Musings of an Editor, Writer, and Storyteller

I'm In School: That's My Story

2012-02-11T11:44:00.002-05:00

Howdy folks,

I'm coming to you live from my kitchen table/workstation. I've been juggling two classes, marketing management and organization design, this semester and boy have they been pushing my multitasking abilities to the limit. But wait, another one starts up next week, graduate research skills. Oh how will I do it all. And did I mention that I'm on the public relations committee for a community service organization? And of course, I work full time. So given that, please understand, gentle readers, that while I'm a bit extended these days, writing my musings is still my desire. I'll be sure to chart my progress, and report on whatever else intrigues me.

Wish me luck, I have three assignments due tomorrow. Yikes!

Running to a Phantom Exit

2012-01-19T18:43:00.002-05:00

I was talking to my mother the other day when the subject of hamsters and gerbils came up. I think I was trying to make some sort of analogy to a hamster wheel that goes nowhere. From there I began to wonder if the little hamsters and gerbils that jump on these wheels and other apparatuses for "exercise" are actually making a futile attempt to escape their confinement. As a living being, they clearly have feelings, and perhaps a sense of awareness that there's a bigger world out there. They are directed to mate and replicate themselves, just as humans, so why wouldn't they be driven to seek a better quality of life? Though I doubt they are able to process why they are being driven to do so?

For years now I've seen the little guys on those wheels, seemingly running for dear life, and found the sight to be cute. But with this new realization, I can't help but feel a little sad to know that they could possibly be moving at such a feverish pace because they think an exit is imminent. Some sort of way out. They know not, however, that for them, there is no escape. The wheels, tunnels, and mazes that they endure are merely for our amusement.

I also wonder if they have any plan on what to do if they escape? I mean, where would they go, what would they do? Wouldn't they need to find the others? As they run toward that phantom exit, only we humans understand that they are actually safer in their confinement of bedding, a wheel, a pellet bowl or dispenser, and a source of water. Outside of that cage is a world of rats, mice, cats, car wheels, birds.....and worse, an even bigger space to live a life of solitude in.

Oh why do we enjoy confining creatures for our pleasure? And why must they run on a wheel to nowhere? Just questions that I'll probably never find the answer to. I watch a lot of the original Twilight Zone episodes, where the show's creator, Rod Serling, touches on different aspects of the human condition such as our wondering where we are....why we are here....what is 'here'?....what's in that big world out there? Could these little creatures possibly ponder such things as well. Mr. Serling attempted to answer these questions by presenting various scenarios in which man, the animal with dominion over all others on Earth, was in fact the captive for an even bigger species. In this series, we get to see what it would be like for humans to exist in a pretend world where nothing is real; where we are simply fed, manipulated, and monitored. And allowed to run feverishly toward phantom exits.

The Masque of the Red Death

2012-01-18T21:33:00.004-05:00

Hello out there. Yes, it's been quite a while. Oh what can I say....work, extracurricular activities, holidays, computer viruses that hijacked my computer, reading, just not feeling enthused, pick any one of those reasons and that's my reason for being absent. But I'm back now.

I decided to dedicate my first post of 2012 to my most favorite short story "The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe. I just recently bought 50 Great Short Stories, and upon discovering Red Death in the Table of Contents, I got very excited. *here comes a spoiler* It's my favorite because of what I feel is its central theme: death evasion is futile. I was in middle school when I was first introduced to this tale, and even then I knew it had a deeper meaning than death simply crashing a party. Being born and dying are the two things that we humans can't control. And despite our material wealth, our good deeds, or the social class assigned to us, we all one day meet the great equalizer.

I introduce to you Prince Prospero:

THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven -- an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke's love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue -- and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange -- the fifth with white -- the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet -- a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not. He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise -- then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood -- and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"
It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry -- and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

Courtesty: http://www.online-literature.com/poe/36/

The Eleventh National Black Writers Conference - March 29, 2012 – April 1, 2012

2011-11-21T23:35:00.002-05:00

I first attended this conference, held at Medgar Evers Collegs in Brooklyn, NY, in 2008. I enjoyed the experience and vibe (still thinking about this tasty vegetarian restaurant across the street), and found the discussions and workshops informative and motivating. While I haven't been able to attend since, I haven't forgotten about this conference and would like to attend the next one, Thursday, March 29, 2012—Sunday, April 1, 2012.

I wanted to share the program details in case it should interest someone enough to register and hear passionate roundtable discussions on The Impact of Migration, Popular Culture, and the Natural Environment in the Literature of Black Writers.

Here's what they have planned for participants:

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Pre-Conference Activities

Spoken Word Workshop
Sponsored by the NBWC and PEN American Center
Edison O. Jackson Auditorium, Medgar Evers College

Youth Programs

10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Workshop, readings, and program activities for elementary, middle-school and high-school students.
Founders Auditorium, Medgar Evers College

Call for Papers: Presentations

10:00 a.m. to 3:15 p.m.

Exploring Themes in the Works of John Oliver Killens, Ishmael Reed, and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o

Poetry Café

6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.

Sponsored by the Central Brooklyn Public Library

Friday, March 30, 2012

Film Screenings: Selected films and shorts based on literary themes
11 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Edison O. Jackson Auditorium, Medgar Evers College

Elders Writing Workshop

4:00 p.m.–5:30 p.m.

Elders Writers Workshop Presentation
Edison O. Jackson Auditorium, Medgar Evers College

Official Conference Opening

7:00 p.m.–8:30 p.m.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, Featured Speaker and Honoree
Founders Auditorium, Medgar Evers College

Concert: Off-Site Event
9:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m.

Jazz concert and cultural program

Saturday, March 31, 2012

NBWC Reading Series

12:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.

The National Black Writers Conference Reading Series is sponsored by the African American Literature Book Club, the Brooklyn Literary Council, Mosaic magazine, the National Black Writers Conference.

Panels and Roundtable Discussions

Defining “Urban,” “Street,” and “Hip-Hop” Literature: Its Evolution and Impact on American Culture

11:00 a.m.–12:30 p.m.

This panel is based on the concept that the publishing industry, mainly mainstream, and some writers and editors, have labeled “urban literature,” “street lit,” and/or “hip-hop literature as stories with an urban setting that portray the gritty side of black American life. Moreover, they have viewed the new crop of black writers of this literature as not being “literary” and have often characterized their stories as poorly written. Yet, for years, black writers such as Donald Goines, Iceberg Slim, and Chester Himes wrote books that fit into what might be called “urban literature.” Yet white writers such as Richard Price, author of the raw street novel Clockers, and Hubert Selby, author of Last Exit to Brooklyn, wrote books with urban-based themes. These writers did not have their texts so categorized. Are urban-based stories by white writers classified differently than urban-based stories by the new group of black writers? How much does the craft of writing play in the manner in which the books are defined? Who determines the definition? Should we broaden our definitions and understanding of urban literature?
Is this literature here to stay or is it just a fad? We want the participants on this panel to discuss the origins of urban-themed stories, what constitutes them, how are they defined today and what impact these stories reveal about contemporary American culture.

Migration and Cultural Memory in the Literature of Black Writers

1 p.m.–2:30 p.m.
Sponsored by the Pan-African Literary Forum

The globalization of today’s society and the migration of black writers to various parts of the African Diaspora have had an impact on our definitions of black writers and on the literature they produce. One theme central to the literature of black writers throughout the African Diaspora is the value of cultural memory. Cultural memories convey the spirit, language, traditions, music, art, history, values, and belief systems of a people. When there is no cultural memory, there is no way for people to survive. The writers on this panel will examine the ways in which black writers who move back and forth among the geographical boundaries of the Americas, Africa, Asia, and Europe define themselves across cultural boundaries and represent and analyze cultural memory in the literature they produce.

The Impact of Popular Culture on Politics in the Literature of Black Writers
5:00 p.m.–6:30 p.m.

We live in a society constructed by politics and our nation has developed a political consciousness that informs our elections, our media, our literature, our films, our economy, and our global interactions with the world. Our civil rights, religious, and societal movements are informed by politics. Politics is often at the center of our lives. As citizens of this country, we continually examine the impact of politics in our lives. Black writers have always responded to politics through the critical analysis of politics in the government, popular culture, and world economy and through the creation of political thrillers, suspense stories, and cautionary tales. The panelists will discuss the impact of politics in the literature of black writers from these varying perspectives.

Tribute and Awards Program

7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.
Founders Auditorium, Medgar Evers College
1650 Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11225

VIP Reception
ABI Bldg., Medgar Evers College
1638 Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11225

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Talkshops

10:00 a.m.–11:15 a.m. Fiction; Poetry; Book Reviews

11:30 a.m.–12:45 p.m. Dramatic Writing; Creative Nonfiction; Book Proposals

Panels and Roundtable Discussions

Black Writers and Ecoliterature: Stories, Essays, and Poetry Shaped by the Natural Environment

12:00 p.m.–1:30 p.m.

As our global society becomes smaller and the impact of global warming and natural disasters are magnified, issues of conservation and the need to protect the natural habitat and the environment have become more pressing. Black writers have responded to these issues in varying ways. Through their novels, essays, poetry, short stories and plays, they have written cautionary tales that prepare us for what will happen if we do not protect the environment and their works have raised public awareness about crises such as war, famine, and natural disasters. Writers on this panel will discuss the literature that raises public awareness about the need to restore life-sustaining communities.

The Role of Social Media: Black Writers Take Literature to the Web

2 p.m.–3:30 p.m.

The use of the social media for marketing, promoting, and publishing in the writing world is well documented. There is an argument that social media techniques have leveled the playing field and have helped to make the writing and publishing of books more accessible for all writers. The writers on this panel will discuss the implications of the Internet for black writers and the ways in which the Internet can be used and/or has been used to affect the marketing and kind of writing produced by black writers.

Being Sold or Selling Ourselves: Black Writers and the Marketplace

4:00 p.m.– 5:30 p.m.

Black writers face a number of challenges in the publishing industry. Publishers, for example, often believe that there is no audience for serious literary fiction. The literature created by black writers is often narrowly defined, thus resulting in the fact that black writers are marginalized from mainstream presses and forced to either self-publish or publish with small independent presses. The literary industry professionals on this panel, from mainstream, independent and small presses, discuss these challenges and offer their perspectives on solutions for overcoming these obstacles.

Playing Fetch All By Myself

2011-11-19T20:39:00.000-05:00

I saw this vid of this adorable little canine playing fetch by himself as his owner sat and talked with friends, seemingly oblivious to his companion's desire for him to toss a tennis ball down some steps for it to run and catch.

I couldn't help but relate this little dog's predicament to certain aspects of my life. It occurred to me that for many years I've felt as though I was in charge of fetching my own ball. That ball representing different personal things to me, though I'm not ashamed to admit that compatible companionship is one. While the universe has tossed these figurative balls out to others, some who weren't even in the mood to play and threw them back or away...I've sat patiently, my little tail wagging in restrained anticipation, waiting for my turn. All I've wanted for so very long is to be able to play fetch too.

But a good thing is that I've gotten really good at running after the ones I've made myself, and have observed what the others have received, so that I know what a good throw looks like. And I already know what a great "catch" I am.

Just having one of those moments I suppose. I knew what my four-legged friend was going through and decided to make a post about it. Little dog, someone will toss that ball for you one day, I promise.

If only you could promise me the same.

November Books: An Inferno and One Other Hot Spot

2011-11-16T20:51:00.003-05:00

So I headed over to the bookstore the other day in search of a new read. I've been doing the self-help/nonfiction thing for a minute now and wanted to unwind with some fantasy. Note: This sudden desire to buy a new novel coincides with my recent reunion with my short story collection. This is how it usually happens. When I'm on a path to pursuing my own literary passions....other authors start beckoning me to read their work. And, of course, I oblige their requests.

The Inferno of Dante, or Dante's Inferno, was on my list as someone recently presented a possible parallel between its theme and the theme of one of my short stories, "Unspoken Duty"—that of being led into the afterlife. I read some parts of it years ago, but due to my young age, couldn't extract from it what I can today now that life experiences have caused me to ponder who I am and why I'm here.

Midway through our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost.

A captivating introduction, don't you think?

I'd never read a book by author Zane. I knew her erotic novels were very popular, and I was impressed with her success, but never made the move to read her work. After picking up my lengthy translation of Dante's work though, I wanted to wash it down with something more relaxing. OK, I'll be honest, I wanted to read something titillating. And what should I see on a display table as I browsed....the Zane collection. I read the covers of all of them trying to find the one that would best suit my tastes. Love is Never Painless seemed to do. A collection of three novellas that deal with the not-so-loving aspects of relationships. I've read one so far about a faithful, loving man who struggles to maintain his marriage to an increasingly self-destructive drug addict. It was okay. Only because I found myself skipping over some of it to get to the juicy parts.

So, that's what I'll be busy doing for the next few weeks: working; writing; reading; pondering life; updating this blog (hopefully); fantasizing about love and intimacy; dealing with the woes of my home being covered in fall leaves with only one brave rake to tackle them; and living as best I can in whatever free time I have.

Thanks for reading.

Regards,

Jennifer

The Top Ten Self-Publishing Myths

2011-11-13T12:19:00.004-05:00

The Top Ten Self-Publishing Myths

Myth #10: The only authors who self-publish are those whose writing is not good enough to be published by a traditional publisher.

Truth: This was probably never true because the first publishers were in direct competition with rich men who could afford to self-publish. These publishers actually created the concept of the vanity press, and rode that horse to huge profits. Today, however, things have changed. Rumor in the book industry has it that no large publishers are offering contracts to new authors unless that author has a following of at least 25,000 and a large online presence. For most major publishers, this is unofficial policy. Book sales in the 10,000 to 20,000 range used to be enough to make the midlist, but these days, a book with these sales would be considered a failure by large houses. The midlist author of the past is today’s self-published author.

Myth #9: Readers do not like to read self-published books.

Truth: Readers do not want to read bad books, no matter how they were produced. Although publishers and other writers might be biased against self-published books, readers just want to know that they’re going to get their money’s worth. Huge self-publishing successe s like The Celestine Prophecy, and The One Minute Manager prove that readers are interested in the content, not who published the book. The issue is trust. That’s why it’s so important for self-published authors to make sure they get the best book possible out there. If it’s well written and well marketed, readers will buy it.

Myth #8: People who read can tell when a book is self-published because the standards of production are lower.

Truth: While publishing professionals might be able to tell the difference, regular readers will not notice minor differences in binding or laminating, and as long as your book looks more or less the same as similar books and the text is easy to read, most buyers won’t know (or care) about the size of the margins or the gutters.

Myth #7: Self-publishing is expensive because you have to order a lot of books up front and pay for publishing services.

Truth: A book is a product that you are trying to sell, and it has to be comparable in quality to the competition: other books that others are trying to sell. If you know how to format your own book and design your own book cover using software like Photoshop you can probably do a lot of the setup yourself. You will still need to obtain and ISBN, an EAN, a Library of Congress number, and a barcode, and you will also want distribution, and possibly editing. If you can afford it, these services are available through publishing companies. Some publishers do require their authors to order minimum print runs, which can cost thousands, or even tens of thousands, of dollars. However, POD (print on demand) publishers don’t require authors to order any books. And in some cases, a number of books are included with the publishing package.

Myth #6: No one reviews self-published books.

Truth: In fact, self-published books do get reviews. Some even get reviewed in major magazines and newspapers. However, these are the exception, not the rule. Most POD books get reviewed on radio, in local media, in regional magazines, and on the internet.

Myth #5: Self-publishing is expensive because you have to pay large setup fees.

Truth: Some publishing companies include the actual publishing of the book in the setup fees. If the setup fee includes formatting, the essential administrative numbers (ISBN, EAN, LOC#, and barcode), a custom cover, and distribution then you aren’t really paying for setup, you’re paying for publishing services. Watch out for those companies who tell you a small setup fee that doesn’t include any real services.

Myth #4: It’s hard for self-published authors to succeed because they have to do all their own promotion.

Truth: Here's a quote from a Senior Editor at Harper Collins: "I won't even look at a book unless the author is prepared to do a book tour and book signings..." If that's not work, I don't know what is. All authors are required to do promotion on their books. No one, except celebrity authors, gets their books out into the marketplace without working for it. No large publisher will take on a new writer who isn’t about to do the promotion, the book tours, and the media interviews.

Myth #3: Self-published authors are at a disadvantage because they’re unknown and there’s no quality control system in place on published books.

Truth: Self-published authors are usually unknown; there’s not much that can be done about that. However, there are a few self-publishing companies who do insist on quality in editorial as well as production values. Such publishers don’t take every book that comes in “over the transom,” and because they have standards, it’s easier for potential readers to trust the books they sell.

Myth #2: Most self-published authors can’t get their books into large chain brick-and-mortar bookstores like Barnes and Noble and Borders, and you have to have books on these shelves to be successful.

Truth: Once, chain bookstores were the only place to buy books, but that’s no longer true. According to a recent poll, only 32% primarily shop for books in chain bookstores. 43% of respondents buy their books online and 9% buy most of their books from small, independent bookstores. 16% bought elsewhere--in drug stores, specialty shops, supermarkets, warehouse clubs, and airports. Plainly, since 68% of buyers buy elsewhere, chain bookstores are no longer the be-all and end-all of bookselling.

Myth #1: Self-publishing is okay for some, but I want writing to be my career.

Truth: The length of the mainstream author’s career is under the control of his or her publisher, and future prospects are only as good as the sales of the last book. If your book doesn’t earn back its advance, or sells only modestly beyond the advance, the publisher will not want to publish your next book. Only 1-2% of all books published become bestsellers. Take a look in any bookstore at the books that are not selling in huge numbers. Take a look at the remainder tables. It may be rare for a self-published book to become a bestseller, but for that matter, it’s rare for any book to become a bestseller. Most books make their money in the long tail of sales, which brings in as much income as the bestseller, the difference being that this money comes in over time rather than all at once. Those writers who persevere no matter what, who continue to write and to publish, who continue to add books to their product line and promote them, can succeed.

A self-published author’s career isn’t over until the author decides to stop publishing. The self-published author’s career makes it or doesn’t based on the author’s work and the author’s willingness to keep writing, publishing, and promoting. It’s not up to anyone else to decide if you’ll be an author; and it’s not up to anyone else to decide when you’ll quit.

*****Credits: Courtesy of PodPublishing.Org

Should Texting Be the Middle Man in Relationships? « Clutch Magazine

2011-11-12T13:17:00.003-05:00

Should Texting Be the Middle Man in Relationships? « Clutch Magazine

I ran across this Clutch article and it resonated with me because of something I've been encountering the past few years, much to my frustration: people's inability (or refusal) to verbally communicate in an engaging, reciprocal manner. With these tech advancements we enjoy, we are also losing touch more and more with face-to-face and mouth-to-ear phone interactions. Everyday, I see everyone looking down at their phones for hours each day, scrolling their thumbs across screens, checking out what's happening in other people's lives, replying with what's happening in theirs. All through text and symbols. These same people may say they're not "phone people"; yet, their phones keep their hands company for many hours each day. What they really mean is that they aren't comfortable actually talking to others. When you're texting and emailing, you can create a persona—funny, tough, extremely busy, sassy, whatever you want. But to speak in person or let someone hear your voice is to remove your cloak of invisibility in a way. You expose your eyes, your facial expressions, your intelligence, your true personality. You're expected to deliver in real time. And some of us simply aren't "good" at it.

For those of us who still prefer to communicate verbally and who enjoy stimulating conversations where each participant is inquisitive and engaging, yet are forced to write character-limited messages instead. Or forced to feel like an interviewer on the phone when someone refuses to reciprocate the interest or keep the momentum going....You're Not Alone.

There's a lot of us who remain. I'm not sure what will become of us, but for now, we are here.

Here's to voice-to-voice. The most amazing resource we humans have.

The Artwork of Greg Slade

2011-11-11T20:53:00.005-05:00

I met an artist last night at a networking event. His name is Greg Slade, a DC native, who was showcasing his work. It was such a pleasure to speak with him and exchange interests, among which was an appreciation of literary classics. However, the highlight of my evening was viewing his artwork. I hate to sound cliche, but the pieces I saw were unlike other artwork I've seen. His use of bold, vibrant color and detail; the emotion each piece exuded; the way he captures eyes....it was like watching a part of a fantasy; a spiritual journey; a dream.

I made this post to give Greg a shout out and to show my appreciation. I so admire creative spirits....whether they express themselves through pen and paper, the perfect combination of musical notes, molding and sculpting, or through strokes on canvass. I love beauty. I love to ponder. And I love to see and hear things that send me on a journey.

Here is Greg's website: The Artwork of Greg Slade. Check out his work. Show him some love on his guestbook. And most importantly, if you see something you like, I'm sure he'd appreciate your purchase or commission request.

All the best, everyone. I'll be back soon.

Calling All Hip-Hop Heads!!

2011-11-09T01:32:00.003-05:00

Mainstream hip-hop is dead, at least to most of us over the age of 30. We hip-hop heads have fled to a thriving underground where, thanks to the internet and word of mouth, we are enjoying life and are listening to good beats and thought provoking lyrics—some actual meaning. I miss when this was the norm.

I haven't done a post like this in a while. It's just my little way of saying "thank you" to the folks who give us great music to reflect on, stir our creativity, mellow us out, hype us up, whatever we need it to do.

For today's homage, I'm taking it back, sharing three oldies (but goodies) that have made me wish that I was living in NYC in the 90s and able to travel locally to see these dudes perform these "joints" in person. Just wish I could have been in the crowd, soaking up that energy.

Jeru the Damaja

KRS-One

De La Soul

No Longer On the Outside Looking In

2011-11-05T22:12:00.005-04:00

Well, gentle readers, Jennifer has found a graduate program she can call her own. After repeated graduate school rejections, I've finally found acceptance of my work experience and career interests. Starting in January, I'll begin work toward earning an MS in management with a public relations specialization. I'm pleased.

As I've shared with you, for years I've been dogged by the existence of my undergraduate transcript, which bears a low cumulative grade point average, and offers an inaccurate portrait of who I was back then. But as they are saying nowadays, "it is what it is." I'm tired of apologizing for it, which I had to do over and over again as part of my applications to graduate admissions committees. I was beginning to think that I'd never be forgiven for a undergraduate career that ended almost 10 years ago.

