GRACE NOTES

AFRICAN AMERICAN READ IN

2012-02-02T07:53:00.000-08:00

I will be reading from Act of Grace at the 8th Annual Ypsilanti Community African American Read In. This year’s theme is Entrepreneurs Read. What I love about this event is that children under 19 will get to select a FREE book from Nicola's Books. All are welcomed. It promises to be a great event.

8th Annual Ypsilanti Community
African American Read In

Monday, February 6
6:30 pm - 8:30 pm
Ypsilanti District Library Community Room
5577 Whittaker Rd,
Ypsilanti, Michigan

A Day of Service Because We All Can Serve.

2012-01-16T05:53:00.000-08:00

My favorite King quote:

"Everyone can be great because anyone can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't even have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve... You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love..."

~Dr. Martin Luther King

Chaos or Community? The question King asked is as valid now as it was when he was alive. I'm hoping for... betting on that we will choose community, because King also reminds us that " We must live together as brothers or perish together as fools.”

Have wonderful day of service!!

Where All My Charaters Are

2011-11-07T05:30:00.000-08:00

I recently completed a blog tour with Pump Up Your Book and I must say I learned a lot about myself as a very introverted author trying to make my way in a market that requires many extrovert skills.

Thank God for all the lessons I learned from reading the blog, Shrinking Violet Promotions: Marketing for Introverts. If you are introvert and the thought of promoting your novel gives you hives or make you want to hide under your bed, head on over to this very useful site for all the information you need to become an effective advocate for your work.

Now, one of the blog posts I had to write during the tour was an exercise called: “Five Things You Didn’t Know About ___” (fill in the blank with one of your character’s names.)

At first I dreaded writing about this I think because writing in Grace's voice after being away from her so long felt a little odd and I was fearful I couldn't do it anymore. However, once I got into it I found it very instructive and I think this exercise might also prove helpful to those of you who feel they need to flesh out the characters in their own work.

Below is what I wrote for the blog, The Plot: Where All The Characters Are:

Five things you didn’t know about, Grace Johnson from Act of Grace by Karen Simpson.

(In the first person voice of my character Grace Johnson talking directly to the audience.)

I was not named Grace just because it matches the theme in the book. My author mom, Ms. Simpson, knew I was not named lightly. Family lore has it that along with everything else my parents fiercely argued about what I was to be named. If it had been left up to my mother’s gaudy, soapoperish taste, I would have been christened Diva Rose. A name only a stripper could love or use. My father saved me. He told my mother that he had read that people’s lives proceed from their names the way rivers proceed from their sources. The name Diva Rose was like a creek, while the name Grace was like the Nile. My daddy wanted great things for his first-born. He wanted his girl child to be able to handle responsibility. So he gave me the name of his grandmother because she was the strongest and most spiritually powerful woman he knew.

I am not fat. People, I tell you my size in the first chapter of the novel so all you folks who think I’m tipping the scales at three hundred pounds, please. My author mom should have listened to her friend Sherlonya who told her to make me a size 14 instead of 16, Sherlonya knew that just like appearing on TV, appearing in a novel makes you look heavier than you are. I’m full figured but healthy. I’m not as beautiful as my sister, Jamila but then who else is? I guess I’m ranting about this to get to what’s important because what I look like had nothing to do with the reasons why I took bullets to save the life of that racist, Mr. Gilmore.

Being able to talk to the dead isn’t all cake and candy. The ancestors remind me that I have been given the power to talk to and for them so that I might help others live better lives. This explanation is supposed to be my balm from Gilead. I would be lying though if I said this knowledge completely soothes my soul or makes me feel more whole and less wounded as I try to help other with their problems.

I’m learning to cook. My aunt Peaches is teaching me how to make my favourite dessert, Better Than Sex Cake. It’s this flourless chocolate cake slathered with caramel, topped with cumulus mounds of whipped cream, flakes of toasted coconut, and huge twigs of chocolate shavings. It’s great. Now, I don’t know if it’s better than sex… um at least not yet. Anyway, if you ask my author mom she’ll hook you up with the recipe for the cake.

I am all about my music. If you want to know about me, and why I do things, marinate on some Coltrane because for me it is as he said, “No matter what … it is with God. He is gracious and merciful. His way is through love in which we all are. It is truly – A Love Supreme.”

The Winners Are

2011-10-25T05:18:00.000-07:00

Wihelmina wins the novel.

David Wanty wins the music

Thank you everyone for your participation.

Dave and Wihelmina please email me your addresses at simpsonactofgrace(at) gmail.com so I can get your prizes to you.

Moonbeam Award Shines on Act of Grace

2011-10-14T11:49:00.000-07:00

The 2011 Moonbeam Children's Book Awards recognized my novel Act of Grace as the gold medalist in the Young Adult Religion/Spirituality category.

The awards ceremony will be held during the Traverse City Children's Book Festival on November 12, 2011.

I was a little dubious when my niece Lauren told me that not just adults would like my novel. She was right and I owe her some flowers and lunch:)

I am excited and very honored.

About the Moonbeam Award
Presented by Jenkins Group and Independent Publisher Online, the Moonbeam Children's Book Awards are designed to bring increased recognition to exemplary children's books and their creators, and to support childhood literacy and life-long reading. Awards will be given in 30 categories covering the full range of subjects, styles and age groups that children's books are written and published in today.

New Tour Stops

2011-10-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

These are my next stops on my tour with PUMP UP YOUR BOOKS! Hope you can find the time to ride with me each day as I talk about my novel and my writing life.

October 10 ~ Interview at The Book Bin

October 11 ~ Interview at The Examiner

October 13 ~ Guest Post at The Book Connection

October 12 ~ Interview at Inky Blots

October 14 ~ Guest Post at Divine Caroline

I 'M ON TOUR

2011-10-04T04:56:00.000-07:00

I’m on tour with PUMP UP YOUR BOOKS! for the month of October and November. My list of tour stops for the week of October 3rd to October 7th is listed below. Hope you can find the time to ride with me each day as I talk about my novel and my writing life.

October 3 ~ Interview at Pump Up Your Book

October 4 ~ Interview at Paperback Writer

October 5 ~ Interview at The Writer’s Life

October 6 ~ Guest Post at The Plot

October 7 ~ Guest Post at The Plot

Meet Me At The Crossroads For A Book And Music Giveaway

2011-09-22T13:00:00.000-07:00

I'm hosting a giveaway of a copy of my novel and some great Blues music, but first the story behind it all.

This year is the centennial celebration of the legendary Blues musician Robert Johnson birth. Robert Leroy Johnson was born in Hazelhurst Mississippi on May 8, 1911 and for Blues scholars and fans alike, his life and death are a fascinating blend of folklore, myth and legend. Perhaps the most pervasive story about Robert Johnson is that he sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in exchange for extraordinary prowess with the guitar. According to legend, Johnson had a burning desire to become a great Blues musician and was "instructed" to take his guitar to a crossroads at midnight. There he was met by a large black man (supposedly the Devil) who took the guitar and tuned it. The black man played a few songs and then returned the guitar to Johnson, giving him mastery of the instrument. According to some, this was in effect, a Faustian bargain, where in exchange for his soul; Robert Johnson was given the ability by Satan to create the Blues for which he became famous.

Now, when I was a kid, I always wondered about this legend. Why did it have to be Satan that he met? Better yet, why was the Devil a black man? It was only later as I began to do more research on the subject of African cultural retention in the United States for my Masters degree did I begin to understand that it wasn't the Devil that made Robert Johnson do anything.

Aside from the fact that it was another singer named Tommy Johnson and not Robert Johnson, who actually made the claim that he sold his soul, references to the Devil do fill Robert Johnson’s lyrics as well as those of many other Blues songs. However, the Devil in these songs may not only refer to the Christian story of Satan. More than ample evidence of African religious retentions surrounding the African Orisha Legba exists in the United States. Legba is considered the god of the crossroads and of the paths of man. A trickster, his role is to teach humility and thankfulness by testing humans.

So, when African-Americans born in the 19th or early-20th century said that they or anyone else had "sold their soul to the devil," they may have had very a different understanding of who the large black man standing at the crossroads was. Legba, as a guardian of the crossroads could also bestow powers and extraordinary gifts of talent on those who came to petition him on moonless midnights at the intersection of two roads.

It is this more African take on the Robert Johnson crossroads legend that I weave through out my novel Act of Grace. Oba, the tall big black man , Grace Johnson encounters at a Jazz and Blues festival, bestows on her a powerful and frightening message about her future. Grace suspects that Oba may be imaginary, or worse, evil. It is only later in a conversation with her great grandmother, Nana Grace that she finds out who he really is:

“He is a teacher, a guide, an opener of the way. In ancient Greece, he was the
god Hermes; in ancient Rome, he was the god Mercury. In Africa, he could be
called Legbe, Ellegue, Elegbara or Eshu. You would know him best as the entity
bluesman Robert Johnson met at the cross road to bless his guitar. Now, in this
time and place he calls himself Oba."

THE GIVE AWAY!

A copy of my novel: Act of Grace

A copy of the CD: 100 Years of Robert Johnson by Big Head Blues Club and Big Head Todd & the Monsters

This record is a tribute to the late Robert Johnson to celebrate his centennial and is produced by Grammy winning producer Chris Goldsmith. The guest musicians include such great guest musicians as BB King, Hubert Sumlin, David "Honeyboy" Edwards, Charlie Musselwhite, Ruthie Foster, Cedric Burnside and Lightnin' Malcolm.

How to Enter:

Leave a comment, question or the name of your favorite blues singer in the comment section of this post or like my facebook page Karen's Jazz Kitchen and leave a comment by midnight October 8th EDT to be entered into a drawing for either the book or the music. Please state in your post whether you want the CD or the book. One person for each item will be chosen randomly using Random.org

A Book Grows in Michigan

2011-09-16T08:27:00.000-07:00

I went to my favorite independent bookstore the other night and found my novel Act of Grace nestled next to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. The 14 year old girl that still lives inside me was in giggly open mouth awe as I took this picture. Betty Smith's novel was one of my absolute favorites when I was a teenager. I still have my food stained, yellow paged, dogeared copy. I remember dreaming of being an author as I read it over and over again. Never thought I would get to sit on the shelf next to my hero but book dreams can come true.

