IN CELEBRATION OF MY . . . 100TH POST . . .

From Lori's Pic Collection

Yes, in honor of my 100th post I changed my profile photo. Don't get too attached because I kind of like the old black and white baby pic and I just may go back and repost it at some point (smile).

The color photo is only a couple of years old. The twists in my hair are a little thicker and longer, but basically I think I look the same. My son snapped the pic and I'd say he did a fairly decent job of capturing the essence of ole Moms (smile).

One of my favorite things about the photo is the framed artwork in the background. The signed and numbered print is a piece entitled "Up All Night" and it is one of several I own by the Memphis-connected artists/brothers commonly known as "Twin."

I love how Terry & Jerry Lynn, who really are twins, capture the music, the vibrancy and the funky soulfulness of the Bluff-City and the Mid-South community. But what truly fascinates me about the twins is their ability to work on a piece simulateneously, (quite often standing side by side) as if they were of one mind. Cool stuff, don't you think?

SOUTHERN EBONICS 101 . . . OUR COLORFUL LANGUAGE . . .

In my previous post, my good friend and Memphis "Go-To-Guy" (MR) expressed a bit of amusement at my use of the term "mama 'nem." Likewise, in another post, my use of the phrase "ripping and running" caught the attention of my Detroit-based internet pal, Malcolm (of Malcolm's Pop Culture Dish). I'd dare say, by now most regular readers of the OLD SCHOOL MIX have noticed my indulgence and delight in the "colorfulness" of the Southern Black vernacular. While I am quite capable of expressing myself in the "King's English," whenever I can get away with it, I generally opt to go another route.

There have been occasions in the past when my word choices have proved slightly problematic, particularly for those readers (and listeners) unfamiliar with my Memphis brand of Southern Ebonics. So I thought it might be fun, if not somewhat educational, to post a list of words and phrases I've heard used by African Americans who hail from Memphis and/or the Mid-South tri-state area (specifically SW Tennessee, NW Mississippi & NE Arkansas).

Oh, I bet some of y'all thought all Black Southerners chewed up and spat out the language in much the same way, huh? Yeah, well, while some things carry over, there are quite a few regional differences. For instance, the folks from East Tennessee have more of a noticeable "twang" in their "thang" than those who hail from West Tennessee. On the other hand, a lot of Memphis folks are known for what my friend MW, a communications instructor, describes as a "mumble."

Anyway, let's get to the list. How many of the following words and/or phrases do you know? How many do you use? I'll give my own definitions and responses in a future post.

1) bourgie

2) chillren / chilluns

3) Christmas gift

4) deef

5) haint

6) hainty

7) hey

8) holped

9) knee baby

10) main / mane

11) Mama 'nem

12) mannish

13) rougish

14) sadiddy / saditty

15) scound-bugga

16) sho' nuff

17) slobbed

18) Sunday week

19) trifling

20) you (s) a tale / tail

A FEW ANSWERS . . . TO A FEW QUESTIONS . . .

1) Why don't you blog more often? Same reason I don't read more. I'm generally too busy writing. There are only so many hours in a day. When I'm not working on a serious project, I like spending as much time as I can doing things with the family and away from the computer.

2) Why don't you have more writers/authors on you list of links? In most things, I'm not one to play favorites. But I must admit to owning a bias for African American writers who hail from the South. With that in mind, at the present time, I've decided to limit my writer/author links to folks with ties to Memphis, TN (my home town) and Charlotte, NC (where I currently reside). Of course, it is a woman's prerogative to change her mind.

3) Why doesn't your blog contain more info about your book? Patience grasshopper. It's coming. I just received a copy of my cover a week or so ago. As soon as I receive the official okay, I'll post it.

4) Why do you blog so much about music? You obviously missed that post (smile). Check it out here, if you're interested or need a refresher. But the short answer is, writing, reading and music have always gone hand-in-hand for me. I was born in Memphis, home of the Blues, Al Green, B.B. King (got his start there), Bobby Blue Bland, Rufus Thomas, Earth Wind & Fire (even though they seldom claim it) Isaac Hayes, Stax Records and Beale Street. Oh yeah, and Elvis too (smile). I grew up in a home where jazz and r &b was purchased, played and partied to on the regular. Quiet as it's kept, and in another life, mind you, I really did want to be a Disc Jockey. You'd best believe, I'm jamming to some Aretha (who, by the way was born in Memphis) as I type this. "Rock Steady Baby!"

5) What's up with those Cleveland links? I lived in Beachwood, a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio for 4 long, cold-a$$ years, before I relocated to Charlotte. The links are just my way of showing my Cleveland peeps some love.