My career goals have changed, and I've sought a degree that reflects that and speaks for who I am now. This school has been there all along, but I never gave it much consideration as I felt it didn't have the clout as some of the other more prestigious schools in the area. But after more research, I discovered that it indeed held its own as far as reputation and alumni and would be very welcoming to a student like me. Just a weary traveler who wants to continue her education, and has the skills to back up what she claims she can do.

So, here I am, preparing to embark on a new journey. As much as this means to me, I won't be neglecting that part of me that doesn't care about a degree or networking or resume building. The part of me that just wants me to finish writing my book. I haven't forgotten you.

Love,

Me

Happy Halloween!!

2011-11-01T17:30:00.001-04:00

In honor of Halloween, I decided to actually celebrate it this year instead of just stuffing my face with ghost and witch shaped candy. I like Halloween but never buy a costume or go to a spooky party or haunted house. You know, have a scary good time. So a couple days ago I decided to change that for Hallows Eve 2011.

After work, I headed over to the Crime & Punishment museum for Fright Night, a haunted house which featured the actual retired electric chair from the Tennessee State Department of Corrections. Now, I'm a girly girl, but I'm not afraid of house of horror stuff like other females seem to be. While waiting in line outside (by myself mind you) the other ladies where clinging to each other in nervous anticipation. Asking one of the guys who was working the door for confirmation of what awaited us so they could shake in fear some more. I stood fearless and when it was time, walked in there like a boss. Two minutes later......the screaming I heard was coming from ME. Man, all manner of ghosts and ghouls were jumping out at us. One was even revving up a chainsaw. We had to crawl through a dark tunnel into an even darker room where at any moment, someone or something could leap at us.

Needless to say, I was relieved when at the end of the ordeal, a "corpse" laying on the floor pointed his hand toward the exit door. And there I stood on the sidewalk again, having escaped Fright Night.

But wait......there's more.

Feeling as though my Halloween had just started, I walked myself a couple blocks to the movie theater to see Paranormal Activity 3. Yes, I did this immediately after the haunted house (by myself mind you). Now, I'd seen the first installment and wasn't exactly impressed, as it was like watching Blair Witch Project all over again. But I figured what the heck it's Halloween.

During the movie I was creeped out a bit. There were a few jolts. But for the most part, I didn't consider myself scared. But the audience was a different story. The participation was incredible. They screamed, they jumped, they yelled, they cursed. It helped me get into it more. Afterward, I was pleased that I'd gotten out and enjoyed myself. I just knew that I'd left my frights where I'd found them and that I'd enjoy a good night's rest.

I was wrong.

I wasn't at home 20 minutes before I started to hear sounds that unnerved me. What was that?....a bump? What was that?...is there someone upstairs? What the hell?...did something just land on the roof?

Readers, I tell you this. I DID NOT SLEEP A WINK. As I lay in bed, worried that the Paranormal ghost had followed me home, I vowed that I would never again try to be all big and bad and go to a haunted house and scary movie back to back just because it was Halloween.

Some things just aren't worth it. And now I'm exhausted and have a lot of missed sleep to make up for.

Yep, next year it's back to candy corn and the SyFy channel.

Realizing My Potential

2011-10-15T00:01:00.002-04:00

I realized about two years ago that a leadership role was in my future. It was just a feeling that began to take over me as I became more confident in my work role and my ability step outside of my comfort zone. I was coming into a sense of no longer being an apprentice, but a subject matter expert. I was being called on by the higher ups to make final editorial decisions, and was taking others under my wing and sharing my experiences and best practices with them. I saw the change happening and was amazed at who I was becoming.

I'm a nice, sweet, kind, gentle soul....I hate it sometimes, but it's who I am. But as nice as I am, there's a fierce leader inside of me. I often surprise myself when I have no reservations about expressing differing opinions in meetings; offering to do something a totally new way; asking for help when I need it to ensure I provide quality products. I never considered these to be leadership qualities. But they are.

I bought See Jane Lead a year ago, read the first two chapters, and put it down to tend to some of my more pressing life issues. Last week, I went to my bookshelf on a search for an unfinished good read and picked up where I left off. So much has changed in the past year, and this book is even more relevant to me now. I've been promoted and with that have received more responsibility and the designation by my peers as the "go-to" person for editing and writing related issues. I've come a long way. There are times when I beat myself up, thinking I'm unmotivated or that I'm too lazy for my own good. But when I sit back and think of the work I've done and the risks I've taken to get to this point.....I smile. Jennifer did it. And will continue to do so.

I don't think this book is just for women, the subjects Lois Frankel discusses can be applied to anyone in the workplace who desires to attain a leadership role. Check it out, you'll learn about the following topics:

The Feminization of Leadership

If You Can Run a Household, You Can Be Strategic

Taking Risks: No More Nice Girl <----This is the chapter I'm on now

Influencing With (and Without) Authority

From Cheerleader to Coach: Motivating People to Achieve Their Best

Leading Teams: From the PTA to the Boardroom

A Woman's Secret Weapons: Likability and Emotional Quotients

Women as Entrepreneurs: Leading Your Own Enterprise

Raising Our Daughters to Lead

Writer Beware™ Blogs!: How to Satisfy Your Reader without Being Predictable

2011-10-08T15:19:00.001-04:00

Writer Beware™ Blogs!: How to Satisfy Your Reader without Being Predictable

I found this advice on creating a successful balance between predictability and reader satisfaction so interesting that I wanted to share it with you. Give it a read.

Farewell Sir: Steve Jobs' 2005 Stanford Commencement Address

2011-10-07T00:42:00.001-04:00

Upon learning yesterday of the passing of Steve Jobs I felt the type of sadness I've experienced at the news of a work acquaintance's death. I didn't know him, yet I was familiar enough with him to understand how much he'd be missed. The last thing I'd heard of Mr. Jobs was his recent resignation as Apple's CEO, for undisclosed reasons I'd read. I knew however that it was the result of his lengthy battle with cancer.

As I watched a mini-tribute of his life, I felt my sadness dissipate a bit as I remembered that this man had achieved what so many work tirelessly each day to achieve---build a legacy. His "I was here" was chiseled in stone a long time ago. When I have this realization about people, I feel happy for them. Their deaths are no less emotional, but what's different is that I don't feel as though I should mourn what could have been if only they'd....

I celebrate their achievement, them having left a mark on the world. Mr. Jobs' influence in the technology world will last for many more decades. But for me, I think I'll be more affected by his 2005 address at Stanford University's commencement ceremony. I listened to a clip in which he spoke on the inevitability of death. His words were quite profound and I wasn't surprised that these were the words chosen for inclusion in his tribute. His insight blew me away. I thought about it throughout the day today, and decided to make a post in dedication to the address's full transcript. It's long, so I suppose I'll stop typing now and let you start reading it.
---------------------------------------------------

"I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out? It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on.

Let me give you one example: Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much."

Something Different: The First Sentence

2011-10-04T21:46:00.004-04:00

I decided to try something new with this post. I'm calling it first sentence. I got the idea from rereading some of the hundreds of emails I've sent to my friend, Melissa, this year alone. Sometimes we're corny; sometimes we're depressed; sometimes we're angry; and other times, we're just plain bored. I'm amazed at how I routinely suffer from writers' block when it comes to making any progress on my novel...yet I can write her a descriptive email that speaks of pain, yearning, love, desire and "unbridled enthusiasm" with relative ease. I'm just in one of those moods tonight I suppose, a mood to share my world. So here are the real first sentences from a few of the more interesting emails I've composed to my dear friend.

Something tells me I'm sitting on a gold mine with these opening liners. Think Jennifer, think. Why are your opening lines so darn good?

---------------

"I know this sounds terrible but I wish the male:female ratio here in the US was similar to China, where men are desperate to find wives."

"I have to face it, I'm not wanted in the dating pool."

"I wasn't feeling that self conscious when I walked into work this morning, but now I am."

"Remember the scene from Color Purple where Sofia came out of her comatose state after Celie finally stood up for herself?"

"OK, so I've been feeling a little down with all the evilness occurring in politics the past few years."

"I've changed so much in the past few years."

"When I woke up this morning I knew it was going to be a blah day."

"All the men in my fantasy life are falling into disfavor with you I see."

"I swear on my last good meal that I'm the butt of a mischievous fairy's joke."

"I give up, it's going to be far too hard to convince men that I am a normal adult woman."

"As you know, I find you very interesting."

"Is it possible to feel jealously on someone else's behalf?"

"I'm glad that you helped that guy reflect more on his friend's character and his feelings for her, rather than her condition."

"Life does indeed enjoy ultimate power in whether we have a good day or bad, a happy journey or miserable one."

My Latest Inspiration - A dancer and his pole

2011-09-16T23:17:00.005-04:00

I've been mesmerized the past few days by a YouTube video of a very talented man. He's a pole dancer, and though he says he's not formally trained, to my lay eyes, he is very skilled and in total control of his form. His movements are so fluid and natural that I stare at the screen with my mouth open, dumbfounded as to how he does it.

The video has sparked a semi-controversial debate on his YouTube channel about his use of a pole—commonly associated with strippers, exotic dancers, and others who perform sexually oriented entertainment—to perform a Christian praise dance, also called a liturgical dance. He has received more support for his unique expression than not, thankfully. His dances are so beautiful that I cannot imagine even a staunch traditionalist not feeling somewhat moved by his expression.

Anyway, here he is, Jungle Cat, performing an Easter praise dance to "Don't Cry" by gospel singer Kirk Franklin. Let me say that this song has nearly brought me to tears, it's so beautiful and soothing. What a perfect coupling.

Movie Clichés

2011-09-11T19:45:00.004-04:00

For today's post, I've decided to share with you a few of the overused scenarios I'm sick of seeing in movies.

1. The Fall. When running from the monster or killer or evil villain, some chick always falls down and either sprains her ankle or just falls, and for some reason find it's very difficult to get up without the faster runner having to come back and pull her up.

2. The Kiss. The sexual chemistry that exists between the male and female co-stars during what should be a frightening time. They kill or destroy the problem, they are bloodied and bruised, yet before they finish running to safety, they are so overcome with passion they have to kiss, bloody lips and all. Like who in the heck is trying to make love after having seen all their friends murdered, or defeating the aliens who were trying to destroy the human race?

3. The Old Wise Loon. In horror movies, there's always an old person who knows the background of said serial killer or monster. This person is usually the town drunk, or a recluse, or a homeless person who appears out of nowhere like "You kids trying to kill Metal Face, huh? Buy me a beer and I'll tell you the secret." So this old fool has watched people get slaughtered for years and never told anyone that to stop the bloodshed an ancient Mayan chant must be spoken at the stroke of midnight?

4. The Taming of the Shrew. The cold, city-loving, career woman has to come back to her small town in Pigeon Toe, MS, and rubs everyone the wrong way with her city ways until she meets the gentle farmer guy who doesn't get mad when she makes him feel inferior. He's not be educated like the big city guys she usually dates, but he's a good guy, and through several chance meetings (and him saving her life from a rabid raccoon), she comes to realize that living in the city isn't for her and that screw that corporate job, she wants to move home and ride horses into the sunset.

Like I said, there's more. Feel free to add others.

Adventures on the Journey: Being Seen By God

2011-08-28T18:58:00.001-04:00

Note from Jennifer: A friend of mine sent me the link to a blog posting on the Adventures On The Journey blog. She told me that when she read it, she thought of me. That's all she said, leaving me curious as to why. So I clicked the link and read the entry, and was confronted with words that described feelings that I too have felt, situations I too have pondered.

I felt it only right to pass it along to someone else. Here you go.

P.S.---I'm now a follower.

Adventures on the Journey: Being Seen By God: "If you don't see God in all, you don't see God at all." (Yogi Bhajan)

I haven't been "seen" for a long time. To others I ...

A Father's Love (Emotional Thai Insurance Ad)

2011-08-27T20:35:00.004-04:00

*Disclaimer*: This is a random post.

So I recently learned that an insurance company in Thailand has been producing extremely emotional commercials that, thanks to YouTube, are reaching a global audience. The commercials depict the joys and pain associated with the human experience, while reminding potential customers of the company's desire to be there in their time of need.

I've read comments that the commercials shouldn't pull at consumers' heart strings to get them to purchase products, while other commenters are simply overwhelmed at the ingenuity of the company's PR team.

This is the one that really stood out to me. I cry pretty easily at "sad" commercials, but I didn't with this one because it warmed my spirit more than creating a sense of melancholy.

I'm a sucker for most things that deal with family closeness and bonding, so I wanted to share this. No other reason for it.

I just find it stunning is all.

Football, The Basics for Women

2011-08-21T14:17:00.004-04:00

Hello ladies and gents,

I've been a busy bee lately and wanted to share some good news that's come out of it. I edited a book titled Football, The Basics for Women, which is now available for purchase on Amazon.com. I'm super excited to be listed as the editor of this work! It's definitely rewarding to know that I played a role in the realization of a publishing dream. I learned so much about football while working on this book, and can actually watch a game now and understand most of the plays and what the commentators are talking about. I also edited another version of the book, American Football, The Basics, which was translated and published as Futbol Americano, Conocimientos Basicos.

Check out S. Green's Football, The Basics for Women here.

Workplace Mentors

2011-08-05T23:41:00.004-04:00

In the past few months, two people I consider my workplace mentors have worked their way into management positions. I look up to them, even though they are younger than me. I admire their ambition, talents, personality, and work ethic. I came to meet them at different workplaces where as the new kid, they took me under their wings and schooled me. Interestingly, in both situations I was their replacement. They told me who's who and how the office politics worked; served as patient points of contact during my learning curve; encouraged me when I made a mistake or felt I was asking a dumb question; passed down any resources they felt could help me excel at my job (remember, they had been in my shoes); and quickly became examples of who I wanted to be and what I wanted to accomplish on the job.

Having people like this in your corner is so very crucial to workplace success and even happiness. No matter how old you are, it helps to have a good example to follow. I'm not saying someone to copy, but someone who possesses the qualities you admire and who uses those qualities and characteristics to excel. It's encouraging. And can serve as a reminder that you too can reach that level.

I'm a firm believer that success isn't achieved alone. We all can benefit from observing and learning from someone we respect, who is making all the right moves.

I wrote an article last year on workplace mentors that tells you what to consider when choosing a mentor and the advantages of the mentor-mentee relationship.

Read "The Benefits of a Workplace Mentor" here.

Attention Class: Today's Lesson Deals With Grammar

2011-07-31T23:53:00.006-04:00

I recently taught an hour-long grammar refresher course at my job.

I volunteered for this assignment and came up with the topic nearly two months prior, but didn't find out the exact training date until a week before. Yikes! I've never been one of those people with a fear of public speaking, but because I'd never stood before an audience as an "expert," I was extremely nervous at the thought.

The good thing was that I had complete creative control of the presentation format. What caused me some stress though was that I only had an hour and didn't want to go over or take just 25 minutes. I had to also be sure to cover the grammar subtopics I had proposed (punctuation and eliminating redundancy and wordiness)

I consulted my favorite style manuals; put myself in the position of student and forecast what attendees might want to know; threw in a bit of my own creativity; and even relied on my previous blog postings on the subject to create Grammar and Eliminating Redundancy, a presentation that was met with resounding approval and positive feedback. The attendees' only suggestions were to make the training longer and offer it again and soon. I was astonished at how well I did, and how confident I felt. I actually knew what I was talking about up there and was able to give insight and answer the grammar and writing questions of my peers. It was such a wonderful feeling, and so very rewarding.

Yay for Jennifer!

Would you like to see my slide presentation? You didn't think I'd do all that bragging and not share did you?

You can view it on my website under the "Technical/Nonfiction Writing Samples" header.

What's So Special About a Plot?

2011-07-23T10:30:00.010-04:00

I'm reading The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing and wanted to share a few pointers from my favorite chapter, "The Plot Thickens," written by Monica Wood.

A story needs a point of departure, a place from which the character can discover something, transform himself, realize a truth, reject a truth, right a wrong, make a mistake, come to terms. Departure is the story's complication because something has to happen. For example, Grandma Frances gets sick; Buddy the dog gets hit by a car; the boss's 15-year marriage is tested. You see where I'm going.

Don't mistake a "situation" for a "complication." A complication must illuminate, thwart, or alter what the character wants. A good complication puts emotional pressure on a character, prompting that character not only to act, but to act with a purpose.

Good complications are connected to the character, usually conjuring some kind of desire or regret, conscious or unconscious, in the character. A well chosen complication should give you choices. Having multiple choices for your characters makes fiction writing interesting.

If you're struggling more than you feel you should, you may have run out of interesting choices, or had too few to begin with. Go back to the complication, tweak it, and start all over.

It's okay, this is your baby. Take all the time you need to see that it grows into exactly what you want your readers to see.

You can learn more about developing your plot, breaking your writer's block, revising your manuscript, creating suspenseful page turners, marketing your work, and other helpful guidance, but I'll let you go pick up a copy of the book and read for yourself. The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing is now in its 2nd edition; however, I prefer the first (pictured above). So, have I whetted your literary appetite?

Now Blow Out The Candles

2011-07-22T23:01:00.006-04:00

Salut,

I was a birthday girl last weekend. Yay for me, I made it another year and I'm still standing in good health and in a comfortable existence. I spent my birthday with my mother and we had a wonderful time. "Creating memories" is how she described it. My flight there and back was great as well. By some fluke I happened to get a straight flight, which has been impossible in the past. So used to having ridiculous layovers was I, that when she informed me that the itinerary I sent her appeared to be nonstop, I quickly told her that perhaps they had left my little detour out.

But anyway, I'm sure you're wondering what's the deal with the art in today's post. Striking, isn't she?

My mommy gave her to me as a birthday present. You can't see this detail from my pic, but the entire image is actually a series of numerals. Yes, an amazing configuration of 0s-9s. How intricate. The woman in this art piece is blowing out a candle. The same as I did on my birthday. I received her on that day. I realized the coincidence this evening.

I began to think about the tradition of making a wish before blowing out the candles on a birthday cake. And the superstition that you must keep your wish a secret or it won't come true. What I wished for was *&&$* $*$& &#*#*& $* $&#*$& (()) @@ !@^^$&*#(++)&#$@**((@

Now, you didn't think I'd actually reveal my wish, did you? Nope, this one is far too special and I want it to come true for the special person I wished it for.

When I look at this work, I see her as symbolically blowing away the past, whatever or whomever it may be. I can dig that. This next year of my life I will strive to do the same. Letting go of negative thoughts that have held me back. Working to end being a slave to the temptations that keep me from feeling good about who I see in the mirror. Blowing away the woulda, coulda, shouldas, and affirming that I can and I will.

Time is scary in the speed in which it passes. I was just 23; hell, I was just graduating high school. Such a pity to spend so many years unfulfilled. Not me. Not anymore. I gotta try, right?

Mom always said that when reaching for the moon, if you should fall, at least you'll land amongst the stars. Smart lady.

Wow, all that from an art piece.

Jennifer

OMG!: I found my first website!!

2011-07-20T20:36:00.003-04:00

Back in 2001, I had to build a website as a class project for a Technical Writing class. Being a biology major, naturally, my first thought was to create something that relayed information about some interesting aspect of science. For me, it was human sexual attraction. What causes us to desire one another? What chemicals are responsible for the complex reactions that take place in our body when we feel "excited"? And what's the deal with those tingly butterflies in the pit of our stomach when we see someone we're attracted to? I set out to answer these questions and compiled all of my information (and these really cheesy graphics) onto separate web pages using Netscape Composer (is that still around?).

OMG, while "googling" myself this evening, I decided to find out if my old site was still up. And it is!! I'm so excited, I still remember picking out my background and staying in the computer lab late at night with floppy disks full of my stuff for my web pages. I learned so much from this assignment. My goodness, if I'd continued building web pages, I'd be so incredibly awesome right now. Instead of struggling with Yahoo Sitebuilder and relying on my limited knowledge of html.

Oh my god, without further ado...here's my website from 10 years ago. Oh wait, I got an A on this assignment. Yay for me!

http://www.geocities.ws/deydreme78/

The Story of My Online Dating Life

2011-07-04T12:34:00.003-04:00

I stumbled across this video and couldn't control my laughter. Oh my god, how can strangers know my life so well? You mean there are others? I know this is a "joke" vid, but I was somewhat relieved to know that there are enough of us out there that it warranted the Onion's attention. I suppose it's sad, but their delivery was spot on and hilarious. I wish we all could gather for a big group hug.

You mean, we aren't as smart as we think?

2011-07-03T13:55:00.002-04:00

The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid!

Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

---------------------------------------------

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we don't read every letter when we read, our brains are merely recognizing the first and last letter of the word. It doesn't help that brains know what words should be there, thus influencing their "reading" of the correct word whether its missing or not.

This is why editors are needed. As long as our brains take shortcuts, another pair of eyes will have to do a few tricks of their own.

(Though if you don't have a second pair of eyes to review your work, the next best thing is to take a break from your writing for a few minutes to allow your eyes to focus on other things. When you look at your words again, you may find it easier to spot misspellings and missing words. Also, another trick someone taught me is to read a sentence backwards. It forces your brain to actually read each letter.)

I Must Be Out, Or I'd Pick Up the Phone......

2011-06-27T22:50:00.005-04:00

I haven't forgotten about my blog. May and June were just very busy for me, and frankly it totally zapped a lot of my zest. But I'm renewing myself as I type this.

At the beginning of the year I wrote out a few goals I wanted to accomplish. I didn't call them "resolutions" as it would tack on extra guilt if I failed to follow through on any of them. One of my goals was to apply to the MA in Communication program at Johns Hopkins University. And I did! However, applying to graduate school takes a bigger emotional toll on me than other typical applicants because I have a low undergraduate GPA. I won't say how low, but it's low and is generally not considered competitive. Applying to graduate school, for me, entails explanation and a convincing argument. My argument is simple--consider my undergraduate performance of 10 years ago if you must, but look at all I've accomplished since then to advance myself in this field. This is what I asked the JHU committee to do. After careful consideration, they decided that I simply wouldn't be successful in their program. With so many applicants with higher GPAs, I understand that some sort of ranking and filtering was needed. It doesn't make me feel any better though. To know that once again, my present means nothing, only the past, which I've spent years trying to overcome. I was very disappointed and felt so exposed. I'd opened myself up to these strangers, presented painful records for their judgment, and asked two of my supervisors to complete lengthy recommendation forms. I told one supervisor the news, but I've been too embarrassed to tell the other. I will though.