Next week I'll be hosting a give away of my novel and a CD of the blues music that helped inspire my character, Grace Johnson . Stay tuned for details !

MY FAVORITE WRITING QUOTE

2011-09-05T10:48:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite writing quote is by the poet Sharon Doubiago. Sharon was was once my mentor for a writing program called Split Rock. Sharon was a gentel but sometimes hard taskmaster. She could spread praise like jam on warm bread, but man, she would lean into my writing like no one else. Chastising me when she knew I was pulling my punches, telling me off when my love of metaphors threatened to strangle my work. I always knew the worse was coming when she would start an edit line with "Ms. Simpson, really you know better. "

I love how she describes a successful work of literature:

A successful work of literature is one that fuses spirit and craft equally, has
linguistic, emotional, psychological, intellectual, philosophical, aesthetic
integrity, involves the full self of the writer, is more honest than clever, is
not primarily an artifice, is not primarily from a program or formula, is not
primarily for selfish gain in the world, brings pleasure which usually has to do
with recognition, is more from generosity than hate (the exploration and
highlighting of hate being part of the task, but as Wallace Stevens says “Love
tips the scales”), is somehow a contribution to human survival (the writer’s as
well as for all); is the best that it can be. Is soul work.

Some writers are born gifted in language. Their hurdle is glibness. Some writers stutter and stammer to the end; their hurdle is in saying it. A successful work of literature fuses the poles of muteness and the gods speaking."

I know I lean toward glibness. How does your writing roll?

Red Summer : The Race Riots of 1919

2011-07-18T09:26:00.000-07:00

By Cameron McWhiter

Can't wait to read this book.

One of the most importan event in my novel ACT OF GRACE takes place during the bloody summer of 1919 or what was called Red Summer. Author Carmeron McWhiter has written an important book that tells about that summer when anti-black riots and lynchings swept the nation from April until November. Below is the link to an NPR interview with the author.

Cameron McWhirter: "Red Summer"

TALKING ABOUT GRACE.

2011-07-14T14:13:00.000-07:00

The picture is me reading at my first book signing at Nicola's Books.

(I really do need to dye my hair)

Yea!! My first podcast. I was interviewed by a librarian friend for the Ann Arbor District Library blog. I talked about the many themes of my novel and about myself as an author. The production values are great but I still don't like my voice. Some folks think I have a wonderful laugh. All I will say is that I had a great time. Take a listen and if you can leave a comment on the blog or with the library about what you thought.

*Ann Arbor District Library Talks To Local Author Karen Simpson*

My First Book Signing

2011-06-13T07:15:00.000-07:00

Come meet me for a discussion and signing of my debut novel at :

Nicola's Books
2513 Jackson Ave Ann Arbor MI
Wednesday, June 15th 7pm

The sign in the bookstore window states that my novel is about justice, redemption and the power of forgiveness, but I would also like to add that my novel features some great music along with excellent descriptions of food, especially a certain magical pound cake. As one reviewer stated:

This is Simpson's first novel. It is a must read. Her poetic style of writing soothes you into the harsh realities of racism, violence, and absolute hate based horror. The hero, Grace, puts an end to historical and current race based violence by her own sacrifice--after learning much from her ancestors. Simpson reveals the truth of the crossroads metaphor, saving Robert Johnson, by allusion, from misrepresentation. Music and food are the backdrops of Simpson's work: "better than sex" chocolate cake, red velvet cake, Nina Simone and John Coltrane….

For more information about me or the novel please see the Nicola's Books website

Hope to see you there!

My Birthday Bottle Tree

2011-05-31T14:09:00.000-07:00

This year to celebrated my birthday and the publication of my novel I bought myself a fancy bottle tree off eBay. I planted the spiky pole in the black cast iron washing and cooking pot my dad hauled back from his mother's farm after her death. I always loved this sturdy pot because it reminds me of the few precious memories I have of my Grandmother Simpson. After many years of planting flowers in the pot I decided to erect a elegant bottle tree to celebrated her memory. I'm not a big wine drinkers so I only have a few bottles to hang on it for now. May have to ask friends for their empties.

Bottle trees are prominently featured in my novel. I've always been fascinated by their deep connections to Africa.

The best explanation about about the tradition, history and function of bottle trees is in a wonderful book by Stephanie Rose Bird called Stick, Stone, Roots and Bones: hoodoo, mojo and conjuring with herbs. Bird writes:

"Bottle trees stem from the Bantu tradition of tying bottles and other objects to trees to protect a residence or vacant land from thieves. The bottles draw and then trap wayward spirits inside the bottles. Our ancestors can safely be used to scare off wrongdoing. Bottle trees are also considered a new home for departed love one where we visit and be close to them

There is little doubt the custom of guarding yards and household for all evil with branches decked with glass vessels came form Kongo and culturally related territory in Central Africa. It arrived in memories of blacks from the Kongo via New Orleans, Charleston and the West Indies."

In my novel my protagonist Grace learns that her eccentric, but spiritually powerful aunts Casmil and Peaches have erected a whole forest of bottle trees to protect her. Below is that scene from the novel :

"We also put up a grove of bottle trees at the back of the property,” said Casmil.

“Bottle trees?” That turned me around to see if they were kidding, but the calm expressions on their faces told me that kidding lived in a whole different universe of thought.

“You know what a bottle tree is,” Casmil asserted.

She was right. I had seen pictures of the trees from the 1930s in a book. Their upward growing limbs were stripped of leaves, and each branch ended in an empty blue or green bottle. These trees were thought to protect a person’s home, the gleam of the glass capturing and disempowering evil forces and troubled spirits. When out of curiosity I had checked out bottle trees on the Internet, I found that most people used artificial versions of them only as yard art. I had never seen bottle trees erected as a “visual prayer for protection.”

“Ok, what are you protecting yourselves from?” I put the question out like bread and waited for the meat that would make it a meaningful sandwich.

“You,” Peaches corrected. “We’re protecting you.”

Bottles trees as yard art are now extremely popular. Even when shorn of there original spiritual meaning they are for me a beautiful additions to the landscape. At one time I had hoped to built a bottle tree and maybe when I have more time I still will. Maybe I'll build myself a whole forest of them to honor the ancestors.

Book Launch -My Dream Picture

2011-04-15T12:12:00.000-07:00

My sister -in -law Nancy took this picture of my readers holding up my book. I don't remember this happening but looking at this now makes me smile and think- WOW

Book Launch

2011-04-10T02:50:00.000-07:00

THE OFFICIAL ACT OF GRACE NOVEL CAKE. A GIFT FROM MY SISTER, DELPHIA.

I can't believe I haven't posted anything since February. Well at least it's not because I didn't have anything to report. All I can say is birthing a book is hard and like any newborn entity there is even more work after it's born.

It has been a wild ride getting the book out into the various distribution streams of Indie bookstores, and the online outlets of Amazon and Barnes and Noble. All kinds of glitches and minor problems popped up, nothing that couldn't be resolved, but the kinds of things that left me and my publisher saying," Damn how did that happen?"

But it's hasn't been all work and no wonder. To the day I die I will remember my Act of Grace book party as one of the highlights of my life. On a semi warm April Friday night, I had the official christening of my novel. It was an amazing launch party, better than anything I had daydreamed about when I was writing the novel.

I spent most of last week cooking because I wanted the food to reflect the food in the novel and the only way to do that was to prepare it myself. So the menu included, pound cakes (two different kinds), peach cobbler (huge) , two flour less chocolate cakes, chocolate covered oreos, spicy gingerbread cookies shaped like rabbits, lemon tarts and other treats.

Over one hundred people showed up, so many there was standing room only. My younger brother introduced me which was special. I thanked everyone, then I gave what I hoped would be the first of many readings. After questions I signed books and chatted with my readers. Yes I am living the dream of every author and I feel truly blessed.

The Dream Is Now True!

2011-02-18T01:36:00.000-08:00

Early Praise for ACT of GRACE

“Grace’s intimate narration and folksy-but-modern-Southern-down-home voice immediately pulls the reader into the story. You can’t help but like her: she’s sassy, she’s smart, and when her Nana explains to her that she is to be a conduit for their ancestral spirits, you know immediately that the right girl was chosen for the task.”

Marlon Edwards-The Speculative Literature Foundation

My best dream is now true, my novel ACT OF GRACE will be available March 1, 2011.

I have wonderful new, shiny website put together by the publishing team at Plenary, so take a peek at www.karensimpsonwrites. Under the About the Novel Tab at the top of the blog, a fuller synopsis of the novel is also available

Working with my publisher Plenary Publishing has been a wonderful experience, full of adventures in the editing process and lessons on the art of being patient. Now, one part of the writing journey has ended and we are forging onward in to the wilderness of the marketplace.

Early orders for my novel can be placed on the Plenary website. Grace will also be available on Amazon, B&N or your local independent bookseller on the date of publication, and on your Kindle or Nook. And, if ACT OF GRACE isn’t in your store or library, please don’t hesitate to ask for it.

Thank you!!

When NO Is Not The End But A New Beginning

2011-02-11T22:15:00.000-08:00

New writers often ask me : Who helped you the most on your road to publication?

My best answer is an agent who rejected my manuscript not once but twice. It was not a brutal set of NOs as in "Not ever you talentless hack" but a gentle set of NOs as in "Hold your horses newbie, writer, woman, you still got work to do." I remember receiving her letter in 2006 and being disappointed .

Dear Ms. Simpson

Thank you so much for allowing us to read ACT OF GRACE. This is certainly a heartfelt, dramatic, and compelling project, and one, which boasts a fresh and amazing concept. The possibilities here are limitless.

While there is much to savor her, and so much promise, I'm afraid I found the execution to be a bit rough. The narrative is, too often, uneven, and the voice tends to have a “ Young Adult” tone to its storytelling.

