Tents for Haiti
26 01 2010Loyal readers: Haiti desperately needs tents. I would like to encourage all of you to join me in texting SUPPORT SHELTER to 20222 to donate $5 or donating directly to ShelterBox at http://www.shelterboxusa.org which will help send Haiti boxes w/ 10-person tents, cooking utensils, and water purifiers. ShelterBox is already mobilized and on the ground and could use our unified support. Please see the attached videos:
There are nearly 1 million homeless people in the wake of this tragedy and these shelter boxes will make a huge difference. Repost and engage your friend base as well. We can do this. We can help.
Thanks, Qwantu.
Comments : Leave a Comment »
Categories : Uncategorized
Back in the Game – Part 3 of 3
11 07 2008After the Writer`s conference it was time for me to relax. So I went to the Lakers game six playoff game versus the Spurs (they won). I took a trip to Malibu and ate a bucket of seafood on the beach. I partied with my best friend Steve. Good times were had by all.
I learned by reading her blog that Tananarive Due (author of the African Immortals Series: My Soul to Keep, The Living Blood, and Blood Colony) would be speaking at a black book fair in L.A. She and her husband Steve Barnes were speaking in tribute to the late Octavia Butler. I arrived a little late, but I thought that Tananarive had noticed me. My hands immediately starting sweating and my anxiety tripled. I knew this moment would be intense, but my reaction surprised me.
I discovered Tananarive back in 2005 while in Barnes & Nobles working on my own novel One Blood. Her novel The Between was in one of those special paperback racks and I was immediatley drawn to the cover. Upon reading the back cover, I knew I had to read the book. I read it in one sitting and immediately headed to Barnes and Nobles to buy everything else she had written. Tananarive writes in the same genre as myself and I knew I had found a kindred spirit in writing. Over the last three years we had even been in contact over e-mail. She has always been exceptionally encouraging, even offering to provide me with a blurb for my book once it is published!
After their emotional dialogue on Octavia Butler’s significance and legacy, Tananarive and Steve headed across the street for a book signing. I was one of the first people in line and got to take this beautiful photo with my writing hero! If you are a fan of supernatural suspense, you have to pick up her books, she is the best in the business.
The following morning I boarded a plane to Charlotte, NC. My parents live in South Carolina and I had planned a surprise visit. Needless to say my folks were thrilled. My Mom made my favorite foods – cabbage and sausage, cornbread, and potato salad. We went to the movies to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (great movie!). The best part of my visit happened on Tuesday night, June 3rd, 2008.
As my parents and I watched, Barack Obama effectively clinched the democratic presidential nomination. It was an emotional moment. My parents had lived through the civil rights movement, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, the beginnings of affirmative action, and the ascension of Barack Obama. As I watched Obama’s acceptance speech, I was filled with pride and a bit of fear as well. Any body who has seen the zeitgeist (http://zeitgestmovie.com) knows why I might be scared for Barack. But we focused on the positive. The amazing. The inprobable. The inevitable. Change.
I shared a poem I had written on the subject of Barack with my folks:
Change:
The restless are resting less
Because there is less assurance
Yet increased uncertainty
Certainly
These are dark days
But sun rays travel light years to illuminate the way
So who are we to lie idling by
Letting time pass us by
What will it take to make us try
Harder tomorrow than we did today
Will it take more calamities
More Darfur’s
More slain Iraqui’s and Afghani’s
Higher death counts of our troops
Higher amounts of toxins in our food
In our air
Why don’t we care about any of these things?
Why do we put so much value on diamond rings
While everyday we divorce from nature
Is it our basic nature to destroy
Or can we employ our strengths to create
What are we waiting for
We don’t have to be restless anymore
Just like we don’t need wings to soar
We just need to sweat
We need to get behind a common cause
If we can applaud our sports teams
Can we also collectively dream
Of a world community
United
Where only necessary resources are divided
Can we decide it’s time to stop laying blame
Shouldn’t we be so ashamed of the state of our home
That we hone in on each problem
And then take the necessary actions to solve them
This moment is not about the them’s and they’s
Nor is it about the concerns that mask our way
It’s about making history
And to make history we have to create a new majority
A new society built on the solid bricks of change
A new golden age where people are no longer afraid
A world where games are not played with people’s lives
A place where survival does not rival education
A nation of people chasing self actualization
Now is not the time for patience
Now is the time of freedom
Now is the time to get the job done
Now is the time for one nation
Illuminated
Now is the moment we’ve waited for a lifetime
But we can’t allow anymore time to slip away
We must embrace positive change for our children’s sake
Let us take on this new challenge
Let us all join hands
We must change the world
And together, yes we can
The next morning I boarded a plane from Charlotte to Tallahassee, FL. Tallahassee holds a very special place in my heart. I spent five wonderful years there during college and grad school. There I became a man. There I developed into an accomplished spoken word artist. There I gained the confidence to pursue my dreams of becoming a writer.
