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Writing
Novels that have influenced me
One of the many memes going around Facebook these days is a reinvigorated “Top Ten Novels” list. Several people have challenged me to list ten novels which have impacted my life in some way. Obviously Lazarus, Covenant, Epiphany, and Birth of a Dark Nation impacted my life the most! However, here are ten other novels which also influenced me or changed my life in some way:
The White Boy Shuffle by Paul Beatty. This is one of the most brilliant books I have ever read. Paul Beatty truly inspired me to take my writing seriously at a young age. He was a poet-turned-novelist, something like me, and his lyricism and vocabulary came together in ways I had never seen before.
Winding Down to Wind Up
Thanks to the generosity of a dear friend, I am heading out of town this week for a short urban retreat. I will be heading to a city in the northeastern US to just kick back, relax, eat well, and spend hours and hours writing Blood of a Dark Nation, the next installment of the Dark Nation series.
I have had a lot on my plate recently. Gamma Xi Phi, the professional fraternity for artists, is still a very important volunteer experience for me and I recently joined the Georgetown University African American Advisory Board. Though I’ve still been writing, it hasn’t been with the intensity that I usually do. However, I think this trip will be an excellent way to kick-start the next portion of developing this book.
Just time…in a different environment…with no interruptions. Exactly what Justin and Dante need to get the rest of their story told.
I’ve written about 50 pages of the novel and I’m guessing it will be about 200 pages total. Covenant was also a short novel, but it gets to the point.
Blood of a Dark Nation will have a lot of action. I’m excited to introduce several new characters, including Annette Mitchell, Dr. Leung, The Butcher, and of course, The Jackal.
Spoiler alert: There will be blood.
That said, I will be scaling back my blogging and social media updates unless it has to do with the writing of this book, from next week through the end of August. Since Blood of a Dark Nation is totally outlined and 50 pages are already written, I don’t think it will take longer than nine weeks to finish the rest.
I would *like* to publish the novel by the end of the year, retaining my annual publishing streak. But I can’t promise that because the editor and cover designer still need to be paid as well as the company which formats my work for e-books. (I could do that myself, but I really am not that good at it.)
I might pull a Beyonce and just surprise y’all when it drops. That does take a LOT of pressure off me when it comes to the promotion leading up to a launch. Like, dropping a book is much like planning any other special event. But really… like really really…. I don’t make a lot of money off my books in the first place, so why not take the risk of a “surprise” publish date? My super readers follow me on this blog and social media so there’s little risk that anyone would miss the announcement.
Just rambling at this point. Haven’t made any decisions yet.
Y’all take care!
The Resurgence of DC Black Pride
Last weekend, as is every Memorial Day Weekend, was DC Black Pride, sometimes referred to as DC Gay Black Pride by those of us who aren’t ashamed of the word “gay.”
I went to my first Pride in the year 2000. It was epic. I think everyone’s first Pride is epic, no matter how small it becomes. I didn’t attend my next Pride until the year 2004. That year I sat in the lobby at the feet of author Brent Dorian Carpenter as he held court, selling his book and making new friends. It’s because of Brent that I knew I could publish without the aid of an agent or traditional publishing house. The following year, 2005, I participated in Pride as an author and vendor for the first time. Since then, I have attended Pride each year, if even only for a few minutes.
A few years ago, DC Black Pride “fell off.” Not only were the crowds dwindling due to competition from circuit parties and for-profit LGBT-related vacations, it could also be said that Pride itself had not trained the next generation of leaders to take it over from the elders. For me, the last straw was last year, when I was told rather flippantly that there would be no authors forum.
You have to understand, in addition to all the parties that Pride is known for are the more important workshops and “daytime” events, such as the Poetry Slam, the Film Festival, the Author’s Forum. It’s not just vendors… this is an opportunity for authors to directly connect with their readers, get new readers, and inspire other writers – just as I was inspired by Brent.
Perhaps even more importantly is that the people who attend Pride are those who want to be on the forefront of new movements in the black gay community, politically and artistically. If I hadn’t been an avid Pride attendee, I would have never known about black gay films like The Ski Trip and black gay shows like Noah’s Arc.