I just don’t think this book is yet where it needs to be (or could be, given its potential) but remain very interested in it. I encourage you to hire a freelance editor or book doctor, someone with professional savvy who can zero in on the book’s weaker spots, and advise on how to repair them and strengthen the execution as a whole. Should you opt to revise and work with an editor, I would love to take another look at this wonderful book. If not, I wish you the very best of luck with this project, and with placing it with the right agent.

I thank you again for the opportunity, and encourage you to keep working on this book.

Sincerely,

I was so excited, yet I was hurt, What do you mean my beautiful baby novel wasn't ready for the world, I kept thinking. It took a huge amount of chocolate cake and the booming voices of reason and sanity from my best writer friends to make me really look at what the letter was saying. Act of Grace was good but it could be better with more work. Still I was hurt because lord have mercy, I was as green as grass, and silly back then.

But a few days later I realized the agent was right, my novel was not ready for the world. I would also realize I didn't have the first clue on how to fix what was wrong. So I borrowed money from my beloved sister, and signed up for an extensive novel critique and several workshops. I sent my manuscript back 6 months later and the agent passed on it again saying it was better but still not good enough to sell. That time I shrugged, sat my butt down in front of my laptop and went back to work.

A couple of years and thousands of pages later I finally succeeded. Part of learning to write is learning to listen to criticism from other writers and professionals. If an agent cares enough about your work to reject it, but still takes the time to send advice your way, don't look at it as the end of the road, but rather, look at it as a set of new directions on how to continue your journey toward publication.

All Dogs Go To Heaven

2011-01-28T11:34:00.000-08:00

Nyla was little in body (four pounds) but great in spirit. She was my sister Delphia's gift to my mother who was in so much pain from arthritis some 14 years ago. Mom hadn't laughed in months but the day she received her gift of Nyla her depression lifted.

When mom died Nyla became my companion, my little dog baby who made losing my mother bearable. Now Nyla has gone to that heaven all dog go to.

It seem right that Nyla would die 10 year almost to the day that Mom passed. She had a stroke this morning and I had to put her to sleep. I can imagine that Nyla is in my mother's arms. She is back with her first and best owner.

Rest well little one, my Nyla girl, I will miss you so much.

You Can Get Through Anything If Magic Made It

2011-01-21T05:54:00.000-08:00

I love cooking and this passion for all things culinary reveals itself in my writing. My novel Act of Grace is full of food, particularly pastries and cakes. On the page there are descriptions of tarts, pies and a cornucopia of cakes. Each bake good has its own meaning in the story, if only to convey to the reader the idea that there can be sweetness, joy and hope even in the darkest time of our lives.

One of my favorite cakes to bake and eat is the pound cake. Now, many folks consider the pound cake to be an ordinary kind of bake good. The kind of cake you bake if you don’t have a lot of time or fancy ingredients, Glance at any number of recipes and all you will see as a list of ingredients is a pound each (more or less ) of flour, sugar, butter and eggs. However sometimes simple foods are the most beautiful kinds of foods because they provides the foundation for innovation.

Pound cake batter can be the perfect blank canvas upon which an imaginative cook can demonstrate their culinary expertise. A well made pound cake can be stunning and in my novel, the protagonist Grace gets to describe such a cake. Grace's pound cake (made by a gifted aunt) is beautiful; however, it's not just a simple cake because she will come to realize that it symbolizes the beginning of her heroine’s journey.

Below is my favorite pound cake recipe. Please don't feel that you have to leave your pound cake this naked, take the time to make a nice glaze or make/ buy some good ice cream, melt some chocolate or cut up some ripe fruit to go with it.

Pound Cake

Ingredients

· 1-1/2 cups butter
· 6 eggs
· 1 8-ounce carton dairy sour cream
· 3 cups all-purpose flour
· 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
· 3 cups sugar
· 1 teaspoon vanilla

Directions

Pre-heat oven to 320 degrees

1. Allow butter, eggs, and sour cream to stand at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. Make sure the butter is soft. Meanwhile, grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan. Set aside.

2. In a mixing bowl, combine flour and baking soda; set aside.

3. In a large mixer bowl, beat butter with a stand mixer on medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Gradually( and I do mean gradually) add sugar, beating about 10 minutes or until very light and fluffy. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition.

4. Add vanilla. Add flour mixture and sour cream alternately to egg mixture, beating on low to medium speed after each addition until just combined. Spread batter in the prepared pan.

5. Bake in a 325 degree F oven for 1-1/2 hours or until a wooden toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool in a pan on a wire rack for 20 minutes. Remove from pan, and cool thoroughly on a wire rack. If you like, garnish

Enjoy!!!.

Sleepy Baby Bunny ( Ramdom Acts of Cuteness)

2011-01-10T08:13:00.000-08:00

Got a boat load of news about my book I can't talk about just yet, so for your entertainment pleasure a ramdom act of rabbit cuteness.

OF MEMORY AND LOVE

2011-01-06T05:30:00.000-08:00

I wrote the dedication page for my novel this morning with a deep sense of loss mixed with lush joy because the two people to whom I am dedicating my novel to are not here the way I would like them to be. I know they are here in spirit and I know my novel's protagonist Grace would surely tell me Dorothy Jean and Willie James are not that far away; however, my hearts want them to be here in the flesh. I want to watch them flip the pages and get that hug when I do my first reading. Of course it is not to be. Real is real, my Ms. Grace would tell me.

This January is just hard..hard Mom will have been gone 10 years this month and Dad's birthday would have been this weekend, January 8. I am especially missing my father because I was truly his little girl.

Willie J. Simpson would have been 84 years old this year. He died when I was 21 and I still miss him everyday. He would have loved my being a writer and I think he would have been pleased with Act of Grace. I decided to write this note of appreciation after listening to a tape recorded during a Simpson family Christmas celebration on his mother's farm in Greenville, Alabama. The year was 1967 I was twelve .

~***~

Dad,

First of all, thank you for buying me my first typewriter and being happy when I said I wanted to be a writer.

Thank you for telling mom that it really was fine for little black girls to love horses even if they lived in the middle of Detroit.

Thanks for teaching me how to mop floors and iron creases in my pants just like you did in the Navy.

Thank you for teaching me how to cook Salmon patties, fried green tomatoes, grits with cheese and how to appreciate Alaga syrup and Wonder bread.

Thank you for sharing your love of farming, gardening and mules. For being all up in my business when it came to boys. For insisting I learn a second language. For giving me a deep love of poetry, buying me my first book on mythology, for introducing me to James Baldwin, and for giving me one of my favorite albums: South America: Black Music in Praise of Oxalá and Other Gods.

Thank you for making me memorizes the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley just because you had to memorize it in college and because you thought that everyone should have a poem about courage in a pocket of their memory. I use to think that I would dedicate my first novel to Mom, but now I realize that I'm the writer I am because of you so I guess you get to go first.

Thank you, thank you for everything.

P. S You would have loved your grandchildren. They are smart and happy and Delphia is a married woman now. Her husband is a great guy, he reminds me a lot of you.

Till we meet again.

Love

Karen

Good Luck New Years Pie

2011-01-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

I’m a great admirer of George Washington Carver and his work to feed and uplift the poor of his time. He was one of the original ecologist and recycler. He loved to breed plants and this painting reveals him in the midst of cross-pollinating a variety of amaryllis named after him.

People know Carver as the Peanut Man but he also did considerable work with sweet potatoes and black eye peas. Below is recipe for a sweet black eye pea pie I concocted based on his original recipe. ( I have a recipe for a savory pea pie which I will post later.) I once made about fifty of these for an event at a botanical gardens just so the audience could taste a bit of history. I was dog tiered after the event but the letters I received from the public and especially school children was well worth it.

George Washington Carver's Black-eyed Pea Pie

Black eye peas make a wonderful pie but in order for it to be an attractive pie you will have to spend time rubbing off as many of the black spotted skins as possible.( Skinning peas is a time consuming processes and if you don’t care that the filling of the pie will have a dull gray color than use the cooked peas whole). Skinning the pea can be done with dry peas; as you let them soak you start rubbing them to release the hulls and then when you rinse the peas the hulls will float up and off with running water. You will have to do this several times. Once the peas are clean, cook them as you would other beans according to the directions on the back of the bag until soft.

(Please note you get essentially the same kind of pie with it's higher fiber content and an attractive color by using navy beans. Cook the dry Navy bean according to directions on the bag until done . )

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

2 Cups of Cooked Peas (Processes peas or beans in a food processors until smooth)
1 Stick Butter ( room temperature or melted)
4 Eggs
14 oz of Evaporated Milk
2 Tablespoons of Flour
2 Cups of Sugar
2 Tablespoons Vanilla
1 teaspoon Nutmeg
1 teaspoon Cinnamon

In mixing bowl add beans, butter, milk, eggs, nutmeg, cinnamon and flour mix about 2-3 minuets . Add sugar and vanilla mix well. Pour into pie shells bake about one hour or until golden brown . Makes about 2 to 3 bean pies

An important tip: 5 minute after removing pies from oven cover them with good plastic wrap that clings I found that saran wrap is best although I’m sure there may be others that work just as well. This covering helps the filling of the pies to set up .

Enjoy!!!!!!!

A DISTANT FIELD

2010-12-28T05:36:00.000-08:00

I dreamed of Ghana last night. I woke up remembering how this trip change my life in ways small and large . This morning I came across some pictures I took while traveling down one of the highways. I love this picture, how the overcast field was bejeweled by a faint but brilliant band of a rainbow.

I thought of Rumi and one of my favorite poems by him. So in this season of Kwanzaa on this day of the third principle, Ujima ( Collective Work and Responsibility.) I offer you a poem by Jelaluddin Rumi, the 13th century mystic poet.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.

From Essential Rumi
by Coleman Barks

Merry Christmas

2010-12-24T22:03:00.000-08:00

Every year my family gather at midnight on Christmas Eve to read from a small, tattered, blue book titled Little Town of Bethlehem by Hertha Pauli. It tells the story of Mary and Joseph's journey to Bethlehem .

