Plotting Me

Is it the how or the what?

2010-08-18T10:02:00.000-04:00

I was looking at an Interview article about the new fall TV lineup and got totally sidetracked by Terrence Howard, who's bringing star quality to the new Law & Order: Los Angeles. Then I click on an in-story promo in the next column to gaze at Blair Underwood for a minute or two. Seems he's one of the stars in The Event, premiering on NBC this fall.

Oddly enough, the thought that came to mind as I read the two features was not how fine those two male specimens are (okay, maybe for a second), but the concept of versatility.

Have we not seen Terrence and Blair in all types of movies? They've acted in romances, thrillers, fantasy, on TV and on the big screen. What takes them there, I wonder? Is it the mode of transmission or the story they're telling? (Though I have no doubt it's simply been a matter of needing a paycheck on some occasions.) Hollywood has proven that it's not for everyone. Look at Kiefer Sutherland, son of movie-great Donald, who has fared far better on weekly television. Don't you think?

So, as I acknowledge that big isn't for everybody (though it can lead you to the same fulfilling outcome), I turn this idea inward and wonder about my own writing quest. Is publication about the mode of transmission or the story I'm telling?

Tell-tale details

2010-08-17T23:27:00.000-04:00

The chances of your character scrawling words across a piece of paper are getting less and less likely. Well, depending on the age of your character and how tuned in you are to that generation's traits.

This year's Beloit College Mindset List says that writing in cursive is one of those things the class of 2014 just doesn't do. (And I can attest to that. While my oldest learned cursive in second grade, both my younger two rolled right through the early grades without it. I'm told it's a less-than-useful skill in these modern days and precious curriculum time can be devoted to some other subject.) But back to our topic.

The references we use as writers to frame setting are often mired in tiny details like planners for work, post-it notes on the fridge, CDs in drive time. But depending on your target reader, they might be accustomed to a life with PDAs, text reminders, and those fancy iPod hookups in the car. Your assumption that you're on the pulse of the times might totally disconnect your reader from the story and compel them to write you off as old-fashioned or not their type of author.

Admittedly, we can't predict every new tide changing times bring. For example, I was reading a Dean Koontz book last year (sorry, can't recall which one), and a single character action snatched me out of the story: There was a doctor in a hospital and he went into the lounge to have a cigarette.

Gasp!

I immediately turned to the front of the book and searched for the copyright. I found that the book had originally been released in 1972 (or thereabouts), which explained why the doctor was lighting up in the hospital. We all know that doesn't happen nowadays. In fact, I know of at least one local hospital that prohibits smoking anywhere on the property. Obviously, smoking was still 1950s cool when Dean penned that manuscript. Who knew that two decades later it would rank right up there with the plague? lol

So, we should -- I think -- do what we can as authors to remain timely, yet timeless, and true to our characters. That takes research, social perception, and a little leeway from readers if we're blessed with Dean's longevity.

Debating the realities of normal

2010-08-14T14:31:00.000-04:00

Click over to Novel Spaces today and let me know what constitutes normal in your world. As a reader or writer how do you define what's ordinary and every day?

Dangling from a Dorchester thread

2010-08-10T19:16:00.000-04:00

The author, reader and industry blogs have been all aflutter since Publisher's Weekly leaked word that Dorchester Publishing changed its business model mid-stream and unbeknownst to its authors. Today, after several days of asking questions of colleagues with no answers, I came across this "letter to authors" from Dorchester.

I can't even think of a word to describe the knotted, pit-of-stomach, ball of dread and confusion that news caused when it tore across the internet like wildfire, vanquishing hopes and expectations -- not to mention good-faith agreements -- in its destructive wake. Dramatic turn of phrase? Well, yes. But our publisher going e-book and POD (print-on-demand) is huge, game-changing news. And we didn't take that second hand news lightly.

After all, we're authors. We write. We publish. And with Dorchester, we expected to see physical, hold in my hand books. Downloadable, read on a screen text is fine as an option at this point in the industry's evolution. But for many readers, it's still about choice. To me, Dorch's chosen course is a bit like the Big Three automakers deciding to produce only electric cars as a way out of their financial woes. Sure, we drivers believe in green living. But are we all ready to free ourselves of gasoline run cars today?

As one of those Dorchester authors with a book "in the pipeline" I can tell you I'm a whole slew of tangled emotions at the moment. I'll let you know how this all pans out.

The ties that bind

2010-06-16T11:42:00.003-04:00

I'm blogging over at Novel Spaces today about The Karate Kid and how common themes unite readers behind a story or viewers behind a movie. Do you believe appealing to the masses has merit? Let me know what you think!

Journal Entry: Walking and chewing gum

2010-04-28T01:06:00.004-04:00

I really can do more than one thing at a time; like write a book and live my life. Honest. It's the running down the buffet line trying to inhale a four-course dinner that I'm not so good with.

But you know how the universe can be -- so doggone demanding sometimes, like "Give me all your attention NOW." So that's where I've been these past blogless months, doting on the fates and forces that make you focus and think and prioritize your world. That kind of stuff.

I am happy to report that while I mandated a slow-down in the breakneck pace of my life, the writing trickled (oh, in agonizing fashion), but the to-do's "magically" sorted themselves into manageable bites, and the planets realigned themselves just for me. Voile!, all is right with the world:

The manuscript is off to my editor. The next set of characters are knocking at my brain asking to be set free on my keyboard, and the kids have made me swear to a movie and game night this weekend. Sure, why not? After all, I can walk and chew gum at the same time.

Today's life lesson: Know thyself. I'm an INTJ -- which, I've heard, is only 12% of the population. As a writer, this means understanding that most people aren't necessarily as intuitive as me and my writing has to to speak to people who tend to need their plot twists spelled out and less often inferred. Who I am makes a difference in not only how I relate to the world, but how I approach my writing as well.

It's good to be back in my nearly right-sized life aiming for new adventures and prepping for my January release. I'll have a cover for you in a few weeks (I'm told). I'll try not to keep you guessing. ;)

Step Away From the Keyboard

2010-01-17T19:48:00.004-05:00

I'm blogging over at Novel Spaces about a writer's need for perspective. If time away from a work benefits Stephen King, I figure it'll work for me, too!

Stefanie

-------------------------

Some writers outline and plot, others “wing” their stories. Some need silence to create, others rely on music to set a mood, or field trips to develop a scene. Personal styles and craft techniques run the gamut of approaches among authors. Yet, I’ve found one practice common across genre and experience level: stepping away from the story.

I think I happened on the tactic accidentally with my first novel. I’d finished the book and so I set it aside to focus on getting it published. When I started getting feedback on the manuscript, I revisited my story and found myself reading it like it was the first time I’d seen it.

Enter the HeavenSent.com contest today!

2009-10-04T12:34:00.004-04:00

To celebrate the release of my novella, HeavenSent.com, in the Holiday Brides anthology, I'm giving away books, gift cards, and beautiful keepsakes!

There are two ways to enter and yes, you can enter both ways.

Reader Thank You Prize Pack:

Sign up for my newsletter and you'll be entered to win a $10 Barnes & Noble gift card and a signed copy of my backlist books, Where Souls Collide and The Holiday Inn. Three lucky readers will each win one of these prize packs.

Grand Prize Pack:

My heroine, Brenna, has decided that the only way to make good on her mission to find a man is through online dating at HeavenSent.com. For a chance at the Grand Prize Pack, you need to sign up for my newsletter AND write your own online dating profile! It can be funny or serious. Please keep to 50 words or less. I'll pick five to be highlighted on my web site, here on my blog, and on my Facebook and MySpace pages. Two winners will receive a grand prize pack that includes a $20 Barnes & Noble gift card, signed copies of my backlist books The Holiday Inn and Where Souls Collide, and a gorgeous souvenir ceramic tile from Detroit's nationally renowned Pewabic Pottery studio.

Click here to enter the contest!

**Contest ends midnight, January 1, 2010

Holiday Brides is now available!

2009-09-29T21:42:00.006-04:00

It's release day for Holiday Brides! Woo hoo! I've been celebrating around the blogosphere, promoting my novella HeavenSent.com and talking about the writing life. I'm also enjoying the reviews that have rolled in so far, including this one from Ramsey's Reviews:

4 1/2 stars!
"HeavenSent.Com is a sensuous and compelling read. Stefanie Worth has conveyed a splendid, romantic and angelic story with a happy ever after ending. She has a unique gift for portraying lifelike characterizations which radiate true emotions and designing a plot that is as charming as the story itself. I am sure any reader will find this a delightful and inspiring short story."

I have to admit that this release day is pretty much as exciting as the first was for Where Souls Collide, except that today I've topped the occasion with a wee bit of anxiety. There's a different pressure to produce now -- precisely the kind I've longed for -- that keeps the thought of "I have to get back to writing" on the fringes of my celebration.

That is why I do this after all; so that each release day leads to new readers and new reasons to keep writing. I love being an author and count myself blessed to have another book to share with the world.

About HeavenSent.com in the Holiday Brides anthology:

The holidays aren’t so festive when you’re celebrating by yourself. But with a little luck and a lot of love, three single women find their soulmates and get the holiday weddings of their dreams.

Brenna has a list, and she’s checking it twice. But unfortunately for her coworker Evan, she just doesn’t seem to see him as anything more than a friend. Can an online dating site and two guardian angels change her mind before the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve?

Read chapter one

Watch the trailer

Visit my web site

Journal Entry - Side Effects

2009-09-20T16:20:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

Today my son and I were watching I am Legend in which the wonderful Will Smith portrays "the last man on earth" after most of humanity is killed by a plague. The movie starts with a news show in which a reporter (April Grace) is interviewing Dr. Alice Krippin (Emma Thompson) about her medical breakthrough. Their final exchange is along the lines of, "So you've cured cancer?" answered, "Yes."

Well, right away my son and I think:

Side effects include insomnia, increased testosterone levels, a taste for human flesh, fear of sunlight, extreme aggression, loss of looks, exaggerated animal instincts, and a herd mentality. Please consult your health care professional if you notice these or other zombie-like symptoms as they could indicate a severe reaction to your treatment.

LOL

Stefanie

www.stefanieworth.com

Early reviews for HeavenSent.com!

2009-09-17T22:26:00.004-04:00

Reviews always stir the angst pot for me. Of course, I believe I've written one heckuva story. But it's like an author said at a workshop once: Out of 10 people, one person is going to love your writing. Period. One person is going to hate your writing. Period. One or two may feel so-so about it, another couple of folks will really enjoy it. The remaining readers fall somewhere in between.

And in the years since I first heard that philosophy, I've come to believe that the "like it" scale sways with each new work, and that for people -- like me -- who write paranormal, we have to factor in the whole "Did they get it?" question that comes with writing otherworldly stories.

That said, I'm pretty excited about the following two reviews that have come in for my novella HeavenSent.com in the Holiday Brides anthology due out in about 10 days. I'm going to spend the moment feeling fabulous, then get back to work on my WIP.

From Huntress Reviews:

"***** FIVE STARS! I was sent a galley copy of this novella for an honest review. I am going to assume (yeah, I know the joke about assuming) that the other two stories are as good as this one. Therefore, this book receives the full five stars from me. Stefanie Worth's story hits close to home as she clearly shows how the economic world of today is, as well as how it affects people who live in it. Her characters, both mortal and angelic, are totally believable. Nothing comes across as odd or false. This book is perfect for reading while you are cuddled up in front a cozy fire indoors while the snow piles up outside. *****"

From Darque Reviews:

"HeavenSent.com is part of the Holiday Brides anthology. Ms. Worth does a fabulous job of bringing readers into this short story while filling it with an unexpectedly sweet romance, as well as heavenly paranormal elements. A fast-paced escape that’s sure to capture reader’s attention."

Visit the HeavenSent.com page on my site to view the book trailer or read an excerpt.

September is Sickle Cell Awareness Month

2009-09-12T13:31:00.004-04:00

After my second son was born and diagnosed with Sickle Cell Anemia, I joined an online group of special needs moms for support. I remember us passing around emails in those much earlier days of the internet, one of which was about how we were chosen to be mothers to these children for God's own reasons. While I clung to that belief at the time because so much uncertainty awaited us, I understand that poem much better now, 12 years later.

I'm lucky to be chosen as the caretaker of a terrific kid with an awful disease. I see and nurture the strength in him that I know he'll need when I'm no longer able to escort him into a doctor's office and speak on his behalf. The disease has developed character and advocacy in me I didn't know I had, but I still want it cured.

We had an awful spell around Memorial Day when he was hospitalized for the first time in almost two years. We're fortunate that he does not experience daily pain episodes like some children do, that he's only had one transfusion -- preceding removal of his tonsils and adenoids at two -- and that he's been stroke-free. But, boy, a few months ago. . .well, it still makes my breath catch in my chest and brings tears to my eyes.