So it was a heartbreaker that they eliminated the Writer’s Forum.
But this year they brought it back and I was invited! As usual, I had a ball. Wyatt O’Brian Evans did a more than capable job as the moderator. I was joined on the panel by old friends BuddahDesmond and LaToya Hankins and new friends J. Omarr and Tiana Meek (T’Ego). I think it was the right size, diverse mix of opinions, and a good vibe overall. The audience had great questions, too. I was lucky to reconnect with other old friends from my Georgetown days.
I would say that DC Black Pride is definitely alive and well. The audiences, though smaller than they were in the mid-00’s, are growing again. The spirit was back. Nobody seemed defeated or tired or unhappy. The name finally matched the feeling – PRIDE.
I hope this message encourages all of you who had written Pride off to make it your Memorial Day Weekend destination once more. The writers are still writing and we are again being included. Let’s make it even bigger next year, okay?
Throwback Thursday: Social Probation
In this excerpt from Lazarus, I write about one of the occasions the Beta pledges were on line and had to navigate the campus while on strict social probation. Enjoy.
After having purchased extra white shirts and black slacks for our line brothers, Ed and I stepped off of the bus and paused at the front gates. We were both dressed identically, from shoes to shirts, and even our thick winter coats happened to be black.
“How are you feeling?” Ed whispered.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
Our book bags on our backs, and shopping bags in our hands, we walked side by side through the campus. Our goal was to meet our line brothers in the smaller of our two cafeterias and have lunch together before we split up for class.
As we walked through the diagonal red brick path toward the heart of campus, my heartbeat sped up. Dozens of white kids passed us by, without so much as a second look. It could have been that our stoic faces disturbed them, but it was also highly likely that they did not notice us. We willed ourselves to be invisible so that we would not be forced to ignore our friends.
I noticed that our pace was quicker than it would have been had we not been pledges. Only about a minute had passed, and we were already walking through The Square, the symbolic center of campus as well as the busiest place at midday. We were nearly through The Square when someone called out for Ed.
“Ayo, Ed!” the male voice called. I resisted the urge to turn to Ed, and we walked on.
“Ed!” the man called again. We continued to walk, not daring to break social probation. The sharp voice cut through the winter air like a blade, for as busy as it was, The Square was still relatively quiet. I could sense Ed tensing up, but we walked on.
“Hey Ed, I know you hear me!”
I prayed that whoever was calling Ed would not try to confront him right there in front of everyone. It just would not do to have an argument in the middle of campus on our first real day of pledging.
We stepped up our pace and finally were clear from the center of campus. We only had two more buildings to pass before we reached the cafeteria. There were more people of color walking on this side of campus, but fortunately, we did not know most of them. Several smiled or nodded, which we could handle with a small smirk or nod back.
Every now and then, I touched my collar to make sure my pledge pin was still there. The golden disc with the burgundy letter P was smaller than a dime, and we all were paranoid about losing them since we had to wear them at all times.
We reached the cafeteria and got in the longish line to have our identification cards swiped through the card reader so that we could eat. Ed and I surveyed the dining area and saw Calen and Micah already seated at a square table near the rear of the room. We made eye contact with each other, and they rose to begin getting their food.
Kathy, the middle-aged lady who swiped the cards took one look at me and Ed and knew our story.
“Oh my God!” She quietly exclaimed as she held my card in her hand. “Y’all are pledging, too?”
She smiled as we looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
“Well, babies,” she began. “I know y’all can’t talk to me, but don’t worry about it. You just do your thing. It’ll all be over soon enough.”
We couldn’t help but to smile at Kathy, as she was the first person to really wish us good luck in the process.
“Yeah, babies,” she said as she swiped Ed’s card through the reader. “I seen a lot of young men – and ladies – be on line throughout the years. Y’all will be just fine.”
***
If you liked what you read and want to know what happens next, please purchase Lazarus today!
Only 54 Black-Owned Bookstores left in America and I ran out of ****s to give
That title was pretty harsh, right? I’m sorry.
I just read a blog entry from Troy, the founder and webmaster of AALBC. He reports that there are only 54 black-owned bookstores left in America, about half of the amount existing in 2012. There are many reasons cited and I suppose they are fair.