My father bought the book some 47 years ago to read to us. For years my mom and dad took turns reading until me, my brothers and sister became old enough then each of us in turn had the honor of reading from the book. Because I am the oldest I was the first child to read. Mom and Dad are gone but the tradition continues. The next generation is now reading continuing the tradition.

My favorite part of the book is the last passage perhaps because it emphasis the power of the story teller in every culture and religion. So I leave you with this from the little, tattered blue book.:

When the shepherds returned from Bethlehem, they told everyone what they had seen in the stable. And all who heard it marveled at their story. It has been told and retold every since.

May the peace and joy of Christmas be with you and yours always.

BE THE SKIN HORSE

2010-12-24T08:20:00.000-08:00

I hope you have a skin horse to talk to.

I hope you are a skin horse to somebody special in your life.

What is a skin horse? You ask.

A skin horse is somebody who is wise in the ways of the world and tells you the truth about life and living even when you may not want to hear it. My character Grace skin horse is named Dr. Monroe.

It is this part of the story that seems to resonate with many readers. The question the rabbits asks about, what is "real" is a question we all ask or maybe should be asking ourselves and others all through our lives.

The skin horse has his own book but it not as well know at the rabbits story. It's kind of a shame, because the Skin horse is a powerful charater. I've been able after a long search to find a copy of The Skin Horse can't wait to read it in full.

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT- THE SKIN HORSE

For a long time he lived in the toy cupboard or on the nursery floor, and no one thought very much about him. He was naturally shy, and being only made of velveteen, some of the more expensive toys quite snubbed him. The mechanical toys were very superior, and looked down upon every one else; they were full of modern ideas, and pretended they were real. The model boat, who had lived through two seasons and lost most of his paint, caught the tone from them and never missed an opportunity of referring to his rigging in technical terms. The Rabbit could not claim to be a model of anything, for he didn't know that real rabbits existed; he thought they were all stuffed with sawdust like himself, and he understood that sawdust was quite out-of-date and should never be mentioned in modern circles. Even Timothy, the jointed wooden lion, who was made by the disabled soldiers, and should have had broader views, put on airs and pretended he was connected with Government. Between them all the poor little Rabbit was made to feel himself very insignificant and commonplace, and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery. Sometimes she took no notice of the playthings lying about, and sometimes, for no reason whatever, she went swooping about like a great wind and hustled them away in cupboards. She called this "tidying up," and the playthings all hated it, especially the tin ones. The Rabbit didn't mind it so much, for wherever he was thrown he came down soft.

One evening, when the Boy was going to bed, he couldn't find the china dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry, and it was too much trouble to hunt for china dogs at bedtime, so she simply looked about her, and seeing that the toy cupboard door stood open, she made a swoop.

"Here," she said, "take your old Bunny! He'll do to sleep with you!" And she dragged the Rabbit out by one ear, and put him into the Boy's arms.

That night, and for many nights after, the Velveteen Rabbit slept in the Boy's bed. At first he found it rather uncomfortable, for the Boy hugged him very tight, and sometimes he rolled over on him, and sometimes he pushed him so far under the pillow that the Rabbit could scarcely breathe. And he missed, too, those long moonlight hours in the nursery, when all the house was silent, and his talks with the Skin Horse. But very soon he grew to like it, for the Boy used to talk to him, and made nice tunnels for him under the bedclothes that he said were like the burrows the real rabbits lived in. And they had splendid games together, in whispers, when Nana had gone away to her supper and left the night-light burning on the mantelpiece. And when the Boy dropped off to sleep, the Rabbit would snuggle down close under his little warm chin and dream, with the Boy's hands clasped close round him all night long.

And so time went on, and the little Rabbit was very happy–so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier, and his tail becoming unsewn, and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the Boy had kissed him.

( To be continued)

Rabbit Real

2010-12-23T08:19:00.000-08:00

On of my favorite stories is The Velveteen Rabbit. I love it so much that it's theme of how to we must accept ourselves as worthy of being loved and how we become real though loving relationships, runs through out my novel Act of Grace. Grace's basket name or Nickname is Rabbit for a variety of reasons that are revealed though out the novel.

The Velveteen Rabbit or How Toys Becaome Real begins on Christmas. So for the next couple of day I thought I would put up a page by page of the the original picture book story with the original illustrations.

But first. a few words about the author. Margery Williams Bianco (1881-1944) was born in London , and first came to the United States when she was nine years old. She lived in the United States and England alternately for the rest of her life. Her first adult novel was published when she was 21, but the Velveteen Rabbit( Pub. 1922) was the first, and best-known, of her thirty children's books. Something I did not know about her was that her last book Forward Commandos! ( 1944), a story of wartime heroism, included an African American Soldier as one of it's Charaters. Acknowlegement of the contribution of blacks to the war effort was extremely rare during that era and that fact was noted in the book's reviews. Margery Willima Bianco did not live to see World War II come to an end. As Forward Commandos! went on sale she died at the age of 63.

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT OR HOW TOYS BECOME REAL

THERE was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid. He was fat and bunchy, as a rabbit should be; his coat was spotted brown and white, he had real thread whiskers, and his ears were lined with pink sateen. On Christmas morning, when he sat wedged in the top of the Boy's stocking, with a sprig of holly between his paws, the effect was charming.

There were other things in the stocking, nuts and oranges and a toy engine, and chocolate almonds and a clockwork mouse, but the Rabbit was quite the best of all. For at least two hours the Boy loved him, and then Aunts and Uncles came to dinner, and there was a great rustling of tissue paper and unwrapping of parcels, and in the excitement of looking at all the new presents the Velveteen Rabbit was forgotten.

( to be continued)

My Guest Review

2010-10-25T11:13:00.000-07:00

I did a guest review of the book This I Accomplished: Harriet Powers Bible Quilt and Other Pieces by Kyra Hicks over on Carleen Brice's White Readers Meet Black Authors Blog.

I loved, loved the book. My review of it is here

My Other Obsession

2010-10-04T13:01:00.000-07:00

Much of my adult life I have been more a quilter than a writer. For years I told the stories I had about African American life with fabrics, thread and needles. Even though I loved books, I never thought I could write a novel, didn't think I was really smart enough to do that. But then a story, a story I knew was my story, caught my imagination and I was compelled to set out my writer's journey.

Writing fiction, I would find, was a lot like piecing and quilting fabric . You stitch thousands of words together to create an intricate pattern of theme, plot and characterization. Then, one by one, you layer all the pages, one on top to the others, to produce what you hope will be an interesting and powerful work. Over the years, I became more writer than quilter because I found I couldn't serve two obsessions properly. However, recently my fabric love came back to me in the form of an invitation to celebrate the anniversary of a quilting project I was involved in some 13 years ago.

In 1997 a few of my quilts were selected to appear in the book, African American Quiltmaking in Michigan put out by the Michigan State University Museum. I remember being so thrilled to be included. It felt wonderful to have my quilts documented as part of Michigan history. Afterwards, I felt confident enough to open a small studio where I taught African American quilting for years. Then, the writing fever hit and I became more of a novelist. I thought quilting for the most part was in my past.

Imagine my surprise when two weeks ago I got a invitation to the African American Quiltmaking in Michigan reunion. The Michigan State University Museum is holding reception for the quilt artists and quilt owners whose work were featured in the book and exhibit. The reception is a part of the Unpacking Collections: The legacy of Cuesta Benberry. A Symposium on Researching and Using Quilt History Collections. Saturday morning I will be heading up to Michigan State to celebrate the quilter I was and still am. I plan to do the full day of lectures in addition to going to the reception, because quilts and quiltmaking have become an an important part of my next novel. After ten years, my two artistic halves are now merging into a joyous creative whole and that is a wonderful thing.

Where Have I Been?

2010-08-07T16:06:00.000-07:00

Where have I been ?

I’ve been away editing my speculative novel Act of Grace, putting more shine on the pages before it goes out into the wilderness of readers and critics. It has been an amazing journey back into my Grace’s world of conjuring, faith, African American mythology and magic. It was good to be back in her company again. She is so different from when she first flowed out on to my yellow note pad some ten years ago; but then I was a inexperienced writer back in those days-- full of more passion than skill.

Grace was born shouting, her first words came in a very vivid dream one night . Woke me from a deep sleep, with what was then the first line of the novel. After that she didn’t shut up or stop growing until I was done and she and I had a publisher. Every now and then I still hear her voice as I work on my second novel and let’s just say my new characters are not amused.

Soon Grace will be speaking to a wider audience. I’ll be blogging more because as her world opens up I will have more to say.

The Nature of Happiness

2010-04-22T16:15:00.000-07:00

I think I truly began my journey toward becoming a writer twenty-two years ago in 1987. I was thirty-three years old, ten years into a dead end job, and still not sure where I was going in my life. The only thing I was sure about, was I wanted to be a writer, however, that seemed like a Don- Quixote- impossible dream like goal that only other smarter, prettier and more imaginative people could achieve. Real writer didn’t look like me I thought, and besides what were the odds I had any real talent.

But I had the wordy itch and finally it occurred to me that I at least needed to try and scratch it just once. One evening as I went to an event at a local community college, I saw a poster for the school’s literary journal Northern Spies. They were requesting submissions so I sat down and over the next two weeks composed an essay about my grandfather. To my delight and surprise, Northern Spies accepted my little essay. There was a fancy reception and reading for those whose work they published. I remember being nervous as I got up in front of a small but appreciate crowd to read:

The Nature of Happiness.

On this winter day with cold so deep one could call the sun a liar, I have made my heart and archaeologist and sent it to sift through my past; down, down, down to the thin layer of subconscious matter that contain the faint images I have of my grandfather, who died when I was young.