Sickle Cell isn't as media-sexy as childhood cancer or pediatric AIDS, but it hurts. And to see your child unable to walk or move because it hurts so bad, to watch as another dose of morphine doesn't make it better. Oh, my dear God. I cannot tell you what that is like as a mother. I even had to pause in writing this to try and shake off the memory.

But I tell the story because there is kinship among those of us who share this difficult walk with our children. And kinship among those who've watched their children grow up with this disease and now worry about whether or not they'll find mates who understand and provide them with the support they need, and whether or not the disease will be passed to grandchildren and beyond.

As a global village, we all have parts we can play in eradicating this disease that afflicts one in nine African Americans as well as people of Greek, Italian and Middle Eastern descent (and others, too). My role is to write about our experiences and donate to the cause. Researchers are so close to a universal cure and I want to believe with all my heart that when my son is grown and finds a good woman to be his wife that passing on this disease to their children will not be the issue it is today. Let's hope, pray and act today.

To learn more about Sickle Cell, visit the Sickle Cell Disease of America.
My essay about The Baby God Gave Me

Please join us for the Sickle Cell Health Awareness Fair on Saturday, Sept. 19th, from 5:30 - 9 p.m.at the Boll Family YMCA (downtown Detroit). There'll be hustle lessons, food, fun and education. Tix are $20. Call 313-864-4406 for info. I'll be there signing books and spreading hope for a cure on behalf of my son.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Crafting Characters

2009-09-06T19:12:00.004-04:00

Unlike some authors, I don’t “see” my characters before I put them on paper. They come to me a bit like spirits; colorless, odorless, shapeless forms in the midst of doing whatever it is I’ve concocted. But, how they influence or react to the central situation is carefully constructed. In this way, characters are very much my designer babies.

Read the rest here.

Thanks for stopping by.
Stefanie

Journal Entry - Partly Sunny With a Chance of Overload

2009-08-29T12:42:00.004-04:00

Dear Diary,

I -- as always -- am trying to do too many things at once. The washer has stopped filling because I haven't put the laundry in yet because I figured I had a minute to check my email while my waffles are in the toaster and the electric tea kettle hasn't shut off yet.

Breathe.

I'm really wired today. I'm still translating my plotting grid from poster board to computer, which is going okay, except I just don't seem to have enough space. Grrr. I split the doc into two pages, legal sized so that I can still post it on the wall and write-in comments as brain storms occur. I think it will work and it's definitely now portable. But it's different and change takes a minute. (That's all the time I have, so that's all the time it gets.)

This is for the remainder of The Wicked and the Wonderful, which I recently sold to Dorchester. I'm at a point in the story where the main and subplot need to be carefully followed so I don't leave any loose ends. And the secondary characters with their unique story purpose and individual quirks could be so easily lost right now. Can't have that happen. Don't want any nasty reader letters.

But, it's Saturday, so the writing -- especially today since the sun made an unexpected appearance -- must take place episodically, between real life.

Really, I do love it though. My mind will race all day. I'll steal away here and there as I can to spew a few paragraphs onto a page and run off to the next to-do.

Right now, that's running to the corner drug store for a pack of AA batteries because my wireless mouse has died. Ugh. Then, put that load in the laundry, make a cup of tea (that will be sipped for hours), gulp down the waffles and write some more.

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

I need a man

2009-08-25T22:47:00.014-04:00

Well, I'm looking for a hero. And I'm going strictly on looks. He must be worthy of a push pin on my cork board: intoxicating enough to keep me spellbound until I've typed The End. He should not bore me. Every time I look at his face, I have to feel what Fallon (his wife) feels for him. Only I have to feel it more because I'm the one who has to bring him to life on all these pieces of paper that lie ahead of me.

I'm talking tall (let's go with six feet), muscular (not overdone, but purposefully sculpted), savvy, sensuous, sensitive. He ought to be willing and able to cook. And he's not big on housecleaning, but he'll spring for the maid (very personal preference entering the fictional realm there).

Oh, and can he sing. A Musiq, Maxwell, Robin Thicke kind of vibe. Plays the guitar but he's not a playa. I'm flexible on the hairstyle, but he's very well groomed. (In other words, there are two sinks and a huge mirror in the bathroom so Fallon doesn't have to fight him to get ready for work.)

Of course, he's a great lover -- knows when to be gentle and when to put on the power moves. But he's not too insecure to learn a thing or two from his woman.

This man has lived in my head since last year's novella Can You Believe (in The Holiday Inn anthology). I'd leave him there, but I have too many other folks clamoring for my mental mirror these days. I need to make him materialize and relegate him to a square across from my computer. Right now I've got Djimon hanging around as a placeholder, but I'm not trying to fight Kimora for him.

In summary, I need the m-m-good fineness of Terrence Howard, the casual charm of Dwayne Johnson (you know, The Rock), the versatility of Johnny Depp, the youthful vigor of Jonathan Rhys Meyers, and the intensity of Laurence Fishburne.

Got any suggestions?

A Way With Words

2009-07-26T07:39:00.001-04:00

I’m sure my high school English teacher, Gary Wendell, had no idea what he ignited when he told me I had “a way with words” – though it would be nice if he could see the fruits of his encouragement.

I poured his remarks – along with the wisdom of my parents, kind comments of faithful friends (who read every piece of angst-ridden poetry I wrote), and admonishments of journalism school instructors – onto the roiling mix of uncertainty and determination I harbored in my gut like marinade.

The brew turned out to be pretty good, I think, though it’s one of those concoctions that not only needs to marinate, but then has to simmer half the day, and still tastes better after a night in the refrigerator. You know, like those prize-winning sauces, chilis and gumbos you’ve read about or tasted.

As I’ve been stewing all these years, letting the ingredients of craft meld into stories, I’ve discovered that it takes more than a hodgepodge of words to be a writer. Even stringing those words with eloquence and wit isn’t enough to become the cream that rises to the top of the pot. Style (that elusive writing “voice”), subject matter and sensitivity are so important to success. I’m not saying your recipe for storytelling will get you on the NY Times or USA Today lists, but you’ll have the assurance of generating satisfaction in your readers and just doing it right.

One of my Novel Spaces co-bloggers, posted his thoughts on writing outside yourself recently. How do, can we, should authors write characters who don’t look, act or think like themselves? To me it’s possible, of course. It just requires observation, experience, research, openmindedness and the modesty to admit that no one persona you create in your pages will be the be-all, end-all representation of any particular race, creed, color or gender.

Like one of my Michigan Chronicle editors once taught me, “No, as a journalist you can’t be objective. We all bring our opinions, experiences and subjectivities to a story. But we can be fair.” This, of course, looks different in editorial than in fiction, but I can still apply the principle.

I build my characters on archetypes and psychological profiles so that they’re true to themselves and their role in the story. Would I date Luke from Where Souls Collide? I sure hope not. The guy’s a jerk – and I’m okay with that. He wasn’t created to give Black men a bad rap. His job was to give Navena, the story’s heroine a hard time. Really. No ulterior motives or subliminal messages there. Nor was Maxwell (the story’s hero) meant to make up for Luke’s shortcomings. Maxwell had his own issues that rendered him, hopefully, human.

Those pieces of authoring are far more than words. I’ve promised myself to keep learning, that I’ll be a perpetual student of humanity. I hope that not only makes me a better writer, but a better person as well.

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Turning the page

2009-07-12T15:19:00.004-04:00

In order to turn a page, there must be pages to turn, right?

I'll be the first to admit that my writing productivity took a major nosedive when my household went wireless. Not only did dial up keep me tied to a phone line, it kept me off the internet as a result. Maybe you remember those days when going online was a major expedition.

When I knew that checking my email was going to be a 20-minute undertaking between dialing up and logging in, I set aside a designated time period to do this and was much more organized in my approach. I'd dial in. Wait. Log in. Wait. Read. Respond. And get off line. If I didn't, I was bound to miss a phone call.

Even after I installed some kind of modem monitor software to tell me when a call was coming so that I could get off line, I still stuck to my system unless the incoming call seemed to be urgent. Once I dialed in, hopping on and off line was just too much trouble.

Once I'd finished my 30-60 minute email check and quick surf, it was back to writing. How many of us can say that we only spend, let's say, 45 minutes attached to our internet? Yes, well, like I said, it's affected my productivity.

So, today is the first day of my new writing plan. I've compartmentalized my writing duties, separating the creative, from the social, administrative and promotional. Sunday eve through Friday eve is now reserved for developing manuscripts. I'll check my email, but no surfing (unless it's book research), no social networking, no non-urgent marketing. Friday night through Sunday eve gets to be Facebook, MySpace, Twitter time. That's also when I'll craft blogs, update my web site and tend to my promotional and author admin.

For me, the best way to attack this new separation of duties is through my writing journal. I already set aside a page for goals each month, I'll now add a page for web site updates, and promotional to-do's. So instead of spending chunks of time doing each of these items every night, I'll condense them into the weekends. Just as I can't be all things to all people, my time can't effectively serve all my needs all at once.

Here's to change!

Things I'll remember about Michael Jackson

2009-07-09T22:01:00.008-04:00

What are those four stages of grief? Denial. (Are you serious?) check. Anger. (How could this happen?) check. Depression (What a tragic loss.) check. Acceptance. (What can I learn from this?) check.

So, as I move on, I just thought that for the sake of posterity, I'd focus today's Thursday 13 post on things I'll remember about Michael Jackson:

1) Very carefully writing the lyrics to I'll Be There on that thick-ruled primary manuscript paper in a love note to SH in second grade. (He never got it, of course, because I had one of those mothers who went through all my stuff every day. She found the note and that was that.)

2) Bringing my parents' brand new 45 of the Jackson's Dancing Machine to class in sixth grade. For one day I wasn't the too-tall goodie-two-shoes who talked "proper." I was the inspiration for an impromptu Soul Train line in the middle of the room. Being in good with the teacher has its perks. ;)

3) Cutting an ABC 45 off the back of a cereal box to play on my red Close and Play record player.

4) Wanting to marry Michael Jackson.

5) Teen magazines that always pitted the Jackson 5 against the Osmonds. So no contest. . .

6) College skate parties with PYT in the background.

7) Watching Michael moonwalk during his Billie Jean performance on that Motown 25th anniversary show.

8) Standing around waiting for the airing of Thriller on MTV. (Then, as a former dancer, trying desperately over the years to learn the steps to Thriller, Beat It, Billie Jean, Smooth Criminal, The Way You Make Me Feel, et. al.)

9) Standing in line very pregnant, for three hours, outside a downtown Detroit AAA office to purchase tickets to see Michael Jackson at the Palace of Auburn Hills during the Pepsi tour.

10) Buying a copy of the Off the Wall CD to replace the album upstairs in my bedroom.

11) Wondering why on earth he picked that Rowe girl over me. ???? LOL

12) Playing Jackson 5 and Michael Jackson CDs in the car so often that all three of my kids (who span 13 years) know the words to his songs. He is as present-day to them as any of their current (and, yes, temporary) fave "artists."

13) Making sure to buy a copy of Ebony magazine's collector's edition tribute to Michael in honor of Thriller's 25th anniversary.

Not believing he'd died when I heard the news and read the ticker across the bottom of CNN, but coming to accept the magnitude of the loss in the days and weeks that followed. I feel proud to understand why he meant what he did to music and the world. Honored that I was along for the ride.

What if Michael had written the book?

2009-06-30T18:44:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time, I was a staff writer and editor for Detroit's Michigan Chronicle. And during those days, LaToya Jackson penned a book called, "Growing Up in the Jackson Family." This was during the days when she was struggling for stardom and Michael's star seemed to be fading into absurdity. The book alleged that she and her siblings were abused by their father Joe and people decried her as a liar. My thoughts on the topic were a little bit different. The following is a re-print of that editorial. What do you think?
--------------------------------------------------

What if Michael had written the book?
By Stefanie P. Worth
Re-printed with permission of the Michigan Chronicle

I have been a fan of Michael Jackson’s since the Five’s first days. I can recall penning the words of “I’ll Be There” on primary ruled paper to Sterling Harris, my second grade crush. Years later I continued to follow the successes and supposed doings of the Jackson clan.

From Janet on “Good Times” to Randy’s near-crippling auto accident to Rebbie’s single solo success and Janet's climb to rival Michael’s stardom. I watched as the brothers six went their separate ways — Jermaine’s lukewarm fame, Jackie’s violent breakup with his wife and Michael’s downward spiral into eccentricity.

Eccentricity? At 30? Why would the boy who had everything go weird? Doing so made him favorite tabloid fodder of the ‘80s — feeding our human morbid curiosity, drawing speculation into what happened along the way to make him become as odd as he has. Sad to say, despite his unquestionable musical genius, the “thriller” has been reduced to ridicule in many gossip circles.

Now comes LaToya, on the heels of several failed recording ventures and a scandalous Playboy pictorial with “Growing Up in the Jackson Family,” her novel account of childhood life in the famous brood.