6) Will your novel, After The Dance, be anything like your blog? God-forbid. LOL. My novel is simultaneously a romantic comedy and a parody of sorts, in that it pokes fun at various elements of the traditional "romance" genre. My novel is set in Memphis and contains a number of old school musical references. Hmm, I sense a contest coming on. Question #1 who can guess how many song references the book contains? And the prize? I haven't worked that out yet. But I am open to suggestions.

7) What's up with the black & white baby picture? And how come you haven't posted a current photo of yourself? What? You don't like my baby picture? I hate having my picture taken. Always have. But I'll post a more current one soon . . . maybe . . . we'll see (smile).

8) How come you don't have a website? Dag, give a sister a break, why don't ya? I'm slow, but I'm getting there. Really, I am. Soon as it's up and running, I'll let you know.

9) How come your blog contains so many doggone lists? I'm guessing some sort of undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder. LOL. Seriously though, creating lists is something I've done since I was a child.

Any more questions?

I just might have few more answers in me.

AN OLD SCHOOL MIX Q & A WITH . . . SHELIA LIPSEY . . .

Shelia Lipsey is the author of Into Each Life (Jan. 2007) and SinSatiable (Aug. 2007). Both novels are part of Kensington's "Urban Christian" imprint.

Ms. Lipsey is someone I've never actually met in person. I think I first encountered her name via my visits to Blogging In Black. Upon discovering her ties to my hometown (Memphis) and her involvement in a church my parents have long attended (Cummings Street Missionary Baptist), I contacted her by email. She not only reponded, but was nice enough to provide me with her replies to the following Q & A.

1) What exactly is Urban Christian? In my opinion, Urban Christian is the kind of story-telling that doesn't dress up the sins of our people. . . Urban Chrisitian stays true to the word of God, but we tell about the real people, the real things that happen in their lives. We tell how God can bring the ugliness, most vile problem and situation in a person's life and turn it around.

2) Describe your approach to writing. Do you start with a character? An event? A situation? My approach to writing is quite simple. God gives me a title, I enter it into the mounting titles he's already given me and I save them . . . God places on my mind which one he wants me to write about. I have no idea what the story will be about, how it will end, who the characters are, basically nothing whatsoever about what I'm going to write. But I've learned not to worry . . . because when my hands touch the keyboard, the Holy Spirit begins to flow and the thought, situations, plots and characters come to life. I scream, shout, sing and sometimes faint when I find out the things they do (for real).

3) Do you maintain a writing schedule? Lately, I have to admit that I have been trying to maintain a writing schedule. But it really doesn't work well for me because I spend more time editing, proofing, typesetting and assisting other potential clients . . .which is why I always try to stay one book ahead of my publisher. For instance, when I signed a second contract with Urban Books, I had already finished the book that is required for the first book in the new book deal.

4) Are there any books on the craft of writing that you've found particularly useful? Books on punctuation, grammar usage and sentence structure are excellent books to keep in your library.

5) Do you have an agent? No, I don't have an agent. I followed the submission guidelines of the publisher which is always important and necessary to do. In a few months my phone rang and bingo, bango, I was offered a two book deal. Look at God!

6) List some of your favorite writers. Carl Weber, J. California Cooper, Lacricia A. Peters, Vanessa Davis Griggs, Jacquelin Thomas, Victoria Murray, Tiffiny Warren and Alisha Yvonne. Also, I can't leave out my fellow outstanding writers and friends in Christ: The Urban Christian Authors are out of this world! I'm humbled to be part of this God-inspired imprint.

7) Which writers (living or dead) have had the biggest impact on how you write? I must honestly say I believe I have developed my own style, my own voice given to me by God All Mighty. Therefore, it is like no others and I thank God for that.

8) What do you regard as your biggest mistake, thus far, as it pertains to writing? Not starting early enough. I wish I had started in my early teens or twenties.

9) Why do you write? God placed the desire in my heart and deep within my spirit. After He saw that I didn't have sense enough to realize my gift, he orchestrated events in my life that weren't so pleasant, but they did the job and awoke me to my true gift.

10) What's been most effective for you publicity-wise? I'd like to know the answer to that myself. All I can say is that I use bookmarks, flyers, posters. I contact stores, people I know, churches, family and friends to help promote my books. I also take advantage of my publisher who helps arrange various events. And I do online advertising through places like Sormag, Mosaic and AALBC and I tell everyone I run across that I've written a book.