I was back in town after a four year hiatus to attend the 16th Annual Southern Fried Poetry Slam being hosted by my very own Black on Black Rhyme family. Black on black rhyme is a poetry collective that has been going strong since 1998.
Black On Black Rhyme consists of over 35 dynamic poets, lyricists, songwriters, DJs and artists. Much like a large family, members maintain an ever open line of communication with one another which is essential to the maintenance of their creative essence and constant exchange of energies. Being in a room full of these poet artists has been described as “electric”, as each one is as diverse as the many origins they hail from. From as far away as Nigeria, West Africa, to exotic Trinidad on the Caribbean Islands, to the busy streets of Washinton DC, New York City, Minneapolis, Minnesota and of course, “the Dirty South”, Florida. Each and every one of these poet artists bring their own unique style and flavor, and while some members hold down Federal Government positions, others are full-time college students, one is even a college professor, but all are Family.
The Southern Fried Poetry Slam is the premier showcase for poets from all over looking for their entry pass to the National Poetry slam. More than 200 poets and 40teams embarked to Tallahassee looking for fellowship and a shot at glory.
In both the early rounds and the final competition, individual poets and teams squared off to compete. The audience acted as judge. I was participating in the slam as a volunteer although I did get to spit one poem.
A slam is part spoken-word performance, part storytelling session, part improvisational theater and part motivational speech. Poets competing in the Southern Fried Poetry Slam brought their best. There were other exciting events going on as well: a youth slam, a haiku slam, a beauty vs. brawn competition, an erotica open mic, among many.
I was very proud of my poetry troupe for the organization of the event. Everything went off without a hitch and the poetry was off the chain. In the end the team competition was won by The Minoriteam from Tampa. The indie champ was Big Mike (he was original and hilarious!)
On Saturday afternoon, I boarded yet another plane and headed back to Sao Paulo. I was juiced like I had been pumped full of Growth Hormone. And in a way I had been. My mind had grown in different directions on this trip. I had been surrounded by passionate artists, some of whom live off of spoken word. I had been reinfected by their spirit!
As I closed my eyes for some well-deserved shut-eye, I knew that this trip had changed me for the better! I had traveled from coast to coast and had seen some of the best people that America has to offer. God, I miss home…
Comments : Leave a Comment »
Categories : Uncategorized
Back in the Game – Part 2 of 3
8 07 2008It was deja vu, all over again…
I woke up in my Westin Heavenly Bed™ at around quarter of 8 am. I usually take at least four or five snooze buttons to emerge from slumber, but not on this day. On this day I bound from the bed, ran through the shower, and was dressed in minutes – the euphoria never leaving me.
See I was headed to the Book Expo America writer’s conference and I was ready to face the fifty or so agents who had “volunteered” to participate in the annual pitch slam.
A pitch slam is where the author has exactly three minutes to convey the key elements of their story, tell a bit about themselves and answer any questions the agent may have – all in the hopes of getting the green light to contact them post event. Why is this so important? Well in previous blogs I have detailed just how difficult the business of publishing can be. Being a literary agent is like being bombarded by junkmail – loads and loads of junk mail that you are obligated to sift through – all in the hopes that you may have won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse.
Participating in a pitch slam is like the junk mailer (writer) getting face to face time with you (agent). The likelyhood of you (agent) throwing said piece of mail out diminishes once you have seen the living breathing organism (writer) that put their blood sweat and tears into said mailing. Or so you might think.
The one thing I have learned so far throughout this whole process, is that literary agents are tough. They don’t really give a damn about throwing away junk mail – be it in person – through e-mail – or snail mail. They are ancient gunslingers whose bullets are NO’s, blowing holes through the hopes and dreams of writers like myself.
So obviously as a writer you have to really prepare for this once a year opportunity to get shot down to your face.
How did I prepare, you ask? Well, having already participated in the 2007 pitch slam in NY gave me a heads up on the competition, plus I had great support from fellow writer-in-arms Stephanie Casher (www.stephaniecasher.com – read her blog!). It’s really all about putting your mind in a positive space and being open to hearing criticsm.
In 2007 I pitched 5 agents and 4 of the 5 requested pages from me (The DREAM). Then those 4 proceeded to summarily reject my work for every reason from my sentences being too long, to lack of identification with the characters, to no explanation whatsoever. And I was excited about the opportunity to relive this, you ask? Am I mad?
No. Yes. Maybe.
Look, I would rather take the chance at being shot down to my face, once a year, than to suffer through mailing query after query to agents who don’t know me from Adam. At least live I could make the agent feel my energy and zeal and attempt to make some sort of connection. But I still felt like Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happiness – working up my client list.