Girlfriend has taken much flack since the release of her book. Though I’m in the process of reading it, I am as yet undecided on the book’s contents. First of all, none of us but the Jacksons grew up as Jacksons. So what really went on behind their four walls we are not privy to say. If LaToya is lying, then as I say, that’s between her and God. But secondly, if there is an iota of truth to what she discloses about the abuse and molestation, then Joe Jackson — rich, powerful, highly-revered and all — needs to have his behind in jail.

I think part of the reason the public outcry has been so against LaToya is that she has not achieved the success her brothers and Janet have — and we all know how long she’s been trying. But people disclose family skeletons all the time, celebrities and everyday folks alike, to the tune of great public empathy. Maya Angelou did it in “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” Was she scorned for the revelation? Perhaps we have allowed the Jackson mystique to cloud our judgment and render them infallible. Nobody deserves that burden.

News of fallen child stars fill the media these days. These now adult used-to-be’s recall the difficulties they encountered when they were no longer cute and couldn’t find work. Imagine what LaToya and Rebbie must have felt being the only two untalented children in a superstar family. The public is also much more aware of the sleezy side of life in childhood stardom. It’s no more peaches and cream for them than it is for adults trying to make it in the cut throat world of show biz.

One point LaToya emphasizes is their father’s dislike of his oldest son (for whatever reason). Jackie, she says, took the brunt of Joe Jackson’s abuse well into his early 20s. Most of us are familiar with the reports of abuse leveled at Jackie several years ago resulting in the dissolution of his marriage. The divorce was equipped with court-ordered injunctions keeping him away from the wife he battered and their children. Don’t psychologists say that abuse is cyclical? Could there be a link?

Janet’s Jimmy Jam/Terry Lewis-produced “Control” album, and title video were widely touted as being autobiographical — a fact to which she even admits. Remember her marriage to James DeBarge which insiders report was destroyed because her parents disapproved? There are even sadder rumors about the destruction involved floating around DeBarge’s hometown of Flint. Since when is a financially independent 18-year-old still expected to bow to the beck and call of her parents? According to LaToya, when it’s a Jackson.

Then there is my dear, dear Michael. You say you think homeboy has some problems, eh? Animals in the backyard...gloved hand...pinched nose...Bubbles.... Ever stop to wonder what could have pushed him over the edge (if indeed that’s where he’s dangling)? Could Michael’s altered personality be a wealthy version of multiple personality disorder — generally brought on by childhood sexual trauma? Maybe, maybe not.

Well, I didn't grow up with those 11 people anymore than you did, so I, too, can do no more than speculate. But I’ve followed the Jacksons for years and these are not the first allegations of abuse to air about “Papa Joe.” I feel that enough questions have been raised over the years to merit some serious thought. He did for his family what most of us only dream of. But who knows what he did to get there and at whose and what expense.

LaToya alleges that the family abuse was a well-known secret in Motown’s halls. (Much like the now confessed to Ross-Gordy romance that resulted in Diana’s first child). The public has been known to ignore the grim realities of star life to protect images in the past. I’m just saying maybe it happened with the Jacksons, too. I could indeed be wrong, but the fact that LaToya is the family media hound should not overrule the reality that serious crime and sickness could lie beyond that famous doorstep.

Old folks say what’s done in the dark will be brought to the light. So maybe she just hit the switch. I’ll bet that if Michael had penned this tell-all tale he would have been besieged with public sympathy. The masses would exclaim with a sigh of relief, “So that’s what happened.”

Wrapped in life

2009-06-26T12:57:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, I’m watching hour after hour of Michael Jackson news coverage and I’m listening to reporters ask people to sum up their experiences with MJ or thoughts of his music in snappy sound bites. Can you do that for a life like his?

Maybe it’s because I just finished writing the synopsis for my latest novel, that the whole wrap up thing seemed so glaring to me yesterday. I know what my story’s about – all the pieces in the plot, who does what and why. But it’s such a struggle to squeeze 400 pages into two. Yet we do it. In fact, we authors manage to scrunch an entire novel into a single 10-second pitch line that makes the story easy-to-grasp for potential readers.

So, I sit back from the news coverage and get to thinking about my pitch line for life with Michael Jackson and landed on “Got to be There.” From the time I was small, I’ve regarded that tune and its lyrics with starry-eyed wonder. The idea of needing someone’s nearness is not unique; people sing about that stuff all the time. But it’s the way Michael sang it. And beyond the throes of love, “Got To Be There” epitomizes the way I view life as a whole. I hate the thought of missing out on experiences and interactions or opportunities to dream and grow. I want to be here to take it all in.

All of it. Always. As in forever.

Now, we know that isn’t possible, is it? That’s where my deep-seated denial comes in. I shudder when I hear phrases like “tomorrow’s not promised” or “the present is a gift.” I know they are so true, but the implication – well, the reality – is that they mean one day there won’t be a next day. No more phone calls to the kids/grandkids/great-grandkids. No chit-chat with friends and family. No treks to the store or church. No volunteering. No news. No flower garden. No sunshine or rain. Heaven, I do pray, but none of the little things that make this world what it is.

Maybe 50 years from now I’ll be tired and I’ll be ready for thoughts of final rest. But not today. So, this morning when I awoke and confirmed that Michael Jackson really had passed on, I had to wonder if he was ready. Did the King of Pop have a clue yesterday morning that there would be no more music after that day?

I wrote a poem about my grandmother some years ago; about how three days before she died, a cousin said he saw her dancing in the kitchen. Laughing, free, really enjoying herself. Mind you, Grandma Mary was saved and sanctified and she absolutely did not dance. But after we heard that story, we thought maybe she knew death was on its way and she was ready. I compared it to “trying out her wings-to-be.” The idea that she was ready for the trip brought comfort in the aftermath of her sudden and difficult departure.

Michael’s death brings a familiar though not familial sadness. I never thought about the King of Pop not being here. My “got to be there” assumption was that he’d always be here. But none of us get to stay on the charts forever.

Now I am left with the startling reality of a life not too many years younger than Mike’s. I reflect on reports that say his children are inconsolable. I consider my kids. I reflect on reports that say he was in ill health. I consider my own health. I reflect on his genius, how his gift changed the world. I consider my own dreams. I reflect on how the world changed him. And I consider the good and bad of this life we live.

While I’d rather not think about it, there’s no sense missing the reminder in all this that we get many moments, yet just one life.

I am really going to miss Michael Jackson. Every news clip I’ve heard that attempts to edit his life into a tidy sound bite has represented a different perspective of his world. Between spliced chunks of stowed-away quotes, studio moments, laughter and sadness, illumination spills forth in smiles and silences. As much as I’ve enjoyed trying to sum up my own MJ memories, I can no more easily pare his life into 25 words than I can my novels. I’m no MJ, but I hope my life won’t fit within the confines of a nice, neat sound bite bow either. I’ll take that as evidence that I was there for my life.

Peace to you and yours, Michael.

Reading to not make changes

2009-06-07T00:17:00.003-04:00

The galleys for Holiday Brides arrived yesterday. They come via email and -- this being my third set -- I now have this ritual of checking the ink cartridge, adjusting the print settings, and readying a stack of fresh paper to feed into the machine as it spits forth the laid out pages for me to proof.

It's a little nerve-wracking, the whole "read and don't make any 'unnecessary' changes" thing. Don't publishers know we're writers and constantly improving our prose is what fuels our existence??? Then again, I'm sure that's why the guideline is in place. *sigh*

So, my only real to-do this weekend is to re-read HeavenSent.com (a/k/a Brenna and Evan's story) and make sure what's on the pages-to-be matches what I submitted. I quit last night after two chapters. The back and forth was making my head spin. . .and I got distracted by VH1's "Black to the Future." My bad.

I'll do better tonight. When the June 16th deadline to return these galleys rolls around, I so need to back into my WIP. Deep, deep back.

On that note, wish me few typos, missing words, or lost chunks of plot!

Stefanie

Thursday Thirteen - Places I've Written

2009-05-28T21:36:00.008-04:00

Like babies who can sleep anywhere and through everything, my Muse is pretty flexible. Despite the special place I've created for her to reign, she pops up at will, despite what I'm doing at the moment. Here's my Thursday Thirteen list of places my books have been partially penned in (so far):

In a hospital room (passing the hours with my son)
In an airport (forced to write when I refused to pay for wireless access to surf)
In my car (before work when I'm putting off going in)
In a bank drive-thru (on the back of a receipt)
At the park (as I fight off bees while the kids are playing)
At the kitchen table (for some reason I couldn't revise in the same place I originally wrote. ???)
On the front porch (watching the kids ride bikes)
In the movie theater (in the dark, on the back of a ticket stub)
At a conference (boring @#$ speaker. . .)
In a meeting (pretending to jot dates on my PDA)
At the doctor's office (Okay, so what's the logic behind overbooking again?)
By candlelight (when the power went out)
On a long stretch of highway (En route to Idlewild. The scenery was too beautiful to not be inspired.)

Not so many places in the great scheme of things. Guess I need to get out more...

With special thanks to and for my brother, The Marine

2009-05-23T17:37:00.002-04:00

This Memorial Day weekend, I just wanted to take a few minutes to say “thanks” to my brother for his work as a Marine, keeping me and mine as well as you and yours safe in this America. I also wanted to say “thanks” to God for keeping him safe during his tour in Iraq at the start of the war and to ask for a replay as Cal prepares to leave for his second tour there in a couple of months. (May I mention that his first tour earned him a Bronze Star for heroism in combat?)

I am grateful to be part of a family where the kids grew up to do what they love. For Cal (or CJ to us) being a Marine is as ingrained in his being as writing is in mine. That’s a blessing I don’t take for granted.

Free Your Mind

2009-05-17T12:39:00.002-04:00

I took a walk with my kids yesterday and the entire way my son was picking on my daughter. She finally says to me, “Mom, he’s making me feel bad.”

My immediate response to her was, “He can only make you feel bad, if you let him.”

The statement seemed to shock them both. You could almost see light bulbs swirling in their heads. For me, the knee jerk reaction was meant to instill lessons it will take them years to realize: (1) Do not abuse power – or perceived power – bestowed on you by position, trust or affection. (2) Do not grant power – real or perceived – over any aspect of your life, to anyone without deep, conscientious and rational thought.

But we do this even as adults, don’t we? Find ourselves letting people exert influence over ourselves or specific situations that they don’t deserve to exercise. Maybe it’s because of friendship, love or family ties. It may be habitual. It may be impulsive. It may bring us comfort. It may bring us down. The ones we empower may be current cohorts, past demons, or a fusion of both.

The point today is mostly for me and I share it with anyone who might want to use it for themselves: Spring cleaning ought to be an ongoing personal effort. Today, I will take time to assess the people around me and their place in my life. Many good things have happened for me lately and I have plans for the days and years ahead (God willing.) I’m just going to spend a few minutes making sure that the people or circumstances I’ve allowed to occupy space or take root in my life ought to be along for the journey ahead in their current capacity.

I could not have come this far in my personal or professional life without the support of people who are genuinely in my corner. I am so grateful for them and include them in my daily prayers. Those other folks – the naysayers, haters, wolves in sheepskin – don’t deserve my time or attention.

After all, writing – for those of who consider ourselves craftsmen – takes incredible energy, drive and focus. I cannot afford to allow undue influences to sap me of my strength. Plain and simple.

So, where’s my broom and dustpan? Today I am sweeping out the debris in my life; freeing my mind and re-charging my life force to help me create better days and better pages in my future.

April blessings bring May challenges

2009-05-12T00:26:00.002-04:00

Well, I had a wonderful April. I have so much good writing news that my head is about to burst. (I'll share soon. Really.) As a result, there's also a whole new crop of characters lined up in my ever-busy brain itching to plot their way out.

So.

It's May. There are deadlines (both real and perceived), word counts and new promo avenues to tackle. And, of course, the Worth in me insists on kicking butt on all of the above.

Bear with me as I challenge myself to learn to write (much) shorter blogs (about) twice as often and juggle this with my son being home from college for the summer watching loud movies and rummaging through cabinets (in search crumbs he might have missed) during my precious midnight writing hours.

Here goes!

Getting Sucked In

2009-03-26T00:00:00.002-04:00

Being the sparse television viewer that I am and avid channel hopper, I tend to catch a lot of movies in snippets. So the other night, in a post-revision haze, I was flipping around cable and caught “The Brave One” starring Jodie Foster and Terrence Howard about 20 minutes into the film.

I’d read the cable channel’s information summary about the plot before settling on the station and apparently I joined the action after the inciting incident. (Writers, you know, the point at which the story catapults forward.) And though I missed seeing the actual scene that changed the course of Jodie’s character’s life, I didn’t feel like I missed anything at all.

You know how some flicks are: You come in five or ten minutes late, get to the end and say, “Hmmm, I must have missed something” because the ending leaves you less than satisfied. Or confused. Or irritated that you wasted your time watching at all.