11) What are some of the mistakes new authors are apt to make when it comes to marketing and publicity? Not realizing the importance of it. Sometimes they're (so busy) glorifying the fact that they're an author, they don't understand now the real job starts, which is getting someone to buy your book.

12) Is there anything in particular you'd like to share about yourself or your work? I'd like to beg, please, pretty please with sugar on top, ask you and anyone else out there to purchase copies of Into Each Life and Sinsatiable. They are sold nationwide, even at Wal-mart. Now if you can't find it at Wal-mart, you can go online at Amazon.com, Walmart.com, Target.com, the Borders Stores, Waldenbooks, African American bookstores . . . In essence, there is no excuse for you, your buddies, friends, ex-friends . . . and anyone you pass on the street not to have at least ten or twelve copies of Into Each Life and Sinsatiable in their hands.

For more information about Shelia Lipsey and her novels visit her website at http://www.shelialipsey.com/

AN ART FESTIVAL JONES . . . THE ONE HABIT I'M NOT TRYING TO KICK . . .

A couple of days ago, when I discovered I'd be in Atlanta this summer in time to catch the Atlanta Black Arts Festival, I all but jumped out of my seat and cheered. Not only do I LOVE art festivals, I've been wanting to attend the Atlanta Black Arts Fest for years now . . really, ever since I learned of its existence.

Yes, I have an arts festival JONES that won't quit. My house is full things (prints, jewelry, mirrors, purses, african drums and other such hand carved items) I've purchased at various festivals from around the country. But the truth is, I attend them even when I'm broke and have absolutely no plans of buying anything. My guess is the creatively rich environment that makes up an art festivals helps feed the ravenous cravings of my own muse.

A combination of things go into the making of a good arts festival, I think. Location and parking are two inter-related items that place pretty high on my list. While a center-city or downtown locale always adds a bit of flavor to the event, parking that is free (or relatively inexpensive), nearby and plentiful makes attendance all the more inviting.

Being a fan of fresh air and sunshine, I prefer an outdoor festival. But an in-door event can have its merits. One of the highlights (and believe me, there weren't many) of the four long years I spent in the Cleveland area was an indoor festival called Sankofa / Cleveland Fine Art Expo which was typically held at Tri-C's (Cuyahoga Community College) eastern campus.

I always wondered why the event organizers never used the suburban campus' nicely manicured and enormous grounds for the festival. But in Cleveland, its always about the weather . . . rain, wind or snow is typically always lurking somewhere in the forecast. So, if not precipitation, mud may have been an issue. What I enjoyed must about Sankofa was the mix of arts--fine, folk, film literary, etc. There was a bit of something to whet every artistic appetite.

The presence of food, the kind you eat, also helps make a festival fun. At the most recent fest (The Art and Soul of The South End) I attended here in Charlotte, I actually managed to limit myself to a single bratwrust and a cherry-flavored Italian ice.

But what truly endears a festival to me are the people. When I lived in Memphis, one of the great joys of attending the yearly Africa in April celebration was running into people I'd lost touch with or no longer saw on a regular basis. It was always a fun surprise to bump into friends, relatives and/or see co-workers who I'd least expect to see at a crowded, downtown "artsy event."

Equally enjoyable is the opportunity to meet and greet some of the artists and vendors. Again, whenever I hung-out in Africa in April's "market place" I'd always look for my friend and fellow writer, A.J., who hawked goods on behalf of the business she and her hubby owned. While living in Cleveland, I generally looked for an artist by the name of Shedrick, whose thin, long-legged characters I've come to love. On two different occasions, I purchased some of her work at a Cleveland area art festival called Art In the Village.

I'm already looking forward to September when one of the artist I met at Charlotte's Art and Soul of South End will return with her eye-catching array of shadow boxes, mirrors and clocks (Jordan's Treasures). Yup, I plan on adding more of her work to my collection too (smile).

Obviously, I was meant to live in Charlotte, if only because the nice weather makes it ideal for out-door activities year round. Festival junkie that I am, last year I celebrated my first full week here by going out to an area of Charlotte known as NoDA (North Davidson) and attending what was billed as Charlotte's First Literary Festival. Not only am I looking forward to trekking out to the Charlotte Literary Festival again this August, but I already have my sights set on next year's event when, if all goes well and the creek don't rise, I'll be one of the many author participants. Say a prayer and keep your fingers crossed. I'll keep you posted.

If you have a favorite festival or you know one that just might tickle my fancy, give me the scoop. I'm always on the look-out for new ones to try.

