Monday, March 24, 2014

HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU WERE A WRITER?



Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)

I’m on Amtrak in route to Norfolk.  I am exhausted and even though I should be taking a much needed nap, I feel compelled to write.  Have you found yourself in such a situation?  Do you find that you must write, even if it’s a simple thought or an idea?  Do you find yourself doodling away on little pieces of paper, or scribbling on the inside of a paperback that happened to be at the bottom of your bag?  Do you whip out your iPad or iPhone mid thought, because you were inspired by something you saw? If you are guilty of this (or other weird behaviors) then you my friend are a writer. 

Here are some of the things and/or thoughts that made me realize that I too was suffering from this ailment. LOL!
  1. The birth of a book is a labor of love. I’m still in labor.
  2. Critiquing is no longer a bad word.
  3. I finally found the courage to introduce myself as a writer.
  4. I attend conferences with activities such as Pitchapalooza and the 7 minute pitch. (neither have anything to do w/ baseball)
  5. My computer is like a purse, it’s always at my side.
  6. Author interviews are the best; especially when they are about me.
  7. New and old characters battle for space in my head.
  8. New characters take umbrage and get verbal when they don’t like the direction a story has taken.
  9. Social Media has become an ally.
  10. I visualize my first book signing.
  11. The line is around the corner.
  12. It’s at Barnes & Noble J
  13. Your editor can be your friend or an enemy. (Depending on the day.)
  14. You hate the sight of red ink.
  15. Dedication takes on a new meaning.
  16. So does frustration.
  17. You develop a new respect for the term “Writer’s Block.”
  18. You wonder if a Masters in Creative Writing is really worth the money.
  19. The devil really is in the details; especially when writing a book.
  20. Illustrations are also running around in my head.
  21. Words like genre, revisions, publishing, and query are a part of regular conversation.
  22. You find some way to cook and read at the same time.
  23. A closed door in a house full of children is precious.
  24. So is silence.
  25. Library is a beautiful word.
  26. Someone touches your manuscript w/o permission. You threaten bodily harm.
  27. My spouse offered to write something on my blog. As sweet as the thought was, I looked at him as if he had two heads.
  28. Thesaurus is a good friend of mine.
  29. Life has become fodder. It gives me inspiration for new work.
  30. Publishing is a goal not just a word.    
Step back and think about it.  How many crazy, weird, quirky, obsessive, flighty, amusing things have you done, that made you realize that you are now among the growing ranks of writers?  Dedicated to their craft and determined to reach their goals.  As my process continues, I believe my list will continue to grow.  As my accomplishments grow, I will look at my list and appreciate all I have done (no matter how silly) because they’ve led me to who I am and who I will become. 

Reach out and tell me! What things have you done that made you realize who you are? I’d love to hear about them J 

Mari e laipe!
See you soon!  

S-
***** 

Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J

Monday, March 17, 2014

WHO IS AMACHI - PART 2

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)


I thought this would be a good time to tell you a little more about the goddess Amachi.  Below is Chapter 1 of her story. I would love to hear your thoughts!


Mari e laipe!
See you soon!
S-
___________________________



CHAPTER 1

There was a time when I walked the Earth in human form.  My people considered me a healer but I was also known as an oracle, born with the ability of sight. I was called Amachi, Goddess of Light.  Though my people were aware of my abilities and knew that I would harm none, some feared me because my eyes were as clear and fathomless as the sea that surrounded our land.

            Sometimes, I would hear them whisper, “When she looks at you, it is as if she can see inside your soul.”

I have existed for many millennia.  My spirit is re-born every 500 years into the body of one of my sistren. With each re-birth, I become more powerful than before.  But never more powerful than the gods who created me.  Sadly, my powers leave me exposed to loneliness, and it pains me to watch those I love grow old and die before I ever will.  Still I continue to use my abilities to try to make their lives on this land happy and peaceful.