Most of my memories of the Reverend Dr. John Van Catledge are created from my mother’s lore, but because he was what I wish to become scholar, writer, teacher most of what I understand about my grandfather flows from my small collection of his photographs and written works. Few photographers caught his smile. Some might say he had no love for the camera. To me, however, he embodied the African and African belief that constant smiling denotes a lack of seriousness, sincerity and character. What the Yoruba defined as ashe , a spiritual wisdom is what my grandfather projected with his calm eyes and sealed lips.

No, he had no mirth for cameras to steal, but his written work revealed a scholar’s joy of learning, a writer’s hope filled vision of life. There is one splendid letter he wrote to my mother about the nature of happiness. It is this letter I open now because today melancholy is too good a friend, contentment seems a distant rumor, and the sun still is a shameless liar. I will read myself well and whole again.

I didn’t know it back then, but the word, Ase literally means “ it is so”,or “may it be so.” I believe now that when I wrote that word down and then said it aloud up at the podium, I set into motion, the full power of my dream

Ase…it is so.

I am to be an author in a few months. Act of Grace, my novel will be birth into the world by Plenary Publishing come February 16, 2011.

A Martin Luther King Day Remembrance

2010-01-17T08:40:00.000-08:00

When I was a senior in college I did an internship with the King Center. Those three months of service and study in Atlanta changed my life. King's philosophy of Nonviolent Social Change tends to show up in my fiction. To celebrate MLK day here is a favorite selection I took out of my novel Acts of Grace .

Excerpt Two :

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death
Oscar Wilde

After such knowledge, what forgiveness
T.S. Elliot

I have this memory left over from the hospital, Mr. Gilmore, that I feel I should share with you. I’m not even sure if it is real. It has the texture of being a figment of fever, trauma, drugs and remnants of Bible verses. I believe I was coming out of unconsciousness after surgery. I felt myself trying to shove aside the darkness the way you push away dirt to get out of a hole. Eventually I saw a circle of light with Monroe’s face stamped on it, and I stopped digging

“Exactly why did I save him?” I shouted up to Monroe.

“Love,” Monroe shouted back, “but not the kind of love one has for God or friends or lovers but Agape the love of redemptive good will for all people. It’s the kind of love that makes it possible to save an enemy.”

“Like when Jesus said love your enemy.”

“Yes,” Monroe replied, then I heard him chuckle “Dr. King once said that we should be happy Jesus didn’t say “Like your enemies, because like is such a sentimental and affectionate word. King’s view was that it was hard, perhaps impossible to be affectionate toward a person whose avowed aim is to crush you. Agape love allows us to get past the hate. It allows us to recognize the fact that all life is interrelated, all humanity involved in a single process. You did what one human sister should do for a brother.”

"I’m tired of being so damn magnanimous.”

“I know, Rabbit.” he told me, “but it’s important that you are.”

Love I am beginning to learn Mr. Gilmore is stronger than death and even a greater mystery than life.

Originally posted Jan 2008

Speak, So You Can Speak Again

2009-11-05T07:01:00.000-08:00

I have a review of the book Speak, So You Can Speak Again: The Life of Zora Neale Hurston by Lucy Anne Hurston (Doubleday 2004) up on the truly wonderful blog COLOR ONLINE. Take a peek and while you are over there, tour the rest of the blog to see all the wonderful work this organization is doing to encourage girls and young women to read. They focus on women writers of color for adults YA and children. They love to talk books, culture and literacy, so I encourage all of you to stop by.

Read the full text to the article mention in the review What White Publishers Won't Print by Zora Neale Hurston on Bernice L. McFadden's blog NAKI.

Also read Tayari Jones take on Zora Neale Hurston's article.

Classic Black Speculative Fiction

2009-09-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

W.E.B DuBois was an amazingly versatile writer and scholar. He wrote a speculative fiction short story called The Comet in 1920. It is included in the anthology Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora by Sheree R. Thomas. The Comet is also available as a stand-alone e-book.

The premise of the story is that in a vaguely futuristic yet oddly contemporary world, a passing comet casts a shadow of death over Manhattan. Only two survive: a black man whose world has been one of poverty and hard work, and a white woman who knows only leisure and privilege. If humanity is to have a future, the two must build a new world from the wreckage of the old.

DuBois spent his final years in Ghana where he is still deeply revered. A small museum houses his extensive library, a bronze bust of him, academic regalia from Harvard and, finally, his outdoor tomb. During my visit to the W.E.B. Du Bois Memorial Centre for Pan-African Culture , the guide took out a first edition copy of The Souls of Black Folks , one of DuBois's personal copies, and allowed me to touch it. I was honored and thrilled.

If you have a chance give The Comet a read, and leave a comment about what you think.

SO, WHAT IS THE NOVEL ABOUT ?

2009-08-20T15:57:00.001-07:00

Now that I've signed my publishing contract people ask, "So, what's your novel about?" Because this book has been more in my head than out in the world, I usually end up hemming and hawing like I don't know or can't remember what I have been working on for a good chunk of my life . Truth is, it's hard to summarize any novel in a few words. However, one of the skills writers who want to be authors have to learn is how to pitch their novel succinctly to agents, publishers, booksellers and, of course, readers.

The one sentence pitch for my novel Act of Grace sums up the essence of the novel and offers a taste of the conflict. It's the no frills explanation I give when I'm asked about my work. This is usually all people want to hear. It's enough to make them go, " OH, that's interesting." :

When Grace Johnson a bright, perceptive African American high school senior, saves the life of a Klansman named Jonathan Gilmore, everyone in her hometown of Vigilant Michigan wants to know why.

The longer pitch is below. This is from the heart of the query letter I sent to agents :

When Grace Johnson a bright, perceptive African American high school senior, saves the life of a Klansman named Jonathan Gilmore, everyone in her hometown of Vigilant Michigan wants to know why. Few people, black or white, understand her act of sacrifice especially since rumor holds that years ago a member of the Gilmore family murdered several African-Americans including Grace’s father. Grace wants to remain silent on the matter; however, she discovers the decision to speak is not hers to make. Ancestral guides emerge in visions and insist she bear witness to her town’s violent racial history so that all involved might transcend it.

With hindsight made telescopic by suffering and the wisdom found in African myths, Grace recounts a story of eye-for-an-eye vengeance that has blinded entire generations in her hometown. Haunted by anger and trauma she wonders if she can do as the spirits have asked and lead Mr. Gilmore, the town of Vigilant and her own soul on a journey toward reconciliation and redemption.

Writing about Grace, has been a powerful journey into the meaning of forgiveness and redemption. True to her name, my character has tested all of my assumptions about race and community. She has also reshaped many of my attitudes about the nature of good, evil, love and hate. I love Grace for all the hard and wild places in my soul she has forced me to explore. I hope with all my heart that readers will come to love and appreciate her as well.

Mission Accomplished

2009-07-23T13:46:00.000-07:00

When I finished my first novel, I promised Grace, my heroine, that I would find her a good home. I've kept my promise. My dream of publishing has come true, but it didn’t happen the way I always imagined it would.

After long years of dues paid to learn my craft I queried and finally got an agent– I was hopeful, she was hopeful. She did her best to sell the book; however, it seemed that many traditional publishers and editors believed with all their hearts and bottom lines that African Americans only wanted to read urban literature or romance novels. They were also convinced that white people didn’t want to read anything by African Americans.

My novel fell into the genre of speculative fiction. It came complete with intelligent black folks, living intelligent lives. No magical negros or vapid black sidekicks. My agent got back letter after letter saying, “We like this novel but we don’t believe these charaters......( insert stereotypes here.)

“I’ll keep trying.” My agent said. However, I could tell she was discouraged.

I was suppose to wait on my agent to do the magic that agents do, but as the rejections piled up I knew I was probably going to have to pave the way to publishing success my own self. One November morning last year, my agent sent me another flurry of rejection emails and I got angry. I typed into Goggle: African American Literary Publishers and up popped the name Plenary Publishing.

I took a look at the website and it appeared the people behind Plenary were serious. Sometimes you have to take a leap off the cliff into the unknown and trust that God and the ancestors will throw you some wings on the way down. I followed their detailed submissions directions, pressed the send button and waited and waited and waited some more. I waited so long I almost forgot that I had submitted to them. Great blessing sometime come to those who wait. On May 13, the day after my birthday, I received a request for the full manuscript of my novel Act of Grace. I only had to wait a little while longer after that.

I am pleased to announce that my novel, my baby made of words, love and imagination, will be published by Plenary Publishing in February of 2011. I will be writing more about my upcoming publishing journey later as I get use to the idea that my best dream has come true and Grace now has a wonderful home.

YOU HAVE TO ENTER TO WIN

2009-05-28T08:31:00.001-07:00

The Speculative Literature Foundation was launched in January 2004 to promote literary quality in speculative fiction. Every year they offer a grant for older writers . Every year I put off entering. Well, this year I got my behind in gear and entered a selection from my novel Act of Grace and guess what I won!!!

They said of my work

"We enjoyed your writing sample very much, especially the compelling opening that pulls the reader into the story, the tight, sharp, beautiful prose, and Grace's folksy-but-modern-Southern-down-home narrative voice that's both straightforward and intimate. "

Information about me and my entry should be up on the SLF website so take a look, and all you writers who are over fifty please take the time to enter next year.

An Old Song For A New Revolution

2009-05-18T04:48:00.000-07:00

WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED

We shall not, we shall not be moved

Black and white together,

We shall not be moved

LiveJournaler neo_prodigy has created a campaign and Live Journal community for visibility of speculative fiction fans, artist and writer of color inspired by the infamous and still on going RaceFail 09 .

He asked that on Monday May 18, 2009, anyone who identifies as a POC/non-white post the beautiful Banner above along with, their speculative short stories, artwork, poetry or simply write a post on their blogs as an act of protest to show we will not be silent or invisible.

The day of protest is entitled Fen Of Color United or more aptly, FOC_U.
White allies are encouraged to also show solidarity for this event by posting the banner above and expressing the need for diversity and speaking out against the bigotry in the genre, through posts and/or their creative work as well.