COINCIDENCE . . . OR DIVINE INTERVENTION? PT I (A Few Odd Happenings On The Road to Publication)

Have you ever experienced one of those moments in life that made you wonder if what just took place was truly a coincidence or if the hand of GOD had actually come into play? Well, I've had things of that nature happen to me so many times over the years, I've stopped counting them. Still, I'm always momentarily taken aback when they arise.

I'm not talking about those random or odd happenings that sometimes occur when folks with similar interests or like backgrounds collide or meet up in the same place. Just last week, I experienced one of those. While blog-hopping one night, I stumbled upon a funny comment from an artist I'd actually met, barely a couple of weeks before, and whose work I'd admired enough to purchase at a local art festival.

Yes, those isolated "small world" moments are neat, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I mean are those All Up In Your Face moments that force you to nod, if not outright bow to the Higher Power (or unseen forces, if you prefer) working behind the scenes.

Case in point, years ago, when I lived in Memphis and still drove a hoopty, it up and stalled on me a couple of times. Both times the car quit and wouldn't start again were at night and in one of those instances, in a part of the city that could best be described as less than desirable. In the latter instance, it just so happened I was with friends and within walking distance of a well-lit gas station that had a working phone. (This was, of course, in the days before cell phones became all the rage). I called up a cousin, who lived nearby and who, to my surprised and good fortune, just so happened to be at home, instead out making his drug rounds to his usual customers . . . oh yeah, true story.

Anyway, the other time my hoopty died, I was alone and I'd just left a REALLY BAD area, one where I could have been easly hit by a car if not shot, stabbed and kilt dead (ebonics 101 y'all) in the very process of trying to find a working phone. On that particular occasion, as fate would have it, my car screeched to a halt at a corner . . . a corner that was only a 3 minute walk from my favorite aunt and uncle's house.

A couple of odd and random coincidences? No baby, that was some sho' nuff divine intervention because in Memphis if your car dies at night and you don't have ready access to a phone, you'd best start praying the worse the thugs decide to do is take your money, jewelry, rims and what have you . . .

So why am I bringing any of this up? And what, if anything, does it have to do with my book deal? Well, recently a series of odd things happened to me with regards to the pending publication of my novel, AFTER THE DANCE and I felt like sharing . . .

But before I do, I'd like to invite any of you who've experienced similarly odd happenings to share a bit of what transpired in your particular situation.

MEMPHIS & MARTIN . . . & THE INHERITANCE OF A DREAM

The Lorraine Motel

Memphis, 2004

from

Lori's Pic Collection

"Whenever you are engaged in work that serves humanity it has dignity and it has worth.

From MLK's speech at Mason Temple in Memphis, TN,

March 18,1968

While I was much too young (preschool age) to remember most of the details surrounding the event, I was living in Memphis during the Sanitation Workers' Strike of 1968. I want to say I remember hearing the now famous "Mountaintop Speech" on the radio the night before King was gunned down. For years, I've been able to conjure an all too vivid of image of myself as a little girl, listening to the rise and fall of that distinctive voice as I stared up at the ceiling in the darkened back bedroom of my grandparents' North Memphis home . . . Though, I must admit, the memory could very well be a false one that willed itself into creation over time.

But there is one thing I do remember with regards to that sad and brutal event--a memory equal in intensity only to the one I've held since I was three and the middle finger of my right hand was accidentally crushed in the unexpected slam of a car door.

On the day of MLK's funeral, rather than make herself comfortable on any of the available den furniture or even the floor, my mother choose to squeeze herself into my little red rocking chair. Positioned there, in front of our 16-inch black and white TV set, she sat and rocked with tears streaming down her face as she watched the slain civil rights leader's home-going. Barring the onset of Alzheimers, that image of my weeping mother is one I will surely carry with me to my own grave. As an adult, the image permits me to not only look back and see "the big picture" but feel it on a more emotional and personal level as well.

"If you bend your back, people can ride it. But if stand up straight, people can't ride your back. And that's what we did. We stood up straight."

Taylor Rodgers, an organizer with Local 1733 AFSCME & a participant in the Sanitation Workers' Stike of 1968

Due to my father's military career, most of my early years were spent moving in and out of Memphis. Shortly upon my return to the city in the early 80's, a friend I'd met at college (LeMoyne-Owen) drove me by the Lorraine Motel late one night. This was in the days just prior to the motel's subsequent resurrection as The National Civil Rights Museum, when it still looked like the run-down and abandoned building that it was . . . a place more befitting the likes of pimps and their two-bit hookers than a King and his humble entourage. Anyway, my friend talked about his memories of the '68 strike, when, if I'm not mistaken, he couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 years old. He said he'd never forget the sight of tanks rolling past his house. To him, it looked like something out of a movie. He talked about the confusion and outrage he felt at the city father's decision to send armored vehicles into his peaceful, working-class Black neighborhood in the hours/days after King's death.