I really should be quite sad that the number of black-owned bookstores in this country is dwindling. But I am not. I am an indie author who knows how to reach my market. I have opted out of the system which requires agents, major publishing houses, and major distributors. In fact, the disappearing black bookstore just might be a symptom of success for the indie black authors who have discovered the companies who do right by us.
I have two quick stories:
When I first published Lazarus (which you should buy there or on Amazon), I got linked up with an African American book distributor. I can’t remember their names, but I remember they were the only black distributor listed in some book I read for aspiring authors. Long story short, I sent them a box of my books and never saw a single dime. That was over $300 dollars of merchandise they just… took. Emails bounced, phone disconnected. It was a classic con and I fell for it, much like many other authors, I’m sure.
So my book never made it to most book stores. Which is fine because Lazarus did very well for a book in limited availability. I knew how and where to market the book and I got a few paid speaking engagements based on its success as well.
All this without traditional bookstores and with Amazon and direct sales through my website.
But aside from the distribution scam, I want to talk about the few independent bookstores I did work with: One gay bookstore and one black bookstore.
Lambda Rising Books in DC (which has since closed) was a great bookstore. A young gay man like me would have never thought so many books had ever been written about the gay experience. And they had a whole section for black gay books as well! They kept Lazarus in stock. They would call me personally when they ran out, to the point where I couldn’t keep up with the demand. I loved them for that. Honestly, I was afraid that the book would just collect dust on their shelves because I wasn’t convinced black gay people were patronizing gay bookstores in large numbers. I was wrong.
There was another bookstore in DC, a chain store actually. You know the name but I will not say it. I wanted so badly to be included in this store. If your book was in this black bookstore, you had really made it. I followed all their procedures to be included to the letter. Sent them a copy of the book. Nothing. No response.
And of course you think to yourself what the hell man, I am black and this is a book, why wouldn’t they carry my book?
I felt bad, but I moved on.
A year or so later, the Federal City Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., invited me to participate in their emerging authors event. Nikki Giovanni was the headliner that year and the black bookstore I mentioned was the official vendor. They sold Nikki’s books upstairs, along with other products, and the indie authors were downstairs.
So I got my picture with Nikki and we chit-chatted about my book. So she says “Why aren’t they carrying your book?” and I’m like “I don’t know, I submitted it for their review and didn’t hear back.”
So she basically beckons the owner over to us and says “Excuse me, I understand you’re not carrying this young man’s book?”
And he’s all incredulous like “What you you mean we’re not carrying it?”
And by this point I’m all smug because Nikki Giovanni is literally advocating for my inclusion in this bookstore right in front of me!
So, I guess to avoid a scene, the dude is like “Well all he has to do is send up a book and we will get that process going!”
I say “Yes, I did that, but I will do it again.”
So I thanked Nikki Giovanni and got on with life. I sent the bookstore all the same materials and another book and patiently waited.
No response. Again. They played the hell out of me and lied to Nikki Giovanni.
If you’ve read this far, you might be wondering why I am still holding on to this. It’s because black gay authors have, for years, been treated like shit by straight black bookstore owners, to the point where I don’t even attempt to work with them.
And when I heard that the bookstore in this story closed, I had but one response:
When Lambda Rising closed, of course I was in mourning for weeks, but I ultimately knew that whether one is a fan of black bookstores or gay bookstores, the same books on the shelves are available on Amazon and through the author’s websites. And a very large number are available on e-readers.
Of course, there are some good black bookstores and I support them regularly, including (and especially) Children of the Sun and Sankofa Books, all within a stone’s throw of Howard University in DC, which itself has a very nice bookstore. I will continue to support those places because I make pretty good discoveries there. But I know that I need to remain personally vigilant when it comes to getting book recommendations, paying attention to my Amazon recommendations as well as my friends and family who know my tastes.
The way authors get our books to our readers has changed and is changing. There will always be bookstores, though not in large numbers. And there will always be libraries, where they are in the community, in our homes, or on our devices.
I just can’t get behind the closing of black-owned bookstores as a crisis when it’s not impacting my readers’ ability to find my books.