Three the Hard Way

They say that celebrity deaths come in threes. Last week we got hit with three whoppers: Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.

As I was contemplating all the news, hype and hoopla surrounding their deaths, I began thinking about something that they all had in common (besides the obvious): they all had bright shining stars and all had strange, sad ends to their lives.

In Ed McMahon’s case, he had debilitating health problems and was virtually broke. His house was being -foreclosed on; Donald Trump intervened and help him keep his home.

Farrah Fawcett started out as a pinup girl and became a celebrated actress in such films as “The Burning Bed”, “Extremities” and “Small Sacrifices”. She was a gifted dramatic and comedic actress, but those gifts were marred by strange career choices and personal appearances. Her well-documented battle with cancer provided hope for those who struggle with this insidious disease.

Michael Jackson’s meteoric rise and tabloid-centric downfall has been chronicled for years. He was on the verge of a major musical comeback that had fans salivating. I was hoping that he would be able to redeem his image through the concerts and his music. Sadly, this was not meant to be.

I think of this as I continue my writing career. Friends who know me know that I believe that one day I will be sitting beside Oprah in her studio as she praises one of my novels. Her endorsement will lead to untold success. And while I welcome the fame and fortune, I know that it will change my life and the lives of my family. It’s up to me to determine how I handle that success when it comes.

Until then, I will keep writing because it’s what I’ve been called to do. I’ll keep writing because it’s what I love to do. Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson didn’t set out to be superstars or tabloid magnets. They set out to do what they loved to do, what they were passionate about. They worked hard for all they achieved. And when the dust settles, long after they’re gone, I hope that we as fans will remember that; let that be their legacy.

Reflections on BWRC ‘09

This was my third BWRC and it was fabulous! Here is my recap of my time there:

Arriving on Wednesday, I checked into the Golden Nugget. I spotted several past BWRC participants including assistant director Monica. The gang is gathering to head out to Freemont Street, but I have to head upstairs. Fabulous room! Nice and spacious and the bed is not too hard. I drop off my stuff and connect with my BFF, Michelle Chester. We head down to catch up to the group, where we are quickly overwhelmed by the laser light and music show. Catching up to the group, it’s a big reunion! Old faces and new faces mix and mingle as we realize we’re all connected by one single thing – the love of writing!

We head back to the hotel and find out where we’re to meet for our morning sessions. Some head off to experience Vegas. Many of us are HONE-gry, so we search for food in the hotel. A group of six, including Vincent Alexandria, Marc Lacy, Venise Berry and Renee Flagler, bum rush the buffet. The food is good (either that or we’re too hungry to care) and the conversation is spirited. Marc becomes a raspberry iced tea addict, drawing Renee and I in. Renee resists the urge; I’m sold.

The next morning, I have breakfast with Michelle and Teowanna Clifton. We’re all teaching at this year’s BWRC and we’re excited. I head up to registration, greeting Monica and Neesha, aka QueenJoya. Tia Ross, BWRC director, calmly signals me frantically. (If you’ve seen Tia in action, you’d understand this.) One of the presenters is sick; do I have my backup presentation ready? Of course, I reply. I go back to my room, grab my laptop, and head back downstairs for my first session. Dr. Anita Heiss has great insight in inspiring our creative juices using props and items in the room. It’s clear that there’s a lot of talent at this conference!

I duck out to prepare for my first session, “Ready, Set, Write”. After a technological glitch, we’re ready to go. It’s a fun, interactive class and I really enjoy teaching it. It’s clear that this is a group who are where I’ve been. They have ideas and stories waiting to come out of them. After the presentation, I give them time to actually write. It was a gratifying experience, especially seeing our teenage scholarship recipients writing in their notebooks. After class, several participants came up to tell me that they felt free and inspired to write. One lady shared that she had only written non-fiction and this was her first venture into fiction. She read what she wrote in class; it was good! I’m looking forward to seeing her finished work.

