I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

Okay. So Oprah had Janet Jackson on to promote her new album 20YO. Girlfriend lost some 60 pounds in four months to get ready. She said she’d blown right up, packing the weight on in the first place to prepare for a movie role that fell through. They introduced her trainer and her nutritionist to confirm that she lost the weight the healthy way, eating right and exercising her butt off. Now I have a nutritionist and trainer too, thanks to my Duke study, and both said yes, it’s very possible but that I shouldn’t expect to go from fat to fabulous the way Janet did, and definitely not in four months. Uh, I’m sorry, but why not? I can wear fabulous. Hell, I’ve been wearing fat just fine so me and fabulous should be a piece of cake, or celery. Someone else said that’s what money can do for a body. I’d agree but I ain’t got no money. And, even if you can afford that trainer and nutritionist, someone telling you to lift that leg one more time isn’t going to get it up off the floor an

To say that I'm having some issues with my book covers is putting it mildly. I'm having some serious issues with my book covers. Here's the newest for my book, In The Light Of Love , which drops February 2007. Now for starters, my heroine is only 25-years old. Maybe it's me, but this model doesn't embody the image of the 25-year old I had in mind. I mean, she's a beautiful woman but she don't look no 25 in this picture! And the hero I wrote about is bi-racial with blue eyes and shoulder-length hair. Do you see my problem? This isn't the first time I've had an issue with my covers. With the cover for Love In The Lineup , BET had commissioned some incredible artwork. The images were dead on. They couldn't have been more perfect if I'd done them myself. However with the transition to Harlequin, the new powers in charge changed the cover to a photographic image. Neither one of the models came close to looking like my characters. It a

I have this fascination with foreign films and for the past few days since I’ve been battling a nasty bronchial infection I’ve been lying around “reading” the television set. It’s very much my alone time because I can’t get anyone in my family to watch them with me. My son has proclaimed that if he wanted to “read” he would buy a book; that movies are supposed to be “watched” and that’s why they’re “movies”. Kid doesn’t have a clue what he’s missing. I know that my fascination comes from my love for other cultures. They are like really good books and I can be taken away to an exotic local with a push of the remote for the DVD player. I watched three today. The first was a movie titled Three Times , a Chinese film directed by Hsiao-hsien Hou. Don’t ask me how to pronounce that because I don’t have a clue. I do know that it was a beautiful story. It was a romance, and exceptionally sensual. It was actually three stories set in three times, 1911, 1966 and 2005. Two actors played the two m

I am pulling my hair out right about now. I have a new proposal that needs to be completed and at this very moment I hate the story. I’m forcing it and it feels contrived and I just don’t want to write this particular book or this particular series. And now that I’ve said it out loud, I’m not going to do it. I can’t. It’s not in me. My agent is expecting revised synopses from me for three manuscripts I’ve written. Writing them feels like I’ve been sentenced to some ungodly punishment for some heinous crime that I didn’t even know I committed. This shouldn’t be so difficult but damn, it feels like the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I don’t want to write these either. But I have to. I really want to see these stories published and since this is what it takes, it has to get done. And my child, bless his mile-high Afro, left a folder of seven college applications on my desk for me to review and comment on. It would seem that he is truly interested in going to college a

Mr. Ben is well in his early nineties. He is a gregarious old man with quite a scandalous history if you believe even a third of the stories he is known to tell about himself. Mr. Ben was serious eye-candy back in the day because he’s quite dashing now with his snow-white crown of curls, the prettiest chocolate complexion anyone could wish for, and gray eyes that always twinkle. He has this infectious laugh and smile and I imagine that it didn’t take much for the ladies to fall for his very Southern charms. Mr. Ben stops by every so often to chat and this week he came to tell me about his new lady friend. She’s younger, somewhere in her seventies. Last weekend this lady friend invited Mr. Ben to her place for Sunday supper. After an old-fashioned meal, she invited Mr. Ben into the bedroom for dessert -- a little taste of her sugar and sweets. Unfortunately, Mr. Ben had to decline. It would seem that his “johnson” was suddenly diabetic and not UP for the task. He let his friend down gra

Every writer has experienced his or her share of rejection. I personally believe that over the years I have collected enough rejection letters to wallpaper a large bathroom. Publication is no guarantee that you won’t still suffer from the dreaded “ thanks, but no thanks ” syndrome that writers are frequently afflicted with, and I don’t care how thick one’s skin is, even the most polite “ we don’t want you ” still hurts like hell. I’m published and although I would like to stay published, such isn’t always that easy to maneuver. I got a rejection yesterday and I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel like someone had sucked the life from me as I was being slammed head first into the ground. Although I had liked my proposal, and I think my agent liked my proposal, the publisher didn’t. After I finish rubbing ointment on my bruised ego it’s back to the drawing board. Rejection sucks but it also means I need to refocus and turn this hurt into something more positive. I’ll enjoy this funk for a lit

Other folks’ drama has just gotten right in my way this past week. I love me some family but that same family has taxed my last nerve. When this happens my mind becomes mush and I can’t write. And this truly pisses me right off. I understand that all families have some degree of drama, at least one member who is drama central, the wealth of all their crap muddying up other folks’ lives. But I swear I have more than my fair share of drama queens blooming on my family tree and I’m about ready to be through with them all because I desperately need to write. The mechanics of how I write don’t necessarily make a whole lot of sense. I have never been able to write an outline for a book or a nice, neat synopsis that details the happenings before I actually write the story. Nor do I have a regular routine of writing a set number of hours everyday. I sometimes envy authors who can. Stories come to me a page here or a paragraph there. They eventually get melded into some cohesive form that just

This is the hubby and me on our wedding day. Aren’t we just the cutest! Back then I was just a baby about to be thrust into the real world and I didn’t have a clue what was about to hit me. It was a learning experience that didn’t come with a handbook and all my training was literally on the job. Marriage has been a roller coaster of extreme highs and even lower lows but for all it’s worth we have endured. I will not lie. It has not been an easy feat to accomplish and he and I both will readily admit to moments of wanting to toss up our hands in sheer frustration and call it quits. I don’t know that I could ever explain why we didn’t ‘cause love surely didn’t have a thing to do with it and we have much love for each other. I am a true believer in marriage. I never entered into the relationship thinking that I would end it if the going got tough. In an age where divorce rates have skyrocketed I cannot understand the idea of a disposable relationship. My parents have been married almost