During these past few weeks since getting rejected, I've done a lot of pondering about whether it was a sign that I don't need that type of validation to be successful in my career; or whether I'll be forever cursed to carry the albatross of my academic failure, forever judged by the poor choices of 19-year-old me when the present-day me has kicked ass in her professional life. I still don't know. But I do know that I have to move on.

I've scheduled an informational interview with a manager in the communications specialty I'm considering moving toward--public affairs. This is my first step to moving on. Learning which skills I currently possess that are valued, what experiences I'm lacking, things of that nature. Perhaps I have all I need right now. The key is to take the first step.

I'll let you know how it all goes.

Self Publishing "Keep in Minds"

2011-05-07T20:29:00.006-04:00

Greetings, readers, I hope all is well.

While updating a few links on my website, I found my way to an article on things self publishers should know. David Carnoy, self published author of Knife Music, shared these 25 self publishing tips, or "keep in minds," and I've decided to serve as a messenger. I think many of his points are very valuable. I know a few self publishers and have considered this avenue myself. A lot has changed in the self publishing industry--good things--that have caused traditional, mainstream publishers to cast wider nets in terms of accepting talented authors. Self-published authors have more freedoms in terms of marketing and creative expression than traditionally published authors; however, the journey to success can be laborious and unfulfilling without proper guidance.

I won't list all of Carnoy's thoughts, just the ones that stand out to me. Read his full article here.

In addition to his lessons learned, readers have provided great feedback and their own experiences and words of wisdom to create a more unbiased discussion.

Creating a "professional" book is really hard.

Barrier to entry may be low, but creating a book that looks professional and is indistinguishable from a book published by a "real" publishing house is very difficult and requires a minimum investment of a few thousand dollars (when all was said and done, I'd put in around $7500, which included about $2,500 in marketing costs). You wonder why "real" books take 9 months to produce--and usually significantly longer. Well, I now know why. It's hard to get everything just right (if you're a novice at book formatting, Microsoft Word will become your worst enemy). And once you've finally received that final proof, you feel it could be slightly better.

Have a clear goal for your book.

This will help dictate what service you go with. For instance, if your objective is to create a book for posterity's sake (so your friends and family can read it for all eternity), you won't have to invest a lot of time or money to produce something that's quite acceptable. Lulu is probably your best bet. However, if yours is a commercial venture with big aspirations, things get pretty tricky

Even if it's great, there's a good chance your book won't sell.

If your book is really mediocre, don't expect it to take off. But even if it's a masterpiece, there's a good chance it won't fly off the shelves (and by shelves, I mean virtual shelves, because most self-published books don't make it into brick and mortar stores). In other words, quality isn't a guarantee of success. You'll be lucky to make your investment back, let alone have a "hit" that brings in some real income. Don't quit your day job yet.

Self-publishing is a contact sport.

The biggest mistake people make when it comes to self-publishing is that they expect to just put out a book and have it magically sell. They might even hire a publicist and expect something to happen. It's just not so. You have to be a relentless self-promoter. Unfortunately, a lot people just don't have the stomach or time for it.

What's the secret to marketing your book successfully? Well, the first thing I advise--and I'm not alone here--is to come up with a marketing plan well before you publish your book. The plan should have at least five avenues for you to pursue because chances are you're going to strike out on a couple of lines of attack. It's easy to get discouraged, so you have to be ready to move on to plan c, d, and e (and the rest of the alphabet) pretty quickly.

Negotiate everything.

CreateSpace and other self-publishing companies are always offering special deals on their various services. There isn't whole lot of leeway, but it doesn't hurt to ask for deal sweeteners--like more free copies of your book (they often throw in free copies of your book). It also doesn't hurt to ask about deals that have technically expired. In sales, everything is negotiable. Remember, these people have quotas and bonuses at stake. (For their sake, I hope they do anyway).

Niche books do best.

This seems to be the mantra of self-publishing. Nonfiction books with a well-defined topic and a nice hook to them can do well, especially if they have a target audience that you can focus on. Religious books are a perfect case in point. And fiction? Well, it's next to impossible. But then again, the majority of fiction books--even ones from "real" publishers--struggle in the marketplace. That's why traditional publishers stick with tried-and-true authors with loyal followings.

Buy your own ISBN - and create your own publishing house.

If you have market aspirations for your book, buy your own ISBN (International Standard Book Number) and create your own publishing company. Even if you go with one of the subsidy presses for convenience sake, there's no reason to have Lulu, BookSurge, CreateSpace, iUniverse, Xlibris, Author House, Outskirts, or whomever listed as your publisher. For $99 (what a single ISBN costs) and a little added paperwork, you can go toe-to-toe with any small publisher.

Create a unique title.

Your book should be easy to find in a search on Amazon and Google. It should come up in the first couple of search results. Unfortunately, many authors make the mistake of using a title that has too many other products associated it with it--and it gets buried in search results. Not good. Basically, you want to get the maximum SEO (search engine optimization) for your title, so if and when somebody's actually looking to buy it they'll find the link for your book--not an older one with an identical title.

If you're selling online, make the most out of your Amazon page.

I'm a little bit surprised by how neglectful some self-published authors are when it comes to their Amazon product pages. I've talked to self-published authors who spend a few thousand dollars on a publicist and their Amazon product page looks woeful--and they've barely even looked at it. I ask, "Where are people going to buy your book?" They don't seem to realize how important Amazon is. True, some people market through a Web site or buy Google keywords to drive traffic there. But you need to have your Amazon page look as good as possible and take advantage of the "tools" Amazon has to help you surface your book ("Tags," Listmania, reader reviews, etc.). It may not have a major impact, but it's better than doing nothing.

Getting your book in bookstores sounds good, but that shouldn't be a real concern.

You may have always wanted to see your book in a bookstore but bookstores aren't keen on carrying self-published books and it's extremely difficult to get good placement in the store for your book so chances are no one will see the three copies the store has on hand anyway. Furthermore, your royalty drops to 10% on in-store sales. Some of the self-publishing outfits offer distribution through Ingram. BookSurge/CreateSpace offers it through Baker & Taylor. BookSurge/CreateSpace says: "Your trade paperback book will be available for order through Baker & Taylor on a non-returnable basis. For an additional yearly fee, your book can be made available through Baker & Taylor on a returnable basis with our Baker & Taylor Returnable Program. You'll receive a 10% royalty on all wholesale book orders purchased through Baker & Taylor."

Again, read his full article here. (repeating it to ensure I give Mr. Carnoy his due credit.)

Good luck to all my self publishers out there!

Midnight: A Gangster Love Story

2011-05-02T22:30:00.006-04:00

I am not who you think I am. If you love me, you love me for the wrong reasons.
Females tell me they love me because I'm tall. They love when I stand over them and look down. They love when I lay them down and my height and body weight dominates them.
Females tell me they love me because I'm pure black. They say they never seen a black man so masculine, so pretty, so beautiful before.
Females say they love my eyes. They're jet black too. Women claim they find a passion in them so forceful that they'll do anything I say.
Females tell me they love my body. They beg me for a hug even when there's nothing between me and them. They want to be captured in my embrace, and press their breasts again my chest.

These are the opening words that drew me in to Sister Souljah's novel Midnight, the 2008 prequel to her first book Coldest Winter Ever, a classic, lauded street life tale that ushered in a new era of "street lit" books, also known as "urban literature," for my generation. I specify my generation because urban fiction is certainly not new. I still remember the first time I skimmed through my mother's copy of Iceberg Slim's Pimp: The Story of My Life written in 1969; and many feel the genre goes back even further with Richard Wright's Native Son written in 1940. After Coldest Winter Ever became hugely popular, other authors found an eager underground market hungry to devour their tales of high rolling drug dealers; young girls caught up in the fast life of sex and the pursuit of material things; thugs seeking redemption; players winning and losing in the dope game; pimping not being easy; and just surviving on the inner city streets any way possible. I think I had just passed the phase where I would have become fascinated by these books enough to line my bookshelves with them. While I appreciated (and still do) how people who previously hadn't found anything in the literary world that moved them were now whipping out their library cards every other week, these offerings just didn't interest me. I found them predictable and way too vulgar and violent, more so providing shock value than the crucial pieces to a gripping and believable storyline.

After Coldest Winter Ever, I never looked back. So moved by Sister Souljah's writing style and storytelling that I simply refused to taint my memory with what I saw had become an overly saturated market. The other day, however, while in the bookstore on my lunch break, I perused a fiction display and saw the striking, glossy blue cover of a paperback. A book written by Sister Soulja.

Midnight? That's the guy from Coldest Winter Ever.

When I saw that Midnight was a prequel, I thumbed to the first page and became charmed by the words I used to introduce this post. Excited at my find, I marched myself to the register and made him mine.

I didn't notice the book's length until I was on the train headed home. 496 pages. Whew. Right now I'm on page 17. I figure by this time next year I'll be finished. Just kidding. I'm very excited about reading this. I thoroughly enjoyed her first work and want to see what she's done with this one. Unfortunately, I have heard a few reviews about the book that give me pause. But I shall proceed. Sometimes readers don't want to grow with an author. Sometimes they don't have an open mind. Sometimes they forget an author is merely telling a character's story, and not necessarily confessing a personal belief.

Knowing this, I think my journey with Midnight will be fine. It's going to be a long ride though.

Peace,

Jennifer

One Event: Two Stories

2011-04-25T22:27:00.004-04:00

I found another writing exercise from the fiction writing techniques course. This time I remember what the instructor asked of us. She wanted us to recall an event from our early childhood and write down what we remembered and how we felt about it, all from our perspective as children. We were asked to then write about that same event from our adult perspective. I chose to write about a man I remember seeing at the bottom of a flight of stairs one night when I couldn't have been any older than four years old. Years later, I asked my mother about that night and the gaps she filled in for me blew my mind.
---------------------------------------------

According to a child:

There was loud knocking on the door one night. Mama got up from the table where she read her books and opened up the door. A nice lady that came by the house all the time started laughing and pulled on Mama’s arm to come outside with her. Mama told me to stay there in the living room and then she left with the lady. I was so scared because I heard noise outside, people were opening up their doors and coming outside like Mama had done. I waited a little while then opened the door anyway and went outside too. Our apartment was right next to the stairs that went down to where the big tree was. People stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. There was a dead man laying down there. He looked like the dead people that were on tv and had some leaves in his hair. He had on some jeans and was laying on his back. There was a man standing over the dead man pushing him but he wouldn’t move. The lights on the side of the building were shining down on him and I saw that his eyes were closed and his mouth was open. He had a lot of hair on his face. More people came up behind me to look. People just stood around looking at him. Mama and the woman were still talking like nothing was wrong. I was so scared. Mama saw me and started yelling at me to go back into the apartment. Mama stayed gone for a long time and I sat on the couch watching the flashing lights on the curtain. I was so scared because Mama was still out there with the dead man. When she finally came back in she told me to go to bed, but I kept asking her what had happened. But she just kept saying that I was too young to know. I had a nightmare about that man because he was so close to our front door and he was dead.

According to an adult:

My mother was up late studying at her desk in the living room of our off-campus apartment. I was sitting on the couch doing whatever it is that only children do to occupy themselves. I heard a commotion outside and then a frantic knock at the front door. My mother rushed to open it and there stood her friend and neighbor who always came by to visit us. She was laughing and practically pulled my mother outside; it made my mother laugh too. My mother told me to stay put, and I really did try, but I was such an anxious child and rarely listened to her warnings. I stood at the closed door for a few moments while listening to the hurried footsteps and excited verbal exchanges on the other side. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and opened the door, peeked my head outside, and looked to my left where the stairway and the people were. We were on the top level of the two-level building. Being such a small child, everyone seemed like giants. I didn’t spot my mother right away. I made my way between the denim clad legs until I made it to the top of the stairs and was able to look down to see what held everyone’s gaze. It was a man in a contorted pose, mouth agape, with leaves and debris in his hair. I remember being very frightened at the sight of this man. At my young age, I thought that he was dead, what child wouldn’t think it, he was lying there motionless with someone standing over him poking him. It took years for the memory of this night to return to me and for me to ask my mother if I was finally old enough to know what happened that night, and for her to tell me exactly who that man was. She laughed and told me that she couldn’t believe that I remembered that, I couldn’t have been any older than two and a half years old she said. My mother said his name was Smitty, a university police officer that had actually just left our apartment along with her friend and neighbor. I’m amazed that I didn’t remember my mother having company, only she and I having a quiet evening at home. Smitty, who had a tendency to drink in excess, and the neighbor left leaving my mother to continue her studies. Some time later, as he walked down the stairs, he tripped and fell to the ground below, and during the tumbling, picked up some debris. It wasn’t a dead man that I remembered, just a man who had passed out from an over indulgence in alcohol.

A Little Respect in a Big World

2011-04-24T20:40:00.001-04:00

Hello all, I know it's been a minute, I'm sorry. That thing called life sidetracked me. Tonight while searching for a document on my hard drive, I came across one of my writing exercises for a fiction writing techniques course I took in 2007. I don't remember what the instructor asked us to write about, but whatever it is, this is what I came up with. A story about a petty boss. What do you think?
----------------------------------------

A Little Respect in a Big World

I learned too late of the harsh upbringing of our new boss. Had I known before he arrived, I could have warned the others so that things could have turned out differently. If we had known, perhaps now we’d be able to endure the day without periodically excusing ourselves to go outside to contemplate whether or not to return to our desks to resume the tiring, thankless, dreary, confidence shattering hours that define our workday under Mr. Boss’s reign.

But how could we have known that his father, a well respected and tough as nails state prosecutor, upon hearing of his son’s desire to one day follow in his dad’s footsteps, told him that due to his height he would never be effective in the courtroom, that jurors and judges would side with authority figures, men they could respect. That people didn’t respect short men and that law school was not an investment he’d be willing to make for his son who’d be better suited for business and sales. And how was this cruel father to know that those words would drive his son to despise himself and to develop superior intimidation skills to mask his inner turmoil. And that this negativity, like a foul and persistent odor, would remain with all he encountered.

Kevin Richard Boss strode into our 6^th floor editorial office one morning last May with a bloated chest and an expressionless boyish face. He stood there and surveyed us, his new underlings, with the same intimidating glare as an established prison yard bully. We knew the new boss was starting that day, but were caught off guard by this dramatic entrance. Since we’d never spoken a word to this man, his assertion seemed uncalled for and looked absurdly animated. I initially thought that this could be his way of breaking the ice and making us laugh. I wanted to and almost did, but then realized as I studied the coldness in his eyes, that this man, our new leader, was not there to entertain us but had drifted in from the outside to forever change the atmosphere of our cozy little home away from home. The others, Patricia, Tamela, Mike, Judy and Nesim didn’t seem to pick up the vibe that I had. I saw in their eyes, and so did he, a slight amusement at a harmless sourpuss, a tiny man standing not an inch over 5’2 and weighing not a pound over 135; the snug fit of his pinstriped slacks and the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt only drawing attention to his diminutive stature. He didn’t bother to introduce himself, not that day anyway, continuing on to his office and quietly closing the door so that only a slice of light from his office shone onto the dark hallway carpet.

“I wonder who he’s riding at the Preakness this year?” Pat, our resident comedian, blurted inappropriately. Oh how I wished she’d exercised restraint, all of us really. We laughed and howled and stomped our feet, I perhaps the loudest of them all, at my mental image of him hunched over on top of a speeding streak of brown and black. No one but me seemed to hear fists suddenly slam down on the desk in the boss’ office or notice that the slice of light had vanished from the carpet.

He’d heard our mockery, and if I recall correctly, a collective laugh hasn’t been shared amongst us about anything since.

One year later, here we sit on a Tuesday afternoon, tired from the long hours of the previous two weeks and hungry for food that we were promised but will not receive. Kevin liked to play tricks on us, well that’s how Tamela, the editorial assistant described it. Like today for instance, we smell him eating pizza. Yesterday he told us that today lunch would be on him if his favorite team, the Cavaliers lost a game to the Suns. I blame myself for us not eating pizza today, as I got a little too comfortable with the ‘good natured’ ribbing that ensued and laughed that Cleveland sucked. I and a few others joked that the Phoenix Suns would kick the Cavaliers’ butts. And they did. Like a fool, I believed Kevin would own up to what he promised. I opened the two liter orange soda I’d bought to drink with our pizza, while Mike, our graphics guy, walked down to Hooters to pick up the wings and fries that we agreed to share. But all we could do was rub our bellies to contain the hunger as the delivery guy walked past us with only one medium pizza and headed straight to Kevin’s office.

The End

I'm In Love Again....Yes, This is About Music

2011-04-06T22:01:00.004-04:00

I want to introduce you to Stalley. I'm "feeling him" right now. I first heard him on a track with Curren$y called "Address" and was very intrigued by his beard, his smooth flow, and calm delivery. His rhymes made sense. And so I listened. Tonight, I found myself in need of something to mellow me out. I have a project I'm working on and needed something to put in the mood. Not for love or romance, but to help me interpret the written word. I went looking for Stalley and to my surprise found some good tracks to share. He seems to be a conscious thinker, which I love, and his producer has found the right beats to accompany his style.
[Editor's note: Stalley, are you single? If not, will you consider becoming my husband? Let's talk offline. Thanks in advance.]

Here's "Wet Dreams," in which he asks his love interest what she can do for him besides turn him on physically. Wow, not just taking what's offered, but asking, "what else can you do?"

And here's "Babblin," where he visits New Orleans to commemorate the 5th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. He's accompanied by Jay Electronica and Curren$y, who both rep the Crescent City and are two of my faves.

Don't worry, I'll be back with some more musings of an editor, writer, and storyteller. I'm tied up this week with something though, but I will deliver to you.

Thanks for visiting, and if you're a lover of hip-hop, show my man Stalley some love.

What Is Love?

2011-03-29T22:40:00.005-04:00

OMG, I just had to share this with you. It's children's answers to the question "What is love?" I'm in a sentimental mood as you can see. I must say these kids are very insightful and mature. If I had to answer that question as an adult, there's no way I could come up with a response that would match the simplicity and innocence and beauty of these responses. It sucks being a grown up. We make things so complicated.

So, what exactly is this thing called love?

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.You just know that your name is safe in their mouth. Billy – age 4

“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.” Karl – age 5

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” Chrissy – age 6

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.”Terri – age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.” Danny – age 7

“Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss” Emily – age 8

“Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.” Bobby – age 7

“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,” Nikka – age 6

“Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday.” Noelle – age 7

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” Tommy – age 6

“During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.He was the only one doing that. I wasn’t scared anymore.”Cindy – age 8

“My mommy loves me more than anybody.You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.”Clare – age 6

“Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.”Elaine-age 5

“Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Brad Pitt.”Chris – age 7

“Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day.”Mary Ann – age 4

“I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.” Lauren – age 4

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That’s love.”Rebecca- age 8

“When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.” Karen – age 7

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” Jessica – age 8

Source: http://www.innocentenglish.com/soul-heart-poems-quotes/what-is-love-cute-kid-answers-children-say-what-they-think-love-is.html

Wednesday Words of Inspiration

2011-03-16T20:57:00.006-04:00

This journal cover says it all. I was strolling through Barnes & Noble this evening when I saw it. I smiled and told myself to come back and buy it. So many times we can only think of what we're experiencing in the here and now, and find it very difficult to imagine a resolution. I've been there myself. Seeing these words added another stick to a small fire that's been smoldering in my mind for a few months now. You see, I'm seriously considering applying to grad school again. I've experienced the disappointment of rejection before because of my undergraduate academic record. A record that does not reflect my strong work ethic; my creativity; my way with words; my ambition; my inquisitiveness; and all that I've accomplished in the nearly 10 years since receiving my degree. What I want is a chance to free myself from the oppression, stigma, and shame of a low GPA. I know the odds are stacked against me but I want to receive affirmation that in this country, there is a such thing as a second chance for someone like me, particularly a second chance handed down by the powers that be in academia. I never lost my desire to achieve it. Wish me well. If I don't mention it again, it's either because I changed my mind, or I reached for the moon, but fell short and landed amongst the stars. But such is life. Some doors remain locked to force us to turn the knob of a door that is open and ready for us. My life will be wonderful with or without validation from a graduate program. But I really want it. And I will get it. One day.

To all you caterpillars out there clinging to your branches; wondering why things are the way they are; wondering if you'll ever get the opportunity to sprout wings and fly; just close your eyes and imagine it. For it may be your destiny. And you may be close to discovering it.

All the best, folks,

Jennifer

Research, Research, Research

2011-03-15T19:54:00.007-04:00

This evening I read an interesting article in the March/April 2011 issue of Poets & Writers, "Writing Jobs: How to Develop Characters that Work" by Lauren Grodstein. The article discusses the most fundamental aspect of creating a character with a convincing personal and professional life—research. It's easy to construct a life for your character that mirrors your own, or mirrors the lives of people you know personally or have studied. But what happens when you want one of your central characters to be a doctor, yet the only thing you know about doctors is that they scribble on prescription pads? Well when Grodstein found herself in this position, she set out to interview doctors about the diseases they diagnosed, the type of patients they treated, their billing systems, and their relationships with their nursing staff and other doctors. When she completed her book, she sent copies of her manuscript to these doctors for their approval, for they would know if she used correct medical terminology and accurately captured certain thoughts and behaviors particular to medical practitioners.

As I read the article, I thought of my own troubles with my characters. I'm pretty ambitious when it comes to story ideas. While it would be somewhat easier to write about a procrastinating editor and aspiring novelist who struggles with her weight, is a loser in the dating world, and is terrified of the dark, I would feel as though I were taking the easy way out. And besides, those who know me would know I was talking about myself, so it would be a little embarrassing to allow myself, I mean my "character," to be completely honest. So that's why I allow my characters to be and do things I've only fantasized about. Good things, bad things, really bad things. But with that comes the need to ensure I'm writing realistic plots and dialogue. Therein lies my problem. I have not conducted the research I need to prove my serious intent to publish a creditable book.