Well, I have to say that Jodie’s acting was so on-spot, her character so engaging, that I could sense the depth of what must have happened to her in the minutes I missed just by watching her actions as the movie unfolded. I don’t even feel like I need to try to catch the first 20 minutes of the movie another time.

So, of course, as an author, what does one have to do to make a character that complete? A heroine (or hero) who is so compelling that you feel their emotion, understand their behavior, empathize with their flaws, anticipate their actions? That you want to run your fingers across the type as if feeling their skin beneath your fingers? How does a make-believe person become that real?

Of course, there are many how-to's on developing characters. I use two books in particular: Writers Guide to Character Traits by Linda N. Edelstein, Ph.D., and The Complete Writer's Guide to Heroes & Heroines: Sixteen Master Archetypes by Tami D. Cowden, Caro LaFever and Sue Viders. I also spend a lot of time people watching; looking for the quirks that make for great plot twists and for the humanity that makes us real.

And then there's Jodie, sucking you into the screen.

Duly inspired, I’ve set a new standard for myself: I want my words to rise from their sentences, take shape atop the book, and distract the reader with their all-too-real antics. In deference to the art of my craft, I will write fictional people as if Jodie Foster or Don Cheadle had already breathed life into each line.

In a world 40 years ago my son probably wouldn’t be here

2009-01-30T07:00:00.004-05:00

At one point in time, the average life span for people with Sickle Cell Anemia was twelve years of age. Today, my younger son has hit that milestone – and not without a whole lot of reflection and praise from me.

Thank you, Lord!

Mine is a quiet spirituality that has carried me through the difficult reality of raising a child with an uncertain prognosis. When I began doling out medicine droppers filled with prophylactic antibiotics when he was two months old, I did so out of duty (the doctor insisted), obligation (this is my child to care for) and, okay, trepidation (what if I don’t?).

A couple of years ago, I wrote a lengthy and cathartic essay about our journey with Sickle Cell Anemia; the hospitalizations with their umpteen pokes, the threats of being fired for being off with him too much, the anger with a teacher who decided to treat a 104 degree temperature and day-long pain by telling him to get a drink of water instead of calling me as instructed.

If I sounded a little ticked in that last line, it’s because I still am.

The emotion is as much anger with that type of ignorance as it is disappointment with a scientific community that still hasn’t defined a CURE for this disease. It’s one of the oldest (if not the oldest) known genetic conditions. And it took how many years for someone to figure out that one teaspoon of penicillin a day could extend these lives to near “normal” length? Come on now.

Today, what we have are bone marrow and stem cell transplants. But because of what the procedures require, both are reserved for the most severe cases: children who have strokes and other debilitating complications. My sweetie is not quite sick enough, it seems, for that morsel of wholeness.

Stem cell transplants are much less invasive, but not yet widespread – reserved still for those who are most ill. Our hematologist, Dr. Wanda Shurney of Children’s Hospital of Michigan, once told me that she believes that his Sickle Cell Anemia will no longer be an issue for him by the time he grows up; that science will have refined the technique to make the transplants more accessible to all those who need one.

He sure can.

Till that fine day arrives, let’s donate, support the research, know your genetics, and say a little prayer for my son and the thousands of children like him. Please.

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!
Mom is so glad you’re mine.

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

For more info:
The Sickle Cell Center at Children's Hospital of Michigan
Sickle Cell Disease Association of America
Michigan Citizens for Stem Cell Research and Cures
Sickle Cell Camp

I've got the magic

2009-01-13T01:30:00.004-05:00

When I was little, I loved to watch Cinderella – the Rogers & Hammerstein TV version featuring Leslie Warren. My favorite part was when she sang the song, “In My Own Little Corner” about how she could be anything her imagination wanted in that personal space. Now all grown up, I too, have such a magical space. I’ve most commonly heard it referred to as a Writer’s Cave.

At one point, my Cave consisted of a Sauder desk (complete with hutch) that I assembled myself. It has traveled from apartment to flat to my current home, where it originally bounced from a wall in the living room to a place I carved out for it in my bedroom between my lingerie chest and the bed. That's the Cave that birthed Where Souls Collide. Eventually, I relocated the desk to our unfinished basement and staked my first claim on an official writing territory.

I had the pleasure of hearing Beverly Jenkins speak at the Macomb Book Fai r and Writers Conference last year where she shared the memory of her first offices; a closet, I believe, and the space under a stairwell. Like her, I have shared my Cave with many a spider over the years. And like the once untamed West, my territory and I have settled into each other.

I traded in the hutch desk for a more expansive corner unit that my oldest son helped me assemble. The hutch became a book and binder holder. I added a bookshelf and shelving unit. The patio blinds I hung to hide behind were replaced by drywall two years ago. (Ooooo!) Can You Believe in The Holiday Inn anthology was born there along with countless ideas for the Future File. And just last month I added another shelving unit to relieve, and retire, the 18-year-old hutch. In this new Cave, I've already conceived two new works in progress.

Just as educators tell parents to ensure that their children have a designated place to study, I think it’s important for writers to have their own little corner -- or Cave -- in the world.

Sure, I can write anywhere really. When pressed, my muse speaks in the car, on a plane, at my kids’ sports and dance practices, or at the park while I watch them play. I even wrote by candlelight when we lost power for two days during a recent snowstorm.

I'm sure my writing center will evolve as my craft continues to blossom. While an attic cove getaway overlooking water and trees would be wonderful, I am so cool with having this place that the entire household knows is MINE. Because when I hustle down the basement stairs, navigate the play area obstacle course before me and arrive at my softly-lit, Feng Shui-esque Cave in the corner, then, the magic begins.

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Treat yourself to Brandy's rendition of "In My Own Little Corner"

“Is it fear or courage that compels you, fleshling?”

2009-01-04T23:20:00.005-05:00

I thought my favorite line from the movie, Transformers, would make a quick and easy New Year’s blog topic. And it did, for a minute.

One of the quotes listed on my Facebook profile is from a sheet of paper my father gave me when I was about 16. “The most unfortunate thing that happens to a person who fears failure is that he limits himself by becoming afraid to try anything new. Give yourself a chance.”

I can honestly say that I’ve gone beyond the chance aspect of living and changed that into an expectation. My brothers and I might call it the Worth Ethic. We simply have this expectation that if we set our minds to it, the doggone thing will happen. End of story. So fear, I presumed at the start of this blog, has no place in my life.

But it does!

I am deathly afraid of failing to try. I am certain that if I have the slightest inkling of a talent that I don’t put to productive use, the good Lord will look at me as I stand before him and say, “But why didn’t you ever. . .?” I am a staunch believer in the parable of the talents (about multiplying what you’ve been given) to the point that I’m willing to pounce on the slightest glimmer of interest in any new activity by my children.

“Oh, you think you might like to draw?” We try an art class. “Want to be like Denzel Washington, do you?” Acting workshops. “Like to shake it up?” Dance class it is. And for speed, tackling, a good arm, a strong kick, there’s been track, football, hockey, soccer, basketball and baseball. Oh and viola and trumpet lessons -- with the next household instrument to be determined. I even bought a camera for my son who (temporarily) showed a knack for great composition in impromptu photos.

Some might consider it overkill, I call it exposure. How else would Barack Obama have known he could be president if he’d never tried to be an elected official? I just want my kids to venture into new experiences without fear of failure. In our house, it’s not not succeeding that I focus on. It’s not exploring your heart’s desire, not attempting to discern your strengths and weaknesses, not learning what’s out there in the world waiting for you to find it.

As a writer, I’ve done my share of dabbling. Those things that didn’t work out get added to my Lived & Learned file. And I relish those experiences. Taking them along on this writer’s journey is perhaps one way of multiplying my gift; expanding my own mind while sharing with others.

The fear I carry is not a worrisome one that flinches at failure or cringes at condescending viewpoints. It’s more of a "Forget Everything Else And Rise!" motivator that keeps pushing me to do me best.

"Fear or courage"? For this fleshling, it’s both.

Here’s wishing you a FEEAR-ful 2009!

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Experience vs. Innovation: Why the fight? (with a nod to Julian Bond)

2008-12-02T10:48:00.006-05:00

When did experience and innovation become mutually exclusive?

America seems to be in a sweeping frame of mind. Historic elections and failing industry have seen the recent head-rolling of incumbent politicians and ruined executives. While voters and boards of directors are exercising their rights to enable change based on perceived poor performance, in Motown we seem to take a different tack.

For some time now, I’ve watched companies swapping out seasoned workers for starry-eyed industry entrants as if experienced employees were yesterday’s underwear.

Could it be a Michigan thing? For those of you outside our economically eroded region, things here haven’t been good since 9/11. We’ve had seven years of what the rest of the country has seen in the last ten months. So, I’d understand if company leaders were jittery about their bottom lines and saw trading in higher-priced staff for rookies half their cost (and age) as a viable way to tighten spending. But my sense is that it’s more than finances.

Do know that I’m not talking about companies that downsize based on job performance criteria. Baby Boomer, Gen Y, long-term or short; if you’re not producing, then you ought not stay. But to sweep out entire levels of senior staff based on assumptions about fresh thinking (young = do, old = can’t) seems…well…stupid.

A headline on Yahoo News recently proclaimed, “Expertise Trumps Ideology in Obama’s Early Picks.” I wavered between shouting a literal “yahoo!” and simply saying “Duh.” He is about to run the most powerful nation in the world, so who do you expect he’s going to choose to help him do that: someone with proven experience in getting things done or someone with a pocketful of ideas unaware of the subtle differences between implementation and execution?

Give me the experience that will support my vision and ideas that enable action.

Let’s say you’re a new parent gearing up for your first night out on the town since your child’s arrival. When seeking a baby sitter, you want someone who’s not only taken classes on how to babysit, but perhaps has younger siblings, brings references from neighbors s/he has babysat for or is even a friend of yours with kids of his/her own. You don’t want to come home to find your child unattended, a party in your house and the sitter making whoopee with some stranger in the back.

You want to know that your Rules of Order for parenting your child are adhered to and executed by the sitter. So it appears for our president-to-be. So it should be for today’s companies.

Thought in action: Let’s keep Julian Bond

Please note that my musings go beyond the confines of corporate America and extend to small businesses, the nonprofit arena and community organizations alike. In fact this was one of those I’ve-been-thinking-about-X-lately blogs that I wrote just for me until I heard Jeff Johnson’s commentary on the Tom Joyner Morning Show today.

I’d read recently that Benjamin Jealous is going to take over the helm at the national NAACP. What I didn’t know was that Julian Bond has decided to step down from the board. Jeff went on to share his and another colleague’s reasons that Julian must stay. I agree with them.

As I’ve ranted above, there are certain times in which experience does matter. When it comes to the history of Africans in America, I’d say that Julian’s seasoned perspective will be imperative to supporting the execution of Benjamin’s vision in the days to come. Those who feel that this is not (at all!) the time to lose a voice like Julian’s from this critical vantage point are encouraged to call the national NAACP at 877-NAACP-98. For more information about the NAACP, visit http://www.naacp.org/.

Back to my experience vs. innovation rant…

A vision of how the world, a small business or large corporation looks in the future should walk hand-in-hand with acumen for creating real change. I believe in a saying I heard years ago: “A fish rots from the head down.”

If a company isn’t generating results, could it be leadership’s fault? Are the employees in place able to recognize and affirm talent? Realize and release a lack thereof? Are the standards of accountability constantly shifting? Are potential leaders nurtured or chased off by frightened supervisors? Is everyone at the company obligated to understand what’s happening in the world outside the company walls? Is the goal truly satisfying the customer or packaging our own complacency so that we appear cutting edge? Is there anybody on board unafraid to tell the emperor s/he’s naked? If the emperor isn’t listening, is there a balancing authority that can escort him/her out?

If a fish rots from the head down and not the inside out, then relevant experience and the ability to innovate should be looked at employee by employee, from top to bottom. Staff value should be based on individual contributions and not generational stereotypes. I wonder if industry has succumbed to promoting the easy appearance of success as opposed to striving for true measures of accomplishment.

I obviously don't believe that innovation and experience are mutually exclusive. Nor, to me, does the history of this country and our people reflect that either. I'd say that if we're going to get anywhere, we need great ideas and great people who know how to turn them into great actions. It's especially nice when both abilities show up in a single individual.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour for Hopeless Romantics

2008-11-28T14:49:00.003-05:00

The Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour allows hopeless romantics to flex their very vivid imaginations and soar as they hear from ten beloved romance writers just in time for the holidays!

All The Buzz Reviews and The GRITS COM Literary Service have teamed up to host the Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour headlining some of today’s exciting African American romance writers, December 1-12, 2008!

This exclusive ten-day virtual book tour will give romance readers, and new readers to the genre, a chance to hear from ten popular writers about their new and upcoming book releases just in time for the holidays!