Through the centuries I have seen my people face many obstacles.  Bound by the Orisa there was little I could do to help my kin.  Assisting a human was forbidden even if they were of my blood.  Breaking this rule would mean the end of my cycles; the end of my reincarnations; the end of me.  I believed in my heart, that their determination and courage would always allow them to persevere, at least until now… 

On the first night of each summer solstice, I cast a spell to allow me sight into the future.  It is only on that night that I am able to see what the gods have planned for my people.  With the use of a balefire, I call upon Olodumare the High to give me the strength I need to evoke the spell. 

‘Olodumare bless me with your power; help me to see the unseen.’ 

But one night, my insight into the future was different from all the others.

As the summer moon glowed in the darkness, my balefire burned high into the sky.  Turning a sky blue it glazed over into a sheet of solid ice.  On it a vision began to form.  In it I saw a hut and inside, a woman struggling to give birth to a child.  Outside lurked a dark presence, angrily circling the hut but unable to get inside.  Behind the hut I saw black, sinister clouds rushing towards my land and following it, an ominous wall of water.  Then suddenly a bright blinding light flashed, so beautiful that it moved me; something that has not happened to me in many lifetimes.  I raised my hands to the cold panel of ice, but when I tried to trace the images in the vision, it disappeared. The ice melted suddenly, and crashed onto the ground in a tide of cold water that slid over my bare feet.

I was afraid, because the premonition meant danger to my people, but it also meant that they still had hope.  I rushed to the elders and told them what I had seen.  But as powerful as I was, they saw me only as a woman and refused to listen to the message I was trying to convey.

‘The existence of our tribe is in peril.  I have seen a great danger, one that our powers cannot save us from.  But there is hope; I have also foreseen the birth of a savior.  This savior will be the light of our people.’

“Amachi, that is utter nonsense, we are above all that!”

“We have nothing to fear!  The gods will protect us!” said an elder mockingly. 

Their ignorance infuriated me.   Only Elder Shombay one of our high priests, looked beyond their stupidity.  He knew in his heart that what I said would come to pass.

Though Elder Shombay was younger than most of the tribe’s leaders, he was given great respect.  He was the seventh great grandson of Elder Madu, a highly sought after advisor that lived during the time of my parents.  His caring nature not to mention his good looks (according to the young women of the tribe) made him more approachable than the senior members.  He was the mirror image of his great grandfather who was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and intense dark brown eyes.

“As you well know, the first night of harvest is a sacred one. Every 25 years on that night a child is born to our people.  Upon its birth we will know whether he is the true savior,” said Elder Shombay. 

‘How will we know this?’ I asked.
 
“The child will have an aura like no other.”

***

‘After speaking with the Elder,’ Amachi thought to herself, ‘I realized that I needed to dedicate more time to my people.  My concern about the vision affected my dreams and premonitions; making them distorted.  Blocked at every turn, they have become dark and unreadable.  I cannot provide the clear insight that the Olorun had depended on for hundreds of years.’

Sitting in front of the Ogun River, Amachi drew upon the power of the balefire once more. Calling upon Olodumare the High, Obatala the Pure and Yemoja the Mother she asked that they give her the strength and the fortitude she needed to free her mind and to do right by her people.  She chanted:

‘Fathers, mother, I your daughter call upon
you for guidance and clarity.
My fear for our people has clouded my sight. 
Remove all obstacles from my path and present before me
the ability to claim all that you have bestowed upon me!’

Amachi closed her eyes, and could feel the tension draining from her body. She opened her eyes slowly and sensed the presence of Yemoja the Mother.

“She is near,” Amachi whispered as she smiled into the night air, brimming with the essence of the mighty goddess.

Satisfied that the gods had heard her, Amachi offered a quick prayer of thanksgiving; her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. She drew bucket after bucket of water from the Ogun, and extinguished the balefire. Silver smoke billowed into the dark sky.