Full post: http://community.livejournal.com/foc_u/435.html

Hitting My Stride

2009-05-12T05:59:00.000-07:00

For some reason this birthday has been really hard to deal with. Instead of being grateful to God that I have lived 50 something years, I’ve been counting all my regrets and chastising myself for still being alone. I was wallowing in pity until I came upon a blog post by author, and hoodoo man extraordinaire, Dr. Arthur Flowers. This is what he wrote in praise of older women:

As I grow in age, I value women over 40 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think. If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting. Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant.! Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it. Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart. Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her. Yes, we! praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal . For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.

For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?', here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage . Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!

40? 50 is when they really hit their stride

I felt better after reading this. Thank you, Dr. Flowers, thank you. When I think about it I guess I really am just hitting my stride.

Colson Whitehead Coming to Ann Arbor

2009-03-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

I was just musing the other day about all the authors I would love to meet in person. I guess the universe heard me, because the top one on my list is coming to my hometown, just in time for my birthday.

Colson Whitehead, best known as the author of the novels John Henry Days and The Intuitionist is coming to the Ann Arbor Book Festival( May 17-19). I love his work and I’m going to hear him speak at a breakfast function. I promise not to make a fool out of myself by acting like a clueless fan.

While here he will be teaching a workshop at the Festival's writers conference. Below is the name of the workshop and the description.

How to Write, Or A Few Things I Learned From Listening to the Donna Summer Version of 'MacArthur Park'

The writing process is challenging for any writer. This session will present keen insights into the process from one of our country's most celebrated young writers. Come meet him, hear his story, and find out what he means by this rather interesting title, suggested by him!

Colson Whitehead will also be talking about and signing his new novel Sag Harbor. I heard it's great and I'm looking forward to reading it.

Round One

2009-03-10T06:16:00.000-07:00

Where I’ve Been

Sorry I've been away so long, but I had some fighting business to take care of . This last couple of months it been me and 75 pages of the second novel alone in quiet places. One of us was going to drop. One of us was going to get knocked out. The novel thought she was going to win, she thought she had the stamina to make me throw up my writing fingers and quit. But ha. ..ha... ha..I took her out. The novel now has a name(Canter) and she's wearing a exciting coherent plot plus a couple of nice new chapters.

I’m the winner at least until the next round.

The Origins Of Black American Heroes

2009-01-16T11:09:00.001-08:00

As I drop deeper into the world of my new, still untitled, novel, I realize certain themes echo through my work. At present what fascinates me are: Father/daughter relationships, dreams, myths, Africanisms in the United States, the nature of good, evil, love and forgiveness. This has led me to think about the books that inform my writing.

One of my favorite nonfiction books is the The Hero with An African Face by Dr. Clyde W. Ford. I have read my copy down to its gluey spine. Ford's work helped me frame my last novel, Act of Grace, so that my words got to the heart of what I was trying to express.

The Rites of Passage Organization said:

The Hero With An African Face identifies and explores the connection between humanity and divinity found throughout traditional mythologies of Africa. In the book, Ford takes readers on a journey into the mythologies of sub-Saharan Africa, presenting timeless insights into the human spirit that reveal the power and importance of ancient African myth. He places it among the great mythological traditions of ancient Greeks, Romans, Chinese, and Native Americans. It is also the first book to show the similarity between African spiritual traditions and their counterparts in Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Native American spirituality, and other spiritual traditions worldwide.

Mythology was traditionally a means of healing self and society by helping people baring the circumstances of their lives into harmony with larger concerns. As Ford writes, "Myths bring us into accord with the eternal mysteries of being, help us manage the inevitable passages of our lives, and give us templates for our relationship with the societies in which we live." In the book, Ford explores how African myths convey the perennial wisdom of humanity: the creation of the world, the hero's journey, our relationship with nature, death, and resurrection. Ford shows how many myths reveal the intimacy of human and animal spirits, and explores the arhetypal forces of the orishas - the West African deities that were carried to the Americas in the African Diaspora. Ultimately, Ford points out that these myths enable us to see the history of African Americans in a new light - as a hero' journey, a courageous passage to a hard-won victory.

Interview with Dr. Ford done by Fearless Books.

Dr. Ford is also a wonderful novelist, dedicated to bringing back the nautical novel. Check out his new literary work on his web site.

LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH

2008-12-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH,

AND LET IT BEGIN WITH ME.

LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH,

THE PEACE THAT WAS MEANT TO BE

(words and music by jill Jackson and Sy miller, 1955)

Merry Chirstmas Everyone!!!

The Case for More African American Books

2008-12-11T06:58:00.000-08:00

I Heart Black Authors

I've been away awhile, revising, yet again, my first novel so that my agent can send it back out into the world. Now, I have been around on other blogs commenting about life and writing, but I really need to work on my own stuff. So let’s talk about the bane of every writer’s life – REJECTION.

Rejection hurts, but sometimes rejection letters are important because they reveal important truths you have to learn to deal with as a writer, be it the quality of your work or the nature of the publishing industry. Rejection letters make you face truths you knew were out there but preferred to ignore because they were well…depressing.

Last year ,in my quest for representation for my first novel, I received the following rejection letter from a well-known African American agent:

Dear Karen

Thank you for your query and I apologize for the delay in my response. This is an indication as to how overwhelmed I am by the numerous submissions that we receive on a daily basis. It would not be as bad if publishers were a bit more receptive to diverse works by African American writers.

In most instances the editorial direction at many publishing houses is based on whatever is trendy or the pre-selected categories that represent only a narrow segment of African American reader’s interests.

I am certain that if you survey any bookstore you will quickly determine that there is little diversity among the overall titles representing African American writer of fiction and nonfiction… much of it poorly written.

It is truly an unlevel playing field and one that necessitates my having to decline representation of many worthy projects such as yours, simply because each submission requires an enormous amount of time and effort to garner the interest and support necessary to achieve the objectives of acquisition, publication, marketing and promotion.

Signed

Now, I consider this letter a gem of knowledge, even though, at first, it stung my soul. I consider it important because I needed to know the truth about what I and other writers of color of are up against. This letter also now serves to remind me to appreciate my agent’s hard work and her own frustration about not being able to place my novel.

As with any business, publishing is about the numbers and cash.” You have to be able to make them(publishers) money.” My agent once explained. All publishers can see, especially in these hard economic times, are the dollars they can get from selling only certain kinds of book written by and for black people. Art and the beauty of the written word about African American life and culture be damned since they believe people will only purchase certain kinds of more titillating fiction .

The lack of diversity in African American fiction and non fiction is a problem, but problems can’t be solved unless some of us are willing to step up and take action. Carleen Brice, author of Orange Mint and Honey has started a movement to level the playing field on her blog White Readers Meet Black Authors .The goal of the blog is to introduce people of all colors and cultures to books by African American authors. Because the truth is, change can only come for black writers and authors if people spend more money on a variety of African American books. So take a look at Carleen's new blog, veiw the video and buy a few copies of her wonderful novel to give as gifts.

Lift Every Voice

2008-11-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

This is one of my favorite songs about uplift. I've been singing it all day in honor of President Obama

Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson (1871–1938)

Lift every voice and sing,
'Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on 'til victory is won.
Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast'ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
'Til now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.
God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who has by Thy might
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.

Vote like the future depends on you

2008-11-04T02:41:00.000-08:00

Vote in memory of all those who waited for this day and didn't make it.

Vote in memory of all those who couldn't get to the mountaintop with us.

Vote because we are the dreams of our ancestors.

Fig Fool

2008-09-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

I am a fool for figs. I wait all summer until the stores have them and then I gorge. This year I just couldn’t bring myself to stretch my budget to pay for a pound of the luscious fruit. I was going to do without. But yesterday my best writing buddy bought me a quart. I was so happy I almost cried. In my novel Act of Grace, figs, with little nuggets of goat cheese perched in their moist beaks, appears in one of the pivotal scenes. It is one of my favorite parts of the book:

Dinner arrived at the table like floats in a culinary Mardi Gras parade. First to arrive was a salad of field greens whose creased and feathery leaves had been laid out as a nest for slivers of sugar encrusted almonds and small green figs whose soft beaky mouths had been propped open to hold smooth pebbles of a soft cheese. The salad was a bright introduction to a steaming mound of Jambalaya that was a treasure trove of pearly rice strewn with gems of moist chicken, thick smoky lips of ham and shrimp the size of a big baby’s fists.

From Act of Grace~

In honor of my friend I give you a recipe for Fresh Figs With Goat Cheese and Peppered Honey from Bon Appetit Magazine

Ingredients

1/4 cup honey

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

12 fresh figs

1/4 cup soft fresh goat cheese

Preparation

Combine honey and pepper in small pitcher; stir to blend. Starting at stem end, cut each fig into quarters, stopping 1/2 inch from bottom to leave base intact. Gently press figs open. Spoon 1 teaspoon cheese into center of each. Arrange figs on platter; drizzle with peppered honey.

Of course this is just as good with out the honey, but the honey accents the flavors of the figs and the cheese. I also have served this with a really nice wine.

Soul Work

2008-09-05T11:13:00.001-07:00

I’m getting restless waiting for more responses from editors. I use to think I was a patient woman but now I’m being tested. So, to easy my anxiety I thought I would explore some quotes about writing.

My favorite quote is from the poet Sharon Doubiago who taught me how to correctly use poetic language in a novel. She was a wonderful mentor and is a wonderful poet.I love how she describes writing as “soul work". To read more about her click here. I definitely tend toward the hurdle of glibness she speaks about in the quote below.

A successful work of literature is one that fuses spirit and craft equally, has linguistic, emotional, psychological, intellectual, philosophical, aesthetic integrity, involves the full self of the writer, is more honest than clever, is not primarily an artifice, is not primarily from a program or formula, is not primarily for selfish gain in the world, brings pleasure which usually has to do with recognition, is more from generosity than hate (the exploration and highlighting of hate being part of the task, but as Wallace Stevens says “Love tips the scales”), is somehow a contribution to human survival (the writer’s as well as for all); is the best that it can be. Is soul work.