So after drinking my grande chai latte from Starbucks in the convention center atrium, I ascended the escalator into WRITER WORLD.
Let me be the first to tell you – writer’s are some interesting folks. Most of us stick out like a porcupine’s thorns. The caffeine induced lively eyes and jitters. The fashion sense of a color blind private eye. Computer screen induced ocular corrective devices. The disturbing habit of conversing with the people in your head. You’ve seen us. We are the fiction writers.
Then there are those perfectly coifed, gym toned, well-dressed (and even more well spoken), confidence oozing individuals who are of the non-fiction sect – of the self help variety.
Throw us into a giant conference room together with six hours and counting until the pitch slam and you could tranquilize North Korea with all the anxiety medication working that room.
I had the opporunity to participate in a number of interesting workshops during the day as well with titles like: Fire in Fiction, Plotting a Novel They Can’t Put Down, Revising Said Novel, and the keynote speech on the elements of all great stories. It can’t be said enough that writer’s must do two things to be successful. They must read incessantly and they must have a relentless dedication to improving their craft. I will provide some of the tips I learned in another blog, but I definitely got something out of the workshops.
So after a morning workshops, an excellent plated lunch (with cheescake for dessert!), and one workshop in the afternoon, it was finally time for the pitch slam.
Here’s how it works. Each writer received a conference booklet upon registration. Within this booklet, amongst other useful information, was a list of each agent, their background, and their respective interests – fiction, non-fiction, and/or screenplays. With more than 50 agents in attendance, it was up to the writer to sift through the list and prioritize the 5 or 6 agents who represented the writer’s respective genres. Hopefully the writer also did some research prior to the conference – googled each agent, read their blogs, tried to find out their track record – in order to be even more precise in agent selection.
I cannot stress this point enough. As a writer, choosing your agent is like choosing a midwife. Would you trust just anyone to shepherd your baby into the world?
So after providing the ground rules, the meeting organizer provided a list of room numbers and names of each agent. Up until this point, none of the writers had any idea where their respective agent choices would be located, so imagine 400 so coffee crazed scribes trying to get their hands on that list.
To make a long story just a little bit longer, I managed to pitch 7 agents during the 2 hours alotted for the pitch slam. All 7 agents requested pages (The DREAM!). I was exhausted and elated. Stephanie did very well also.
We went to this place to celebrate. I drank a cayenne pepper laced martini that nearly burnt my mouth off. The Celtics beat the Pistons. All was right with the world.
Little did I know that a month later I would be re-writing my entire novel…
Comments : Leave a Comment »
Categories : Uncategorized
Back in the Game – Part 1 of 3
15 06 2008In the words of Kanye West, “Feels good to be home, Baby!”
I recently embarked on a whirlwind two week trip back to the US. It’s amazing how your life can gain perspective in such a short window of time, but when you surround yourself with people who love and challenge you, growth can only come as a result of your interactions. The trip began with a 16 hour flight from Sao Paulo to L.A. by way of Houston.
I landed around 10 a.m. at LAX and proceeded to Avis where I learned I would be receiving an upgrade to a Cadillac CTS.
So here’s how I was rolling in the city of angels, looking like a big dog, feeling like I had already arrived!
I used Starwood points to reserve a room for two days at the Westin Pasadena – nice place.
Upon checking in, I immediately began running through my volumes of poetry, trying to decide which poem I would rip later that evening at Da Poetri Lounge in Hollywood. I have been performing spoken word poetry since 2001 when I joined the black on black rhyme family in Tallahassee, FL, while in college. After deciding on an older piece of mine, entitled Workshit, I headed to lunch with one of my best friends in the world. He worked right down the street from my hotel, so I dropped by his job and scooped him up.
After reconnecting and making plans to attend the Lakers vs. Spurs game six matchup later in the week, I finally was able to get some z’s.
I awoke some four hours later feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I got in the CTS and put my location into the GPS (I love those by the way!) and headed out.
My good friend and fellow Kindred spirit in writing, Stephanie Casher met me at the venue and we headed in.
Here’s how it works: if you are a poet and want to get your chance to shine, you have to get your name on the list – usually a wrinkled ripped out notebook page. I was the last person in line, so it was not looking good. The last time I was in L.A., a few months ago, I missed the list, but luckily got to perform anyway. This time I got my name down and then the waiting began.
The poets brought their A-game that night. I thoroughly enjoyed most of what I heard, especially Marc Marcel’s piece about whether Jesus would even be a Christian were he alive today. Just brilliant stuff.