Reading Grodstein's article reminded me I should be getting friendly with subject matter experts, instead of conducting occasional Google searches as I inch along. I suppose when I think about my work, I'm faced with only two choices, go back to the drawing board and write about what I know; or send emails and make phone calls to people in the know who can help me give a realistic voice to my characters. I have one character who is the child of two ministers. I need to know what it's like to grow up in a household headed by a church leader. One of my characters was raised by a single father. I was raised by a single mother. Though I can infuse personal experiences into my character's life, I don't know what it's like to have a father, so I need to speak to someone who does, particularly someone raised by a single one. My characters' work experiences are varied, much like my own, so I'm able to speak in depth on office culture, coworker relationships, administrative work, and being unemployed. But, as I stated earlier, I'm ambitious. So my characters are involved in industries I've never worked in. I suppose writing about something other than my own observations provides an escape for me. But with it comes a lot more work. Work that right now, I struggle to build the momentum to achieve.

So, wish me well as I begin to research, research, research. I'm so nervous. Oh my goodness, what do I say? What would you say to a potential interviewee if you were writing about a character he or she could help you develop? What would be your introduction?

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

2011-03-12T10:28:00.006-05:00

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light......

-The opening lines of Dylan Thomas's poem "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night."

Why would I reference this poem you ask?

To honor the memory of my beloved tv that passed away early this morning. I went to sleep with it on and when I awoke sometime before sunrise, my living room was silent. Rage, rage against the dying of the light!

RIP Sweety Pie

1997—2011

I still remember the day I bought her. Mom had come to visit me at school. The small old tv she let me bring to the dorm had just died and I wanted a replacement. So we went to Wal-Mart. I remember seeing her and knowing right away she was the one I wanted. $79 plus tax. That was pretty hefty to me seeing as I only had a 15 hr/week campus job. But I bought her anyway and mom helped me bring her up to my room. As the years passed, not once did I ever have a problem with her. I wasn't too sad when I discovered she was no longer working, as she's been good to me and "lived" a very long time. I keep things forever. I have a tape player/cd player I also bought in '97 that's still working just fine. And my first car, purchased brand new is still with me and is officially becoming a teenager this May. She'll be 13!!!

So, here's to a wonderful 14-year relationship with my Magnavox. You served me well my friend. Though a new one will come into my life, your performance won't soon be matched.

Love,

Your owner,

Jennifer Singleton

Hear Ye Hear Ye: "Book a Month" Is Back On

2011-03-08T19:53:00.004-05:00

Yeh, I know, back in October I said I was going to read and review a book a month and post it on my website. My first review would be of The Outsider by Richard Wright. November passed, December passed, January passed, and now February has passed and it's still not up. Honestly, I was going through a rough patch where my motivation had retreated into the deep recesses of my spirit, where I couldn't access it. I didn't even blog. In January I mustered the strength to make one paltry post. Yes, gentle readers, I'm no stranger to setbacks in my personal life when it comes to attaining my writing goals.

But what's done is done. I proposed the book a month idea to myself as a writing exercise with two measurable results: 1) I would have fun finding hidden literary gems to review and 2) adhering to my own established editorial schedule would help me transition back into my freelance pursuits. Those goals remain, and so that's why "Book a Month" is back on.

I had a heart to heart with myself about why I couldn't perform this simple task. It's not like I don't have the time; hell, I spend the amount of time it would take to write a review composing lengthy emails to friends. These are the notes I took in the meeting with myself:

More people are reading my blog and I need to be held accountable for what I say I'm going to do.
Me not completing the Wright review in all this time was the act of an evil goblin named Proscas the Nator who cast a spell of indifference over me.
I don't want to look like a loser who can't follow through on my own goals!
I can do it, and I can do it well.
I'm a writer, and a good one.
I need the updated writing samples.

There's more, but they're kind of personal.

Check back on April 1st. Yes, I know that's April Fools Day. But I'm not fooling around. I got a new journal and everything.

Love,

Jennifer

The 10th National Black Writers' Conference

2011-03-06T14:43:00.006-05:00

MAJOR CORRECTION!!!! : An astute reader pointed out a major error that perhaps my excitement made impossible for me to see. The writers conference information below is from 2010 NOT 2011. After first thinking the conference wouldn't be held this year, I stumbled onto the page from 2010, and not realizing it, assumed a 2011 conference had magically appeared just for me. Why couldn't I see the year read "2010"?

Well after the error was pointed out to me, I went back to the website and lo and behold, the 2011 information magically appeared. (More like they just updated it today or yesterday, and had I only waited, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of my fancy cut/paste and coloring job.) Well, I'm very disappointed. Medgar Evers College won't be holding a conference this year. Instead they will host a one-day symposium to celebrate the works of playwright August Wilson. The 11th National Black Writers' Conference will be held in March 2012. The conference theme will be "The Impact of Migration, Popular Culture and the Natural Environment in the Literature of Black Writers." I'll be there, no doubt about that.

**********************************************************************************
ORIGINAL POST - For laughs and giggles I suppose

I'm tempted to attend the National Black Writers' Conference this year. It's held at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn. I've gone in the past and really enjoyed the panel discussions. I'm especially interested in the "Speculative Fiction: Fantasy, Horror & the Supernatural in the Fiction of Black Writers" panel. Oh why must I live where I live when NYC has so much that I enjoy. But the nation's capital isn't too bad, it's been good to me. For the most part.

But back to the conference. Toni Morrison is this year's honorary chair. And to add to the enticement, there's a restaurant right across the street that serves very tasty soul food-inspired dishes.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Writing & Literature Workshops for Elementary, Middle School & High School Students

9:00 am to 11:30am
Elementary School Program
Cheryl and Wade Hudson, Zetta Elliot, Tony Medina

1:00 pm to 3:00 pm
Middle School Writing Workshop
Tonya Hegamin

High School Program
Tara Betts, John Murillo and Abiodun Oyewole, Featured Poets

High School Writing Workshop - Sponsored by PEN American Center

4:00 pm to 5:00 pm
Elders Workshop Presentation (Medgar Evers College)
Donna Hill, Moderator

9:30 am to 10:45 am
"The Resurrection of Memory in the Works of Toni Morrison"
Robin Ford, Moderator

12:30 pm to 1:45 pm
"Music as Language in African American Texts"
Emmanuela Maurice, Moderator

2:00 pm to 3:15 pm
"The Legacy of John Oliver Killens"
TBA, Moderator

3:30 pm to 4:45 pm
"The Politics of Language"
Baker Wilson, Moderator

5:00 pm to 6:00 pm
Presentation of Student Play, Fanon Founders Auditorium
Featuring Students at Medgar Evers College, Written by Prof. Delridge Hunter

7:00 PM

Official Conference Opening:
A Conversation with Kamau Brathwaite and Welcome to South End Press
Terrie M. Williams, Mistress of Ceremonies

Thomas Sayers-Ellis, Introduction of Kamau Brathwaite
Founders Auditorium, Medgar Evers College, CUNY

Friday, March 26, 2010

10:00 am to 11:30 am
"The Black Writer as Literary Activist"
Patrick Oliver, Kalamu Ya Salaam, Dorothea Smartt, and Frank Wilderson III
Louis Reyes Rivera, Moderator

12:00 pm to 1:30 pm
"Politics and Satire in the Literature of Black Writers"
Herb Boyd, Thomas Bradshaw, Charles D. Ellison and Major Owens
Obery M.Hendricks as Moderator

2:00 pm to 3:30 pm
"Shifting Identities: The Black Writer in the African Diaspora"
Edwidge Danticat, Courttia Newland, Colin Channer and Carole Boyce-Davies Jacqueline Brice-Finch, Moderator

4:00 pm to 5:30 pm
"Black Writers Reconstructing the Master Narrative"
Catherine Acholonu, John F Baker Jr., Breena Clarke & Betty DeRamus
Pamela Newkirk, Moderator

6:30 pm to 8:30 pm
"Tribute to Toni Cade Bambara"
Malaika Adero, Hattie Gossett, Farah Jasmine Griffin, Linda Holmes, Louis Massiah, Eugene Redmond, Eleanor Traylor, Cheryl Wall, Kalamu Ya Salaam, Sonia Sanchez
Linda J. Holmes Moderator

Saturday, March 27, 2010

10:00 am to 11:30 am
"The Impact of Hip Hop and Popular Culture in the Literature of Black Writers"
Steven C. Fullwood, Felicia Pride & Toure
Karen Hunter, Moderator

12:00 pm to 1:30 pm
"The Impact of the Internet: Blogging, Publishing and Writing"
Grace Ali, Nick Charles, Troy Johnson & April Silver
Esther Armah, Moderator

2:00 pm to 3:30 pm
"Literary Encounters: East Meets West—A Dialogue"
Meena Alexander, Marina Budhos, Shelley Eversley, and M G Vassinji
Margaret Cox, Moderator

4:00 pm to 5:30 pm
"The Impact of War & Natural Disasters in Literature by Black Writers"
Chris Abani, Phyllis Montana LeBlanc, James McBride and Maaza Mengiste

5:30 pm to 6:00 pm
Kevin Powell – Featured Speaker
"Black Writers Creating Memories and Lighting the Way"

Readings

11:00 am to 11:30 am
Donna Hill
Sponsored by the Center for Black Literature

12:00 pm to 12:30 pm
Colson Whitehead
Sponsored by the National Black Writers Conference

12:45 pm to 1:15 pm
Joy James
Sponsored bySouth End Press

1:30 pm to 2:30 pm
Bernice McFadden, Rakesh Satyal, Tiphanie Yanique
Sponsored by the Brooklyn Literary Council

3:00 pm to 4:00 pm
Allen B. Ballard, Victor LaValle, Dolen Perkins-Valdez
Sponsored by the African American Literature Book Club

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Talkshops

10:00 am to 11:15 am
Fiction, Tayari Jones
Poetry – Sonia Sanchez
Book Reviews: Clarence V. Reynolds

11:30 am to 12:30 pm
Dramatic Writing- Thulani Davis
Creative Non Fiction: TK
Book Proposals- Krishan Trotman

Panel Discussions

12:30 pm to 2:00 pm
"Speculative Fiction: Fantasy, Horror & the Supernatural in the Fiction of Black Writers"
L.A. Banks, Michael Boatman, Jewell Parker Rhodes & Cheo Tyehimba
Dale Allender, Moderator

2:30 pm to 4:00 pm
"Restoring Community: Black Writers Respond to the Environmental Crises"
Majora Carter, Alixa and Naima (Climbing PoeTree), Omar Freilla
Nina Mercer, Moderator

4:30 pm to 6:00 pm
"Editors, Agents, Writers and Publishers on the Literature of Black Writers"
Regina Brooks, Linda Duggins ,Chris Jackson & Johnny Temple
Fred Beauford, Moderator

For more information, click here.

Give This Dude Some Love, Won't You Please.

2011-03-05T13:48:00.003-05:00

I found another gem. No, he's not a hip-hop artist. This young man is a contemporary violinist who goes by the name of Daniel D. This is his cover to Billie Jean. He sounds great. I absolutely admire the dedication and skill it takes to learn to play and later perfect a musical instrument. I want to learn to play the piano, and one day I will. I have a few songs in mind that I want to hear myself play. I just love music, and wanted to share Daniel D. with you. (I'm sure his family is so proud of him. I know I am.) Enjoy, and check out his other videos as well on YouTube.

It's National Grammar Day!

2011-03-04T21:57:00.011-05:00

March 4th is National Grammar Day. Who knew? Apparently real editors knew this. I'm such a fraud, I've never even heard of National Grammar Day. National Punctuation Day, yes. Grammar Day? No.
So, of course, I had to post some sort of homage to this day by sharing a few grammar tips with the world in the name of all the proper sentences all over the world.

Tip #1:

Pronouns must agree in number with their antecedents, or the words they refer to.

Original: Bathe each dog before they come inside the facility.

This sentence is incorrect because "each dog" is singular and "they come" is plural. For a proper agreement, this sentence should read one of two ways:

Bathe each dog (singular) before it comes (singular) inside the facility.
Bathe the dogs (plural) before they come (plural) inside the facility.

Tip #2:

When using apostrophes to show possession, be sure to correctly indicate whether you mean joint possession or singular possession, or both.

Original: Melissa and Mike's books were stolen last week.

There is nothing wrong with this sentence, if you're referring to the books that Melissa and Mike owned together. However, if Melissa's books were stolen and Mike's books were also stolen, you'd rewrite this sentence:

Melissa's (her books) and Mike's books (his books) were stolen last week.

Tip #3:

Avoid repetition. Don't use three or four words when you can use one or two. It's very common for people to unnecessarily use two or more words that mean the same thing. Sentences like to be simple, they really do.

Original: Each and every one of you will lose if you fail to plan ahead.
Rewrite: Each of you will lose if you fail to plan.

Original: The perpetrator vandalized 15 stores in the month of February.
Rewrite: The perpetrator vandalized 15 stores in February.

Original: After I mixed together several cleaning products, I began to feel nauseous.
Rewrite: After I mixed several cleaning products, I began to feel nauseous.

Tip #4:

In addition to subject-verb agreement, the subject and verb have to make sense together, meaning the subject has to be able to "do" the verb.

Original: The restaurant hopes its new low-calorie sandwich will attract more customers.

The restaurant can't hope, but its owner or manager can.

Rewrite: The owner hopes the restaurant's new low-calorie sandwich will attract more customers.

Did You Know March is Women's History Month?

2011-03-03T21:49:00.008-05:00

In honor of Women's History Month I want to share Sojourner Truth's Ain't I A Woman speech she delivered at the Women's Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio, in 1851. The reason I chose this speech is because of how it made me feel when I first read it in the 12th grade. I found her criticism of perceived differences between her womanhood/motherhood and a white woman's womanhood/motherhood very profound. There was both a pain and pride in her words, that though I'd never experienced, I still felt. I wished I could have been there to see her deliver this speech, and hear what I'm sure was a resounding applause of appreciation afterward. What stood out to me the most is the very question, ain't I a woman? I related to that question then, and even now that I really am a woman out in here in this world observing and experiencing things that just don't seem fair at all. So many times I've asked god and the universe "ain't I a woman too?" Why am I seemingly not allowed to experience the most basic and human things that every woman desires, and so many attain? Of course my experience can and will never on any scale compare to Ms. Truth's, but the effect of her words on me shouldn't be dismissed.

I want to say thank you to her and to all the women and men who fought so tirelessly to see that I and others enjoy the freedoms we enjoy today. And of course I want to say a big I love you to my mom, the most wonderful woman I will ever have the pleasure of knowing.

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

Calling All Fictions Writers!! (Part II)

2011-02-28T00:02:00.001-05:00

If you've entered writing contests in the past and are looking to try your hand at it again, or are a newbie to the anxious experience of sending your work off to be judged by people who may or may not agree that you're the best writer they've ever seen, why not take a look at the ones listed below to see if one or two suit your taste buds. If you've been thinking about it, why not look into it. Admittedly, I haven't entered a contest in a few years. Even though I prefer writing short stories, much of my time has been devoted to novel length works. But I have one that I'm interested in shopping around. I just haven't found the right contest for it though. I would love to experience the validation that comes from having something I created be recognized with an honorable mention, or better yet, a win.

I'm hoping 2011 serves as an awakening for me. Job pursuits, educational pursuits, relationship pursuits, just being focused on everything and everyone but me, led to that special part of me taking a very long nap. It's awaking now. So, in case yours is awaking too, this post is for you. Even if it's just to get you thinking about it.

I'm also going to plug my website's Resources page because I have other links to contests and other helpful resources for both writers and editors. Also, if you enter a contest listed here and win or place, come back and let me know.

The 33rd Nimrod Literary Awards
Prize: First place winner will receive $2000 and publication; second place $1000 and publication.
Entry fee: $20
Word count: For the Fiction prize: no more than 7500
Deadline: April 30, 2011
For details visit http://www.utulsa.edu/nimrod/awards.html

The 2011 Nelligan Prize for Short Fiction
Prize: One winner will receive $1500 and publication in the fall/winter 2011 issue of the Colorado Review.
Entry fee: $15
Word count: no word restrictions, but no more than 50 pages
Deadline: Short notice, but must be postmarked by March 11, 2011
For details visit http://coloradoreview.colostate.edu/nelligan-prize/submission-guidelines/

Tom Howard/John H. Reid Short Story Contest
Prize: First prize winner will receive $3000; second prize $1000; third prize $400; fourth prize $200
Entry fee: $15
Word count: no more than 5000
Deadline: March 31, 2011
For details visit www.WinningWriters.com/tomstory

The Writer's 2011 Short Story Contest
Prize: First prize winner will receive $1000; second prize $300; third prize $200
Entry fee: $10
Word count: no more than 2000
Deadline: April 30, 2011
For details visit http://www.writermag.com/2011contest

Punkin Novelist Contest
Prize: Grand prize winner will receive $1000 and a publishing contract with Punkin House; second place $500 and critique of first three chapters of the novel; third place $100 and critique of the first chapter of the novel
Entry fee: $35
Word count: must be novel length (minimum 50,000)
Deadline: May 1, 2011
For details visit http://www.punkinhouse.com/Novice_Novelist_Contest.html

2011 New American Fiction Prize
Prize: First place winner will receive $1000 and a publishing contract
Entry fee: $20
Word count: no word restrictions, but must be between 100-500 pages
Deadline: May 15, 2011
For details visit http://newamericanpress.com/contests/current.php

A word of caution: Sadly not all writing contests are created equal. Research, research, research, especially the reviews of previous contest entrants, before entering a particular competition; and read the contest guidelines very carefully. Be sure to ask for clarification on terminology you do not understand, particularly the term "right of first publication."

KanKick: Oh My God What I Have Been Missing?

2011-02-25T20:02:00.009-05:00

Hello, gentle readers. Right now my ears are experiencing a type of auditory pleasure that is both rare and inspiring.

Excuse me for a moment, I think I hear something.....Is that one of my characters calling out for me? Ronald? Oh hey baby, hold on I'm coming, just let me finish this post. I last left you on the edge of your bed, didn't I?

Let me hurry this up, Ronald awaits. He comes when a delicious melody begins to court me.

So, I'm listening to a fellow by the name of KanKick. Remember the guy I mentioned in the other post who introduced me to Asheru? Well he also told me to check out a guy called KanKick who was pretty good. I wrote the name down, but it slipped my mind. Until tonight. Today was one of those days where I wanted nothing more than to hurry to the security of my home, lock the door, and not leave until I absolutely had to. I blew off a networking event tonight at a trendy spot where the area's "BUPs" (black urban professionals) like to hang out and impress each other. I wanted to be alone with Jennifer, to talk to her, listen to her. Just "do me" as they say. I have a lot on my mind these days. Mainly the future, what should I do next, what life is trying to tell me. Stuff like that. I arrived home to find another shingle had escaped from my roof (they've been sliding off for about two months now, causing me great anxiety). Discovering it pitifully hanging on my fence so that I would notice it immediately seemed like an appropriate ending to "just one of those days." So as I pondered the journey of finding a reliable contractor to climb atop my roof and hopefully not take advantage of me, I reached for my nightly comfort. YouTube. After listening to Jeru the Damaja kill his verse in "Return of the Crooklyn Dodgers," I remembered KanKick.

And oh boy.Let's just say that right now I'm feeling sooo much better. The day is now a memory, this whole week really. So I grabbed my cell phone and was planning to snap a pic of myself for this post, but they all looked terrible. Cell phone pics make me look fat, or should I say, don't hide it. So I said screw this, I'm going to make a video instead. Narcissistic videos are all the rage now, so I figured I'd give it a try too. Of course the quality is awful and I look better than what this video is claiming, but oh well. I'm posting it anyway. It's so odd to hear my own voice and see my facial expressions. I don't get to see myself like this.

So here's me listening to KanKick's "Deleting Programs" featuring God's Gift. Don't laugh too hard at me. It's my first time, OK?

Finally Saw the "When Harry Met Sally" Arch

2011-02-23T19:14:00.006-05:00

It's no secret on here that I'm a pathetically hopeless romantic. I fantasize of the various forms of love expression nearly constantly. I don't know when it started, perhaps I've always been this way. According to all the horoscopes I've read through the years about my lovely Cancer sign, I'm doing and feeling exactly as I should. So as you can imagine, I'm pretty sentimental when it comes to my love stories. Particularly the ones depicted in films. I love quite a few, but only three reign as my all time favorites. Each represents a particular aspect of my fantasy life that I would love to see come to fruition. Take When Harry Met Sally, one of the best movies ever made. It's set in New York City (my fantasy city) in the 80s (the best decade ever) and stars Billy Crystal (the most charming, funniest guy in any romantic comedy I've ever seen). Then there's Babycakes (starring Ricki Lake when she was fat). I can relate to her struggles in the dating world as a non-thin woman, and applaud her ambition and tenacity to push her self consciousness aside and go for the hot subway conductor. And get him!!! And Love and Basketball (this movie has a special place in my heart). It's about coming of age with someone who you later discover you love. It's too late for me to grow up with the boy next door, at first hating him because he's so immature and annoying; then later on, seeing him in a different way, for some strange reason getting those tingly feelings when he comes around; and then later on, experiencing my first kiss with him (though that's not the only first that happens, awww). But through this movie, I can imagine that type of sweet and precious relationship, and what it feels like to know an innocent love like this.

Wait a minute, am I forgetting something? Oh yes, the point of this post. Well for years now, I've wondered about the arch that Harry and Sally parted ways in front of after their long drive from Chicago to New York. I later learned it was in Washington Square. Each time I went to New York, I'd say to myself that this trip would be the trip that I found it. But I either got sidetracked or ran out of time. Not this past weekend though. While visiting the city I went to the W 4th St stop, asked around, and found my beloved arch. And took a picture of it. Isn't she beautiful? I was actually there!! It was like Billy, I mean Harry, was there with me to shake my hand goodbye just like he did Meg, I mean Sally.