Some writers are born gifted in language. Their hurdle is glibness. Some writers stutter and stammer to the end; their hurdle is in saying it. A successful work of literature fuses the poles of muteness and the gods speaking.

SHARON DOUBIAGO

The Hidden Guidelines for Literary Fiction Written By African Americans

2008-07-31T07:27:00.000-07:00

The site All About Romance had an interesting blog dealing with guide lines for literary fiction. Robin Uncapher suggested in her article that while everyone likes to pretend there is no formula for writing literary fiction, everyone who publishes literary fiction knows exactly what the rules are. Read the full article here

Black people and women of all colors please take note of Ms. Upcapher’s first rule of the literary fiction formula.

“If possible the book should be written by a man and have a male voice, a white male voice. Women and minorities will be published but with the exception of a few designated hitters, they will not be eligible for the big prizes and kudos. If the narrator is African American she should sound like one and, if possible, write something historical. Writing about slavery is good but anything set prior to 1950 is okay. For example, an AA female writer who wishes to write a book about a female black lawyer in Boston involved in a major civil suit, should make sure the suit has something to do with being African American. Otherwise, she should forget about literary fiction and write romance or Chick Lit. If a female author is white she should write the way John Updike would write if he were a woman.”

The truth is funny but it hurts. If you are black and writing literary fiction you have to be aware of what is driving agents and editors choices of your work. Think about this folks. Go to books stores and check what’s on the shelves in the African American section especially in the category of debut fiction. See for yourselves what narrow portions of the black experience is allowed to be published. What new literary fiction there is by African Americans, and there is not a whole lot of it, fits this hidden formula and it’s a darn shame. What to do about it? I really don’t know. The novelist Bernice McFadden put on her blog a fictitious letter from publishers. Read it here unfortunately it is the absolute truth.

True Patriotism

2008-07-03T07:26:00.000-07:00

On July 5, 1852, Douglass gave a speech at an event commemorating the signing of the Declaration of Independence, held at Rochester's Corinthian Hall. It was biting oratory, in which the speaker told his audience, "This Fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn." And he asked them, "Do you mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak to-day?"

Within the now-famous address is what historian Philip S. Foner has called "probably the most moving passage in all of Douglass' speeches."

What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sound of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciation of tyrants brass fronted impudence; your shout of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanks-givings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy -- a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States, at this very hour.

In his time Fredrick Douglas was often called unpatriotic. This man who worked hard to convince President Lincoln of the necessity of the Emancipation Proclamation. This parent who sent his own son off to a Civil War that gave no guarantee there would be freedom for African American slaves. This man who gave so much for so litttle respect in return during his life time was often considered unpatriotic.

So, This is what I will rembert this July 4th: Sometimes patriotism is being able to love your country so much that you know it is your sacred duty to point out it greatness flaws and faults so that things will be better in the future for everyone .

Happy Independence Day everyone.

THE ROAD TO PUBLICATION IS PAVED WITH CREAM CHEESE.

2008-06-10T12:28:00.000-07:00

My agent Anita Diggs has posted on her blog the steps on the road to publication

Here is her description of the first step.

After the agent sends a contract for representation, it will take anywhere from one week to a full year to get a firm offer from a publishing house. It is a tension filled period for both agent and writer.

I’m on the first step, which may explain why I’m in the kitchen cooking for my writers groups. When I’m nervous I cook or I quilt. I should be working on the next novel but that’s another story.

One of my favorite things to bake is cheese cake. There is nothing more soothing than watching a pound or so of cream cheese smack and swirl around a mixing bowl. A favorite of my writing groups is my Cheesecake with Chocolate Glaze.

Next week we’ll talk about how to make my mother’s Peach Cobbler and the strangest and sweetest conversation I ever had with a man about how to cook something his deceased mother use to make for him.

Cheesecake with Chocolate Glaze

Makes 1 nine-inch cake

(Make sure all ingredients are at room temp)

7 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 -1/2cups graham-cracker crumbs

1-1/4 cups sugar

2 pounds cream cheese, room temperature

4 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 cup sour cream

Pinch of salt

6 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped

4 tablespoons heavy cream

1. Heat oven to 350°. In a small saucepan, melt 5 tablespoons butter. In a medium bowl, combine graham-cracker crumbs and 1/4 cup sugar. Stir in melted butter until crumbs are moist. Pour mixture into a 9-inch springform pan; press firmly, forming a 1/2-inch crust up sides of pan. Bake until set, 12 to 15 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack.

2. Reduce temperature to 275°. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat cream cheese until smooth. Slowly add remaining cup sugar. Beat until well combined, about 3 minutes.

3. Drizzle in eggs, one at a time, stopping occasionally to scrape down bowl. Beat in sour cream and salt. Pour batter into crust.

4. Bake cheesecake until sides have set but center appears soft, about 1 hour 45 minutes. Transfer pan to a wire rack to cool. Run a paring knife around the outside of crust, loosening it from pan. When cool, cover tightly with plastic; let set at least 4 hours or overnight.

5. To serve, place chocolate, remaining 2 tablespoons butter, and cream in the top of a double boiler or a heat-proof bowl set over a pan of gently simmering water. Stir occasionally until melted. Remove from heat; let cool slightly. Pour chocolate glaze over cheesecake; spread into a circle, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Chill just until chocolate has set, about 10 minutes.

Stuff My Agent Made Me Take Out For Very Good Reasons #1

2008-05-16T13:22:00.000-07:00

I love this prayer I wrote for my novel Act of Grace, but my agent said it was to much, and she's right, but I still love it. My Buddhist friend, who I thought would be really offended, loved it so much she asked for a copy.

My sister says this is how we pray when we know we have to forgive but we are still too angry to do it the right way. She says God understands but the expectation is that we have to do better in the future. That was my thought about the charater Grace when I wrote the prayer. At this point in the novel she knows she's suppose to forgive, but she's still too angry to do it right.

A Prayer for Our Enemy

Forgive all our enemies, those who can still be helped as well as all the abominable and evil ones who still be hating on us and wishing evil on us and just being dumb and ignorant by lying and deceiving and judging and damnming us. Holy One be as honey to my enemies. Holy One be as the moon and the sun and the stars to them that hate us. Holy One please take from me my desire to beat my enemies’ lying, deceitful and judgmental asses.

Amen

To My Mother Dorothy Jean Vancatledge Simpson

2008-05-11T08:39:00.000-07:00

My mother is a poem I'll never be able to write, though everything I write is a poem to my mother.
~Sharon Doubiago

Thanks mom for everything. You died too young but all your little birds are doing well.

Love Karen

Memories of Race Horses Past

2008-05-06T15:20:00.000-07:00

Paparouna also known as Poppy

I love horses and horse racing. When I was young I read nothing but horse novels and dreamed of learning to ride. Horse love got me into quilting but that's a story for another time. I use to be more addicted to the sport of racing than I am now. Once upon another lifetime I could spout off racing stats and quote pedigrees like scripture. I was the only African American teenager I knew who could read and use the Daily Racing Form.

About eleven years ago I was involved in a group called Virtual Owner Partnership where for 500.00 ( yes 500.00 ) a person could participate in the ownership of a racehorse. We were a group of folks who came from all walks of life to indulge in our obsession via the Internet. It was one of the most interesting thing I've ever done.

The first horse I was a part of was a wonderful filly named Papaprouna. Paparouna was a beautiful flaming red daughter of the great Kentucky Derby winner Unbridled, a grand daughter of the immortal Secretariat. The only reason our cash poor group got her was because during the auction a bird pooped on the head of the other high bidder and by the time he came back from washing the poop out his hair our group had her. There was almost a fist fight in the parking lot about that.

Paparouna was big ( 17 hands), strong and freakishly fast. Fillies and colts from the Unbridled bloodlines tend to come that way, they also tend to be rather unsound. During her racing career Paparouna was constantly sore or coming up lame. As a three year old she was on track to be nominated for the Kentucky Oaks (the filly's version of the Kentucky Derby) . Unfortunately she came up sore before the big race. As bad as we wanted to go to Kentucky- I mean it is the dream of a lifetime for any owner- our group had enough sense and horsemanship to send our baby back to the farm to rest and recover. Other horses in racing aren't so lucky. Horse racing in America tends to be about money and speed even it hurts the horse.

We raced Poppy for a while and then sold her to become a broodmare. While we received a lot of money for Poppy, several of the small time partners, including me, couldn't help but think that we were helping to past those unsound genes to the next generation.

Perhaps you have heard by now of the filly Eight Belles who shattered both front legs after finishing second in this years Kentucky Derby. It was a blessing that the camera was on the winner Big Brown when it happened. Eight Belles was huge, strong and freakishly fast and it didn't surprise me when I checked her pedigree that she was out of those fragil Unbridled's Although the winner of the Kentucky Derby is a great story, I'm still heartsick over Eight Belles. May she rest in peace in the great lush pastures of the sky.

Horse racing needs to do some deep soul searching. Information about this year's Kentucky Derby and the Eight Belles tragedy is available on NPR.

My First Meme - How Quirky Am I ?

2008-05-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

Carleen over at the Pajama Gardener tagged me for my first meme.

Here are the rules:

Link the person who tagged you.

Mention the rules in your blog.
Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.

Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.

Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs
letting them know they've been tagged

My problem is that most of my friends don’t blog so I’m just going to link to the one that does. So, Stehanie Feldstein you and your lovely pitbulls come on down.

My quirks :

I have a terrible sense of direction meaning I couldn’t find my way around a small paper bag. I am the last person in the world you would want to ask for directions to anywhere. I navigate around my home town almost solely by landmarks. Don’t ever ask me what street something is on because I probably couldn't tell you. Thank God for Map Quest and cars with GPS units .

I’ve been to Ghana, Nova Scotia and Ireland but I have never traveled to the Upper Peninsula of my home state of Michigan, which is pretty strange

I’m very picky about the kind of yellow pads and mechanical pencils I use to write my first drafts of fiction on. I didn’t use to be like this. The first draft chapter of Act of Grace was written on small post it notes because the story just felt too big and scary to write on larger sheets of paper. ( My sister says that writers are just so damn weird)

Nobody and I do mean nobody uses my large quilting scissors,especially the ones I use to cut fabric with. I have found that a lot of quilters are like this about their personal sewing equipment.