I went up after the intermission and did my thing. Here’s the poem for the curious:
work shit
my brains fried
tired of this computer screen
this working waking dream makes me want to scream
i need a new screen saver
better yet a screen savior
white collar labor is my excuse for bad behavior
can’t see the forest for the trees
i have no clue why the caged bird sings
maybe he just likes his job
but i don’t like mine
will this day ever end
i can’t even fake a grin when these silly ass corporate cretins
come knocking on my office door
they probably think i’m a bore
but to me there’s just so much more to live for
than working forty or ninety hours a week
putting money down some white man’s jeans
i sometimes daydream that one day
i’ll be like that white man
driving a white luxury sedan
to a beach with white sands
demanding to speak to the white manager of the resort
because i need extra white towels
to wipe my ass with
i need to lay down on a great white king size bed
and wear white satin sheets on my head
while drinking white star champagne
i forget about my black pain and my black name
cuz i’m sinking my white fangs
into this white american pie
every day we got people tryin and dyin to live like this
because where i come from
my people live in slum-like conditions
and some like the conditions they live in
because a concrete jungle is still better than living in prison
isn’t it
interesting what people will put up with
things like racism and stereotypes
they gripe and complain but remain relatively calm
you’d probably need a bomb to light a fire under their asses
but then you’d just blow them off
like we do everyday
inconveniences
such as weather or gunshots or war
war?
good god what are we fighting for
blacks don’t even fight for our own rights anymore
i thought we gave that up in the sixties like meat for lent
what is the relevance of my last statement
to the whole of this master work
well
we used to do our massas work
and now i’ve got my masters and i still work for the massa
ain’t shit changed
but now there’s more of it down the drain
clogging up the pipes
and ain’t enough drano in the world to break through it
bit by bit sanity’s slipping away
like sand in the ocean’s hand getting dragged out to sea
finally seeing that there’s nothing more to see
nothing more to believe in anymore
the poor are gonna die poor
and the rich are gonna choke to death on bits of caviar
because ain’t no heimleck for the homeless
and economic desperation got us all hopeless
pressed to make a dollar wherever and however we can
that’s why i’m stuck in this damn dead end job
that’s why niggas grab the gat and try to rob somebody
all for the love of money
and because i love makin money
and i got bills and shit
i shut up smile and take it
until it’s time to hit the showers and wash off the grime and dirt
from another miserable day at work
can’t wait to take off this soiled white collar shirt and monkey suit
in my pursuit of this white american fantasy
that’s giving me ulcers and hemorrhoids
but still not filling the void
that
there’s got to be more than this
just got to be something better than this
work
shit
The audience was very receptive and I left the stage with the boyant feeling I always get after performing. Public speakig for me is torture before I speak and heaven while I’m doing it. A very interesting confluence of emotions.
So I finished up and we rolled out. I headed back to Pasadena to get some Z’s because the next day was the Book Expo America wiriter’s conference starting bright and early at 8:30 am…
Comments : 1 Comment »
Categories : Uncategorized
Execution Can Always Improve
11 05 2008In the last entry, I mentioned that I was having a professional manuscript editor take a crack at my novel. After researching the editor in question and even having an interesting online run-in with her on her blog, I decided that she had the appropriate level of frankness to give it to me straight. What is that old addage, be careful what you wish for? I’m updating it to be careful what you pay for. So after paying her $2 per page and waiting five weeks, I finally have my feedback.
Needless to say, I am not overjoyed. I respect most of her comments regarding story flow and flashbacks (she is not a fan of these devices). What I strongly disagree with was the fact that she just didn’t get it. But I think the fault may lie in the execution of the story.
She constantly referred to my story as a crime novel, when it is most definitely a supernatural suspense novel. I think the confusion began there and carried through. She kept wanting the book to be one thing that it refuses to be. I can understand that. But calling One Blood a crime novel is like calling Beloved a historical fiction novel. The genre cannot possibly encompass the size of this idea. Which is why I take pains to make the supernatural elements quite obvious in the context of the story. Which she takes pains to tell me to cut out from the fabric of the story.
So I am at an empass. She is the industry insider, and here I am, on the outside. Should I aquiesce, take her feedback to heart, and re-write the story? Or should I stick to my guns, take her more mechanistic comments, and leave the soul of the story intact?
One thing is clear, the whole Quentin Tarantino flashback/flashforward thing only works in movies. It just kills me that I have to dress up like everyone else to get into the party. But, such is life.
In any event, I am pleased with my decision to have a professional look over my work. It reaffirms the journey I still have ahead. But I’m not as far off as this individual may think. The elements of a great story are all there (maybe not in the ideal chronology), but there. I just need the right brave individual to give One Blood a real shot.
“I wrote for twelve years and collected 250 rejection slips before getting any fiction published, so I guess outside reinforcement isn’t all that important to me.”
– Lisa Alther
Comments : Leave a Comment »
Categories : Uncategorized