilet paper to pick up the stick and throw it in the trash. “You need to use the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s my child?”

“With his godfather.”

“Is my child still alive?”

“Bevin,” came the sigh, and Bevin grinned, washing her hands.

“All right, my love, we’re on our way out,” she promised, cutting off the water and drying her hands on one of the towels. Bevin opened the door and giggled as Tim gathered her close and gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth.

Rosita pretended she didn’t notice any of this as she washed her hands as well, her heart squeezing at the possibility that could be her one day. Her and…

A Partial Career Update

I had a really good time at the book signing I attended two weeks ago. I didn't sell much, but the people I met were wonderful, and it was good to see so many self-published out there--and not just self-published, but bonafide publishers of their own. It was inspirational, truly. It was one of the best experiences at a book fair I have had. And now there's an article about African-American Romance and how people are finally waking up to the fact that black people/women read and voraciously, and that our stories...aren't as typical as the "mainstream", and that "our romanace" ain't like "theirs", and yet it is.

Pushing at boundaries, baby.

Which is probably why I am struggling through the end of a novel I am writing because it's taking very many twists and turns to get to the ending I see. I am a fly-by-your-seat writer because I let the characters do what they will. The times I've tried to force them in the direction I want them to go...they've never ended well. So I'm just a reporter on the insanity that is my mind and L'Hotel Characters Who Don't Know What the Devil They Want Other Than a HEA. So, I've been writing...other things that aren't so twisting and turning and angst-filled and heavy. I've gotten great response for it, but I still chug away at the novel.

Meh.

So, as I've been "unemployed" since February, I'm shifting more of my focus on manuscript editing. I just finished a project for Aliyah Burke and I have at least three more to work on for her; as well as Shara Azod offering me work on some projects for her, and Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh wanting me on tap for them once their publishing house gets off the ground. I'm truly, truly grateful for this, and I am also a little anxious. Editing someone else's work is nerve-wracking, especially because it's someone else's. I try my hardest to go a good job, but those times you don't...everyone notices. I want to lower the rate of those instances significantly, because the one time I didn't it turned into a fiasco that almost led me to severing relationships with people I truly admire and respect. I know life is like that, but that part of life ain't the business at all!

I also have to think of my own writing career--the above novel aside. I have another novel that, like I said in a previous post, that everyone in the romance industry who judged it tore into smithereens. Now I have to wonder if I should just scrap the entire idea or self-publish it on my own. Like the above novel, this one goes into some very "don't be going there!" territories in the romance genre. And maybe I just need to reread it again or...a fresh pair of eyes should read it. It got great response when I had it up on my Google Group, but, I don't know...yet, I do have a few others I could release. Then again, there are other avenues of publication and I should never forget those. I have to keep trying and not get so comfortable in DIY. And...I need to get more comfortable at DIY too! However, I'm getting dangerously low on my "already written" cache.

Hence the need for me to finish up that novel. And Felix's Story. And too many other stories I've started and haven't looked at in months...maybe years. You'd think with all this "free time" I have I'd know how to be more productive. But if my muse ain't there, he ain't there.

*please come back muse, please!*

I think the solution is to leave my house, not even take my computer, and handwrite. We'll see if I do that. But if I pretend I'm "going to work" (although, I am), I'll be more productive than staring at the same more-than-four walls of my apartment (have I mentioned I love my apartment? Yes!).

Yay, early Saturday-morning purges!

New Release: Trolling Nights

What if a Navy SEAL has six months to convince a wary coffeehouse barista they were made for each other?

For as long as there have been Trolling Nights, Bevin Moore has been the unofficial official Gatekeeper for her group of friends, the Femme Crew. She is always the designated driver and always makes sure the ladies do not leave the premises with someone she considers a loser. Bevin takes her job very seriously, even if she doesn’t like Trolling Nights in the first place. Yet on one particular Trolling Night, she's completely unaware someone has, finally, chosen her.

Navy SEAL Timothy Capshaw has no problem going after what he wants; and from the moment he sees Bevin sitting alone and sentry-like in a booth, he is intrigued by her. After one dance, Tim knows he wants her. How will he convince Bevin he is the man she hasn't known she's been looking for and that the need for her Trolling Nights is over?