I took a break and went back to the room to relax and prepare for the afternoon. Lunch with Michelle and Teowanna and recapping the morning; why are all the restaurants in the Golden Nugget so slow? Afterwards, I go to Vincent Alexandria’s class. He had the best line of the afternoon: “Life is a buffet but you’ll starve to death if you don’t fix your own plate.”

Next is my class, “Writing Christian Fiction.” It goes well and I’m not the least bit nervous that one of my writing sheroes, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, is sitting in the back. When it’s said and done, many of the participants tell me that they really enjoyed the class. I’m humbled and thrilled at the same time. Thank you God!!

My hubby joins me at the hotel and we spend some time together. Wandering around the hotel, we spot ReShonda Tate Billingsley sitting alone at a table, editing her manuscript. That’s when it hits me: here we are in Las Vegas, surrounded by all kinds of things to do and see, and yet she’s focused on the work. That’s the mark of a true writer.

The next day, I have breakfast with Cherlisa and Sandra, two fellow writers and we continue the conversation about writing, editing and publishing. This is the reason that the BWRC is so special to me; being among writers who understand each other, no matter where you are on the writing journey.

We head upstairs and I join Dr. Jacqualyn Green at a table where we put out displays of our books and materials. Another joy of BWRC is that every time I’ve come, the focus of the conference has always matched where I was on my writing journey. This year, as a published author, I’m allowed to display and sell my novel. Marc Lacy and Renee Flagler give an impromptu marketing lesson at their table. Dr. Green’s family is so wonderful; her husband is a true inspiration and her grandchildren are the best street team anyone could ask for! I witness a hilarious conversation between Mondella Jones and Tonya Evans Walls; someone should put these two in a sitcom! (Two intelligent, professional, humorous black women making it happen? Never on television.)

Anita Heiss shares her “wedding” photos. She and Elvis make a great couple. I suspect her adventures in Vegas are mere ideas to go in her next novel.

I make a few sales, but I am more thrilled to talk with other participants about the conference. My favorite moment? Talking to future writer Oni, a senior in high school who has a story to tell. Not only was she inspired by my workshops, she’s determined to finish her manuscript in progress. I give her a copy of my book and Michelle promises to edit her book for free. Mr. Green tells her he will help her get published and Tonya Evans Walls gives her some valuable legal advice. My God. I love the generosity of the company at this conference! I told Oni I expect to see her on my side of the table at a future conference. Mr. Green reminds me that someone said the very same thing to me at my first conference in 2006.

After lunch, I decide to end my day and decide to spend the rest of the afternoon with my family. My hubby and son came and we hit the pool. Deciding to swim with the sharks, I hit the water slide. It’s been a long time and I almost lose my lunch, but it was worth it. My husband did it twice; I’m over it. We all dry off and after some photos and goodbyes with Michelle, we head over to my sister-in-law’s house.

I’m exhausted as I always am after these conferences. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I look forward to 2011 – wherever BWRC winds up, I’ll be there.

Not With My Bible, You Don’t!

Actor Jon Voight has called President Obama “the Messiah” and a “false prophet.”

What a load of crap.

I get so sick of right-wing nut jobs calling Obama these names. Not just because they are so wrong, but because they are trying to use the Bible to justify their hatred of the President.

I realize the Republicans are still upset over losing the White House and Congress. They have no one to blame but themselves. (Okay, they can blame Bush and Cheney. And Limbaugh. And maybe Sarah Palin, but to be fair, John McCain is to blame for her.)

What I don’t get is why they seem to think that Obama is this side of the anti-Christ and try to use the Bible to spew their venom.

Obama has been in office for less than six months. He’s been working hard to undo the messes it took 8 years of Republican “leadership” to create. As he himself has said, it’s not going to be easy and it’s not going to be fixed overnight, but we have to start somewhere. He’s also said that if someone else has better ideas to bring to the table, he’s willing to listen.

So far, all I’ve heard from these blowhard “conservatives” is a load of hot air – and a lot of crap.

Still, with their disappointments and bitterness, I keep wondering why they’re using the Bible as their particular whipping board.

Then it hit me. It’s part of their history.

They used the Bible to justify slavery and the systematic destruction of non-European people in this country.