This virtual book tour is inspired by the sultry sex-kitten, Eartha Kitt. Her Christmas song, “Santa Baby,” topped the charts in 1953 making her one of the most popular entertainers in the world. The same sensuous mix that Eartha Kitt brought to this Christmas song many years ago, is the same sensuous mix - Gwyneth Bolton, Niobia Bryant, Dyanne Davis, Gwynne Forster, Bettye Griffin, Donna Hill, Andrea Jackson, Deborah Fletcher Mello, Farrah Rochon, and Stefanie Worth - bring to their work and to this tour!

Romance novels made an astonishing $1.4 billion last year, making the romance genre one of the top sellers in the publishing industry. Though some complain that the formulaic plot and “happily-ever-after” endings in romances aren’t always indicative of real life; the staggering number of romances sold each year is testament to its popularity and staying power!

The Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour begins Monday, December 1, 2008. So join the tour at AllTheBuzzReviews (www.allthebuzzreviews.com) or TheGRITS.com/virtualbooktour (www.thegrits.com/virtualbooktour)About All The Buzz ReviewsAll The Buzz Reviews is the book reviews and literary event blog of Renee Williams, the CEO & Owner of Literary Signature Service, an event planning business specializing in literary events for authors of every genre.

About The GRITS COM Literary ServiceThe GRITS COM Literary Service is an online book promotion service that specializes in serving the unique web publicity needs of authors and publishers.

CONTACT:
The GRITS COM Literary Service
526 Kingwood Drive, Suite 404
Kingwood, TX 77339
281-973-6919

Obama's victory, divine order, and mission

2008-11-06T11:31:00.006-05:00

I got an email from a friend yesterday, so pleadingly heartfelt that it stopped my perfunctory subject skimming and made me answer her on the spot. She just wanted to know what Obama's win meant to her friends.

Like her, there are so many words, thoughts and possibilities in my head they are hard to corral. When I allow myself to consider the meaning of this win, I get that tight feeling in my chest that comes with anxiety. I can feel my breathing deepen, my pulse race. My head has been hurting since Tuesday morning. Concentrating at work has been beyond difficult.

But it's all good: because my heart is in its best condition ever. So here's what I wrote to my friend:

For me, the belief Barack fostered in me long ago is one that doesn't end with the election. I am waiting to answer his next call to service for community and self. More than that, though, I can't help but reflect on my kids' experiences. With the three of them being so spread out, it offers me differing perspectives.

My 19-year-old college student cast his first-ever vote for Barack. As if that isn't powerful enough, I still see him standing on the brink of his future, but that road block "right there" has been removed to allow him to proceed more directly rather than following the detour to his very near destination -- dreams.

For my 11-year-old, who has so much to grasp about tomorrow, it's as new, exciting and now as starting middle school was this year. There is no historical baggage for him in this victory. He's a kid, you know? He'll likely remember helping me put the sign in the yard, learning the issues throughout the campaign, going to the polls with me, following the vote throughout the evening, and cheering at midnight along with the rest of the world. Barack's win is Tweenage cool like a baseball season that culminates with a playoff trophy or an end-of-semester A. Perhaps the lesson for him will be in witnessing hard work pay off.

For my 6-year-old daughter, who awoke Nov. 4 saying, "Today is the election!," there are issues and a process of which she has no clue (save for "You color circles to vote?"). But beyond all the brown baby dolls I can buy for her, and the stories I can tell about how her Nana integrated her high school in 1956 or how her great-grandma ran her own business in that same small southern-minded town, my youngest one gets to rise through the world watching two little girls who look like her grow up in the White House.

That's the thought that takes my breath away.

There's a line in Stevie Wonder's song, "As," that says "You can bet your life [. . . ] that God knew exactly where he wanted you to be placed." I feel as if each of us has been divinely planted in this moment at our appointed ages and stages to continue the momentum with our unique vision and talents.

That mandate hit home even harder today when I remembered my cancelled airline ticket I purchased to attend the African American Literary Awards Show in September. At the last minute, I had to cancel that trip. But now I have a way to DC for Barack's inauguration and a cousin who lives there to stay with.

My excitement is beyond words. As all things are in divine order, I can't wait to discover my mission in this blessing.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

On the Cusp of Change

2008-11-03T23:57:00.001-05:00

Well, when I plopped down to start logging words tonight, it wasn’t meant to be in blog form. But I can’t help it. I guess I – like many others – feel compelled to record my thoughts for posterity on the eve of this historic presidential election.

I have that queasy churning in my stomach that I used to get before strolling the runway in a fashion show or taking the microphone for a news broadcast or hitting the stage for a dance performance.

It’s showtime, baby.

I saw Obama back in May of '07 at the Detroit Economic Club. The place was packed. And just like the rallies that would soon follow, that esteemed business audience was filled with faces of every hue that ran the generational gamut from Millennials to Boomers. That day, it was like he told folks here in Detroit that the Emperor had no clothes, words others seemed afraid to utter. And, oh, how the truth has come to pass! I admired the frankness, the confident intelligence shared with a next-door-neighbor smile.

What’s that saying about "you had me at hello?" Yeah, that’s me and Barack, except the phrase of capture was “Good Afternoon.”

Friends were surprised that I didn’t back Hilary. I can see why. My grandmother owned and operated her own hair salon in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, from the 70s until her death in 1989. She was down in the shop working when she suffered the heart attack that took her life. But what a role model for me! To see this Saved & Sanctified African American woman handling her business in that small, small-minded town.

That’s the same place my mother grew up. And when she reached high school age, she was one of a tiny group of young teens who integrated Cape Girardeau Central High School in the late 50s. I watched my mother navigate one hurdle after another as I grew up: raising four kids, working full time and attending school the whole time I was growing up.

So, I can see why people would’ve thought I’d be a Hilary fan. Barack, for me, was simply bigger picture. My oldest son is a second year college student. At 19, this is his first presidential election – and what a vote he gets to cast! In spite of the confusion surrounding do’s and don’ts for first-time voters, absentee ballots, etc., he has his new address sticker, his patience and his ID, ready to stand in line and do what he must for the America our ancestors struggled to shape.

Like so many Americans, I believe that November 4th, 2008, means a lot more than pulling a lever or punching a ballot. Healthcare, education, way of life, a global economy, broader vision, a different path are all pinned to Barack's coat tails. For me, it’s way past time to stop sitting on the fence of complacency watching better ways of being pass our country by.

My hope?
Today cusp, tomorrow change.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

October is Spec Fiction Month at Black Author Showcase. . .

2008-10-25T20:28:00.003-04:00

. . .and I'm featured!

Many thanks to Diane over at the Black Author Showcase site for recognizing and uplifting my genre of choice this month. The feature spot includes a bio, story summaries and a thoughtful Q&A that I really enjoyed participating in.

If you get a chance, please take a few minutes to check it out.

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Don’t get high on your own supply

2008-10-12T17:25:00.009-04:00

The theme of this blog will be instantly recognized by any true Scarface fan. Remember when Tony Montana’s “business” was getting off the ground and someone admonished him, “Don’t get high on your own supply”? Well, we all know how that turned out, but the phrase took on new meaning for me several days ago when I trekked down to my basement office for a good night’s write and found. . . get this. . .a dead bird under my desk.

Oh, yeah. I was totally creeped out.

My mind immediately searched for myths, superstitions and old wives tales about birds. I knew the sayings were out there, but I couldn’t recall the substance of a single one, save for a deep sense of, “this probably doesn’t bode well.” It shook me so much that I, the Miss Independent New Millennium Do-It-Aller, called my husband down to dispose of the bird. He did it, but not without teasing me about it first.

I took a deep breath, said a few prayers and then set about disinfecting the tiny circular area around the bird spot. We later scoured the basement for an entryway and found absolutely nothing. Weird.

The next morning, as I was leaving to take my daughter to school, my cat got to meowing like crazy and up from the basement flew a very flustered bird. We spent the next 15 minutes chasing it out of the house. The next day, there were two more birds flying around the house. We searched again and came to the conclusion that somehow (after all these years in this house) the birds must’ve gotten misdirected and flown into the chimney that now connects to the furnace. Eeek.

Unfortunately, though, the theory was confirmed when the cat got crazy again and led me to a tiny bird body that had apparently come down the chimney, through the connector pipe to the furnace and slid out. Unfortunately, the furnace must’ve been on when it made its trip.

That was the last bird. And since then, I’ve settled down (mentally) over the whole ordeal. But, you know me: I write supernatural stories; reality-based tales with otherworldy twists. They are threaded with essence, spirit and unspoken occurrences. It’s the kind of stuff people whisper about and wonder if their best friend, co-worker or neighbor adheres to similar subconscious beliefs. Even I have never admitted to being superstitious.

Believing that any force other than God has control over our fate just doesn’t seem to jive with my very religious upbringing. Though I grew up as a devout Catholic – a religion rife with symbols, statues, beads, etc. – crossing the street because of the wrong-colored cat seems sacrilegious. Yet, I do note that the cat was black and that he crossed my path. I avoid splitting the pole when I walk with others, try not to step under ladders, don’t deliberately open my umbrella indoors, or place my purse on the floor unless there’s nowhere else to put it.

I am aware and open-minded regarding some other schools of thought on life and its happenings. That doesn’t mean I accept everything I know is out there, I just know alternate mindsets exist. If my mind wasn’t willing to explore these realms, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits, The Sixth Sense, Hancock, Blade, Anne Rice, Tananarive Due and Dean Koontz would hold no interest for me. But they do. And that’s why I write what I write.

My characters claim skills and abilities the rest of us may not have, but I also empower them to overcome their circumstances and themselves. My supernatural heroines learn to control their actions and their powers and become better people because of their gifts. Then the tale wraps up and we all move on to my next flight of fancy.

My stories reflect a personal belief that no one is entirely helpless against the universe. We are each granted the life tools we need to handle the situations we encounter: be that common sense, a specialized degree, a trusting friend or clever instinct. So, whether my “supply” is ample imagination, religious roots, or age-old superstition, I don’t allow any of these elements to hold me captive to beliefs or practices that sabotage my peace of mind.

The thought process may seem to contradict itself a bit, but really now: The worst splitting a pole does is just break up your conversation or hand holding for a second. Purses left on the floor have far less to do with being broke than not making enough money. And except for those creepy crows carrying the West Nile Virus, wayward winged creatures don’t herald death.

With condolences to the birds’ families, I don’t get high on my own supply, but I certainly do fly with the ideas.

Where Souls Collide wins Science Fiction category at the Literary Awards Show!

2008-09-27T13:34:00.005-04:00

I am really excited to announce that Where Souls Collide won at the African American Literary Awards Show held Sept. 25 at the Harlem Gatehouse in New York. I can not tell you how exciting this is for me and how grateful I am to everyone who cast their vote for my debut novel.

Being incredibly motivated to complete revisions on my current WIP and move on to the next, I'm going to cut this blog short and share details of the moment through the press release I distributed yesterday. (Now whether anyone picks it up is a whole 'nother animal, but it does add nicely to the media kit. :)

Live. Love. Dream. Believe!
Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

SOUTHFIELD, MICH. (September 26, 2008) -- A Detroit-based story about a newspaper’s struggle to survive a changing marketplace has taken a top honor at the 2008 African American Literary Awards Show.

Where Souls Collide by local author Stefanie Worth won the AALAS Science Fiction category. Last year’s winner, L.A. Banks (author of the popular Vampire Huntress series) was again in contention for the award along with well-known national bestsellers Tananarive Due and Brandon Massey. Worth is ecstatic that her debut novel held its own in the field.

“First of all, I was very excited to learn that my book had been nominated for the award. When I saw my competition, I was both humbled and inspired,” said Worth. “I can’t say thank you enough to all my friends, family and fans who voted for Where Souls Collide. They made this happen.”

AALAS nominees were chosen by an advisory panel of authors, publishers and literary industry experts. Winners were chosen by a public online voting process that ran throughout the summer. They were announced during the annual awards dinner held at New York’s Harlem Gatehouse last night.

“I hope this award allows me to share this character’s struggle to overcome with a bigger audience,” Worth continued. “The topic of financial difficulty is especially timely right now. Combined with the story’s romantic theme, there are enough twists to keep readers guessing – and hoping – until the very end of the book.”

Worth, who won national recognition for her editorial work at the Michigan Chronicle, chose the setting for Where Souls Collide based on her fond memories of that job.

“It’s a reality-based story woven with a supernatural premise, so my novel landed in the Science Fiction category.” Worth said. “I consider the book a sort of ‘ode to second chances’ because both the heroine’s professional and personal lives are going through major transitions.”

In addition to her days as a newspaper reporter, Worth also spent time in broadcasting at National Public Radio and ABC affiliates in Missouri. She worked as a reporter and anchor for WJLB radio in Detroit before moving on to the Chronicle and, eventually, her current role as director of communications for an area nonprofit. Meanwhile, she keeps plugging away toward a full-time career as a novelist.