***

One Hundred Years Later…

            I have little patience left.  My enthusiasm and hope for my people are waning, slipping through my fingers like loose sand. One hundred years have passed with no sign of the ‘special’ child we are searching for.  With each passing birth, my hopes have dwindling like the flame of a burning candle. Though I could not age, Elder Shombay did.  His body was frail and his sight weakened. His once smooth dark complexion was lined and his eyes yellowed, but his mind was still razor sharp. I went to him with my concerns.

‘Elder Shombay, I fear that our savior may not be born in time to save us.  My dreams grow darker and I awaken with the sheen of fear running across my brow.  I am afraid that our time draws near.’

 “Where there is fear, there is hope, Amachi.  Isn’t that what you told me, that there is hope?  I believe that his birth will not elude us.  He is destined to be born, he is our destiny.”

On that same night, Adebanke jumped up from a deep slumber.

            “Oluwafemi, Oluwafemi awaken, awaken!  The vision has invaded my dreams once more!  For years its meaning has been unclear.  But finally, the gods have deemed me worthy enough to know the answer.  At first I could only see that a woman was trying to give birth to a child, but I could never see her face.  Now I realize that the woman is me!”

            Unknown to the young couple, Adebanke had been an important part of the vision that plagued Amachi for many years.  Amachi knew that a child would be born but she was not allowed to see the mother’s face either.  Perhaps Olodumare the High did not believe that any of them were ready to know.  Now that the vision was made clear, steps needed to be taken to assure that this special birth would come to pass.  Adebanke and Oluwafemi would soon become creators of a new life.

“Well, Adebanke,” said Oluwafemi, “the reason why the gods put us here is because we have a purpose in this life.  Not only was it meant that we meet each other, but it is meant that you bring forth this child into the world.  He must be very special if you have dreamt of his birth, even before it has taken place.  I hope it will be a boy, but whatever the gods bless us with will be a blessing indeed!”

            Across the village, Amachi sprang up from a troubled sleep, her eyes wide, and her breath short. She yelled out with joy and relief, for her cloudy vision had cleared like fog evaporating from a field. She had seen the woman who would bring the Oloruns peace.  She wrapped her arms around herself and smiled.

“The wait is over,” she whispered and began to pray and make plans for the future.

Monday, March 10, 2014

LUCK OR SKILL

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family)

Saturday night, my hubby and I played Spades with a few friends. For those of you who are not familiar, here are the basics.  Spades is a card game where you bid how many books (books always consist of four cards each) you have in your hand before you start playing the game.  Usually when you play with a partner, the number of books you bid depends on how many books each of you feel you can contribute to the bid.  You usually play with four people and only 13 books can be made. In a deck of 52 cards, the cards in each suit rank from highest to lowest. (A, K, Q, J, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3 and 2) Spades have the most power.  They can cut a diamond, club, or heart (and sometimes even themselves). The order of the spades as far as their strength is Big Joker, Little Joker, Deuce (meaning two) of Diamonds, Deuce of Spades, Ace of Spades, King of Spades, Queen, Jack, 10 through 3 of spades. There is more to the game, but you get the point J

Anyway, my hubby and I bid 8 books between us and won those books.  For that entire game, any books we bid, we won.  All in all, we kicked their butts LOL. Our luck however did not last. When the next game came around we got our butts kicked! The winning and losing went back and forth. Thrust and Parry. Thrust and Parry. I’m sure you have figured out how spirited this game can be. My hubby and I won 2 games and our competitors won 2 games. We played one more game and won, thereby breaking the tie. We had a great time.

During the game, a thought crossed my mind. When you are trying to publish a book, and you receive that coveted phone call. Did you get the call because your work appeared on a publisher's or agent's desk just at the right time?  Or was your work so exceptional that they could not help but reach out to you?   Was it luck that got you that call or skill?

 I’ve read a number of author’s testimonies where they’ve said things like:

 “My book came across the publisher’s desk at a time when my particular choice of genre was starting to become very popular.”

“The literary agent told me that my book was well written but unfortunately, they could not find the right market to publish it in.”

 “I was surprised by my rejection letter.  The agent actually took the time to tell me that although she could not represent me at this time, I should continue to push forward; that I just might find an agent that’s a good fit!”