They used the Bible to justify lynchings and murders in the South.

They used the Bible to create the KKK and sustain segregation.

They use the Bible to create fear and divide our nation and our world.

They use the Bible to create an “us” vs. “them” mentality, vilifying other religions as “intolerant” without seeing the irony of their own intolerance.

Enough.

I’m calling out Jon Voight, Rush Limbaugh, Newt Gingrich, Sarah Palin and all their ilk, right here, right now.

I don’t care what you think of Obama and the Democrats and gay marriage and abortion or any other issue. Use whatever words you choose: inexperienced, bull-headed, dumb, stupid, ignorant, intolerant, misguided – take your pick. I’ll put my Flip Dictionary up against your limited thesaurus any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

But you will no longer use my BIBLE – GOD’S HOLY WORD – as a way to denigrate my President or my nation. (Note to Sarah Palin: look it up, sweetie.)

Those of us who know who THE MESSIAH is know that Obama ain’t it. Nor is he a false prophet. According to the Bible, false prophets were those who led the people from God and his Word. Obama has never done that and in fact, has encouraged us to turn to our faith during this time of crisis.

So go on, spew your venom all you want. You just make yourselves look pettier and smaller than you already are.

Just leave my Bible out of it.

Write Time, Wrong Way

So I’m all set to work on my WIP. I’ve got a couple of hours blocked out and the juices are flowing. I look for my portable USB drive that goes everywhere with me.

It’s nowhere to be found. Curses!

It looks like I may have left it at home during one of my many purse changes this weekend.

Instead, I decide to work on my presentation for the BWRC, reviewing the presentation and jotting down my notes.

It’s on the USB drive. Which is at home.

Fortunately, all is not lost. I remember that I emailed it to my friend to review. At first, I can’t find the email. But after much searching, it turns up. Great! At least these hours won’t be a total waste.

Besides, it gives me something to post here.

Memo to self: email all WIP’s and presentations to myself after each draft. That way I can always access the latest and greatest without having my USB drive. And find a way to keep that USB drive handy.

My Heart is Blue

A Chicago police officer was killed early this morning.

He leaves behind siblings, parents, friends, a fiancee and a host of brothers and sisters in blue.

I am very saddened by this tragic turn of events. It breaks my heart to hear of a police officer slain in the line of duty.

Yes, I know there are officers who are racist and bigoted.

Yes, I know there are officers who abuse their powers and beat up innocent civilians.

Yes, I know there are officers who drive drunk and cause accidents that take the lives of innocent citizens.

But for every one of those examples, there thousands more who get up every day, strap on a gun and a vest and become human targets for those who choose to break the law. These men and women are the ones who will run into a burning building and not think twice. They will search for lost children and adults, even on their own time. They will be the first to get in front of a bullet to protect innocent people.

They do this because this is their life. And they do this often at the cost to their marriages, families and sometimes sanity. Those who make it through to retirement without being shot, injured, maimed or killed are the lucky ones.

Every time I hear of a cop being shot, my heart stops for a minute. Because I know that there’s a chance that my cousin could be the victim. He’s a proud Chicago police officer and has been for more than ten years. Being a part of law enforcement is all he’s ever wanted to do. Now, he’s a detective and his work mostly keeps him off the streets. But he’s still vulnerable every time he sets foot out the door. He’s a police officer, but he’s a husband, father, son, brother, nephew, uncle, cousin and friend. And I know that it grieves him when another officer is shot down, even if he didn’t know the person.

Each time I hear that a cop has been shot, I listen carefully, praying that my cousin isn’t the one who’s been killed. And I breathe a sigh of relief that he isn’t and pray for the family of the one who was.

When I’m with my son and we encounter a police officer, I tell him to greet the officer and shake his or her hand. I tell him that officers are here to help us whenever we’re in trouble. I want my son to know that being a police officer is an honorable thing and a noble profession. I want him to know that police officers are among the bravest of the brave.