Like Carleen I too have to keep everything I use within eyesight, especially for the book I’m writing ,or any quilt I’m working on. It leads to piles of stuff on all my tables and my desk.

One of my favorite foods in the world is chocolate covered matzo. I don’t like to use salad size forks to eat with. I truly believe that okra is a disgusting, useless vegetable. An added extra bonus quirk - I leave the Television on to keep my dog Nyla company while I'm at work.( Yes I know it's wasteful but I worry that she gets lonely.)

What It Looks Like When A Dream Comes True

2008-04-25T07:46:00.000-07:00

Wow, I have an agent. After seven years of hard work on my novel I finally got the call or rather a four o’clock in the morning email from Anita Diggs that said “ I just finished your novel and I would like to offer you a contract.” I almost fell out my chair and had to read it again to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I danced around the living room with my little dog Nyla who, like all little dogs, thought the celebration was all about her. I waited until a decent hour to call my sister and we sat on the phone all breathless and squealing like kids. I still went to work, but later during lunch, I cried because I wanted my parents to be here . This is the hard part of celebrating this milestone in my life, the people who made it possible aren't alive to see it.

Here’s a little bit about my agent ( My agent- I still can’t believe it.)

Anita Diggs has worked as a Senior Editor at Random House, Editor at Time Warner Trade Publishing and Senior Editor at Thunder's Mouth Press. She has lectured across the country on the topics of developmental editing, fiction writing and how to get a literary agent. The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, C-Span and The New York Daily News have all interviewed her over the past eight years. Columbia Journalism Review placed Ms. Diggs on their “The Shapers” list for the year 2000. The Shapers is a list of prominent New Yorkers who shape the national media.

Bottle Tree Love

2008-01-28T07:47:00.000-08:00

Bottle Trees are prominently featured in my novel. I love them. I am fascinated by their beauty and their deep connection to Africa. I have one bottle tree-small and pretty. Now I want others- taller and bigger. I want Bottle Trees that people can see as they drive by my house. I have been sketching plans to build them. You can buy them at places like BottleTree.com but the quilter in me is demanding that I try to build my own. So, sometime this spring I’ll be at Home Depot buying wood and calling on my wine drinking friends.

For those who don’t know what bottle trees are here is the basic description:

The West African tradition of placing bottles and other luminous objects on trees as adornment, a practice that has thrived through the African Diaspora and is now predominately found in the southern region of the United States. The bottle tree tradition holds that spirits are attracted to the bottle and are trapped inside. When the winds blow, the low howl emitted from the bottles is said to be the sound of those spirits inside.

A deeper description is located at the website below:

http://www.dikenga.com/films/firecracker/sessions2/session7/bottle.html

An absolutely beautiful article by Susan Lee Travis called Roots, Reflections and the Blue Bottle Trees is on the Travis House Graphic website. Take a look it will probably make you want to build your own Bottle Tree.

A blog called Deep Fried Kudzu also has direction on making a bottle tree from an old christmas tree.

CHRISTMAS MEMORY

2007-12-25T07:04:00.000-08:00

One of the best gifts I ever received was a typewriter from my father when I was twelve years old. When I opened the box my very practical mother said, “Well now you can practice to be a secretary.” In 1967 the best a black girl could hope to grow up to be was a secretary or a teacher. I remember looking up at my father and saying, "No I going to be a writer.” My father smiled and nodded like he knew this was going to be the truth. This is my favorite writing memory. It is why my first book will be dedicated to my father.

Merry Christmas everyone and may all your best dreams come true.

ME IN A NUTSHELL

2007-12-17T13:11:00.000-08:00

This is from an old article in the University Record written By Kara Bomzer(2003).

While most people are content pursuing an activity or two outside of their careers, a select few are more ambitious, immersing themselves in numerous extra pursuits. Karen Simpson, a student account assistant II/ Financial Operations employee is one such person.
Simpson, a U-M employee for the past 25 years, works primarily in what she describes as customer service: answering questions of parents and students concerning their tuition statements. Outside of her job, Simpson sits on museum boards and is a fabric artist, a buffalo soldier, a cook and a writer.

Further evidence of Simpson's wide array of interests is that she has three different degrees. "When I first entered college, I was interested in working with horses and I was also interested in food science," Simpson says. When she graduated from college, her father died, so Simpson settled near her mother. She took a job with U-M, and while there decided to pursue a master's in business. "I didn't want an MBA, so since I was good in Spanish I elected to get a degree in foreign language and international trade," Simpson says.

When she finished her work for her second degree, Simpson helped her mother develop and run a children's bookstore. It was during this time that she discovered another passion: history and historical buildings. "I considered myself very lucky because Eastern Michigan University has one of the best programs in the nation," Simpson says. "I learned from some of the best how to go about developing events and exhibits that help the public better understand the past and its influence on the present." She graduated with a degree in historic preservation.

"I get my love of agriculture from my father, who grew up on a farm. And even though he, like many other Black people of his era, moved to the city, he was always interested in working with animals, and he loved creating vegetable gardens," Simpson says. She became interested in the history of agriculture through this, and it has been an important theme in much of her research and work, especially her work for her master's in historical preservation.
Simpson is historian for the Out of Africa program, a plant- and culture-centered program between the Matthaei Botanical Gardens, Ardis Renaissance Academy and the College of Engineering, and the African American Cultural and Historical Museum of Washtenaw County. She also works with other board members on the museum's bus tour of Underground Railroad sites in Washtenaw County.

Simpson publishes articles on African American culinary and agricultural history. "I have always been interested in the history of food," Simpson says. "Even when I was little I used to wonder what the people we read about in our history books grew and cooked." Simpson's mother made food an important part of her life growing up. Simpson remembers her mother trying recipes from around the world and teaching her how to cook.

In addition to her other activities, Simpson is a fabric artist. "I was always interested in horses, and one day I was looking through a fabric arts magazine and I came across an advertisement for an exhibit that was going to feature photos of horsemen from Nigeria," Simpson says. "The picture with the advertisement featured a set of brightly colored quilted armor for horses from the 1800s. I fell in love with the picture and the history of the horsemen, and I wanted to learn to quilt so that I could make my own set of quilted armor." This spurred Simpson to start quilting, which led to her learning more about the long tradition of the craft in African American culture. Simpson has been involved in fabric art for 15 years, and she opened a studio five years ago.

Simpson also participates in the Washtenaw County Buffalo Soldiers. The group, which takes its name from the one given to Black calvary members by the Cheyenne Indians during the late 1800s, is made up of members from Washtenaw, Wayne and Monroe counties. They participate in a number of local parades, rodeos and school presentations. Simpson dresses in clothing an African American woman from that time period would wear, and she does explanations and demonstrations about what life was like for women at that time.

Simpson also is a passionate horseracing fan who used to own racehorses as a member of a racing partnership. Simpson also enjoys collecting African American memorabilia and reading

Feeding the Mind, Body and Soul

2007-11-16T13:09:00.000-08:00

http://www.freerice.com/index.php

I love word games, and I love word games even more when they contribute to the battle to end hunger and poverty around the world. When I 'm bored or feeling bad about not writing, I do this. At least I'm wasting valuable writing time in a very constructive manner.

The premise is simple: The site's home page offers the reader a word. Guess the word's definition correctly, and FreeRice will donate 10 grams of rice to the United Nations. The program is adjusted to test your vocabulary so for every word you guess correctly the words will get subsequently more difficult

Act of Grace

2007-09-10T13:37:00.001-07:00

About three years ago I started a novel based on an incident that happen in Ann Arbor, Michigan in which a young woman decided to live up to her values. The link tells the full story.

http://www.heartlight.org/motivation/m4m_014.html

My novel has a more paranormal, spiritual edge. For a long time I ignored beginning this story until one night a voice in my dream shouted out the first line.

ACT OF GRACE- PROLOGUE

Here is the question the people in my hometown of Vigilant, Michigan want answered: Why did I, Grace Johnson, an African-American high school senior, an honor student, take two bullets to protect the life of the white supremacist jackass, Jonathan Gilmore? I haven’t really ventured to explain why I saved Mr. Gilmore’s life. Those who love me already understand, for them it is enough for me to say the ancestors made me do it. However, other folks, especially other folks of color, feel I need to testify to them and God, in that order, about why I have committed racial treason.

Mr. Gilmore was supposed to have died the day at the Racial Justice Rally, instead I got in the way and now people are either calling me an ignorant hero or hissing that I’m a double -stuffed Oreo bitch. Actually I’m neither, but I realize now that one of the reasons why people’s attitudes about me are as thick and nasty as dried snot is because there is a critical lack of information about my motives. Only trivial and bizarre evidence of my mission of justice exists. If it were up to me I wouldn’t say anything, I would just leave everyone in the dark and go on about my business. However, the voices of the ancestors tell me I do owe others an account of my story as an example of the true meaning of my name. Now, I can blow people off, I can tell folks what part of hell to go to and give them detailed directions on how to get there. The ancestors, however, cannot be ignored. They can’t be told to mind their own ethereal business because we, the living, are their business.

This morning they made Dr. Davies, my hospital appointed psychiatrist, tell me that if I write in a journal about my experiences and observations as if I’m talking to others, especially to Mr. Gilmore, it will speed up the process of my mental and physical healing.

“Writing a journal,” he said, his blue eyes reflecting some other soul besides his “will stop the fires of anxiety and anger from blackening your dreams and moods.”

If Dr. Davies had been himself he would have been appalled at the New Age dreamy psychobabble poetry coming out of his mouth, but of course he wasn’t himself. Their words on his pale-dry lips were a direct order to press my pen to notebook paper. Pain and suffering have made my hindsight telescopic, so let’s begin at the true beginning, a breath to prime my memory, “Rise, story, rise.”