My friend YN (who teaches at the small liberal arts college in Atlanta I mentioned in a previous post), was also living in Memphis during the Sanitation Workers' Strike of 1968. She was a preteen when she stumbled upon the "I AM A MAN" sign her father, a self-employed landscaper, had tucked away in a closet. I can still remember the sense of pride and awe I felt, as a 20-some year old, when my friend introduced me to her father and afforded me the opportunity to shake his hand.

It's all right to talk bout the new Jerusalem, but one day God's preacher must talk about the "new' New York, the "new" Atlanta, the "new" Philiadelphia, the "new" Los Angeles, the "new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do."

from MLK's "Mountaintop" Speech

at Mason Temple, in Memphis, TN

April 3, 1968

Not too long ago, a writer, whose work I admire, wrote a piece that implied Memphis harbors some sort of "collective guilt" over the death of MLK. As one born and nurtured in the Bluff City, not only do I respectfully disagree, but I must add, that even to suggest such is to exhibit an unfamilarity with either the old or the prevailing Black Memphis "mindset" (LOL). We simply aren't those kind of people. So, don't let the masks or the Hollywood distortions (via Craig Brewer's twisted lens or 3-6 Mafia's ignorant madness) fool you.

The truth is, we harbor about as much "collective guilt" over Martin's death as the African American residents of New Orleans do over the breeching of the levies. And why should we? The tragedy that occured in Memphis on April 4, 1968 was not of our making and could have just as easily happened in any other dark, neglected, impoverished corner of these United States.

The truth is, like so many others, I am but one generation removed from Black folks who farmed, slaughtered hogs, picked cotton, worked in the mills, toiled on the river . . . Southern born men and women of color, who after years of contributing to the wealth of this nation with their hands and their backs, like their mothers and fathers before them, stood their ground and said, "Not me boss. I ain't running . . . not North or nowhere else. I earned this here piece of the Delta. Done paid for it ten times over already with my blood and my sweat and my tears, same as all the kin who come before me . . ."

And while we certainly do salute Martin for coming to Memphis and sacrificing his life in the Struggle, I'm sorry, but guilt over his death is not even something we ought to feel. Righteous indignation, perhaps. But never guilt.

Recently, I heard a truly gifted poet/spoken word artist from New Orleans, a woman by the name of Sunni Patterson. Oh, this sister is fierce! Near the end of her piece, "We Made It" (check out the clip) she spins a bit of truth about how some of us have come to view death.

" . . . Death don't come in vain

Not for us to remain in enslaved

Or our spirits to remain in cages

It comes so we might be courageous

To fulfill our obligations to our God and all creation

And stand here in determination

Able to look Death in the face and say

We made it . . . We made it . . . We made it . . ."

from "We Made It" by Sunni Patterson New Orleans poet/spoken word artist

PUT ON SOME MARVIN (for Zora Neale, bell and me) . . . by Lori D. Johnson . . .

"Come and get me," is what the note read. Before I could get the question out of my mouth, my son Terrance pulled his face out of his bowl of cereal and supplied me with a ready answer. "Aunt Gina. She called about an hour ago." He took the note from me and flipped it over. "This is her address on the back here."

While Terrance got up to replenish his bowl, I sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh and kicked off my shoes. The last time I had seen my sister had been nearly four years ago; she had been in a night-club performing a medley of Billie Holiday and Sarah Vaughan tunes, and I had been a member of her listening audience. She'd gotten a standing ovation that night. And even though I had stood and applauded with the rest, it had really hurt me to hear the slur in Gina's voice, to see the sleepy slant of her eyes, the lazy nod of her head, and realize that not only was the girl trying to sing like a jazz and blues diva of old, but she was trying to live like one too.

Yes, she was my sister, my baby sister, and I had always wanted the best in the world for her. But no, I didn't try to stop her, even when word got back to me that she was out on the corner selling dope and her ass to support her habit. I had always known better than to think that I could make Gina do anything. If jumping off on the deep end is what the girl had made up her mind to do, that's all there was to it, and there would be no stopping her. The only thing I could do was sit back and wait for the call. And that's exactly what I had been doing for the past four years.

Yes, I had been expecting a call, but not the one carrying the good news that my sister had finally come to her senses and was ready to straighten up and fly right; and not the one with Gina's happy-go-lucky voice on the other end telling me to put on some Marvin Gaye and a pot of coffee, because she was coming over; and most certainly not the one I actually got, demanding that I come and get her. No, the call I had been expecting was the one that nearly always comes in the early hours of the morning bearing the bad news that somone you love has died.