So the next time you see those lights flashing in your rearview mirror after you’ve been speeding or blown through a stop sign,

The next time you see an officer pulling over and searching someone’s vehicle,

The next time you see an officer watching over a wreck or speeding down the road to some emergency,

Say a prayer for the men and women in blue.

Congratulations, Mrs. Deloney! It’s a Book!

Well, well, well…

I am officially a PUBLISHED AUTHOR!!! Got my copies in the mail yesterday afternoon and I am loving it!

When authors say that writing a book is like having a baby, I completely understand what they mean. For those of you who don’t, let me explain.

First, there’s the twinkle in the eye, just the thought of having a baby. This is the period when you think to yourself or say out loud, “I’m going to write a book.”

Then there’s the conception. That’s when you get your first idea of what book to write. You don’t even know if you can do it, but you jot down notes, ideas, snippets of dialogue.

Next, you find out you’re pregnant. This is when you put your first chapter on paper, either with a pen or on a computer.

So what happens now? You tell everyone you’re pregnant. Or rather, you tell everyone you started working on a book.

Then the morning sickness takes over. You tell yourself you’re crazy to think you can write a book. You throw out the chapter you wrote and then retrieve it. You may do this several times.

Now is the gestation period. This is when you commit to writing. The story starts to take shape. You start doing research using writing magazines, blogs, classes.

Halfway through, you take tests to see if the pregnancy is progressing. You hand off your sample chapters to a few trusted friends and/or family members. They give you feedback, hopefully more than, “It’s good.”

Now closing in on the last trimester. Instead of Lamaze classes, you join a writing or critique group. It helps to know that there are others going through what you are and you benefit from their advice and feedback.

The doctor says you’re gaining weight, which is good. You’re working through your first draft and it looks like you can see the end of the tunnel, or at least the end of the book.

You start shopping for your essentials. This is the time to seek out an editor, possibly an agent, and what publishers might be interested in your book.

It’s time for the baby shower! Edit, revise, submit! Edit, revise, resubmit!

You’ve hit your due date. The final draft is complete. You got the deal with an agent and/or publisher.

The labor pains begin. More editing, more waiting. What will the cover look like? Who will buy it? How will I promote it? What if something happens and the deal falls apart?

You’re fully dilated now. The publisher gives you the date the book will be released. Time to spread the word to everyone you know and everyone they know.

Time to push! Push that book out there. Get out on Facebook, MySpace, blogs, groups – let anyone and everyone know that it’s coming!

Finally, the moment arrives: your baby has come. The postman delivers your “baby” – your book – in your hands. You nervously check out your baby – the cover art, the spelling of your name, the photo, the typset. You glide your hand gently over the cover trying to take in the wonderful moment.

And though you may have other babies in the future, nothing is as precious as delivering the first one.

Who says I’m not a Superwoman?

I have finally found my true inner ego.

Don't mess with Ms. Inferno!

I’m a PC…

Yesterday, my 6-month-old earphones for my 6-month-old iPhone broke. I knew I needed to replace them but I wasn’t thrilled about spending the money. Plus, all the reviews said they were crappy. (I personally thought they were fine once I figured out how to get them to stay in my ears.) I tried looking up some alternative headphones; I found several, but most didn’t have the microphone I needed or were way out of my price range. I did find the perfect replacement set at Best Buy; unfortunately, I could only purchase them online. (More than a day without listening to my iPod on the train? Sheer torture.)

So I knuckled under and decided to get the replacements. It was a gorgeous spring day and walking the two blocks to the Apple store was just what I needed. A cheerful associate in an orange t-shirt sympathized with my dilemma and pointed me upstairs. I spoke with another associate in a blue t-shirt; apparently, my needing help conflicted with his conversation with the security guard. But he plastered his fake helpful smile and dutifully showed me the three options to replace my headphones. The first were identical to what I had. The second were almost identical, except there was a great feature that allowed you to control the volume on your iPod. Only it was incompatible with the iPhone. (Thanks a lot smart guy. Get my hopes up then slam me into the concrete floor.)