These days’ publishers and literary agents are so demanding that I really believe its 95% skill and 5% luck that get you published. There is a certain level of presentation that they expect to see and it all begins with the query letter. Depending on the genre you are pursuing, your query letter should not only summarize your book in the shortest, most interesting way possible, but it should also flow in a way that will leave them chomping at the bit, ready to read more.

But sometimes, even the query letter is not enough. The publisher or agent may ask for the first 3 chapters of your work and decide that something is missing. Perhaps the characters need more work or the location of your story is unclear or you were foolish enough not to have your work professionally edited. Writer ‘A’ and ‘B’ both have a good chance of being published, but writer ‘B’ just didn’t dot that ‘I’ or cross that ‘T’.

Issues with publishing can even become a problem after you receive representation. Perhaps your literary agent or publisher is no longer a good fit. The momentum that you both started at the beginning has dwindled. You no longer share the same interest in your book. Your agent or publisher has not marketed your book to your liking and now you are back where you started, trying to find someone new without burning bridges.

Regardless, publishing as you well know can be a stressful, time consuming, rewarding experience. And whether you are considered due to the luck of the draw or a talent that cannot be denied, getting your foot through that hypothetical or literal ‘door’ is a blessing indeed.

Continued luck fam! LOL!

Mari e laipe!
See you soon!
S-

*****

Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J

Monday, March 3, 2014

SOJOURN TO TRUTH


Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)

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?

“Ain’t I a Woman?”
Sojourner Truth (1797 – 1883)
Abolitionist and Women’s Rights Activist

I read this excerpt from Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman?”, and I thought of all the trials and tribulations women of color faced and continue to face through their lives.  Starting with slavery; moving on to racism; stepping into our battle for women’s liberation during the Civil Rights Movement and of course affirmative action.  With all the battles we fought to gain our rights, to gain our freedoms, it’s beautiful to see one of us excel “once again” in our chosen field.

On Sunday night, Lupita Nyong'o won her first Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for her role as Patsey in 12 Years a Slave.  In addition to her win, she is the first black African (Kenyan) actress to be nominated as well as the first black African actor to win in any category. When you look at her you would never believe that she ever suffered from lack of self-confidence or had an issue with the way she looked.  In a piece written by Solomon Jones of the blog The Philadelphia Experiment, Jones stated:

“As a child, Nyong'o, the daughter of a Kenyan senator, believed that there was something ugly about her chocolate-colored skin.  She was teased about her complexion, and later recalled in interviews that she would go to bed asking God for lighter skin, only to awaken to the disappointment of unanswered prayers. This brilliant, beautiful woman saw her color as something to overcome.”

I hope that women like those in the Dark Girls documentary and others who don’t see their beauty when they stand before a mirror, or don’t hear that they are beautiful even when someone tells them so, look at Lupita’s win as one more incredible achievement not only for WOC but also for women of color who possess a darker hue.

As black women, we were stripped of respect, stripped of pride, stripped of an appreciation of our beauty.  We were led to believe that we needed to look a certain way to fit in to society.  Unfortunately some of us still feel this way. Bleaching, perming (no offense sisters) whatever we needed to do; incapable for decades of appreciating our god given beauty, our natural locks, our beautiful shape.

As a woman of a darker complexion, I have never found myself in a situation where I had a problem with my skin color. So it angers me when someone less than worthwhile, uses someone’s weakness, someone’s inability to see their beauty, as a way to crush them underfoot and tell them they are less than nothing.

It does my heart good to know that the Academy continues to improve. Continues to see black actresses for the emotion, intensity and talent they bring to the game and will continue to bring to Hollywood.
Lupita Nyong’o has sojourned to her truth.  Her belief that she is beautiful, that she is talented has led her here. Her role as a new actress is temporary. She has now reached a goal that will lead her towards superstardom.  I look forward to seeing what the future holds for this Kenyan actress.   
Mari e laipe!
See you soon!
S-
*****
Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J