I looked over at Terrance and thought about scolding him for eating all that cereal before dinner, but instead I asked about the phone call. "She say anything else?"

He let out a loud belch and excused himself before attempting a response. "Who? Aunt Gina? Un-uh. All she said was 'tell Gail to come and get me.' Those were her exact words. Then she gave me the address and hung up."

* * *

I pushed open the door to Gina's apartment and was almost knocked down by what I knew to be the stench of dreams gone bad.

"Whoo-we!" Terrance said as he stepped around me and clamped a hand over his nose and mouth. "Excuse my French y'all, but it smells like shit, damn and hell in here."

My son Terrance, always the comedian. I cuffed him on the back of the head and silently blamed both his tact and tasteless sense of humor on being fifteen and his father's son.

I spotted Gina seated on the bare floor between a couple of battered suitcases, and beneath a cloud of cigarette smoke. Her eyes were closed, but she nodded a greeting at us and stretched her mouth into what I suppose was an attempt at a smile. For a moment all I could do was stand and stare. The girl looked bad. Her lips were cracked and peeling. Her hair was a tangled, matted mess. And the corners of her eyes were so thick with crust, I didn't think she'd be able to open them.

When was the last time your ass saw some water is what I was tempted to scream at her. But instead I voiced a simple and calm observation of the obvious: "You look terrible."

"Yeah," she said as she took a final puff of her cigarette before snubbing it out. "Well, you'll be happy to know, I feel even worse." With a groan and a vile-sounding cough, she rose to her feet and jerked open her eyes. The gaze she shot me was hot and hazy, but the words that subsequently slid off her tongue were cool and unwavering. "So, do me a favor and spare me the lecture this time around Gail. Just take me home. Okay?"

# # #

What you just read ("Put On Some Marvin") is an excerpt from a story of mine that appeared in the Emrys Journal in the Spring of 1994. Yeah, so do I have a fascination with Marvin Gaye or what? (smile)

As always, when I review old material I see things that I would now do differently. Even so, this remains my favorite of all the stories I've written thus far. I think one of the reasons I like it so much is because I can see so much of myself in all of the characters.

I can remember reading this at the workshop I frequented in Memphis and receiving less than stellar reviews from my fellow scribblers and scribes, both the righteous and the wanna-be's. But something in my gut told me to leave the piece as it was and not tweak it too much. Sure enough, less than three weeks after I read the story, the folks from Emrys called and told me they wanted to publish it. Sometimes you've just got to step to the left of the nitpickers and the naysayers and go with what you know . . .

ALICE FAYE DUNCAN . . . THE MEMPHIS QUEEN OF CHILDREN'S LITERATURE . . .

When it comes to adult fiction, I have a hard time narrowing my list of favorite authors to just one. But if asked to name MY FAVORITE CHILDREN'S AUTHOR, without hesitation, I can say, there is only one, ALICE FAYE DUNCAN.

It seems like I've been knowing Alice Faye forever. Our paths first crossed in Memphis, back in the early 90's. Not only were we both members of a writing workshop, led by another Memphis born scribe, Arthur Flowers, we also worked for the same employer, the Memphis/Shelby County Library.

I count myself as one of the proud eyewitnesses of Alice's skillful leap from the ranks of the unpublished to the published. If I'm not mistaken, she was the first of our (now, long defunct) writing group to accomplish the feat in the form of a hardcover title.

In the years since, Alice has published a total of five children's books and earned a number of honors and accolades in the process. Through it all, she has somehow managed to remain both gracious and humble, and as one of the Bluff City's literary shining stars, has largely used her time in the spotlight to illuminate the lives of common, "everyday" folk.

For me, the titles of her books alone--Willie Jerome, Miss Viola and Uncle Ed Lee (my personal favorite) and Honey, Baby, Sugar Child, to name a few--reflect a soulful and loving embrace of all that is uniquely Southern and Black. Whether the topic be civil rights, jazz, love and friendship, parenthood and/or faith Alice Faye has a special knack for "giving us (common folks) back to ourselves" is what I like to say. The poetic language of her work renders it an experience that, by right, ought be shared and read aloud.