Did you think I was kidding about being pathetically and hopelessly romantic?

But wait, there's more.....

How would you like to see my favorite scenes from the other movies I mentioned?

Babycakes

Love and Basketball

OK, I'm done now. Signing off. Reality is waiting on me.

Love,

Jennifer

Solo Flights

2011-02-10T21:12:00.003-05:00

I drive a car with a manual transmission, what's commonly referred to as a "stick shift" or "stick." The first car I learned to drive (mom's car) was a stick; and except for the temporary use of rental cars over the past 12 years, I've needed both of my feet to drive. I will admit that I feel this makes me a more skilled driver than drivers whose cars basically drive themselves. I have a feeling I'm not the only stick driver with a sense of superiority in that I can drive both, while most automatic "drivers" can only operate one. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm no stranger to doing things that would make others uncomfortable.

I was reminded of this last night when I walked into a hookah lounge, a cozy little venue where my first speed dating event was taking place. I was so nervous and almost chickened out as I approached the place. I was self-conscious of the usual girlie things I guess, my hair not being cute enough, or my outfit not looking as great as it looked when I first tried it on. I was also by myself, which didn't help me calm my butterflies. I assumed there would be others who had come solo as well. Wrong. Some ladies brought male friends with them (so they wouldn't look desperate, and no matter what have someone to walk out of there with, I suppose); other ladies brought their girlfriends (you're coming to hopefully meet a guy, why do you need your girls there); and the guys brought buddies and went straight for the bar (so, um, did you come to meet a woman, or stare at your buddy over beers). There they all sat, laughing and mingling with their own friends, while I sat alone. I suppose I could have blended in more if I headed to the bar to fill my system with the nectar of fermented grapes, but I didn't want to. I felt like the only one there who truly embodied what this little get together was all about. Meeting new people. If they just wanted to mingle with friends and have drinks, why even bother registering and paying $30. Because I feel I have a deeper level of understanding of human nature than most, I quickly surmised these people were afraid of striking out on their own; unwilling to be vulnerable and out of their element without the company of familiar faces. In turn, this made me feel uncomfortable because I felt like an oddball sitting there alone in what I assumed would be a room of single people, who, like me, were brave enough to do something different. I didn't need a security blanket to get me through, but after awhile I wished I had one. The event was a bust for me. So at 30 minutes past the start time, with no direction or even a "sorry guys, just a few more moments, thanks for waiting" from the hosts (reps from Professionals in the City) who were sitting around tweeting or whatever else gadget addicts do to busy themselves; and with the attendees having a good time with their security blankets, making it very awkward for me to strike up a conversation with anyone, I left. I'm sure I wasn't missed, there were about 13 lovely ladies for the mere five or so guys to choose from.

I feel like they took the easy way out, and part of me wished I could have too. No one likes to feel out of their comfort zone, but since I had to, I wanted to see others making the same sacrifice.

[Note] While typing this, I realized that just like them, I didn't want to be alone either. Meaning, instead of wanting my girlfriends or a "just in case" guy friend with me, I wanted to be in the company of others who were alone and a little nervous too. Interesting.[/Note]

Moving on. People in my life know that I'm currently devoid of a love life. I get so many suggestions like "just go out and mingle," "get a sexy outfit and go sit at a bar," "go hangout, you'll meet people there." I smile and nod as if I haven't tried those things before, but I can't help but think these same people wouldn't venture out to take their own advice, at least not by themselves. Not a lot of people are willing to go out alone to "try to meet people," but are quick to suggest others do it. The way I see it, if you're not willing to do something, don't suggest I do it. I feel like sarcastically replying "Great idea! Hey, why don't you ditch your girlfriends, your cousin, your best friend, or your best buddy, and go sit at a bar/nightclub/restaurant for a couple hours by yourself and tell me how fun it is!" People who've never been forced to be independent have no idea of the courage it takes to do the things I do in my quest to find friends in this place. Just like buying my first car by myself; buying my first house and dealing with the headache of home maintenance by myself; getting out in the community by myself to volunteer; traveling by myself; dating online because I don't have family and friends who can introduce me to "so and so," I do things that take a sense of courage and independence that most people I encounter simply do not have. But for some reason I often feel intimidated by these people who seemingly can only socialize if surrounded by comfort; can only do things that require minimal amounts of appearing friend-less. They wouldn't last a week in my shoes. And they'd definitely have a hard time getting my car out of first gear. *sigh* Yet I envy them nonetheless.

This post is another one of my freestyles, so I'm not sure how much sense it makes. That's all I got for now. Thanks for reading.

"Yo, Hip Hop is My Lady'" - Asheru

2011-02-05T12:59:00.003-05:00

I met a fellow hip-hop head recently (a guy), and honestly can't recall the last time I felt so excited and rejuvenated. Talking about my favorite artists and songs, and getting introduced to others I was unfamiliar with. It reminded me how important music is to my soul and the spirit. I rarely meet people who I vibe with like that, and it felt nice. To talk about Curren$y, Count Bass D, Top Quality, Tribe Called Quest, and so many others. I hate to say it, but I think I’ve been spoiled from here on out. It’s going to be hard to meet guys and have the typical boring DC conversation of what I've accomplished; where to find the best networking organizations; how great it is to be a black urban professional; what school I went to; and of course, my job. I had gotten so used to that, and knew I was bored, just not how much. Creative spirits who are as moved by music as much as me is a rare find. Until I met this particular guy and got turned on to Asheru, among a few others. To my surprise, Asheru’s from the DC area, and has my mind gone. I’ve been jamming to him for a few days now and can’t stop. Though me and this guy’s paths only crossed temporarily, I’m so appreciative of the opportunity to share something I love with someone again. Be it music, food, travel, literature, history, or gardening, it’s so important to find someone with whom you can share your passion. It creates a bond so powerful that it supersedes the on-the-surface superficiality we impose on our prospective partners. Would you say you agree?

So, as someone did for me, allow me to introduce you to Asheru. He’s certainly not new, he’s been around for a while, and is the voice behind the Boondock’s theme song. My favorites of his are “Think About,” “Soul,” and “Dear You.”

If you’re a hip-hop head and have stumbled across this, please leave a comment and post some other artists who I need to give a listen to. I just got an ipod and am ready to load it up with as much as I can.

Where O Where Have U Been?

2011-02-04T06:34:00.004-05:00

One of my loyal blog visitors asked me this recently, and ashamedly, I had no real excuse, other than once again, I let life get in the way. So, that's my big revelation. I'm working on it. I have several draft posts that just don't seem right yet. Perhaps they will never be. Yet I can freestyle this one and publish it with no problem. I'm weird like that. My day job has kept me busy, along with other side projects. I haven't wanted to detail every moment of my life because sometimes I feel as though I need to keep things to myself. And I wanted this blog to be lighthearted and "different," not the typical rant board.

But I'm writing again, and attempting to re-involve myself with the community service activities I'd taken a brief hiatus from. I've also been trying to stay afloat out there in the dating world, but nothing wonderful has happened yet. No callbacks to what I feel were great auditions. But I'm making progress and feeling better about things these days. One day at a time.

I'll be back soon. I promise.

Thank you.

Love,

Jennifer

Happy New Year - Auld Lang Syne

2011-01-01T00:01:00.002-05:00

Wow, so it's 2011. My mother used to tell me that the years would go by faster when I got older. How right she was. I must say though that a lot happened in 2010, so much so that I'll give it credit for being a full year, unlike previous years that have lasted only six months. I became a homeowner; I got a promotion at work; I was active in community service events; and I saw my mommy for Thanksgiving :) So 2010 was a year of smiles, challenges, and rewards. Every year something interesting happens to me. I'm sort of anxious to see what the new year has in store for me. Of course things don't just happen without some sort of initiative on my part, but I'll be curious about what I'll be compelled to do.

I have a few resolutions and prayers I prefer to keep private, but the one I can share is that I pray for the ability to accept the things I cannot change about my life and my current situation, and the knowledge and motivation to affect the things I can. If an opportunity presents itself, I want to have the foresight to jump on it. I tend to overthink things I shouldn't and jump the gun on things I shouldn't. I want to relax and think and make more right decisions for myself than wrong. Such a simple concept, but such a hard one for so many to act on.

In honor of this special day, I want to share the song we sing to usher in a new year, Auld Lang Syne. This video offers the history of the song and how it came to be the the definitive New Year's Eve melody. Enjoy.

Oh, yes.....HAPPY NEW YEAR WORLD!!!

What do the lonely do....at Christmas?

2010-12-24T15:19:00.003-05:00

Allow me to answer that question. I can only speak for myself, but I think I speak for the majority of us who will be "lonely" on Christmas.

What do the lonely do?

Ans: We promise ourselves that the next Christmas holiday won't find us in the same predicament.

Here's to "us." Wherever you are, here's to you. Merry Christmas. I hope you are loved...by someone.

Times are never that hard

2010-12-12T15:27:00.004-05:00

In the past I've made blog posts of the comments I've made on my favorite message board. The last one I posted was in July, about a professional woman whose ex-con boyfriend murdered her. I was very sympathetic to the victim because I knew this guy wasn't her first choice, and that perhaps, she had inadvertently made it very difficult for herself to find a mate because she 1) she desired a mate of the same race; 2) was over 30; 3) didn't look like a model; 4) had a college degree or two; and 5) had a good career and, more than likely owned her own home. While initially, these traits scream "ideal woman," for so many women (myself included) they can render you damaged goods because you aren't damaged goods.

As you can see, when I'm passionate about something I tend to go on and on. So back to the point of this post. I decided to make another post to show that while I'm very sympathetic to some women who, because of societal circumstance, decide to date down and settle, I also become quite enraged at others who settle for seemingly no good reason at all. Of course, I realize that I'm bias, and that I don't know these people I make assumptions about. Honestly, I just get a vibe about what's going on.

The reply below came from a thread about a woman who decided to live with a man she'd known less than six months (I don't know whether she moved in with him, or he with her, but I assume the latter because this is a typical female thing to do). Anyway, this woman didn't know where her live-in worked. That's right. He has not told her. Yet she continues to live under the same roof and live each day in ignorant bliss as though she isn't a straight up and down fool. Here's what I had to say:

This is so ridiculous that I'm angered. They actually moved in together and she doesn't know where he works. Does she call him at work? Nothing in her is curious enough about this man she sleeps with and has opened her life up to insist he tell her where his money comes from? I want to say mean things about her and her upbringing because I'm so mad. This is so foolish.

The only thing that would make this acceptable is if he has told her and it's so classified and dangerous that she can't tell anyone else. But then again, she'd just say I can't talk about it. This woman actually doesn't know. I can't believe that men complain they can't find a woman. Look at all these stupid foolish women walking around that will accept anything, anything at all and actually love you for it. I see why it's so hard for men to not take advantage of the stupidity that persists in women.
So yes, while I'm often sympathetic to the plight of women in this cruel dating world, there are others who make me deeply ashamed that other men may look at me and assume that I too am an absent-minded, desperate idiot like the hoards of others who look like me. *sigh* Unfortunately, proving them wrong has been to my detriment. For I stand among only a few women who look like me who stubbornly cling to the belief that accepting BS is a job best suited for the plains on which said bull roams.

Signing off,

Jennifer Singleton

He's Just Not Into You (Love and Basketball)

2010-12-02T19:57:00.006-05:00

So I tuned in to watch the Cavaliers-Heats game tonight. Not because I'm a die hard b-ball fan, but to witness for myself the childish, hateful antics I heard some of the Cavaliers fans would perform. And they didn't disappoint. Boos, vulgar taunts, chants, holding up signs with nasty messages on them, giving the middle finger, just about anything they could legally do to make Lebron James feel as much hurt as they felt following "the breakup." It amazed me that some of these people had no clue how petty they looked, how unstable. Or perhaps they didn't care that the rest of us found their attachment to this man—a basketball player—and continued anger over his leaving something that required a hug, and for some, counseling.

Looking and listening to their reactions over the past few months made me think about the power of rejection. Most people associate rejection with romantic interests, and are usually quick to tell the rejectee to "get over it" or "it's not that serious" or "don't sweat it." However, when that rejection comes in other forms, let's say a basketball player leaving your city, prolonged angry feelings are encouraged.

No one likes to be rejected, no matter the situation. The stuff hurts, and if you've experienced it, you know it's a feeling that calls you to question whether you'll ever know the happy feeling of acceptance. But if the poor, rejected lonely hearts are told to toughen up and get over it, shouldn't other rejectees, who may not have had their romantic feelings rejected, but their sense of entitlement to, let's say, a basketball player, yanked away?

I looked at the forlorn faces in the stands of the Quicken Loans Arena and couldn't help but make the comparison between them and the millions of hopeless romantics who wait for returned phone calls, texts, and emails that will never be, only to have to force themselves to process through their grief very quickly and finally come to the realization: he (or she) just isn't into you. Move on. Your "soul mate" certainly has.

My heart goes out to those Cavs fans who feel anything close to "real" rejection. That's a hurt I wouldn't wish on anyone. Everyone should know they have someone who will never leave.

Peace to all.

Check out my creativity at work with my teddy bears who graciously volunteered to illustrate how much rejection sucks. Observe the great acting, look at both the happiness and pain on their faces. Look at the talent I have around me. Thank you bear-y much guys.

In happier times

And then......

When the thrill is gone

What a Difference a Day Makes!

2010-12-01T20:51:00.003-05:00

I felt great today, imagine that. Based on yesterday's post you'd think I was just about through. But nope, I survived. And I had a great day at work today. I was so productive and it felt good. For days now I've let some negative thoughts consume me. But I've moved through my stages of grief, let some things go in my mind, and finally allowed myself to believe that it's not my fault.

Ahh yes, the mind and imagination can bring such joy, yet such sadness. It's all about having balance. Life is like a roller coaster. When you begin to learn your cycle of events and occurrences, you tend to enjoy every drop of the good times because you know that a down time may come. And when it does, you were expecting it (because it's a part of life), welcome it, process it, and send it packing. For some good times are on the way and you need to make room.

Peace, all.

Dinah, take it away.

Ms. Understood

2010-11-30T21:01:00.006-05:00

Hello,

My name is Ms. Understood, and hence the name, I'm a very misunderstood person. My mother understands me *shout out to mommy*. My close friends sorta get me. And for that I'm very grateful. But outside of these entities, I'm often assigned a personality I do not own, intentions that are not mine. And I apparently possess an aura that I wish would stop following me everywhere I go. Well, let me not wish that. I imagine it's doing some good things that I as a mere mortal am incapable of comprehending.

When I'm not being labeled as "quiet and shy," I'm accused of being "boring" (by people who have no desire to prove themselves right or wrong) or "innocent and naive" (by people who have no desire to prove themselves right or wrong). What I really love is when I'm placed on a pedestal of purity, and if I dare step down and become "normal," am met with an astonished disappointed that can be summarized with Jennifer, you?

I would never have guessed that at my age, I would still be treated as if I were a child, incapable of understanding the cruel ways of the world; an asexual being with no desire to experience the pleasures of the flesh; a quiet mouse who only squeaks every now and again; a sweet little thing who'd never ever curse; a young woman who despite growing up in the 80s and 90s is somehow ignorant of popular culture, particularly rap music. It goes on and on.

Well you know what everybody?

I'm a woman!!!!!! A normal woman!!!!! A regular adult!! My god, may I step down off this pedestal and have an alcoholic beverage with you, I can take it you know!! May I curse without a news crew being called because it's a big deal? May I get upset or have any normal reaction to life’s ups and downs? May I squat and shake my hind part to a booty bounce song without someone fainting from the shock? Sir, yes you over there, voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?

Wow, this feels really good. I’m just tired of being misunderstood. I’m just tired of shocking people by doing the most normal, mundane things. I’m tired of being told I’m too nice by men. I’m tired of being told I need to get out more, but having to do it alone. I’m tired of being taken for granted. I'm tired of not being given a chance. I'm tired of the timing always being wrong. I'm tired of all the good ones being taken. I'm tired of the leaves in my yard. I'm tired of my commute. I’m just tired.

I would like to drink a glass of Chardonnay right now. But I must do it alone. Wouldn’t want to have more than one, become merry, start to act like the real me, and shock someone who had such high hopes for me.

Oh yes, before I forget, I hope you enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. I’ll be back with another post soon. Though November was busy, a paltry two postings is unforgivable. I’m sorry about that. Love you all. Forgive the rant. Just being normal. May I?

---Ms. Understood

Nina, take it away.

When You're Not "The One"

2010-11-03T19:19:00.007-04:00

When you're not "the one" you seem to remember all the little things you shouldn't remember about him. When you're "the one" he remembers all those little things about you. When you're not the one, you pick yourself apart and ask yourself why. When you're the one, you have no questions at all. When you're the one, you can rest assured. When you're not the one, you're assured a restless night.

Yeh, I just freestyled that myself. I'm sitting here, sipping coffee and doing some freelance work. I decided to take a break and unload a little of what I've been feeling since I left work. I was on the train coming home when the hopeless romantic in me reared her neglected little head. She reminded me about "Tony," my last crush that went nowhere. (Why is this the story of my life?) I remembered that the year anniversary of my meeting him was coming up, November 14th to be exact. I then smiled a sad smile because I knew that he would never ever remember the date he met me.

I pulled out my cell phone and sent this text to my friend who's very familiar with how much I adored him:

Nov 14 is the day I met Tony. I still remember what he had on and how much I looked forward to seeing him again. I was so nervous 2 ask 4 his # but did anyway. I actually prayed that he'd feel the same about me. I prayed because I like him so much. Still do. Even though I'm not "the one."

Kinda deep right?

I had dinner, danced to work off the cookies I ate earlier, did some work, and then came to my blog. Where I discovered my thoughts of unrequited desire were still hanging around, demanding to be tended to. And so I'm tending to them. Through my words.

I have no shame in admitting that I rarely forget the people who've crossed my path. I remember them all. I wonder where they are; if they ever did that thing they wanted to do; if they ever bought that thing they wanted to buy; if they ever went to that place they wanted to go; if they've fared well in this roller coaster ride of life. That's just the kind of person I am. I know Tony will never read this. But here's to you anyway, Tony. Thanks for coming through, at least when it really mattered. Whenever you're ready again, and either find or reunite with "the one," I'm sure she'll feel very loved.

All the best to everyone.

About the couple up there: This beautiful scene was part of a calendar I bought over 6 years ago. The artwork was so beautiful I cut out most of the months and framed them. Gazing at their embrace puts a smile on my face; just like the smile on hers. I won't lie, there have been many nights where I wished we could trade places.

Signed,

The Hopeless Romantic on behalf of Jennifer Singleton

iRobot: Because it's Halloween

2010-10-31T12:48:00.002-04:00

Here she is, the most realistic humanoid I've ever seen. When I saw her dressed like a librarian it made me realize how they can be walking amongst us now. Technology has advanced so much, it's amazing. I would sit next to her on the bus or train and not even look twice. She blinks, uses a variety of facial expressions, and has an eerily calm demeanor.

I know these humanoids will one day play a major role in our lives. I'm curious though, will they demand the same rights and freedoms as humans? Will there be advocacy groups working to prevent their exploitation? Will they take away the jobs of "real" humans? Think about it, no sick leave, no maternity leave, no need to enjoy an outside life.

These questions and more are what we must ask.

Happy Halloween!!!!!!!!!!!!

My Review Isn't Done Yet

2010-10-30T18:59:00.003-04:00

One month ago, I wrote that on October 1st I would post a review of The Outsider by Richard Wright. Well after reading the 400+ page book I became intimidated and unsure of my ability to give it justice. I was so impressed with Wright's writing style, the book's theme, and the protagonist Cross Damon, that I kept putting off the review while I thought of the best way to proceed. And now as October nears an end, I still haven't done it. This is my confession. I still believe in my writing ability, but honestly, I just think my review will suck. But I suppose I should let others be the judge of that, right?

I'm creative. I can string together a sequence of words to create an interesting read. I've done it before, and I've had my share of compliments. Don't give up on me, gentle readers. Perhaps it will help me to not give up on myself.

Oh yes, about the tree:

It's a tree in my backyard that is going through "the change" in anticipation of winter. I was inspired by it. Without fail, the leaves come and they go. So much of that mirrors human life. We gain and we lose all the time. Our defining moments are how we choose to act on what is happening. I've lost some leaves myself, leaves that may never return. But my hope is that in their place will erupt new and wondrous buds to restore me to what I used to be.

Continue to look out for that review. It's coming. I promise.

"This isn't the neighborhood for that."

2010-10-27T21:12:00.007-04:00

These are the words that came from the mouth of a woman I rode with on the bus this morning. She had been talking to another woman about kids, music, and what their plans were for the weekend. As most people on public transportation, their voices were elevated so that everyone around them was forced to be a part of the conversation. As we approached a Starbucks and its "Coming Soon!" sign, the woman began expressing her view that a Starbucks wouldn't do well in the neighborhood. My new neighborhood. I was very offended, but not for me. I was offended on behalf of the neighborhood's residents who are very grateful that a Starbucks has come. In the midst of budget furniture stores, fast food restaurants, nail shops, and an auto parts store, I'm sure the residents are pleased that a Starbucks, something different, has come.

I got the impression she meant the residents of the largely minority neighborhood would not frequent a Starbucks, and it struck a nerve. Why wouldn't we? I wanted to reply to her "So, would a liquor store and payday loan establishment be more acceptable for the neighborhood? Because the people here would rather spend their money on a wing special than a iced latte, right?" What her view of herself and the people around her must be, I pondered.

I found myself feeling grateful that she wasn't a city planner, or the person responsible for approving building permits or granting contracts to investors and companies seeking to gentrify an economically distressed neighborhood.

But then I realized that I had no idea what she did for a living. She appeared to be on her way to work just like me. The likelihood of her either working for the local DC government or the federal government was strong. How were her perceptions of "certain" kinds of people and places influencing her decision making. What did she mean? The residents were too poor to afford a Starbucks beverage or food item? Or did she mean the residents didn't have sophisticated enough palates to appreciate Starbucks products? Why was she so certain that the business would fail because "this isn't the neighborhood for that"?