Where Souls Collide, published through Dorchester Publishing, is available at major book sellers in-store and online. Her next work, a short story titled "Can You Believe," appears in The Holiday Inn anthology just released by Dorchester. For more information about the author or her writing, please visit www.stefanieworth.com.

For more information about the African American Literary Awards Show or to view the full listing of 2008 winners, visit www.literaryawardshow.com.

###

Results of distraction

2008-09-06T23:24:00.006-04:00

Here are photos of the crochet project I mentioned in Relax, Release, Relate. There were actually two baby blankets; this is just a near full-size and detail shot of one.

I spent about one week making each blanket (about 3+ hours per day). That doesn't count the time I spent hunting for just the right yarn, going to different stores to purchase the necessary quantities and buying a whole new set of crochet hooks (long story there.) I used three different brands of yarn, all with a mohair look/feel.

The pattern rates its skill level as intermediate and I'd agree with that. It called for a size G hook, I chose to go with the yarn's gauge, which was a K. So I had to do a few practice runs on the first three rows to get the pattern to fall out correctly. I found it (free!) online at freepatterns.com (the fleur-de-lis baby afghan).

I wanted to give the blanket a more finished look, so I added the Hugs and Kisses Edge that I found (free!) online at BevsContryCottage.com.

I made "home from the hospital" blankets for each of my three children. I sized these two blankets by the ones I have on hand. Over the years, they've grown with my children -- from swaddling to car seat cover-ups to nap times and now they serve as leg coverings on movie nights. Of course, my daughter has asked for a mini-version for her favorite doll.

I know she'll understand that I need to hit my next writing deadline first, but I promise to whip up another loopy-laced masterpiece before winter sets in.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Barack Obama in Detroit

2008-09-03T23:45:00.005-04:00

Just wanted to share a few photos from our trek downtown to hear Barack Obama speak on Labor Day. It was my second time, my kids' first. (Unfortunately, my oldest is off at college and missed out on all the live excitement.)

It was so hot that day, but the temperature cooled in comparison to the fiery spirit of the incredibly diverse crowd that gathered to witness history in the making.

If you've been in one of these crowds, you know just what I mean.

Still, despite the fervor, my six-year-old managed to find a shady spot at my feet, curled herself into a ball and fell asleep on top of my shoes. One day, when she's old enough to be ashamed of the memory, we'll remind her of how she slept through the whole thing. Meanwhile, we'll share our pictures with her.

Stefanie

http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Restless over my soap's latest story lines

2008-09-01T00:38:00.005-04:00

Is it just me, or is my near lifelong favorite soap creating characters I can't stand by the boat load lately? Young and the Restless, which I've watched since I was 12, is my one and only daytime drama. It's an addiction I proudly admit to and try my best to stoke daily.

But for the last several months, the plot has been saddled with characters who do little more than get on my nerves. Let's see, there was Sabrina. (Sorry, but the whole 'My dad married my best friend' thing was creepy. Gross creepy.) So, good bye and good riddance to her.

Then there's the Chloe nonsense with the baby trickery. That takes me back to those Sheila and Lauren days. Nobody did it better than Sheila and I don't need Chloe's whiny attempt to recreate that situation. Cane is just dumb for marrying her. Totally unable to suspend my disbelief with that scenerio.

David Chow. Enough said. Won't see ya later. Bu-bye. Double yea!

And Cake Topper Numero Uno: That dedgum Adam. Yeck! First off, we all knew Victor wasn't dead. None of us are that silly. So, he'll come back, see the mess Adam has created and make nice with Victoria, Nicky and Nicholas again. Meanwhile, all I can hope is that Brad gives that fake Victor Jr. his comeuppance.

May I also suggest, while I'm ranting, another African American male lead (or two or three) so that Lily can have some choice in companions. Please understand, I have nothing against the interracial story lines. But Cane was such a stretch for our very naive Lily. (Uh, and an eligible bachelor like him could use some better choices, too. I would like to have seen him with Heather, personally.) A nice positive young brother who does right by Miss Lily would be refreshing. But also, perhaps, un-soap opera like.

Isn't this what soap operas are supposed to do, you say? Hook us on the absolutely unbelievable? It is, I guess. And that's what I try to do as a writer when I toss in those supernatural twists I love so well. But one thing I've learned about crafting heroes and heroines is that they should have some redeemable characteristic. Your leads can't be completely unlikable or most readers will toss them aside. Human, yes. Hannibalistic, no. At least not in my current genre.

That said, I'm ready for the next round of Y&R happenings -- minus Chloe and Adam. Sad fact is, I'll bet the writers and ratings-watchers know I'll be tuning in every day any way. *sigh*

OK. Back to my own word counts and the much more important mind-occupying events of the day -- like sending up prayers for those in Gustav's path. I realize I am quite blessed to be so mindlessly preoccupied, even for a little while.

Stefanie
http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Most memorable mind-bending movies

2008-08-19T23:15:00.002-04:00

These are my picks for movies that stand out in my memory. Some of them give me a (((shudder))) just to think about them. Still.

The list represents my recall as of right now, this moment and in no particular order -- no rankings, ratings, right or wrong. Just the creeps. Enjoy!

The Others (starring Nicole Kidman)
The Sixth Sense (starring Haley Joel Osmet)
The House of Dies Drear (Howard Rollins)
The Believers (starring Jimmy Smits)
Dragonfly (starring Kevin Kostner)
Angel Heart (starring Lisa Bonet)
The Matrix Series (starring Keanu Reeves, Laurence Fishburne)
Fallen (starring Denzel Washington)
The Shining (starring Jack Nicholson)
The Skeleton Key (starring Kate Hudson)
The Green Mile (starring Michael Clarke Duncan and Tom Hanks)

Also came across this cool site while I was out surfing for correct spellings. Gotta add this to my faves. What are yours??

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Music makes my world go round

2008-08-09T01:52:00.004-04:00

Last year, I started a job that is seven minutes from home. For the first time in too many years of working, I'm not on a traffic-clogged freeway driving into or out of the heart of Detroit. People kept telling me how lucky I was to be close to schools, church, grocery stores, etc. And now with gas prices, you'd think I'd thank my lucky stars. But, no. Not me. It took me less than a week to figure out what was tragically wrong with my new situation.

It may sound a little crazy, but I miss commuting.

I lead a hectic life. So that 30-minute morning drive allowed me to channel hop on the radio so I could catch tidbits of the latest news, hear Steve Harvey's Strawberry Letter, and still have time to pop in a CD and enjoy a few of my favorite tracks that set the mood for my day before I swung into a parking garage and started my nine-to-five.

Evenings were the same way. I had time to unwind from work before picking up the kids and slipping into Mommy Mode and starting my "second job" as queen of the roost. I realize now how important that time was to me. More CDs and less radio on the afternoon drive, I plotted stories, made quick phone calls so I could devote time to home once I got there, and let go of all that stuff that tries to undo your sanity on the j-o-b. Now I can be at work or home when I'm barely into the second song on a CD. Grrrr....

So, when I was driving up to Idlewild last week, I finally had the chance to do the hey-I'm-all-by-myself-in-the-car-for-a-long-time thing. I did urban contemporary for the first 45 miles or so. When that faded, I picked up one of those pop rock stations that plays Neyo, Rhianna, Chris Daughtry and Lil Wayne. I stuck with that for half an hour or so before my trip to northern Michigan led me deep into pop oldies, country western and contemporary Christian music territory.

I heard some songs I hadn't heard since I was a kid. Like a song by the Fifth Dimensions (do you even know who they are??) and Carlton Banks' favorite Tom Jones song, "It's Not Unusual." (By the way, I can't hear that song without seeing his dance in my head.) Then I retreated to a CD I only get to hear in snatches, Chrisette Michelle's, "I Am." Wow!

I've adopted Track #4, "Best of Me" as my ode to the Summer of '08. That song will forever remind me of my first trip to Idlewild. And it got me thinking of the place music holds in my life. As I sped along the freeway I thought of a slew of songs that bring back specific memories whenever I hear them. Here are a few of the old songs and their moments:

In the Rain by the Dramatics -- Pretending to be the Temptations with my cousins in the mornings before we left for school.

Black Water by the Doobie Brothers -- A trip to Six Flags and splashing down the log ride with a bunch of family friends.

Piano in the Dark by Brenda Russell -- The dark days of my divorce. (((SHUDDER)))

Shame by Evelyn Champagne King -- Summers with my cousin down in Cape Girardeau, Missouri.

Yearnin for Your Love by the Gap Band -- Those days when you wondered if you'd ever find a decent boyfriend. Applicable for many, many years after I bought that album...

Bad Times (I Can't Stand It) by Captain Rapp -- That and any other 80s/early 90s rap reminds me of my post-college club scene. Those days when I could hang out dancing all night and still get up and be on time for work.

Kiss From a Rose by Seal -- The first time I drove home to St. Louis by myself. It was a beautiful, hot summer day driving through mid-America in my Jeep. I drank a ton of Pepsi and made great time.

How Can I Ease the Pain by Lisa Fischer -- A nameless old flame who would always sing this strangely prophetic song and miss all those oh-so-important high notes.

It Ain't Over Till it's Over by Lenny Kravitz -- My last pregnancy and the baby who seemed to love (and still leans toward) electric guitars.

One of the sessions at the Dubois-Chesnutt Writing Institute in Idlewild was about using poetic principles to make your prose sing. I shared that I create a playlist for every story; songs that speak to the plot, conflict and characters' relationships. The songs for Where Souls Collide are posted on my web site and soon I'll post the list for Can You Believe.

My works in progress have their own distinctive lists as well. There's a little crossover because some songs -- face it -- are just writing favorites. But when I sit down at the laptop and put on my headphones, each playlist takes me directly to the heart of that story. It's a great way to beat writer's block. And since I no longer have a commute to unwind with, it's the next best mental thing to being on a long stretch of freeway.

Tuning out for now --
Stefanie

www.stefanieworth.com

So who’s invited?

2008-07-24T23:36:00.004-04:00

Like a lot of other people, I watched CNN’s “Black in America” special. At the moment, one of the segments I’ve fixated on was the one about a young successful African American screenwriter who’s reluctant to put her lifestyle on hold just to have a man. Her comment went something to the effect that the party’s already in progress and a man would have to bring something to it.

That sounds fair, don’t you think?

I mean, who doesn’t get annoyed at that brother, sister, relative or co-worker who always shows up empty-handed ready for the time of his/her life at your expense?

But in the realm of relationships – whether you’re male or female, what are the standards for inviting someone to your soiree? Should a potential significant other be prepared to show up with a bottle of Cristal? A carafe of wine? A two-liter pop? Or a bag of ice?

To me, the whole notion raised so many issues and ideas, I’d like CNN (BET, Michael Baisden, whoever) to spend a week discussing the idea of self-worth as mate magnet. After all, your party – the life you deserve, want, are working toward, etc. – stems from your own level of self-esteem, right? And we all (go ahead, admit it) aspire to be at least equally yoked.

But, what if "Insecurity the Party Pooper" has crashed your set? Do you find yourself settling for a bag of ice hoping that it will materialize into a fine Merlot with time? Call me jaded, but I say don’t count on the water turning to wine unless there’s a whole lot of fermented grapes in that mix.

While I believe that people grow, mature and sharpen their focus on this road of life, I don’t believe that the core values people bring to relationships change. No matter how hard you work to get the fizz out of that champagne-flavored pop, it will never be Cristal. Even after all your patient cajoling, it will remain an unfulfilling, flat substitute.

Does this sound selfish? Well, it is. But, think about it: Sure, that fine stranger you invite into a relationship on looks or unproven potential alone might one day be the love of your life. The charming guest could also become the spouse at the root of irreconcilable differences that weight your spirit, split your family, and become an inseparable contributor to the lifeblood you leave as future generations.

When do you make the decision to not be an equal-opportunity host and start narrowing your guest list? That’s up to you, of course. Just know that at some point in your life you need to be acutely aware of the people you love, live and lie down with.

So I say, get your relationship party on. But, yes, you have the right – a duty to self – to guard that guest list with your life.

Relax, release, relate

2008-07-14T23:53:00.001-04:00

I wish I could blame my lack of blogging on mounting manuscript pages. But I can’t. No, in fact, I’ve been in a wee bit of a writing slump. Now, that’s not for lack of ideas or words, but more a feeling of ever-present distraction. If they had a twelve-step program for people who are perpetually sidetracked, maybe that’s where I’d be.

Instead, I’m here with a mounting to-do list that has little to do with what I’d really like to be doing: writing. Mind you, most of the tasks on that Distractions list relate to writing in some way, but very few of them amount to words on a page or pages in a stack or getting closer to THE END.

See, it’s a self-destructive cycle really: I get distracted. I wind up doing too many things that don’t bring me fulfillment. I begin feeling too overloaded to write. I start to feel bad because I’m not writing. I look for time-occupiers to take my mind off the fact that I’m not writing. I stay distracted.