Anyone interested in starting a collection of children's books, taking a trip down memory lane or just making a young child smile would be well advised to check out some, if not all, of Alice's titles. What follows is a list of her books and her well-deserved awards. If you're interested in learning more about Alice Faye Duncan or contacting her, visit her website at www.alicefayeduncan.com/

BOOKS(Alice Faye Duncan)

1995 - The National Civil Rights Museum Celebrates Everyday People (BridgeWater Books) 1995 - Willie Jerome (Macmillan) 1999 - Miss Viola and Uncle Lee (Atheneum) 2005 - Honey Baby Sugar Child (Simon & Schuster) 2005 - Christmas Soup (with Phyllis Dooley) (Zonderkids)

HONORS (Alice Faye Duncan) 1995 - Reading Rainbow Award (Willie Jerome) 1996 - Best Book in Social Studies for Children (Everyday People) 1996 - Gold Medal in Nonfiction for Children, National Association of Parenting Publications 2006 - NAACP Image Award Nomination (Honey Baby Sugar Child)

DWIGHT FRYER: A LEGEND IN THE MAKING . . . PART II

Dwight Fryer

Memphis, 2005

from

Lori's Pic Collection

The following is the second half of a two-part Q & A with Dwight Fryer, NAACP Image Award nominee and author of The Legend of Quito Road.

Q: Before you were published, I understand that you attended a number of different writing conferences and workshops. Why? And could you name a few?

A: Actually, that's been one of the things I think that has been foundational to the level of success I've achieved, so far. I always sought out venues where I could learn about my writing craft . . . Where I could learn how to handle myself as a writer and what I should be doing every day . . ."

The first conference I attended was the Memphis Black Writers's Conference. I also went to the Oxford Conference For The Book. It's an hour drive from Memphis (Oxford, Mississippi) . . . and it's a very literary conference. From there I attended the Hurston/Wright Writers Week as well as the Iowa Summer Writing Festival, where I took a week long advanced writing class. By the time I went to those two, I had completed the book and rewritten it several times . . . I kept going to those type of conferences. Even after I received my book deal, I went to Napa Valley Writers' Conference in St. Helena, California.

Q: Tell me about your involvement with the Memphis Romance Writers of America.

A: When I started writing, I was looking for venues to learn how to write and I joined a romance writers' group here in Memphis, Tennessee called the River City Romance Writers. Once a month, I'd go out to Germantown Library (in the suburbs of Memphis) with 10 or 15 little ladies. We'd sit around and talk about writing and teach each other about craft. I learned so much from them. They were wonderful to me. They were writing romance and I was writing this decadent tale about a 13-year old boy . . . "

Q: Are there any books on the craft of writing that you've found particularly useful?

A: I found a great deal of help in a book called, Goal, Motivation and Conflict by Debra Dixon. I also truly enjoyed and grew greatly from a book called The First Five Words by Noah Lukeman. There was another book that was just written in beautiful language called Writing Down The Bones (Natalie Goldberg ) and it was just a wonderful expose about life as a writer and how it is important to take your craft seriously, but not too seriously to the point that you become so critical that you won't write.

On the business side of writing, two of the books that were most instrumental to me were The Idiots Guide To Getting Published. I used to fall asleep with it at night. I bet I read that book completely, probably, ten times. I also read Jeff Herman's book, How To Write A Winning Book Proposal. Both of those books helped me tremendously in learning how to approach a publishing professional and what to expect and what not to expect.

Q: Who are some of the writers you admire?

A: I really admire John Edgar Wideman . . . Reading some of his writings helped me love books even more. I also really admire two people I met at the Hurston/Wright Writers' Week, Dr. Jeffrey Allen, the novelist who wrote Rails Under My Back and Mat Johnson, who won the Hurston/Wright Literary Award for his novel, Hunting In Harlem.

My former next door neighbor was Rosalyn McMillan (author of The Flip Side Of Eternity and Knowing, among others) and she helped me a good bit over the years by giving me literary tips on how to structure my book and what to look out for in doing business with the publishing world. I admire Marita Golden (author of After and Don't Play In The Sun, among others) who started the Hurston/Wright Foundation . . . and is a great writer. I received a lot of encouragement from her at the Hurston/Wright Writers' Week of 2004.

Q: What's the best advice you received as a new writer and that you'd like to pass along? A: One thing I heard Michael Garret, a novelist who taught continuing ed writing classes at the University of Memphis say was, writer's write, whether you're published, whether you've ever sold anything, whether you have an agent or don't have an agent, writers write. If you are a writer, identify yourself as a writer and even if no one else believes in you, you are a writer.

Writers are most creative when they think of reasons not to write. So, you have to write regardless of what's going on in your life. When my child died, I wrote. When I was on chemo, I wrote. On days I was too blue to notice that the sun was shining outside, I wrote.