Lady, what is the right neighborhood for that? And if your neighborhood is not good enough for a Starbucks, why do you live in such a place?

I certainly hope she's wrong. I'll visit this Starbucks when it opens. And I hope I'm joined by other residents who want to show "upscale" establishments like Starbucks that we do spend our money on products other than fast food and other products of the poor and unenlightened. I know I'm kind of rambling here. This isn't meant to be a perfect post with proper sentence structure, topic sentences, cohesiveness, and cadence. It's just a rant in reply to an ignorant statement I heard on the bus.

Mind Sex

2010-10-12T11:22:00.003-04:00

Should I be embarrassed to admit that I'm in the mood for this right now? Should I be even more ashamed to admit that I'm rather famished from lack of this emotional food? Well, I'm not. Mental stimulation at the mind of another person is crucial for human development, creativity, happiness, and fulfillment. It's such a shame that not enough of us realize its importance.

My sympathies to all of the bullying victims

2010-10-08T14:24:00.006-04:00

I wasn’t popular in high school. There are a number of reasons I wasn’t. I didn’t wear name brand clothes; I didn’t associate with any cliques; I didn’t live in a nice subdivision like the majority of my classmates, but in an apartment in the city’s housing authority; I created my own unique hairstyles that didn’t conform; I was quite; and just didn’t fit in. However, during my junior year, I transferred to another school where I met some great people who accepted me the way I was and actually liked me. I wasn’t such a loser anymore. It was a great feeling.

Mine is considered a success story compared to the suffering that many other kids go through. I wasn’t obese; considered unattractive, or conversely, too pretty; didn't wear dirty, tattered clothing; and as far anyone could tell, was a cookie cutter heterosexual. Passing these big hurdles allowed me to pass through my middle and high school years unscathed. Not so for many others.

Bullying has dominated the news in recent weeks. A 12-year-old girl's father made headlines after he boarded a bus and yelled at his mentally challenged daughter's tormentors. A 13-year-old girl hung herself after nude pics she texted to her boyfriend ended up in the hands of menacing classmates. A Rutgers University freshman killed himself after his homosexual encounter was broadcast over the internet by his roommate. My sympathies to all who have and who will be the victims of taunting and bullying from either an acquaintance or an anonymous attacker.

The old adage "kids can be cruel" has taken on a different meaning as technology has advanced. Even before these stories hit the news, I pondered what today's grade schools were like. What was it like now to be an unpopular, bullied kid. Back in my day, if someone didn't like you, they told you to your face, there weren't any social networking sites to hide behind. Mean notes were written about you and passed around; a bully may have told you to meet him after school—all awful things to experience. However, back then, when a victim of such actions went home, they had escaped, at least for a little while. And if it got too bad to endure, they could transfer schools, and start over. Now, victims are forced to face their hurt 24/7. And these hurtful things, be them malicious blogs, Facebook, and Twitter pages, or humiliating camera phone videos and pics, can follow them for years.

Technological advancements are amazing and inspiring and have changed millions of lives for the better; and with each year are becoming a necessity rather than a luxury. However, these very things we rely on to entertain, educate, and motivate ourselves are the tools of torment for far too many. To you, gentle readers, and anyone else affected by such cruelties, my deepest sympathies, and wishes for you to stay strong and hold on.

In closing, I want to share an article I wrote on cyberbullying for the December 2009/January 2010 issue of Educational Leadership, published by ASCD. Read it here.

Ramblings About Seasons and Something Else

2010-10-06T20:08:00.005-04:00

I have these "seasons" of inspiration and productivity that visit me for a while. Sometimes for a few days, others time a month or two. During these times I feel like I can accomplish anything I set my sights on. I find myself writing more, traveling more, planning more, daydreaming more, just doing more of everything that makes me feel better about myself. I'm in a season right now, but something "ain't quite right" with this one. I'm not reaching the full high that I've come to expect. While I'm somewhat inspired, I'm nowhere near as productive as I can be. While I'm writing more, it's not with the same intensity as I've experienced in previous seasons. And daydreaming? While I do that continuously, my fantasies aren't as fulfilling as I know they can be. My imagination can create some fantastical imagery that entertains me during the day and in my dreams. Lately, the thrill appears to be waning. I wonder what role stress is playing. Am I not consuming enough protein to properly fuel the electrical impulses responsible for the visions, feelings, and emotions that comprise my subconscious sleep? My imagination is not providing the good times that I'm accustomed to. Something's afoot.

Feels So Good

2010-10-04T20:55:00.006-04:00

Every now and again I encounter an image that conjures such strong emotion in me that I have to grab the nearest writing tool to capture what's coming. This image was created by an artist unknown to me. I wish I could give him or her credit, but unfortunately this image, like so many others, is just out there, belonging to no one, but conceived by someone. I want to give the artist credit, if you know a name or website, please let me know. I want to pay my respect. I spotted this image on a messageboard and found it so serene, so striking. I felt something. The woman was telling me what she was thinking. This is what I could gather:

You wanna know something?
It had never happened for me, that whole love thing
Reciprocity, romance, security, being "the one"
But then He happened. For me.
I had accepted the fact that nobody wanted me
But then He happened. For me.
I had to ask God if he had the right person
Didn't want to get my hopes up. Know what I mean?

Mmmm, mmmm, I don't want to go to work today
Just want to lay up under this man
It's been so long, so long since I felt so good
I wouldn't be any good at any job today anyway
Not after last night, and the night before that, and the night before that

This man makes me feel so good
He even smells good too
Nothing from a bottle, just something special his pores secrete
And don't get me started on the warmth of his breath and the body that creates it
I want to savor and cherish the moment, just in case this is all a dream
Know what I mean?
I would hope life wouldn't be so cruel, but I know how cruel life can be

Life, please, I beg you, don't
Just let me relax, and enjoy his touch and the way I feel right now
I feel so good

(Copyright Jennifer Singleton 2010)

Flirty vs. Interested

2010-09-27T20:50:00.006-04:00

A while back, I posted my response to a thread on my favorite messageboard. The thread was about a woman who met a tragic end due to domestic violence. I was moved by my own words and wanted to share them. And so, I'm sharing again. The reply below is to a thread that asked how to tell the difference between the actions of a guy who was interested in you versus the actions of a guy who was simply flirting. I'm no expert on relationships (as you may have surmised by now), but I think I have some good insight into many aspects of them.

"I think you can tell a lot by: 1) his gaze and 2) how much time he spends with you. The most obvious one is the time spent. If he doesn't make it a habit to be in anyone's face a lot but yours, there's a chance that it might be legitimate interest. Contrast that with the flirty guy who makes the rounds trying to keep all the ladies smiling and is always seen with a different one. Next up is the intensity of the gaze. If he's the office flirt, his eye contact won't be that serious or attentive, his attention span will be short as he's looking all around to see who he should talk to next. But the guy who's interested holds your gaze and you feel warm, there's something he's saying without even speaking. People can pass by and he won't even look to see who it is. You just know the difference.

Men are very difficult to figure out. Good luck."

So, do you think I got it right?

Check Out My New Article

2010-09-17T21:35:00.009-04:00

I wrote an article titled "The Benefits of a Workplace Mentor" that will appear in Thursday Network's Fall 2010 newsletter, scheduled for publishing later this year. Thursday Network is the Washington DC chapter of the National Urban League Young Professionals. This is my second contribution to the newsletter. I wrote "Maintaining Relationships During Economic Hardships" for their Summer 2010 issue.

You can read them both on the writing and editing page of my website, www.jennifersingleton.net.

Please visit Thursday Network's website to learn about the organization's mission and community service accomplishments in the DC area.

Calling All Fiction Writers!!

2010-09-10T10:04:00.003-04:00

A few years ago, I began submitting a couple of my short stories to every decent-sounding writing contest I could find. I wanted to know if I had "it." A writing style and story line so refreshing and intriguing that contest judges would suspend further reviews after reading what I had to say. I am a dreamer what can I say. I suppose I faired better than most, having received an Honorable Mention from the Shrine of the Black Madonna Bookstore for my story Unspoken Duty. Check it out here, under "Fiction Writing Sample." After a while I began to feel discouraged (and those entry fees started to add up). Thus began my hiatus. Today I feel I'm ready to re-enter the writing contest ring. I have some new work that I feel is competition-worthy.

I kept a list of contests I had entered in the past and looked them up so see if they were still around. A few of them were. While searching for others I realized I wanted to share some of them in the hope it would inspire someone else to want unveil a story hidden on a flash drive or on the pages of a forgotten notebook. The deadlines for these contests are coming up, so act now, or pass along to a friend who may need a little encouragement.

John Steinbeck Short Story Award
Prize: One winner will receive $1000 and publication in Reed Magazine.
Entry fee: $15 (entrants receive a copy of the prize issue)
Word count: no more than 6000
Deadline: November 1, 2010
For details visit http://www.reedmag.com/

Roanoke Review
Prize: One winner will receive $1000 and publication in Roanoke Review.
Entry fee: $15
Word count: no more than 5000
Deadline: November 8, 2010
For details visit http://www.roanokereview.wordpress.com/

Tampa Review, Danahy Fiction Prize
Prize: One winner will receive $1000 and publication in Tampa Review.
Entry fee: $15 (entrants receive a subscription to Tampa Review)
Word count: between 500 and 5000
Deadline: November 1, 2010
For details visit www.ut.edu/tampareview

The Writing Site, Arthur Edelstein Prize for Short Fiction
Prize: One winner will receive $1000 and publication on http://www.writingsite.com/.
Entry fee: $10
Word count: no more than 6000
Deadline: October 31, 2010
For details visit http://www.writingsite.com/

Narrative Magazine, 30 Below Contest
Prize: One winner will receive $1500 for a short story, essay, or excerpt from a work of fiction or creative fiction by a writer under 30.
Entry fee: $20
Word count: up to 15,000
Deadline: October 31, 2010
For details visit http://www.narrativemagazine.com/

Inkwell Short Fiction Contest
Prize: One winner will receive $1500 for up to 3 short stories.
Entry fee: $15
Word count: no more than 5000
Deadline: October 30, 2010
For details visit http://www.inkwelljournal.org/

Kore Press Short Fiction Award
Prize: One winner will receive $1000 and publication by Kore Press.
Entry fee: $15
Word count: 4000-12,000
For details visit http://www.korepress.org/

In addition to finding writing contests online, you can visit your local library and bookstore for the latest issues of literary magazines and journals. Poets & Writers magazine is an excellent resource for contests and grants. Also contact college and university English departments to see if any of their publications are sponsoring writing competitions.

A word of caution: Sadly not all writing contests are created equal. Research, researh, research, especially the reviews of previous contest entrants, before entering a particular competition; and read the contest guidelines very carefully. Be sure to ask for clarification on terminology you do not understand, particularly the term "right of first publication."

And lastly, if you enter one of the above contests and win, place, or receive an honorable mention, please come back and let me know. I'd be happy to share your news.

Happy writing,

Jennifer Singleton

Introducing "A Book a Month"

2010-09-01T00:48:00.009-04:00

Here's how this is going to work. Each month, starting September 2010, for as long as I can muster the motivation, I will select a book that intrigues me and read it. Ordinarily this isn't a big deal, as I've been known to tackle several good reads in a month's span. What's different is that I'll publish a review of this book on my website www.jennifersingleton.net
on the first (or second) of the following month. I'll let you know when it's ready.

Why am I doing this?

For two reasons: 1) to ensure that my site contains current and diverse writing samples, and 2) to discipline myself by serving as my own editor. I've set deadlines for myself with the understanding that if I can't do right by myself, then I can't do right by anyone else. I've never challenged myself like this before, and the decision to do it has come after a long period of feeling sorry for myself and neglecting to channel the creative energy that inhabits my soul.

September's selection if you haven't guessed by the book jacket is Richard Wright's The Outsider. Two of Wright's titles, Native Son and Black Boy, were required readings in my 10th grade English class. I was so intrigued by Wright's writing style and the adversity his characters faced that when I saw The Outsider in Barnes & Noble, I knew I couldn't leave the store without it. I only hope that I can give the story's protagonist, Cross Damon, justice. Based on what I've read so far, I'm completely mesmerized. Wright hooked me from the first page and he refuses to let me go. When a writer can make a reader experience the emotions I'm experiencing, he or she deserves a standing ovation. Though in reply to this compliment, I can imagine that most of them would say, "I'm just reporting the story as my spirit instructed me to."

Wish me luck. I hope to create something you find interesting. Just knowing someone out there will anticipate it and will check back encourages me more than you know.

TMI?

2010-08-30T19:57:00.004-04:00

Sometimes after publishing a post, I wonder if I’ve shared too much. You know, given a little “TMI” (too much information). While I don’t say anything disrespectful or controversial or extremist in nature, I openly admit to my character flaws, writing struggles, fears, sugar addiction, loneliness, and carnal desires, among other personal things. I’m not ashamed of myself, I am who I am—a wonderfully imperfect human who examines herself critically and honestly and feels as though sharing those findings with the world unburdens her soul. I’m aware that some would argue I’m merely an online narcissist, one of the millions who think the world cares about their profound reflections. Well, do you?

Should I be doing this? This whole spill my guts thing? Aren’t people supposed to keep their thoughts about themselves to themselves? Sure it’s okay to talk about other people’s lives, but to turn the microscope on yourself and proclaim to the world Look at me! With my self-deprecating sense of humor, somewhat deviant thoughts, questionable fashion sense, goofy dances, aversion to technological advances, weakness for romance and happy endings, and hairy legs.

Who’s reading this thing anyway? Aside from the very special person who reads faithfully (sending her a big >hug<). I know plenty of things about people who don’t even know my last name (thanks to my good pal, Google). Could someone who I see all the time, whose last (or even first) name I don’t know, have plenty of info on me because they read my musings? The thought intrigues me. The man I’m currently infatuated with, are you reading this? I’ll never know, will I? And neither will you. My best friend during high school, I still think of you and wish things hadn’t changed. Are you reading this? Chris, who would have made me the happiest girl on campus by saying “yes” to my movie invite, are you reading this? I could sit here all night pondering who visits me. How interesting, online anonymity protects the audience, but offers little to the entertainer.

I like that I have private thoughts and memories and feelings. Things that can’t be hacked or compromised. Things unknown to any other being. I suppose I just answered my own question. It’s okay if I share parts of me with the world, and, no, it’s not too much. For I don’t share my all, my everything, and that’s the important part. I have a secret place where the rest of me is housed. There’s some good stuff in there, stuff that fuels my every thought and action. But don’t feel slighted; the stuff you read is pretty good too. In fact, and this is between me and you, the dividing line between what I post and what I keep in my secret place is sometimes indistinguishable.

JS

In Case I Hurt Your Feelings, I'm Sorry

2010-08-27T20:13:00.005-04:00

So I'm sitting here listening to music, pondering how to end my night. Yes, at 8:37 on a Friday night, I'm nearing the end. No nightclub; no date; no meeting girlfriends anywhere; no movies; no nice restaurant; no cuddling on the couch with a member of the opposite sex; no kissing; no yanking off my clothes in a fit of passion; no getting ready in front of the mirror to go to a party; and no "baby, I'm outside."

Tonight, my options are: 1) marinate the pork chops pictured here; 2) dance to music; 3) watch tv; 4) continue to sit here at the computer; 5) lie to myself that I'll do something fun next weekend to make up for this one; 6) buy a bus ticket for NYC for a day or two to escape what I've created here at home; 5) go to sleep early; 6) get on my exercise bike to alleviate my guilt from not walking this evening; or 7) browse Craigslist 'Missed Connections' ads to see if someone is looking for me. Oh who am I kidding, as usual, I'll do most of these things. So in a way, I guess my Fridays are pretty eventful, now that I've written out my itinerary.

But moving on. I didn't start this post to spill the details of my exciting existence. I want to apologize for some mean things I did as a kid. I was sitting here feeling emotional and suffering from cramps and bloating, when I started to feel sad for the bully I used to be in elementary school. That phase of my life didn't last long, and I wasn't a violent bully, but a more mischievous one. And besides, I got it all back ten-fold in middle and high school when I became a shy and awkward loser and a social outcast. Still, I wanted to put it out there in the rare chance that my "victims" remember my name, and Google me to see if misfortune has befallen me, and if so, to laugh. Though I'm happy to report that life has been pretty good to me.

I apologize to the following individuals:

The girl whose shirt I blew my nose on, while she was still wearing it.

The girl who I would walk closely behind just so I could step on her heels.

The girl whose candy I stole out of her booksack during recess.

The boy whose school supplies I stole, brought home to destroy with my mother's makeup and a pair of scissors, then brought back to school for him to "find."

All the kids whose belongings I would take off their desks to place in different areas of the classroom, just to create confusion. And to laugh.

I apologize because I'm not that person anymore, and haven't been since that time. The person I am now is sensitive to the misfortunes of others; understanding; sickeningly kind; protective of others; a pushover if I like you a lot; and overall, a pretty good person and great friend. For every bad thing I did as a youngster, I assure you, I've gotten it back. I hope you all are happy, fulfilled, in love with your lives, have found "the one," have great families, careers you love, and most importantly, have forgotten all about me.

Peace to everyone reading this.

JS

Playing with My Alphabets

2010-08-27T19:48:00.005-04:00

All I want to do in life is

Be the best Jennifer I can be

Choosing more right options than wrong

Deliberately treating others the way I wish to be treated

Expressing myself the way I know best

Finishing the projects that I start

Getting out and enjoying life

Hitting the gym or the pavement to exercise

Imagining all the things that make me happy

Joining others in an effort to make the world a better place

Kicking out all the negative thoughts that invade my private time

Learning new things

Making sure the people in my life know how much I love them

Never taking my blessings for granted

Opening my mind to possibilities I haven’t considered

Protecting my spirit from harm

Questioning what I don’t understand, but learning to let go what I cannot change

Resting my mind at night so that my body will follow suit

Sharing my creative interpretations with others

Traveling to the places that bring me comfort

Understanding that time goes on no matter how much I object

Visiting my family often

Wearing clothes that flatter my frame

eXpecting to receive the kind of love and passion that I fantasize of

Yielding returns on my investments

and Zealously enjoying the simple things in life

Bronze Thrills, Black Confessions, and a little Jive

2010-08-25T01:43:00.007-04:00

This is a story of my first lesson in the importance of proper proofreading and editing, and how quickly a manuscript can lose credibility when a reader is confronted with easily avoidable errors.

“Moist Caverns” and “Man Tools”

When I was around 13 or 14, I discovered that nestled amongst the magazines on the stand at the Winn-Dixie grocery store, were four black romance/confession magazines—Jive, Black Confessions, Bronze Thrills, and Black Romance. (These publications were, in my words, an “urban imprint” for Sterling/Macfadden, publisher of the mainstream confession titles True Confessions, True Story, and True Romance.) An avid reader who was suffering from a severe case of puberty, I found my little discovery quite intriguing, to say the least. It didn’t take long for me to realize the salaciousness that lay before me.

He plunged his man tool into my moist cavern…

“Ma!!," hurrying excitedly, "can you buy this for me?”

My poor mother, I bugged her for at least several weeks to buy one of the magazines for me. It was the most important item in the world to me at the time. She was a tough nut to crack, as she wasn’t naïve, and knew all too well the type of stories they were. She shared her concerns that the material was inappropriate for me, and we'd go back and forth on how the stories weren't bad at all, and that I was indeed old enough to read them. I begged each Winn-Dixie visit. I still remember the night when she finally relented. I had been following her around the store holding one of the magazines, looking pitiful, of course. Knowing she’d say no, I wasted my breath again by asking if she’d buy it for me. She reviewed the cover for a moment, and then said yes! That, gentle readers, was one of the happiest moments of my teen years. Bronze Thrills was finally coming home with me (I still have this issue by the way, February 1993). Finally, I was going to read stories about girls just a few years older than me who had boyfriends and were having sex with them; girls disobeying their parents to sneak around with neighborhood bad boys; women catching their husbands having affairs; love triangles; domestic violence; workplace infatuation—Yessssss!

And so my journey began. Soon I started a summer job and was able to buy my own magazines, and I continued to do for a number of years afterward. While I always found the material interesting, and usually had a favorite story in each issue, reading these magazines was an exercise in patience. The grammatical and typographical errors were so blatant that, in my opinion, it offended the intelligence of the readers.

"Errors"

Jennifer, are you telling us that a magazine went to press without anyone bothering to make sure it looked okay?

Yes, I am. Where were the editors? I wondered. Did anyone on the payroll bother to even read one of the issues? Pure foolishness. In addition to suffering with misspelled words, missing words, and no spacing between words, imagine these other crimes against literature that faithful readers had to endure:

The "editors" in charge forced us to

· Attempt to understand text where there was either a misplacement or absence of quotation marks that rendered dialogue and the narrator’s inner thoughts indistinguishable.
· Re-read stories, as a story in one issue was sometimes a word-for-word reprint of one from a few issues back.
· Get to know a main character by one name, let's say “Nathan,” only to turn the page and find that his name had changed to “Mike.”
· Skim an issue's Table of Contents in the store, and become excited at a particular story's title and synopsis, only to get it home and discover that said story wasn’t even in the issue. I'm not kidding. Table of Contents should never lie! (This happened to me twice, and I’m still mad about it.)

"Prisoners"

Before the internet, lonely hearts commonly sought love through classified ads in newspapers and magazines. Black Romance and her sisters were no exception. When I would get a new issue, the first thing I would do is read the "Pen Pals" column in the back. Out of about 25 ads per issue, all but one would be from a prisoner seeking companionship.

"Ebony prince seeks princess for romance and marriage. I'm a writer, musician, and political activist. Will answer all. Roses for you, beautiful lady. Race and weight not important."

(Sidebar: Race and weight never seem to be a problem after all the options have been taken away. Come as you are, my queens. Funny, were they that accepting as free men?)