That’s not to say that I haven’t accomplished anything over the last six months. I finished an anthology, am close to proving that I really can write a 14-page story, planned a writers’ conference, and re-designed my web site. Yesterday, I started a new crochet project that I aim to complete in the next three weeks. And, today, I’m blogging.

Some author I came across years ago said she doesn’t have writer’s block or get into slumps. Why? Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. And I have to admit, that right now – having assumed that position – watching my words fill this white space feels really good.

OK. So let me go back to the way that works for me and get off this waylaid treadmill:

I will resurrect my writing journal
I will set measurable and attainable monthly writing goals – classes, word counts, promotional activities, events – at the start of each month
I will log my progress every day and make notes to encourage tomorrow’s work
I will flip-flop my priorities and allow myself one hour per day to pursue my distractions and dedicate 3-4 hours per day to building my word count. Not the other way around.
I’ll do a better job of taking care of me.
I will then be able to write every day
I will write every day

Woosa. . .

A little cottage by the lake

2008-05-03T21:26:00.004-04:00

Shortly after I moved to Detroit from Missouri "a few" years ago, I learned about Idlewild. It was infamous, I heard. Everybody who was anybody vacationed there once upon a time, and even now, those in the know had a place up there on the lake.

No wonder I've been wanting a little cottage of my own ever since. It's so easy to envision myself staring out over the lake dreaming up plot after plot in Idlewild's idyllic surroundings.

Without question, my wanderlust went full throttle as I finished Where Souls Collide, ratcheted up several notches when I sold the story and disappeared through the stratosphere once the book hit the shelves. Getting a cottage has now become one of my five-year goals. By then I figure I can actually make use of the property. For now my weekends are ruled by little league sports and dance classes for my Beyonce-to-be. My getaway window exists only for four weekends in August at present.

How fortuitous is it then that I’m out surfing Idlewild cottages-for-sale and stumble across the DuBois-Chesnutt Writing Institute that runs in tandem with the Idlewild Jazz Festival? I offered to help out with the writing workshops and after a quick conversation with jazz fest organizer Gad Holland, I end up coordinating the Aug. 2nd Institute. (In my copious spare time. LOL)

What can I say? It’s an exciting opportunity, shaping up to be a great event with keynoter Elizabeth Atkins (whose family has long owned a cottage at Idlewild) and other presenters, including, author Renee Alexis and poet Karen Williams. A jazz fest ticket ($35 before July 1, $40 afterward) admits participants to the writing workshops. I see incredible potential for the DuBois-Chesnutt Writing Institute, especially as Idlewild approaches its 2012 centennial.

Maybe I can bump up the timeline on that lakefront cottage after all.
Stefanie

To learn more, visit:
DuBois-Chesnutt Writing Institute information: www.stefanieworth.com/08workshop
DuBois-Chesnutt Writing Institute online: www.myspace.com/idlewildwriters
Idlewild Jazz Festival: www.idlewildjazzfest.com

See you after school

2008-04-21T01:53:00.004-04:00

Any body but me get traumatic flashbacks at the sound of that phrase?

"I’ll see you after school," generally meant that someone had done something to somebody who was bigger, meaner and bold enough to try to right the perceived wrong. And, believe me, it was generally a perceived indignity. When I was in grade school, it didn’t take much more than verbally sticking up for yourself against the class enforcer to be threatened with mortal destruction at the end of the day.

I don’t know whether bullies are born or made, but I do believe that neither MySpace, YouTube nor any other internet alleyway will alter their origins or intentions. There were no digital cameras handy at Frostfield Elementary School and yet, alas, I still managed to be a sought after commodity. Being tall and skinny, talking proper and getting good grades seemed to be a good way to make enemies. Not to mention having your dad run the school PTA. Oh, yeah. Lots of fun.

So when I saw the news story last week about the teens beating up that girl (you know the one), I instantly reverted to a place of incredible empathy. I remember how I used to hate those kinds of girls. While boy bullies tended to be loners, female bullies hung in packs. But neither discriminated in their ability to scare the crap out of everybody. And even though "hate" is a word I don’t allow my kids to use. . .well, I still feel that way about how those kids made me feel.

I can recall them walking behind me on the way home and pulling my hair all the way down the sidewalk. Or running up behind me and giving me a shove to try and make me fall. Stupid stuff. Like writing "Stefanie is ugly" on the top piece of a brand new pack of notebook paper. Of course, I told the teacher, who recognized the handwriting as belonging to the one boy we all feared. Right away I wanted to take back my tattling, but it was too late.

After school, the bully found me. I was with my younger brother and trying to get us home as fast as I could. My legs couldn’t carry me fast enough and I got caught with an armful of books, little brother looking on and the end of the world banging in my head. He hit me in the nose, I felt the blood running down my face, panicked, closed my eyes and swung my fist. My books hit the ground and I grabbed my brother and ran back into the school screaming.

Well, we made it to the principal’s office. He called my father. Some adult caught the perpetrator and brought him into the office alongside me and my brother to wait for our parents. My father talked to that boy like he talked to us – and told him he better not ever touch me again.

On the way home, my father asked me if I was afraid of that boy. "Of course. Everybody is." And he told me, "Don’t you ever be afraid of anybody. For any reason."

Worked for me.

My father’s talking to also seemed to work for the bully, who grew up to be a pretty decent guy, even serving in the military, from what I’m told.

That fight changed both our lives. The bully’s actions and my father’s words have allowed me to battle life’s bigger demons without being afraid of defeat. And the simple balancing lesson of doing right by others and standing up for yourself is not lost on this mother of children who march to a slightly different beat.

What we teach our kids – and the other children in our world village – should not be based on who might see the outcome. Whether it shows up on the internet or festers as bad memories, the lack of a good talking to affects what’s produced on the inside of these future adults. So be the grown up: say it’s wrong. Say it early. Say it often.

No kid should be on either end of, "See you after school."

Second Chances

2008-02-11T20:45:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been in a good relationship…only to meet someone wonderful?

Not just fine. Or smart. Or with that million-dollar smile that makes your insides bubble like a shook up soda pop. No, someone who hexes you with an if-loving-you-is-wrong notion you just can’t shake. Did you dare to wonder “What if?” before you decided to do right?

Let’s flip the script and say you’re with that oh-so wonderful one, but life is all in the way. Maybe there’s bad breakup baggage or ex’s baby drama that keeps chipping away at what you hoped could be. Did you find yourself saying, “Maybe if we had met before…. Or after… Or just at another space and time” and walk away?

What about your job situation? Ever had a boss who ruined the perfect job for you? A person who’s so awful to work for that they made the gig impossible to keep? Or maybe your company fell on hard times and you were impossible to keep.

Life is filled with day-late, dollar-short, “If I coulda, woulda, shoulda” situations. But, even though we grow up and ingest the clichés that get us through (roll with the punches, that’s the way of the world, can’t win ‘em all, et. al.), who doesn’t reach a point where they wish for a second chance?

I’m always asked the question, “What’s Where Souls Collide about?” And for me, beyond all the love, suspense and its supernatural twists, the story is about two people fighting the day-to-day forces of life and love with the hope of winning their second chance.

Ever been there?

A Chat With Farrah Rochon

2008-01-31T01:23:00.000-05:00

I'm excited to bring you an interview with one of my fellow authors who writes for Dorchester's African American Romance line, Farrah Rochon.

Farrah, thanks for stopping by my blog. Can you tell us a little about yourself and your journey to publication?

I usually think of myself as being a bit boring, but then again, I like boring. :) I am an avid sports fan. The start of football season is marked on my calendar in bold, red ink. I also love to travel. My favorite spots are Disney World, for obvious reason (who can resist that Goofy), and NewYork City. I would love to live there one day. I’m a huge Broadway fan.Wicked, The Color Purple, and Aida are my favorite musicals.

Of course, I’m also a ferocious reader. I’m currently seeking a 12-Step Program to help with my addiction to buying books, but it looks like I’ll have to start it up myself. It’ll at least put my Psychology degrees to good use.

As for my journey to publication, it has been a long, but fun one. I started my first “real” novel back in college at the urging of one of my professors (who happens to be the only grandchild of W.E.B. Dubois). I wrote on and off throughout undergrad and graduate school, but it was at the encouragement of a group of friends I met through my favorite author’s online message boards that I decided to try writing romance. The rest, asthey say, is history. It took five years and four completed manuscripts, but I would not take back a single thing along my journey to publication.

What’s been your most exciting moment since the release of “Deliver Me”?

That’s pretty hard to pinpoint. There have been so many great things over the course of the last year (my first booksigning, seeing my book inWalMart). However, I’d have to say the most exciting moment was this summer when over sixty of my closest friends (yes, I have over sixty close friends) flew in from every end of the U.S. and even from abroad to attend my first ever booksigning at the Romance Writers of America Annual Conference in Dallas. For years they’ve heard me talk about finally having my own table at the booksigning, and it meant so much to me to have them there. Everyone wore these smashing red Rochonette Fan Club t-shirts, and made a huge splash at the RWA Literacy Signing. It was phenomenal.

Tell us about your upcoming release.

I’m very excited about my upcoming novel, RELEASE ME. It is the second in my Holmes Brothers saga, and features the second brother, Tobias “Toby”Holmes and his childhood friend, former basketball-playing tomboy, Sienna Culpepper. Sienna is no longer a tomboy, and Toby is definitely startingt o notice her grown-up assets. The story is once again set in New Orleans and centers around an American Idol-type reality TV show.

After a serious car accident ends his professional basketball career, Toby decides to try his hand at the music business. As luck would have it, a scout for a new reality TV show shows up at a club where Toby’s newest client is performing and chooses her to star in the show. Sienna Culpepper works as a marketing executive at the advertising firm Toby chooses to help turn his client into a star. And, of course, she is put in charge of Toby’s account.

I absolutely love the way this story turned out. The fact that I have read it for pleasure—twice!--says a lot. :) Readers should enjoy seeing Monica and Eli from DELIVER ME, and the others from the Holmes clan. There is also a sizzling hot secondary storyline featuring Toby’s best friend, attorney and upcoming nightclub owner, Jonathan Campbell and Sienna’s sister, Voo Doo Priestess, Ivana Culpepper. The chemistry between these two is combustible.

Did your writing process differ between the first and second book?

My writing process has differed for every single book I’ve written. I’ve accepted that I don’t have a set writing process. Life always throws these curveballs that inevitably screw up my process, so I’m trying to learn how to be open to living an “adjustable” life.

Take for instance what happened when writing RELEASE ME. When I got to page 100, I had to put the manuscript aside in order to work on revising a manuscript that was eventually rejected by Harlequin. After mailing that other manuscript one Saturday, I was all set to get back to work on RELEASE ME that following Monday morning. The date: August 29, 2005. Instead of writing that Monday, I was bugged out in a hotel in Dallas, escaping Hurricane Katrina’s wrath.

I still keep a yellow Post-it note in my wallet, on which I had written my “to do” list for Monday, August 29th, as a reminder of how quickly your world can change. I went several months without writing a thing. Luckily, I never lost the passion I had for Toby’s story. It is my favorite novel so far.

What do you most want to achieve as an author?

My short answer: To write full time and not worry about a day job.
My shorter answer: To make people smile.

If you could offer one suggestion to aspiring authors, what would it be?

Don’t think things get easier once you’ve published your novel. Like many aspiring writers, I thought the hardest part of this business was finally getting an editor to believe in your work, and eventually buy it. I learn each and every day just how difficult it is to survive in this business. If you really, truly want to be a published author, be prepared for lots of hard work.

Is there any thing else you’d like readers to know?

Of course! Be on the lookout for my second novel, RELEASE ME, which will be in stores in early June 2008. Also, stay tuned to my website, blog, and/or MySpace page for news on upcoming releases, contests, appearances, and an excerpt from RELEASE ME.

Farrah, I've really enjoyed getting to know you over the past year. Maybe we'll get the chance to combine forces one day. Meanwhile, here's to continued success!

Live. Love. Dream.
Stefanie

http://www.stefanieworth.com/

The Big Yawn

2008-01-27T23:23:00.000-05:00

It’s cold outside. And snowy. It’s Sunday. My daughter’s going through her umpteenth recent growth spurt. My son has another day off school. My eldest hasn’t texted me in two days. My truck needs a good wash. My MAC lipstick better be in stock soon. I need about six hours on the treadmill.

So how do all these disparate details connect?

These are the things I noticed when I came off deadline and finally got some sleep last week. It felt a little like waking up in the morning and pulling back the curtains. Till then, yes, you know it’s morning, and yes, you know the street is probably quiet, which cars are usually parked there, what season it is, etc.

But once the obstruction is removed and you can actually see outside, well, then you notice that the people across the street got a new car, the trash collector left your recycle bin unemptied and, based on the car in the driveway, the girl next door seems to have a new boyfriend. That’s how I feel today: like welcome back to the world!

I remember reading once that Will Smith said his first marriage fell apart while he was making Six Degrees of Separation. He talked about being so into his role that the movie consumed him. He also said he learned from that experience about acting, family, priorities.