He then showed me another pair that looked a lot like the first pair, but these had some sort of case that I could put the headphones in when not in use. Hallelujah! Only these were more than twice the price of the other ones. No thanks, I say. He tells me that these are as good or better as the third party headphones that are way more expensive. No thanks, I say again. I wonder aloud why I have to pay for the headphones in the first place as they’re less than a year old. “What did you do?” he asks. I must have given him my best diva glare because he instantly backpedals. “I mean, you must have done something for the glue to break, not that I’m accusing you of anything. You’ll have to pay for them. You can ask one of the ‘genuises’ but I’m telling you what they’re going to say.” I thank him for his time and proceed to wander through the store.

I was about to leave but I decided to stop by the “Genius Bar.” (I guess this is like Best Buy’s Geek Squad.) A cheerful associate in a blue t-shirt asks if I have an appointment. “Do I need one?” I ask. She says, “Let me see what’s going on,” and introduces herself as Katie. And in a simple case of “You have not because you ask not,” I explain to Katie what happened and she sympathizes. “That shouldn’t have happened. Let me see about getting you another pair. Can I see your iPhone?” Startled, I hand her my phone and she checks for pertinent information. Confirming my identity, she says, “Give me 5 minutes and I’ll get you another pair.” She hands me paperwork I need to sign, saying I’m getting replacements – for free.

Sure enough, less than 5 minutes later, Katie comes back and hands me a brand new pair of headphones and sends me on my way. The sun was shining just a bit brighter as I exited the store, with $30 still in my wallet, my new headphones and knowing that I could drown out the sounds of train that very afternoon.

I’m a PC… but I can dig the Apple.

We Interrupt This Program…

Yesterday I was thinking about The Brady Bunch. Yes, the iconic 70’s television series that will never die. For some reason, I was thinking about all those quizzes on Facebook and I thought, “Which Brady kid am I?” My answer was Jan.  Like Jan, I was the smart and funny one, never quite sure of her place in life and always feeling a little like the one that no one noticed, even though everybody did.

The best “Jan” episode was “The New Jan Brady”, the one where blonde Jan decides she’d rather be a brunette to distinguish herself from her other blonde sisters. She purchases this hideous (even for the 70’s) brunette beehive wig and goes to her friend’s party, where everyone laughs and mocks her new look. She runs home in tears only to have brother Peter come home with all the party guests to tell Jan she looked better as a blonde. (Apparently, they thought the wig was some kind of weird joke.) Jan happily goes back to the party and lives in apparent anonymity until she is once again thrust into middle-daughter crisis. (Stay with me, it’s going to get interesting.)

So I was thinking about all this when my dark and twisty* inner writer took hold of it. What if there were a remake of the show? Not the awful where-are-they-now “The Bradys” show. (Now that was a hot mess. Marcia was an alcoholic with a frequently out of work hubby; Jan was infertile and she and hubby adopted a little Korean girl; Cindy was having an affair with her boss; Bobby was a paraplegic after crashing his race car; Peter was a playboy who couldn’t settle down. Only eldest son Greg managed to have a fairly normal non-neurosis life.)

No, my dark and twisty inner writer wanted a remake of the teenage Brady Bunch. (I promise you “90210” – in any form – was not the Brady Bunch reincarnated.) So this is my proposed pilot for the 21^st century Brady Bunch.

Cue music… Here’s the story, of a lovely lady…

Our story is narrated by Alice, the house manager of the Bradys. She is the repository of all the Brady secrets. Alice knows everything but not everyone knows just how much Alice really knows.

Alice knows widower Mike Brady met divorcee Carol Phillips online. They met, married, and brought their respective families into the Brady mansion. Mike is a very successful businessman with large corporate holdings. He’s not above bending (or possibly breaking) the law to get what he wants. There’s been talk that the first Mrs. Brady died under suspicious circumstances. But Mike Brady has enough money and power that no one is willing to investigate.

Carol Phillips-Brady has been married several times and each time, she’s come out exponentially richer. She’s also a functioning alcoholic. She and Mike look good together, but it’s clear that it’s also an act, especially since Carol is lusting after the pool boy. Problem is Mike may be lusting after the pool boy too.