As an adult, I saw the ad of a guy I think I worked with at McDonalds years before when I was 16. This guy (when I knew him) had gold teeth, a jherri curl, and always wore a cow hide sun visor (of course, I had a crush on him). He had a very unique nickname, and this was the name I saw in the ad. When I saw that this individual was incarcerated in my home state, I was all but assured that he was indeed the same guy who shared fry duty with me and had gone on to make some bad choices. I used to wonder, and still do, how these men found out about these publications; was there some kind of network? I also felt some kind of way about these men possibly attempting to take advantage of lonely women. I'm sure my mother didn't know what to make of me. I was a weird one, I'm sure there were hardly any other teenage girls who found reading inmate personals ads entertaining.

"Conclusion"

Today, Sterling/Macfadden no longer publishes these black love-focused magazines. I think the True magazines are still around though. I wasn’t sad to see them go. Aside from being older and not that into them anymore, I had lost respect for the company for not caring about the quality of this particular brand. It had gotten to the point where I no longer bothered to flip through them anymore. I had spent too many nights becoming engrossed in a story, only to be snatched from the fantasy because of an error that, had anyone cared to proofread it, could have easily been corrected. It's hard to enjoy a story when the journey to get to the end is choppy and misguided. Before abandoning these magazines, I had managed to collect over 30 of them. I have them stashed away here and there. I hope to keep them for a long time because I’m sentimental, but also because I want to pass them on to someone. Most teens/young women today wouldn't find much interest in a nearly 20-year-old romance magazine, but, if one of them is like me, would greatly appreciate the piece of history. Perhaps I'll find someone someday who will treasure them as I have, offensive errors and all.

I've rambled on enough. Now I'm off to go and finish up an earlier post I started in July.

--A nostalgic reader

What Do You Do?

2010-08-24T20:43:00.003-04:00

I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting since my last post. About the usual stuff I suppose: Am I living each day to the fullest? Have I made the right choices up to this point? Is my lack of a love life due to something horrible I did in a past life? If I lost 20-30lbs would I then receive the highly coveted Certificate of Desirability, deeming me worthy and eligible to at least enter the dating pool? Is the DC area where I should be? Or should I have tried a little harder to move to NYC where so many others like me reside? Why are all the men who seem perfect for me either a part of the “gold band” club or just not interested? Should I have more to show for myself financially?

Not a day goes by where I don’t ponder most (sometimes all) of these questions. Some have many possible answers, others none. I’m just at that point in my life where I assess myself more thoroughly, and am more aware of how my actions today can make or break the rest of my life. I guess I have too much time on my hands. A wise man or woman might say that if a person is out actually living life, then he or she won’t have time to sit around thinking and worrying about it. Makes sense, doesn’t it? And it’s a good motto to live by too, isn’t it?

Still, I counter with this—what do you do when “living life” just doesn’t feel the way it used to? When you’re missing something and you’re not sure what? When something’s happening and you can’t put a finger on it? When you no longer enjoy doing things by yourself and long for a partner, but feel invisible to those you wish would volunteer?

What do you do?

You take people’s advice. You speak and nod in agreement when people say to put it in the hands of a higher power. You try to change what you think you may be doing wrong. You ponder why, what, how, when, and where?

And during it all, you hope to find an answer. A solution to put your anxious mind at ease. A solution that rejuvenates your spirit. Some type of something to motivate you to do all the things your heart yearns for you to do.

JS

Will They Reminisce Over You?

2010-07-31T17:55:00.007-04:00

So as you know by now, all I do is think. If not about the present, then the past or the future. I decided to take a brief walk down memory lane and share some of the simple things I routinely hear and smell that make me reminisce. (Don't laugh at me).

Scents

Cool Water cologne

This scent will always be with me. It belonged to a boy named Walter who wore it in high school. I've smelled the scent on other men since then, but Walter must have added something to it. It was intoxicating and fit his demeanor so well. Laid-back, smooth, and deep. He was so mature, seemed like he belonged in college instead of the 10th grade. I had a thing for Walter because of that smell. I'd envy the popular girls who had the chance to hug him and walk with him. I wanted to do it too. I just wanted to tell him how good he smelled.

Jergens soap
This scent reminds me of my nighttime baths as a child. The ones after mom would call me inside after I'd been playing outside for hours and demand that I get in the tub and clean myself. My memory often mixes Jergens with the smell of fried chicken. Mom would usually be cooking dinner while I took my bath.

Male sweat
Ahh yes, the smell of teenage boys. I started to notice this scent when I was in middle school. I would walk into a room and could tell boys had been there. It wasn't a funky scent, but I could smell they had been sweating nearby. Girls didn't smell like that. Funny, I don't smell it anymore. Could it be my pubescent senses were heightened for only a short time and as I matured I lost my keen sense of smell? Perhaps because we use so many chemicals to mask our natural scent? I just know I remember when boys started to smell different to me.

Sand de Sable perfume
This perfume used to be one of my cousin's favorites. It smelled so good on her that I pestered my mother to buy some for me. I remember her telling me I was too young to wear it. It took forever before I got my first bottle. I think I was so old I was able to buy it for myself.

Music

"White Horse" (Laid House)
A boy who lived in the same housing development as me had a crazy dance he would do to this song. His mother would put the song on, "White horse, don't ride the white horse..." and he would dance and entertain the adults. I don't remember how old I was, maybe 8 or so. I still see his face so clearly.

"I Get Around" (Tupac)
My biggest high school, Kenneth, was the coolest boy at school. I was a freshman and he a junior. Man I was in looooove. Anyway, he brought a boom box to school one day and was outside during lunch playing music on it. My best friend and I passed him and giggled as usual. I turned around and he was looking right at me. The realization that the guy I liked actually noticed I existed, whilst Tupac flowed "'Cause oh they sweat a brother majorly, I don't know why, your girl keeps paging me..." caused an instant memory burn.

"Before you Turn off the Lights" (The World Class Wrecking Crew)
Not too much to report other than this song would blast from everyone's car stereo. I believe it was around 1987/1988. Man that song was so hot! "Before you turn off the lights, let's get one thing understood, if you plan to make love to me, you got to do it good, 'cause I'm a helluva woman, and for me it takes a helluva man, so don't you dare turn off the lights unless this you understand." I remember riding in the car with my cousin (the same one who liked Sand de Sable perfume) and her friend during one summer she came to stay with me and mom. Listening to them talk about teenage stuff while the music played made me feel like I was one of the girls too, though I was just their annoying tag-a-long.

So, will they reminisce over you? I wonder who will reminisce over me?

A Reply From the Heart

2010-07-29T22:00:00.007-04:00

I spend a lot of time on a particular messageboard because of the interesting discussion forums and thread topics; my favorite hangout being the celebrity news and gossip forum. Sharing my thoughts with the world in reply to "who is this with so and so?" or "is so and so sleeping with this guy?" is a fun way to relax after a stressful day of doing what I do to earn a buck. I also frequent the board's news forum, though threads in this section tend to focus on the week's more depressing news. A story tonight affected me more deeply than the others because I could relate to the victim. I didn't know her, but I've encountered women who remind me so much of her; or rather, of the circumstances that may have led to her accepting someone into her life who had no business there. She reminded me of women who have taught me that it is better to be alone than to waive a potential mate's crucial "must haves" after reaching a point where you just want somebody and no longer believe that your god ever received your pleas for a suitable companion.

I read this woman's story and wrote an emotional response that seems to have affected other members as well. I wanted to share it on my blog. Not as a musing of an editor, writer, and storyteller. But as an observation of what I see happening far too often. I can only hope that I never signal to life that I'm ready to walk in this woman's shoes.

Here's the video of the news story:

And here's the article that details the couple's history.

And last, the comments that I shared with the board:

"Such a sad thing to hear. Poor little boy. You can only hope that he blocks out his mother's death, if he saw it, and only remembers the good times and his mother's love. He'll need those memories and I wish him the best. I have more stuff to say but not everyone will understand how I feel, so I'll just say this. I just feel sorry for this woman. I'm sure he wasn't her first choice or even her 20th. I'm sure that she pursued "better" men and prayed about it through the years. Perhaps the feelings were never mutual. So you go for what you can control, your education and career. I'm sorry she got tired of looking and waiting and decided to accept this thing into her life. I won't fault her for it because loneliness is a serious thing and only those who have experienced it can understand what can make a seemingly intelligent put together person stoop so low. Not everyone is strong enough to battle with a desire to be loved."

Is that Jennifer? Girl, where have you been?

2010-07-28T22:17:00.006-04:00

Someone very close to me told me tonight that because I had not updated my blog in a while, she in turn had lost interest in updating hers. Knowing this person very well, I suspected her disclosure was an attempt to entice me to share a few words, "musings," with the world, as I haven't published any thoughts since June 26th. Well, it worked. (Now get to work on yours, you know who you are.)

Here I am, out of hiding; though I wish I could say for how long. Lately the things I've had on my mind are not appropriate for my blog. I don't know, maybe if my name and picture wasn't all over it. They're not bad thoughts, just thoughts that not everyone understands. And for the people who know me, thoughts that would cause them to express such sentiments as "Aww, you poor thing, he's on his way" to "I thought you were intelligent, how could you write something so ignorant?" to maybe even "Wow, that's disgusting. You want to do what?"

You're curious now, aren't you? What on earth do I think about that I'm so afraid to chronicle for the world to see? Well, gentle readers, a whole heck of a lot. But, who am I to deprive you of the little tidbits of my existence. Here's a list of some of the things I've been pondering the past few weeks (in no order of significance):

I need to lose weight. I feel as though it's keeping me from having the active dating life I deserve. And I guess the PC thing would be to say that I want to be healthier for my own good. So, um, yeh, that too.
I'm a recent homeowner who is now wondering if I made the right decision. I'm overwhelmed by what I've done. Repairs are needed and things need replacing, and my lawn is dead. Oh, and I'm frightened that property taxes will continue to skyrocket. Where's my landlord? Someone take care of things for me again!
I like someone who doesn't like me back. Will I ever not be that loser I was in high school who didn't even go to her prom because no one asked. The story of my adult life.
I wear my hair natural, but sometimes I wish it were relaxed. Like right now.
I've been worrying about old age, and whether I'll have enough money to take care of myself.
I've been wondering what was behind Door #2. Did I make the right choices in life?
Years have passed and my book is still not finished. Am I a writer or a dreamer?
My wardrobe sucks. All I wear are black or gray pants and my choice of about 4 or 5 blouses.
I want a vacation away from myself and all the responsibility that comes with taking care of me. I just want to be Jane X for about a week and roam about the land with no immediate needs or concerns.
I bought some cookies after work and ate most of them. I wish I were stronger.

Well, there you have it. These are some of the things that entertain me during my waking and sleeping hours. Now if this is the stuff I feel comfortable sharing, imagine what's inside contained in the "X" files. *cue creepy music*

Until next time, my anonymous voyeurs. Dream of doing something wonderful; bonus points if you wake up and actually do it.

Love,

Jane

Lyrical Stimulation

2010-06-26T15:36:00.005-04:00

I write a lot about the power of music. Its ability to lead you on various mental journeys; recall memories and feelings from long ago; create a fantasy world to replace your reality. It's Saturday afternoon and I'm writing, sipping coffee, enjoying my living space, and, of course, listening to music. I've traveled with a number of selections today, thanks to YouTube, my personal radio station. I want to share some of the music stimulating my senses this comfortable afternoon. Enjoy this sample of things that court Jennifer's spirit.

Janelle Monàe

Janelle Monàe

Michael McDonald

Curtis Mayfield

The Roots

Norah Jones and Andre 3000

It's Been a While Since I Held an Editing Class

2010-06-17T10:00:00.006-04:00

These are just a few little nuggets of advice to use when querying the writers who rely on your direction to lead them to a polished finished work.

1. Be tactful
Address the query to "Author" or "AU" (or you can use "QU" for query, like I do). Be courteous, use "please" to show that you’re asking them to perform extra work.

2. Avoid capital letters and exclamation points in your query; be professional no matter how stunned you are at what you’re seeing.

Ex: Ronald Reagan, a democrat, believed in the concept of ‘trickle down’ economics.

Query:
[AU: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? REAGAN WAS NOT A DEMOCRAT!]

Revised Query:
[AU: Did you mean ‘republican’? Please check party affiliation.]

3. Word your query so you get the answer you are looking for.

Ex: According to the finding, men want to marry women who remind them of their mothers; however, there is no conclusive research.

Query:
[AU: "Can you please clarify this statement?"]

NOTE: I’m guilty of this one. Wording a query this way can yield two possible answers: 1) "No I can’t; and 2) the actual rewrite you were expecting. Instead, try clarifying the statement yourself and asking the author if your interpretation is correct.

Revised Query:
[AU: This may confuse readers. You cite a study's finding, but write there in no conclusive research. It may be helpful to state why the finding is not considered conclusive.]

4. When dealing with arithmetic, if you see an error, do not make changes if unsure of the author’s intentions.

Ex: 12 of the 60 respondents (50%) could not identify the State of California on a map.
It is incorrect to change the math here without checking with the writer. Unless you know whether to change the 50% to 20%; the 12 to 30; the 60 to 24; or the 12 of the 60 to 45 of the 90, query the author.

Query:
[AU: The arithmetic does not seem correct. 50% of 60 does not equal to 12. Which number needs to be changed?]

5. Make queries concise; avoid wordiness and sarcasm.

Ex: Jamie enjoyed the way Mark touched her, it was as if he loved her. Though she knew he didn’t. Come to think of it, she wasn’t so sure he even liked her. But she’d deal with her guilt in the morning. She needed Marc's touch tonight.

[AU: Wow, you’d think Jamie would have more self esteem. Guess not! Please confirm spelling of "Mark" or "Marc."]

Revised query:
[AU: Please confirm spelling of "Mark" or "Marc."]

Source: Stet Again!: More Tricks of the Trade for Publications People provided the rules; I provided the examples.

Procrastination: My Friend, My Enemy

2010-06-11T17:13:00.004-04:00

Monday morning. I arrived at the office at 7:45am and was met with my coworkers' surprise at my early arrival. Any other workday at that time, I would be digging through a pile of clothes for something decent to wear so that I could rush out of the house and catch my 8am bus. But today at 8am I was settled in my cubicle with the soothing warmth of my coffee awakening me and attempting to open a Word document. I needed to finish editing it before a 10am deadline. However, Word decided to process at a geriatric snail's pace, and if I dared scroll too fast, freeze up entirely. As expected, this drastically slowed my editing time. At 9am I called the person awaiting my work and explained the computer dilemma. Thankfully he understood. I continued to sweet talk the Word program and caress the mouse, all in an attempt to not upset things any more than I had. It worked! Word relented, allowing me to send the document off at 9:52am. The only problem was that I wasn't satisfied with my work. I wanted to look over it one more time, to apply that last layer of icing on what had the potential to be a very pretty cake. (with coconut flakes, hmmm)

I would have felt better had I not procrastinated. You see, I could have finished it Friday, and I kicked myself for not doing so. Though it wasn't my fault that the computer had a tantrum, and that I lost my edits twice, the breakdown only reminded me how I repeatedly have these close calls. I have the darndest time motivating myself to complete something when I have ample time to do so. I am motivated by fear and all of the chemicals that are released during a time of high stress. I need to know that the 25-page document lying in wait on my desk or inbox is due at 3:30pm...TODAY. And that the time is now 10:12am! Now, don't misunderstand me. I get the job done, and I've been told that I do it quite well. It's just that I wish I was one of these editors who get an assignment with a week to spare, and finish it two days later just for the heck of it. But I love what I do--arriving to the destination of a well-written, grammatically correct something or other. I just take the scenic route to get there.

Ah yes, proscrastination, you can truly be my foe at times; though I manage to beat you every now and again, when the stakes are high. But you are also a friend, a companion when I need a mental escape from the looming responsibility of completing a task. For while I battle with you to allow me to take care of it, you fill my imagination with the images, sounds, emotion, and often intense feelings I need to write, sing, dance, laugh, desire, and reflect. I suppose I should be grateful that I know how to stop and smell the flowers. I just wish I could do that and run a perfectly organized and efficient life at the same time.

I'm Also a Movie Director

2010-06-02T20:38:00.006-04:00

No, no, no, I haven't partnered with any Hollywood hotshots (not yet anyway). I do however create scripts, recruit talent, direct the action, and watch it on my mental movie screen. Because I'm a loser in the dating game, I feel great empathy for those poor souls who sit on the sidelines with me, waiting to be picked and given a chance. The underdogs. In homage to the "rest of us," most of my movie fantasies center around the adventures of intelligent and passionate Plain Janes who manage to get the sweet, handsome, gentle, and charming hero despite the adversities that I bestow on them. My movies are much better than what I find in the theatres. I sometimes star in them, other times I have an avatar. Depends on my mood. Here are a few of the classic "films" I’ve made in the past. I might close my eyes and watch one of them before bed tonight. (Oh, if only I could fall asleep right away like a normal person.)

1. That’s Your Husband?: An overweight, yet super sweet cleaning lady shocks an office full of beautiful thin singletons when they discover that she's married to their handsome and charming boss. He's completely oblivious to the fact that his subordinates wish he had chosen someone on his level of attractiveness; someone like one of them.

2. You've Got an Extra What?: A beautiful woman feels cursed by a genital deformity (Hey, I gotta keep the fantasy interesting right? Don't judge me!) As a result she's never gotten close with a man for fear of rejection. But then she meets a very special hero who's determined to show her what she's been missing.

3. Heart of Hearing: A cautious deaf woman who was raised in a convent, finds her way to the big city where she meets a special hero and his evil charming cousin. The evil cousin wants to rob her of her innocence; the hero wants to stop him. But does he arrive at the hotel in time?

4. The Roommate: Deciding between a sexy, music video model and her more conservative, homebody roommate should be easy right? Not for one hero who is quite pleased to learn that the roommate who's so boring (according to the model) is a skilled chess player--just like him. Oh the delicious dilemma?

Ahh yes, these and many more play each day on Jenn-Tube. Too bad I'm the only person that can tune in. Sometimes I wish that what I see so clearly in my head was on a real tv or movie screen. I would like to know if the audience would say "finally, something good to watch!" My actors are very talented and some have faces that I make up. Meaning I've never seen that exact face before in my outside life. I mix and match until I have an entirely new one. It's hard to do though, so I usually opt for people I've seen on the street, or in the store. Wanna know something? Sometimes I wish it wasn't make believe.

The Difference a Year Makes

2010-05-11T14:49:00.003-04:00

I know I’ve been away for a while, but I’m ready to get back in the blog game. Meaning I hope to muster the right words to compose one of my “musings” at least once a week. Am I hard at work on my debut novel, is this why I’ve been so busy? Nope. In fact the transfer to paper of what my characters are shouting at me is pathetically stagnant. The only things I’ve written down lately are appointments and bill payments; and the only typing I’ve done is in reply to comments posted in different discussion board threads. I’ve allowed my commitments to other things to overshadow the promise I made to myself to have something finished by the end of ’09. But the interesting thing about time is that it keeps on ticking, and new opportunities to correct one’s wrong (in my case, poor prioritizing) come around again. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Ah yes, my post title, the difference a year makes. Or maybe I should say two years, because that’s when this thing I’m going to talk about all started. April 2008 was a time of high-anxiety for me. I’d applied to the Summer Publishing Institute at New York University (NYU) and was praying for acceptance, as I knew this was the perfect opportunity to network with the top dogs of the book and magazine publishing industry. I’d fallen in love with NYC and wanted to live there more than anything (a dream of mine since I was a child). From my frequent trips there I’d met several fellow creative spirits and felt as though I could finally live in a place where my kind of people lived; quirky weird people just like me who wanted to be friends. During this time I was actively searching for any place to live that wasn’t a cardboard box, and had begun to declutter my apartment—all in anticipation of my big move. I even put a deposit on a room in a boarding house and had secured a move in date. I also scored two job interviews in case NYU didn’t pan out. It was so close to happening I could taste it. And it tasted sweet, like a ripened peach.

But by summer’s end, I could only sulk at the remnants of my crumbled cookie. I’d lost touch with the people I’d met there (if NYC’ers think hopping the train to the next borough is long distance, imagine how DC seemed like a galaxy away). NYU denied me; I suspect because of my age and work experience, as the program is geared toward very recent college graduates with minds ready for molding. Not an old seasoned loser like me who didn’t make the right moves when I had the chance. It may have been too hard for them to fathom my willingness to leave my job as an Assistant Editor to move to New York where the best I could hope for after the program was landing an Editorial Assistant gig (a step up from an internship), where I would most certainly need to bartend or shelve books at some bookstore in the Village to make ends meet. But I was willing to do it because: 1) I wanted to leave DC and felt that NYC was where I needed to be, and 2) I wanted to start settling down and saw this as my last chance to do something so financially risky.

Fast forward one year to Summer 2009, and I loved my job as an Assistant Editor. I was learning so much about substantive editing, content management systems, editorial and production schedules, graphic design, and was managing my own editing projects from copy submission to publication. But something was missing, the writing responsibilities I wanted, and a title that reflected it. I wanted to be a Writer/Editor. And what do you know, I soon saw an opening with everything that I wanted. A government position in walking distance from my apartment. The place I wanted to give up to live in a small room with a shared shower (and more rent). And what do you know, I got the job!! By this time, I’d even joined an organization of young professionals dedicated to community service and was meeting some very ambitious and like-minded individuals.

Fast forward one year to May 2010, and I’m a busy little bee these days. I’m now a homeowner!! My life has become quite stable here in the DMV (the term referring to the District/Maryland/Virginia area). I’m coordinating events in the community service organization; doing well at my job (at least I hope so); I’m writing and editing quite a bit (for work though, not on that brilliant novel); and am trying to make the right decisions based on what life is showing me. I still visit NYC and I still wouldn’t mind having a 212 area code someday, but for right now, the opportunities are right here, and I need to stay. For how long—well wouldn’t I like to know the answer to that. The other day, after a long hiatus I ventured back to Mediabistro.com, where I used to keep track of all the latest happenings in the NYC freelance and publishing scene. I checked out the discussion board and saw a thread from an anxious applicant to the NYU Summer Publishing Institute, asking if anyone else was feeling impatient in the wait for an admissions decision. I smiled and shook my head in kinship of what this person was feeling. Good luck, I thought. Some posters replied that they received acceptance notifications, others were still waiting. I’ll admit to feeling a sense of “what if,” but I believe that I’m where I need to be right now. But I can’t forget the disappointment I felt when they told me no. Spending those six weeks at NYU for the opportunity to step foot inside a publishing company was the most important thing in my world. Now I know how to start my own publishing company. The difference a year makes.