Sam Cooke on Loop

These past two weeks have been and will be extremely...off-putting. I want to thank those of you who have sent me e-mails and messages to keep my chin up regarding last week's fiasco that is still ongoing (which was capped by yet two more rejection letters from agents. Oh, it was a good week last week, yes lol). Shame on me for not realizing I would have the kind of support I'd received, but that was a singular blessing during that entire ordeal. I don't believe in coincidences, despite my reluctance to go to a church every Sunday, but I'm constantly reminded there's someone bigger than I looking out for me, and I'm eternally grateful. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning; and while I don't particularly feel joy, I do feel more at peace than I had before, and I'm definitely grateful for that.

I had my last day at work on Friday, and my coworkers took me out to lunch and gave me a really nice card. I knew about the lunch; I'd even expected a card because I'd been at my job long enough to know that's just the type of great people I work with...but I was still touched by the nice things that were said about me and the genuine well-wishes bestowed upon me. I'm going to miss them, even if I won't exactly miss Boston per se. I've met and known wonderful people up here, and thank goodness for Facebook because we'll be able to keep in touch much better than we would probably without it. But it's going to be weird not getting up before the sun rises to go to work. It's going to be weird not to contend with ice and snow for the majority of the year (or how it seems to me anyway!). It's going to be weird to step out on faith and do what I need to do...what I've wanted to do since I was a junior in high school. Write. Scary, scary, scary. And maybe one of these manuscripts will be something an editor/agent will want to represent; but until then, I'll be self-publishing, which means no guarantees of success. SC has the 3rd-highest unemployment rate in the country, and I'm moving there with no "job" prospect in sight. And yet, I'm excited as well as trepidatious about the entire thing. This is the first time I'm going to do something for me, something that's not safe...something that has a real chance of blowing up in my face regardless of how much planning I've done to safeguard against it. I believe I am resilient enough to withstand whatever comes--even success. I hope lol.

I am procrastinating like crazy with packing. I have so much junk; I didn't know it could accumulate so quickly in three years (well, 7/8 years if you count college). I load 'em up and ship 'em out on Monday and Tuesday of next week, but it's hard to let go of routine; of that safety net. But I think I need to do this in order to go where I want to be. I'm scared...really, really scared. The first thing my uncle said when I told him I was doing this writing thing two years ago was how unlikely it would be for me to be successful. That wasn't the most encouraging thing I could've heard, especially when his (and, hell, the industry's) definition of successful is one I haven't met yet. According to agents and editors, I only have one publishing credit (if that, since it's with an e-publisher and it's a short story) and those three other novels and that one novella doesn't count. Except it does to me. That's blood, sweat, tears, sleepless nights, hungry mornings, me in those books. To say that doesn't count don't do much for the ego, I can assure you.

But I'm doing it anyway, because it counts to me. I'm choosing to look at the ending of my contract as a new beginning instead of dwelling on the horror of not having a "proper" job that pays benefits and a 401k (that...has gotten smaller, *eyes economy*). And I have to believe I'm smart enough to pull this off, and dare I say it, talented enough. And God willing, lucky and blessed enough. And I have to remind myself about all those e-mails and notes I got last week from people who are rooting for me, people who are farther along in their publishing journey who are cheering me on. It's very disconcerting to have people selling you to yourself, because I'm so used to focusing on what's not right with me that I disregard what is. You are often your worst critic, after all. I wonder if I had a book signing would people come--I'm so scared they wouldn't, you know? That's why I like those multiple author signings because maybe someone will mosey on over from a more established author and give me a shot.

I say this because I plan on releasing Trolling Nights in the next few weeks. The last time I had a book signing it was for Being Plumville, and considering that was my first book, I wasn't expecting many people to come outside of family and a few friends, but I am also...shy. But that's something I'll use these next few months to work on, trusting that people want to hear what I have to say, even if the majority of my experience thus far says otherwise. I don't get many reviews or responses (which goes back to why I was surprised by the e-mails from last week!) but that doesn't mean people don't know who I am or haven't read my work. But the bubble...it's easy to live in one in Boston. When I go home, it'll be slightly different.

Change..."Yes We Can!", eh?