Eldest son Greg is a high school athlete. His dirty secret? He’s on steroids. Anything to be the BMOC and please Papa Brady.

Eldest daughter Marcia is pregnant. She’s not sure if the baby’s father is her secret boyfriend Darnell (who’s Black or Latin) – or her stepbrother Greg. She’s also not sure of what she’s going to do about the pregnancy.

Middle son Peter has a very nasty habit. He’s into online poker in a big way. So far he’s been able to pay off his debts by tapping into his trust fund left to him by his late mother. But he’s getting in way over his head and finding out that his debts are about to be collected – maybe at the expense of brother Greg’s career.

Middle daughter Jan is a straight-A student who puts enormous pressure on herself to break out of the shadow of her elder sister. She’s bulimic and a shopaholic. She uses her money to buy companionship and has trouble distinguishing who her real friends are.

Baby girl Cindy has daddy issues. She’s been sleeping around with much older men. It started when a much older man slept with her when she was much, much younger. Her father? One of her other stepfathers? She’s currently involved with newest stepfather Mike’s best friend. But Mike’s best friend has plans for Cindy – and they’re definitely not nice.

Youngest son Bobby has mommy issues. He wants to know what really happened to his mother on the night she died. He’s been quietly hacking into his father’s computer and learning just how ruthless his dear old dad can be. The secrets he uncovers could take down the Brady family for good – or cost him his life.

So that’s my take on a revamped Brady Bunch. What do you think? Sherwood Schwartz would probably keel over if this ever went on the air.

One day I’m going to do dark and twisty Dora the Explorer. At the very least, it would make a good SNL sketch.

*Yes, I know I stole “dark and twisty” from Shonda Rhimes and Grey’s Anatomy.

Write and Wrong – Part 2

To recap: At a book signing last Saturday with author Bettye Griffin, a young man asked for writing advice. His statement to us, “I don’t want to be known as an African American writer,” had us laughing out loud. Bettye responded, “We’re laughing because we know what the real deal is.”

Bettye began to explain to the young man that the deal is once your work is bought by the publisher, you have no control on cover design, how it’s marketed and where it’s placed (if at all) in bookstores. Borders segregates because of customer feedback. And if you sign up with a AA imprint, if the bookstore buys your book, they will put you in the same category as all AA literature, fiction and non-fiction.

I also explained to the young man that while what he may see on the surface in the AA section is so much – I’ll use the word nonsense, there’s a great deal to be read in that section. Because it’s all lumped together by the color of the author’s skin, he wasn’t aware that there was more than just urban lit and erotica. Thrown in were mysteries, horror, Christian/inspirational, literary, historical, romance, women’s fiction and mainstream just to name a few.  But because the stuff that was turned out featured – I’ll say again, nonsense covers (this side of porn), he just assumed that all that was there was of lesser quality. (I didn’t even get into a discussion of the quality of the writing in street/urban lit and erotica, as I’ve never read them and have no basis to make a judgment, though I am really disgusted by those covers.)

The young man rightfully said that by dumping the works of AA writers into one section you can potentially limit your revenue stream. We agreed on that point, but also said that it was up to the author to promote and market the book to a broader audience.

I explained to the young man that as a fledgling screenwriter/novelist, it was next to impossible to control who gets your work and what they do with it. However, I pointed out to him that he should look at Tyler Perry as a role model. Perry, who was homeless before his first play took off, now has his own studio in Atlanta. Everything he does – from writing to directing, casting, marketing, etc. – is controlled by him. And as everyone knows, he’s frustrating the heck out of Hollywood. They have seen Perry’s success and they want their piece of it. Unfortunately for them, Lionsgate was the only studio that was willing to take a chance on him and they are riding high on Perry’s box office and television successes.

By the time he left, I think he had a little more understanding about what was ahead of him. He still has a lot to learn and I hope he doesn’t give up.

As I’m new to the publishing industry, I know I still have so much to learn. But learn I will. And I won’t stop until I get to the top.