Psst...I Hear Other People's Conversations

2010-04-20T20:40:00.002-04:00

So after a long work day yesterday, I found myself practically limping to the bus stop in a pair of heels more fitting a tortuous interrogation than adornment of a woman’s feet. While slowly moving along, a woman and young boy (in more comfortable shoes than I), quickly walked ahead of me. As they passed I heard the boy say “that’ll be good if she dies.” Now I’ve heard some pretty interesting things in passing, but these morbid words coming from such a young mind puzzled me. Was he referring to a movie? A character in a book? Real life? As I usually do in situations like this, I began to piece together the conversation that may have led to this boy’s sentiments. This is purely for entertainment purposes only, as I'm often plagued with depressing thoughts of reality and welcome the opportunity to get a little creative. Note: I made a similar post back in July after overhearing an interesting little snippet on a Manhattan sidewalk.

"My teacher's on to me, I think she knows."
"That's ridiculous. Who could ever conceive of something so outlandish? And besides, it's just wishful thinking."
"I'm telling you, she knows something. It's the way she looks at me, it's not the same way she looks at the other kids. And I swear I don't do anything to tip her off. I talk about kid stuff, act like a kid, pretend not to like any of the girls in class, all the normal stuff a boy my age should do."
"Well if she knows, and that's a really big if, it would be an incredible blessing, sweetheart. Then we'd be free."
"Free. It's been years. To actually walk down the street looking the way I should, to be able to do all the things I should be doing. To love you...the way I should."
"I know the curse was meant to hurt just you, but it hurts me more than you'll know. I have to pretend you're my son, when you're really my husband. To the world you're a small boy, but those eyes are the eyes of the man I married many years ago."
"Stop it now, there's people up ahead."
"I want someone to know dammit! So the curse can be lifted finally."
"But they have to find out on their own, you know the rules. They have to figure out how and why this curse was placed on me, then confront me on it."
"Or we tell them, then kill them. Then it'll work."
"Don't tempt me. But the odds of her confronting a child are zero. It would definitely be the only way."
"Do it."
"Yeh. That'll be good if she dies."

Jennifer's Shortest Blog Post Ever

2010-04-12T23:50:00.003-04:00

The Library of Congress sent me my official copyright for my short story "Unspoken Duty."
I will put it in a frame and display it with pride. I'm so happy that I'm able to express through words the images and "voices" in my head. Just wanted to share my news with the world.

Relationships and the Economy

2010-03-20T10:54:00.007-04:00

Here is a short article I wrote on maintaining relationships during economic hardship. A much shorter version will appear in an upcoming newsletter issue with a health and quality of living theme.
__________________________________________

Maintaining Healthy Relationships During Economic Hardships

The economic headlines are ominous: “More Layoffs Predicted”; “Unemployment Claims Climbing”; “Millions Without Healthcare.” If you or someone you care about is included in these statistics, you may already be aware of the strain financial hardships can have on relationships with family members, friends, romantic partners, and even coworkers. Below are some common issues that many are facing and ways to cope.

Your Family
The saying “blood is thicker than water” is often used to stress the importance of always having your family’s back, no matter what. But trying to “do right” by your family can pose a strain if you are the only member of a close-knit family who still has a job, or the one who everyone knows has it to spare. This gets even more complicated if multiples hands are extended.

What You Can Do: There is no one right way to go about dealing with a family member in this situation, but what you should remember is the importance of setting realistic limits and not overextending yourself. Trying to do too much is stressful and can interfere in your ability to handle things in your own life. Conversely, if you are the one who is experiencing a financial hardship, you should never try to make a relative feel guilty for faring better in this economy than you, nor should you embarrass him or her by boasting the specifics of their financial situation.

Your Significant Other
Seeing the man or woman you love face job loss or other financial hardship can be the ultimate test of a relationship’s strength survival and ultimate survival. One or both may feel the need to give the other space out of feelings of guilt, embarrassment, or helplessness. “If couples are honest and compassionate with one another, if they learn to work as a team, they could emerge with a better relationship,” says Pepper Schwartz, author of the New York Times article “Difficult But Valuable Conversations.” (April 2009)

What You Can Do: Communicate. Creating an open atmosphere where open and honest discussion can take place without fear of backlash is a vital part of maintaining a romantic relationship during a hardship; particularly one where traditional gender roles may have shifted. If your partner usually foot the bill and can longer do so comfortably, you have to ask yourself if you are comfortable stepping up, and if you are, for how long. If you are the one suffering the hardship, you have to determine how much of an effect you foresee it having on the relationship and communicating with your partner what he or she should expect. During this time, you can mix things up by introducing your spouse or significant other to new and creative activities that are both entertaining and free or low cost. But most importantly know that it is a frustrating time for you both. Your understanding and compassion for each other is needed now more than ever.

Your Friends
When your friends are experiencing financial hardships, you may feel awkward inviting them out to socialize. Or you may feel like you’re bragging by telling them about that kudos you got from your supervisor. Though their finances may be different, they are still your friends and may still want to spend time with you, and most importantly, they still want to root for you as you would for them. Maintaining a sense of normalcy is important for anyone experiencing this type hardship.

What You Can Do: Try to see each other as often as you did before. Simply meeting up for coffee to remind them that you are there can do wonders in maintaining a friendship through a rough patch. And if you can make the time, offer your assistance to help brainstorm new career moves, or keep an eye and ear out for job prospects in their field.

Your Coworkers
When layoffs or department restructuring hits the workplace it can be a very stressful time where anger consumes the laid off. Guilt can overwhelm the layoff survivors as they adjust to the loss of coworkers, a possible increase in workload, and heightened anxiety about how to behave around those who make hiring and firing decisions. The genuineness of workplace relationships is tested during this time, particularly if a workplace buddy gets to stay while you get the boot, or vice versa. Do you stay in touch or what?

What You Can Do: While it is easy to cut your losses when you or a coworker leaves the workplace, it is important to stay in touch with those whose work ethic or accomplishments you admire. Create or maintain existing connections with them on networking sites like Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter. And do not neglect the power of a personal phone call. You cannot afford to lose touch. Depending on your industry and the power of your network, you may miss out on an opportunity by allowing too much time to pass.

(Copyright 2010. Jennifer Singleton)

Old Major's Dream

2010-03-14T15:00:00.006-04:00

I was introduced to the residents in George Orwell's Animal Farm many years ago, and have never forgotten how moved I was by the suffering they endured. As the story begins, all the animals of Manor Farm are suffering at the hands of man, cruel oppressors indeed. As the story unfolds, however, we are saddened to learn that a revolution that was supposed to result in the animals' independence, results only in them receiving a new oppressor, a new ruling class...their own brethren, the Pig. How does this happen? How could members of an oppressed 'people' become oppressors themselves? You'll have to read to find out. You won't regret it.

The story opens with Old Major, the most respected animal on the farm, gathering all the animals together to tell them of the strange dream he'd had the night before. What results is a collective call to free themselves from the regime of Mr. Jones, Manor Farm's owner. Here is an excerpt of the moving speech:

"Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it:
our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given
just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us
who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength;
and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are
slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the meaning
of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is
free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth.

"But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land
of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those who dwell
upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of England is
fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance
to an enormously greater number of animals than now inhabit it. This
single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows, hundreds of
sheep--and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that are now
almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this miserable
condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our labour is stolen
from us by human beings. There, comrades, is the answer to all our
problems. It is summed up in a single word--Man. Man is the only real
enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and
overwork is abolished for ever.

"Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not
give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he
cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the
animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that
will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our
labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there is not one of
us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how
many thousands of gallons of milk have you given during this last year?
And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up
sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies.
And you hens, how many eggs have you laid in this last year, and how many
of those eggs ever hatched into chickens? The rest have all gone to market
to bring in money for Jones and his men. And you, Clover, where are those
four foals you bore, who should have been the support and pleasure of your
old age? Each was sold at a year old--you will never see one of them
again. In return for your four confinements and all your labour in the
fields, what have you ever had except your bare rations and a stall?

"And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their
natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones.
I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred children. Such is the
natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the end.
You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will
scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror we all
must come--cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the dogs
have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those great muscles of
yours lose their power, Jones will sell you to the knacker, who will cut
your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds. As for the dogs, when
they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick round their necks and
drowns them in the nearest pond..."

Note: I think we are truly blessed to have access to art, from literature to paintings to sheet music, that can educate, entertain, and inspire us long after the creator has left us. Anyone with a nagging thought or idea, please record it at once. These characters, Old Major, Mollie, Boxer, and others, haunted Mr. Orwell's thoughts for who knows how long. Thank goodness he wrote down what they had to say before it was too late. As a result, millions around the world have analyzed, discussed, and taught the meaning behind those words. I'm certainly inspired.

And I Love Her

2010-03-01T19:24:00.004-05:00

Dear Inspiration,

It's me again. I miss you terribly, I mean it. Please come back to me. I feel so good when I'm with you, it's been so long since you've blessed me with your presence. I'm sorry that I've allowed you to slip away again, will you please forgive me and return to my soul?

Dear Jennifer,

I'm tired of going through this with you. You summons me; I appear; then you allow everything else in your life to take precedence over what I provide. How many times have I given you the perfect ending? Delivered the right arrangement of words? Yet what have you done with it? Nothing. I'm not sure if you deserve another chance. Do you know how many writers anticipate my arrival and reward me by expeditiously jotting down what I conjure in their minds? You ma'am have a lot to learn. But that's why I'm here. I see that you struggle and I don't want to give up on you (you're my favorite of them all). I return time and time again, each time hoping that you finally use me to make your literary dreams come true. But remember, though you're my favorite, I'm still not monogamous. I spread my ideas around (yes, even that particular one you hold so dear), and if you don't use it, someone else will.
Moving on, I know how much you enjoy listening to Ahmad Jamal. I found this little gem to help you travel to that special place that seduces your creativity. Now get to work, don't make me regret this.

Dear Inspiration,

Thank you for not giving up on me. I'll see to it that your efforts are not in vain. Thanks for the musical elixir, "Swahililand" is the truth. Off to create magic.

ROFL: Redundancy and Other Fancy Language

2010-02-28T22:00:00.001-05:00

You've heard the saying "what a difference a day makes" right? Well, how about what a difference a few less words make? Many of us believe that a wordy sentence or a sentence that uses academic language (big words) automatically makes said sentence read more eloquently. Not true. The trick to writing a good sentence is not in the number of words used, or the need for a dictionary to understand it. The goal is to communicate the message as simply as possible, while keeping in mind the intended audience's reading level and knowledge of the topic.

Read the before and after sentences below and see if you can come up with other ways to simplify them. Take it a little further and re-read an article in your favorite publication, a set of how-to instructions, a passage from the novel you're reading, or even the post you're reading right now to determine if the writer could have deleted five or six words, or replaced two words with one, and still retained the meaning.

Sample #1

Before
If the location of the land is in a state other than the state in which the tribe’s reservation is located, the tribe’s justification of anticipated benefits from the acquisition will be subject to greater scrutiny.

After
If the land is in a different state than the tribe's reservation, we will scrutinize the tribe's justification of anticipated benefits more thoroughly.

Sample #2

Before
When the process of freeing a vehicle that has been stuck results in ruts or holes, the operator will fill the rut or hole created by such activity before removing the vehicle from the immediate area.

After
If you make a hole while freeing a stuck vehicle, you must fill the hole before you drive away.

Sample #3

Before
Under 25 CFR §1.4(b), the Secretary of the Interior may in specific cases or in specific geographic areas, adopt or make applicable to off-reservation Indian lands all or any part of such laws, ordinances, codes, resolutions, rules or other regulations of the State and political subdivisions in which the land is located as the Secretary shall determine to be in the best interest of the Indian owner or owners in achieving the highest and best use of such property.

After
Section 1.4(b) of 25 CFR allows us to make State or local laws or regulations apply to your off-reservation lands. We will do this only if we find that it will help you to achieve the highest and best use of your lands.

Sample #4

Before
Sections 4.40 through 4.71 do not apply to Indian probate proceedings, heirship determinations under the White Earth Reservation Land Settlement Act of 1985, and other proceedings under subpart D of this part, except that §§ 4.40 through 4.71 do apply to cases referred to an administrative law judge pursuant to § 4.337(a).

After
Unless a case is referred to an administrative law judge under § 4.337(a), §§ 4.40 through 4.71 do not apply to:

1. Indian probate proceedings;
2. Heirship determinations under the White Earth Reservation Land Settlement Act of 1985; and
3. Other proceedings under subpart D of this part.

Sample #5

Before
If a deponent fails to answer a question propounded, or a party upon whom a request is made under § 4.70, or a party on whom interrogatories are served fails to adequately respond or objects to the request, or any part thereof, or fails to permit inspection as requested, the discovering party may move the administrative law judge for an order compelling a response or inspection in accordance with the request.

After
You may move the administrative law judge for an order compelling a response or inspection if:

1. A deponent fails to answer a question;
2. A party upon whom you made a request under § 4.70, or a party on whom you served interrogatories either does not adequately respond or objects to the request; or
3. A party on whom you made a request under § 4.70, or a party on whom interrogatories are served does not permit inspection as requested.
-------

Jennifer's Note:
I can't take credit for these great examples. I present them courtesy of PlainLanguage.gov - Improving Communication from the Federal Government to the Public. This site offers great resources for writers and editors tasked with communicating and translating "government talk."

The Disagreement: A Story in the Town of Grammarville

2010-02-07T00:01:00.004-05:00

Once upon a time in the town of Grammarville, in the tight-knit neigborhood of Sentence, there lived a subject and a verb who never agreed on anything. When the subject was singular, the verb was plural; when the verb was singular, the subject thought it best to be plural. As you can imagine, this caused a great deal of confusion with the other residents of Sentence. The prepositional phrases, adverbs, and dangling participles protested whenever the pair were seen together. For they were breaking a town ordinance.
"Stop this madness! Because of you two, the rest of us do not make sense!" they'd shout.

Feed up, a gang of prepositional phrases gathered other Sentence residents for an impromptu street hall meeting. A brave participle was sent to advise the subject and verb of their required presence. Even though these two had been villainized, they too wanted a resolution to the problem, and eagerly accompanied the participle back to the meeting place. For two days and two nights the attendees debated, and shouted, and cried, and pleaded. But then, at an hour before the beginning of the third day, laughter and singing were the dominating sounds.

To everyone's delight, the residents emerged from the street hall meeting having reached an agreement. They announced that the subject and verb had agreed to agree in what would come to be known as the "Great Subject-Verb Agreement." The town ordinance was amended and changed to a law; the punishment for not adhering to it was the label of being "grammatically incorrect."

Here are nine highlights from the subject-verb tenets comprising the Agreement (color coordinated for your reading pleasure):

1.Singular indefinite pronoun subjects take singular verbs.
Ex: No one wants to eat the last piece of cake.

2. Inverted subjects (when the verb comes before the subject) must agree with the verb.
Ex: There are three cars to tow.

3. A phrase or clause between a subject and verb does not change the number of the subject.
Ex: A box of stale cereal sits on the counter.

4. For compound subjects joined by or/nor, the verb agrees with the subject closer to it.
Ex: Neither the buyer nor the sellers are interested in paying the closing cost.

5. Collective nouns may be singular or plural depending on how they behave in the sentence.
Ex: The Senate has decided not to convene today. (as a collective unit)
Ex: The Senate members have decided not to meet. (as individuals)

6. Compound subjects joined by and are always require a plural verb.
Ex: A writer and his pen make an attractive couple.

7. Plural form subjects with a plural meaning require a plural verb.
Ex: The scissors are a dangerous toy.

8. Titles of single entities require a singular verb.
Ex: The Bridges of Madison County is an interesting read.

9. With a subject and subject complement of a different number, the verb must agree with the subject.
Ex: The topic for today is relationships.

(The nine rules aren't mine, of course, but my little Grammarville story is a Jennifer Singleton special creation.)

The Abandoned Clown Train

2010-01-23T21:52:00.009-05:00

When I first saw this picture of what the web has dubbed the "abandoned clown train," I was quite disturbed. Growing up, I was what you would call a scaredy-cat. Being alone in the dark scared me; large stuffed animals that were as tall as me scared me (especially a large stuffed animal placed ominously in a dark corner); abandoned buildings with broken out windows scared me (especially an abandoned building at nighttime); thoughts of discolored and dented vehicles being pulled from lakes and ponds (particularly ones that may have still contained people)--it goes on and on.

Seeing this rusted happy clown face, a shadow of its former glory, brought all of that back. Its current state in the middle of this overgrown field or pasture is definitely the kind of stuff that dominates my nightmares. I can see it now--as I await dreams of happiness and joy, my mind spitefully places me in this rusted clown ride on a dark night, which by some force is able to carry on like it once did. I'd be fastened of course, and unable to free myself. *shudders*

I tried to find out the location of this clown train. I read a few message board comments that say it's a ride that was abandoned in Pripyat, near the Chernobyl explosion; others speculate that it's an abandoned ride in a small town in Ohio. All I know is that if I stumbled onto this ride, day or night, it would take a team of rational-minded individuals to convince that it wasn't possible for this clown's little eyes to light back up, its train cars to realign themselves, and for the whole thing to squeak to a slow start--*cue squeaky, rusted sounds*--with a wicked yet cheerful declaration from the scary clown face confirming my worst fears: "Jennifer...I've been waiting for you....all aboard!" *squeak, squeak, squeak*

The Single Ton: What I Learned About Myself

2010-01-20T22:51:00.003-05:00

sin·gle·ton (snggl-tn)
n.
1. Games A playing card that is the only one of its suit in a player's hand.
2.
a. An individual separated or distinguished from two or more of its group.
b. An offspring born alone.
[From the name Singleton (influenced by single).]

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2009. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

singleton [ˈsɪŋgəltən]
n
1. (Group Games / Bridge) Bridge an original holding of one card only in a suit
2. a single object, individual, etc., separated or distinguished from a pair or group
3. (Mathematics) Maths a set containing only one member
4. a person who is neither married nor in a relationship
[from single, on the model of simpleton]

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged 6th Edition 2003. © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003

There's Something About Jennifer

2010-01-19T19:38:00.004-05:00

Today marked the first time in about four months since I've used the gym at my job. I work in a building with a very complex layout, making finding the gym no easy feat for a newbie. My first time wandering through it, in my confusion at the lack of signs, I ventured into the men's dressing room by mistake. After encountering a naked man, another man shouted "This is the men's room. Leave!" I backed out apologetically, but based on his reaction, you'd think I was a lunatic. So that's why I never went back down there. Until today.

Nothing eventful took place. This post isn't even about the gym, I'm just rambling.

There's something about Jennifer. I would love to see an analysis of whatever energy I'm putting out into the universe. I attract the most "interesting" people to put it nicely. I always have. I have some funny and not so funny stories, but I'll just write about what happened to me after I left the gym this evening. Wow, so the gym does tie into this some kind of way. So I did my thing on the treadmill and my legs were a little tired afterward. I decided to catch the bus home and walked about two blocks to the bus stop.

About six or so minutes into my wait, a man who appeared to be in his 40's came to stand beside me. I noticed that he had an arm full of folders with papers protruding from them and had a satchel of some sort on his shoulder.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked.

"Oh, about five minutes." He laughed.

[Now before I continue, I'll need you to channel one of the characters that Tracy Morgan played on SNL. A character named "Brian Fellows," a nature show host whose sexual orientation was questionable and who asked the most ignorant questions with an attitude, almost angrily, and with a stereotypical "diva" delivery. Click here to view a Hulu clip.]

"So did you go to any of the free concerts they had yesterday. Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin?" he continued.

"No, I didn't."

"Well why not! It's free!"

"I usually hear about things after they've happened, unfortunately."

As if I'd asked him to do so, the man proceeded to open one of the folders under his arm and pull out a packet of photocopied images of Diana Ross. He got closer for a little show and tell of his special collection.

"Do you see this jacket she's wearing, just look at that. Oh and those boots. Can you wear boots like that?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"She looks so good to be 63. If you put your finger over her face like this, you'd think she was twenty something. Don't she look twenty something?"

"Yeh she does. Looks better than me. She looks real good."

The bus approached. "You catching this bus? Good, when we sit down I can show you the rest."

The female bus driver opened the door to let passengers off. While we waited, the man surveyed the driver, turned to me, and asked "Now she is in bad taste. Don't you think she's in bad taste?"

"Uh, I'm neutral. I don't have anything to say." The only thing I could imagine he didn't approve of were the woman's two-toned braids. But I was wearing braids as well. So I was quite confused.

"Well you either think she's in bad taste or you don't!"

So we get on the bus. He sits across from me and finishes the show and tell.

"You want this magazine?" he asked while offering me the lastest issue of Jet.

"No thank you."

"Well why not? I have two!"

Apparently, he was still appalled at the driver who was in bad taste. She must have triggered his memory of other experiences with such women.

"I walked up to this lady and I said 'Can I ask you a question?' She said yes, and I said 'How long have you been friends with bad taste?' She said 'Excuse me?' and I said 'Why do you have your m's confused? If you had a (m)irror you wouldn't look a (m)ess?"

"Wow," I replied, for lack of anything else. The man was attracting some attention from the other passengers, and as a result, so was I.

"She said 'For your information, I have 15 mirrors in my house.' So I said 'Well that leads to my next question. Why aren't you using any of them?'"

"Wow."

"Yes I did. And then there was this other lady with this real messed up weave. I said 'Excuse me, can I ask you a question? Why do you have your l's confused. She said 'What are you talking about?' I said 'It's not the (l)ength, it's how it (l)ooks.'"

We arrived at my stop and the man and I exchanged goodbyes as if we'd had run of the mill conversation. Ladies and gentleman, this is but one of the tales of my life here in the District. And so I sigh as I sip on the coffee that's pictured above. My adoration of my name wouldn't allow me to leave it on the shelf of the Smithsonian's gift store.