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If you have any questions you'd like to ask Dwight Fryer, feel free to leave them in the OSM's comments section and (for a limited period of time) I'll pass them onto him. Also, if you're interested in learning more about the author and his work, visit his website HERE.

The theme for this year's NAACP Image Awards Show is "Youth Create Change." If you'd like to see if Dwight wins this year's award for Outstanding Literary Work From A Debut Author, the show will air live on Friday, March 2, 2007, 8:00-10:00 ET on the Fox network.

DWIGHT FRYER: A LEGEND IN THE MAKING . . . PART I

On first glance, Dwight Fryer reminds you of the smart, but mischievous kid who sat behind you in class. You know, the one with the big grin and the twinkle in the eyes, who, as soon as you weren't looking, reached over and tugged on your ponytail or else playfully thumped you upside the head? But when you turned to confront him, he shrugged and issued you one of those, "What? Who me?" looks.

Make no mistake though, Fryer is man who is all about business, especially when it comes to the art and craft of writing. His first book, The Legend of Quito Road, recently earned him an NAACP Image Award nomination in the category of "Outstanding Literary Works From A Debut Author."

Dwight and I are both writers with strong ties to the South and specifically, Memphis, Tennessee, where Dwight and his family still currently reside. We first met there in 2005 after being introduced, via the internet, by a mutual friend and fellow scribe (big shout-out to Sharon J.). But while I was born in the Big M Town and consider myself a product of it's grittier, more urban terrain, Dwight actually hails from Grand Junction, a small rural town in west Tennessee.

In my opinion, Dwight's unique ability to tap into his southern, Black rural roots are what give his work that special "umpf" quality and helps distinguish him from the "same ole same" of today's Urban Lit crowd. In the short time that I've known Dwight, I've come to admire his drive, his tenacity, his dedication to craft and his willingness to share what he's learned with others.

If you're interested in learning more about Dwight Fryer, author of The Legend of Quito Road and 2007 NAACP Image Award nominee, I invite you to start with the following Q & A.

Q: Your book, The Legend of Quito Road, what's it about? A: The book is a story about a 13-year-old country boy named Son Erby whose religious daddy showed him how to make moonshine. It's a southern tale set in the 1930's, at the height of the depression and near the end of prohibition. The main theme of the book is that "the worst things wrong with most of us were planted by those who loved us best."

Q: Is there really a Quito Road? If so, where is it? A: Yes, it's in south Tipton County, about 30 minutes northwest of Memphis. When I started writing this book, I was living up near that area.

Q: How long did it take you to write The Legend of Quito Road? A: I wrote the first words to this book on a Sunday afternoon in late July in 1998. I was at a writing class in a Barnes & Noble in Wichita Kansas. It took me 4 and 1/2 years. I finished it at Christmas in 2002; it was my Christmas gift to myself.

Q: Wow, 4 years is a long time! Did you ever consider giving up? A: I considered giving up a whole lot of times. Number one thing, writing a novel and pushing through just to complete it is an enormous task. I laugh a lot of times because I'm glad I didn't know how much work it was when I started it, because I'm afraid I wouldn't have . . .

Also, I had so many unique things happen to me after I started writing this book. I began writing the book in July of 1998. In August, I accepted a call to the Ministry. In September, I lost my job and two days later found out I had colon cancer and needed radical surgery and chemotherapy.

So, through all of that and even 2 years later when my youngest child died suddenly of meningitis, I kept writing this novel.

Q: Your perserverance in the face of so much is both humbling and truly amazing. Even now, I know you wear a lot of different hats--author, minister, motivational speaker and manger for a global transportation company. Being that you're also a husband and father, I assume, you have some semblance of a life away from work (smile). How do you find time to write? A: I'm an old guy and I don't need much sleep. So, I'm in bed most nights by 9:00-9:30 and I'm up the next morning by 4:30. I write for a couple of hours before I get ready for work. On Saturday mornings, I get up about 6:00 am and I write. So, if it's important to you, you'll fit it in. And you don't need that much time if you know how to structure yourself . . . All you have have to do is think, 'what am I going to write today?' and look at that part of your outline and write it.

Q: Since you brought up being "an old guy" (your words, not mine *smile*)what's your take on being an older writer? A: Your life experiences, to me, kind of begin to come together between 35 and 50. For me, life is really coming together as I approach 50. When I first started thinking about this book, 16 years ago, I was in my early 30's. This would have been a very different book from a much angrier young man had I written it then.

STAY TUNED FOR PART II OF THE OSM'S Q & A WITH DWIGHT FRYER