Well, I don’t have the option (or desire) to completely ignore my family while I’m working on a book, but I can pretty much tune out every thing else. That would include my body’s need for nighttime rest. I’ll admit that the most sleep I’ve had in the last two years was this past Christmas when I had the flu for four days.

Ask yourself (I do): Does Toni Morrison sleep? Does Stephen King sleep? What about L.A. Banks or Tanarive Due? How long? How often? Do they sleep better now with some measure of success behind them than they did in their early years of hammering out manuscripts and soliciting sales?

I know I shouldn’t, but I do consider seven or eight hours of lying down doing nothing to be a luxury. Never mind a friend who told me that you’re supposed to protect sleep the way you guard your health. Or the studies (and I always read them out of guilt) that link lack of sleep to difficulty losing weight, propensity for diabetes and just plain falling asleep all day. I feel like sleep is the sacrifice – not pounding the keyboard until 2 or 3 a.m.

Producing pages = realizing my dream.

Thus it was with my latest project. I was asked to turn around 25,000 – 30,000 words in about five-six weeks. That’s quick for me when I factor in a full-time job, kids/family, holiday hassles. But I wasn’t about to say no. I had a proposal for another project that I was wrapping up and was determined to get that out of my hair first. Polishing and perfecting that other piece ate up about 10 days. Then I dived in.

Me being me, I divided the challenge into bite-sized goals. One thousand words a day and I’d make deadline with time for self-edits and revisions before mailing the work off.

Okay, so it kind of went according to plan.

When I was a couple thousand words off target just before Christmas, I figured I could make it up – really come close to finishing – while I was on vacation over the holidays. Ha!

So, except for those four critical days I spent in influenza’s fever-induced haze, I was kicking butt and taking names. But I had to push into overdrive once I was well. Which meant back to four hours of sleep at night and carrying my laptop from room to room at home to write something at any available opportunity.

Five nights ago, I finished – revisions and all. At 4:12 a.m. Then there were the perfunctory details like a cover letter and mailing prep. Anyhoo, I went to bed around 4:45. And got up at 7:30 for work when my husband came in the room and said, "Hey, it’s late!" Ugh.

That goes down as my worst non-sleeping offense. My family, in the meantime, has shown the utmost patience with my dream. They seem to understand -- though during weeks like these I think I push the empathy envelope pretty far. I try to find ways to make up for my tunnel vision between projects and hope the attention I give them has a halo effect – that they forget mommy was ever bad.

Maybe if I didn’t function so well while sleep deprived, I wouldn’t do the whole non-sleep thing. But, honestly, I think that even without a day job, husband and kids, I’d spend that much more time writing – but I still wouldn’t sleep.

Nothing beats the feeling of typing THE END.
And starting all over again.

Do it for Love

2007-12-08T02:21:00.000-05:00

For romance writers, love is always in the air. Warm weather is an excuse to see the sights with the apple of your eye, while cold and snow are perfect reasons to stay home and snuggle.

But no matter how much you love what the season outside brings, flowers, beaches, leaves and fireplaces will have no affect on your relationship if you don't happen to love the one you're with.

In other words, enjoying external accessories begins with loving internal necessities. So it is with writing itself. My interview with Detroit author and writing colleague Natalie Dunbar brought out an important point: If you're striving to be a published writer, you better love what you do.

1) Thanks for being here, Natalie. Can you tell us how long you've been writing and what made you start?

I’ve been writing since I was a little girl, telling myself stories to go to sleep. I loved to read, but wasn’t always able to get enough books to satisfy me, so I had to use my imagination. This extended to plays and serials acted out with my sisters and brother.

2) How would you describe your stories overall?

My stories feature strong, smart heroines challenged by external circumstances and the hot, sexy heroes who love them and inspire internal conflict. My stories always include romance, and they run the gamut from romance to romantic suspense, action adventure, and paranormal romance.

3) Do you have a favorite character?

All my characters are favorites, but if I were single and dating, I’d go out with Arturo Bodega, Ramon Richards, and Reed Crawford in a heartbeat.

4) What is the most important lesson you've learned as an author that you want to share with aspiring writers?

The most important lesson I’ve learned as a writer is that If you’re going to be a writer, you’d better be writing for the love of writing…. This is not the glamorous business it appears to be. Unless you’re a big name author or it’s in your contract, you can’t pick your cover, most authors don’t make boatloads of money for their works, it’s a lot of very solitary work. In addition, these days you can’t just write the book and move on, you have to promote and market it, too, since publishing companies put the advertising dollars where they expect the biggest returns.

5) What’s next for you?

I have a novella in the werewolf romance anthology “Vegas Bites Back,” which is coming out at the end of December/ early January from Parker publishing. My novella is titled “The Golden Wolf” and it continues with the characters I created in my “Vegas Bites” novella.

6) Anything else you’d like us to know?

Yes.I love to hear from my readers! And, I’m going to post a video trailer for A Serial Affair on my website… So, check it out! And thank you Stefanie, for giving me this opportunity to connect with more readers.

7) How can readers contact you?

I invite readers to check out my website at http://www.nataliedunbar.com/. Readers can contact me at Natalie@nataliedunbar.com, or at P.O. Box 626, Royal Oak, MI 48068.

Thanks, again, for talking to us, Natalie. Good luck with Vegas Bites Back.

Live. Love. Dream!

Stefanie

http://www.stefanieworth.com/

Believe in brighter days

2007-11-22T01:14:00.000-05:00

I was telling someone the other day about my arrival in Detroit a few years back. I remember riding a cab through downtown and noting how incredibly dismal the sky looked compared to Chicago, where I’d relocated from just a few hours before. I wondered if the sun ever shined here.

Well, of course it does.

But, at that snapshot in time, I doubted I’d ever see the blindingly bright days I’d grudgingly left behind. In the months and years afterward, hydroplane races, riverfront festivals and long hours in my urban garden were enjoyed beneath record high temperatures and southern-style humidity. I soon got over the gray skies that I thought would rule my life here.

I thought of that uncertainty when I first heard Joss Stone’s song, “Bruised But Not Broken.” It’s a tale of love gone awry – as love is known to do – and the wounded woman’s promise to herself that, “the pain will fade. . .I’ll get back on my feet.”

What struck me most is the wisdom in that song sung by someone so young. What is Joss? 20? At that age, many young lovers don’t believe that the sting of betrayal or crushing hurt of a broken heart will ever go away. They don’t have enough experiences behind them to know that there really are more fish in the sea (oh, so many. . .). Some of them lose their will to swim back out into the world all together and we lose those very young people to despondency, depression and suicide.

The holiday season is upon us, a time of year when joy is supposed to abound. But for the despondent during these days, pain can be easily ignored in the bustle of spending, cooking and kissing under the mistletoe.

The Mayo Clinic web says that “holiday stress and depression are often the result of three main trigger points. Understanding these trigger points can help you plan ahead on how to accommodate them.” (Learn more about dealing with relationships, finances and physical demands this time of year. )

“It's OK to feel bad, but try to separate your emotions from your actions for the moment. Realize that depression, other mental disorders or long-lasting despair can distort your perceptions and impair your ability to make sound decisions. Suicidal feelings are the result of treatable illnesses. So try to act as if there are other options, even if you may not see them right now.” (Source: Mayo Clinic web site)

According to National Institute of Mental Health statistics:

In 2004, suicide was the third leading cause of death in each of the following age groups. Of every 100,000 young people in each age group, the following number died by suicide:

· Children ages 10 to 14 — 1.3 per 100,000
· Adolescents ages 15 to 19 — 8.2 per 100,000
· Young adults ages 20 to 24 — 12.5 per 100,000

As in the general population, young people were much more likely to use firearms, suffocation, and poisoning than other methods of suicide, overall. However, while adolescents and young adults were more likely to use firearms than suffocation, children were dramatically more likely to use suffocation.

There were also gender differences in suicide among young people, as follows:

· Almost four times as many males as females ages 15 to 19 died by suicide.
· More than six times as many males as females ages 20 to 24 died by suicide.

The NIMH cites symptoms of depression as including the following (though all symptoms may not be present):

· Persistent sad, anxious, or "empty" mood
· Feelings of hopelessness, pessimism
· Feelings of guilt, worthlessness, helplessness
· Loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies and activities
· Decreased energy, fatigue, being "slowed down"
· Difficulty concentrating, remembering, making decisions
· Difficulty sleeping, early-morning awakening, or oversleeping
· Appetite and/or weight changes
· Thoughts of death or suicide; suicide attempts
· Restlessness, irritability
· Persistent physical symptoms

If you feel that someone you love is depressed or suicidal, click here to read how family and friends can help or call the toll-free, 24-hour hotline of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255); TTY: 1-800-799-4TTY (4889) for immediate crisis help.

I think it’s true that challenges can make us stronger. Through experience, we can better cope with the hills and valleys life throws our way. You can’t avoid the bruises, but you don’t have to break.

Just as new activities, interests and friends helped change my perception of Detroit’s different environment, a kind word, keen eye or quick call might keep someone you know or love from succumbing to the belief that their sun will never shine again.

Progress is a Slow Train Coming

2007-10-23T20:58:00.000-04:00

Today my Black child
male
draws oohs and aahs of
handsome, smart, polite.

Tomorrows away he will command baited breath,
thoughts of will he, quickened footsteps, sidelong
glances.

So I steady him with confidence,
hugs and handshakes. Gird
him with common sense, unquestionable
knowledge. Balance life's
inequities of vision with
stories of a heritage
supreme. And hope. But know,

Rude awakenings await this flesh and blood whose lot I
toil to better.

Progress is a Slow Traing Coming © 2005 Stefanie Worth – From “Conversational Silences”

My father has a habit of saying, “Time flies – whether you’re having fun or not.” Of course, as moments melt into years that pass faster and faster, I see just what he’s been trying to tell me all my life.

When I wrote the Progress poem, my oldest son was a toddler. Unquestionably the cutest and smartest toddler this side of heaven, many a day I would watch the news and look in his eyes with dread. “How long before this world snatches that sparkle?” I’d wonder.

Not quite as grown as he thinks he is, I can commend him for being serious, studious and an all-around upstanding young man. Nobody’s perfect, but he seems – from mom’s jaded vantage point anyway – to have turned out pretty darn well.

But I’ve reached the point in the poem where I take the part of my heart marked with his name and let him walk around in the world with it: No mom over his shoulder for on-the-spot advice, no nearby teacher for guidance – in other words, no safe-seeming adult at his side to shush the naysayers before they assume ill of my handsome black teenager and react verbally or physically in ways they shouldn’t.

Of course that worries the mess out of me.

Beyond the example of Jena, we had a local incident here in Michigan over the summer involving two young black men who were summarily rounded up in connection with a murder – then later released for lack of evidence. But the time they spent in lockup is not refundable, those scars are not erasable.

I had my son read the article that ran in the Michigan Front Page about the incident. Two teens with athletic aspirations and college plans, snatched from their day-to-day world – snap – just like that. His eyes widened. The similar ages, the incredible injustice, whatever it was, hit home. I hoped he could see how unfortunately easy it still is in this America to be mislabeled, railroaded because of that mislabeling and life-wrecked simply by being young, male and black.

So, like the poem says, I gird him with values and reality checks. I pray (a lot) for my boys and all those boys who live in our world village. And I vote.

Please don’t tell me you’re not registered. Or that you’re registered but you don’t take time to do your civic duty. Because if that’s the case DO NOT talk to me about the Jena 6, the nightly news, the latest Driving While Black case yada, yada, yada. I hope you didn’t bother to dress in black as protest and that you’re not forwarding protest emails. If you don’t vote, you are part of the problem.

You might disagree and, it’s a free country (because of those who vote), so that’s cool. But in the interest of doing everything in our power to rid the world of inequity, injustice, poverty and hatred, the majority numbers of “minorities” who do not vote are squandering their -- our collective -- power.

Progress.

It comes in many forms. With elections ahead, it’s time to do our part to prove we're trying to move the train forward.

All aboard?

Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com

Birds of a Feather

2007-09-09T16:24:00.000-04:00

I think there are two significant steps I took as an aspiring author that helped me reach my goal of being published: I joined Romance Writers of America and took part in all the online classes, genre-specific loops, and comraderie I could absorb; and secondly, I joined a local critique of like-minded writers.

Initially, my critique partners (CPs) met every two weeks, with each writer bringing 10-15 pages of her WIP (work-in-progress) for review and comment. After a year or so, I dropped out to focus on family and my day job. When I ran into one of my former CPs a few years later -- at a bookstore signing for her latest release -- she invited me to rejoin the group and I quickly took her up on the offer.

We still review about 10-15 pages of each other's work, though that varies. Over time, we've segmented into different romantic genres and the differences in our writing styles are very apparent. Mind you, this is not about your best friend's assessment of the book of your heart. We focus on plot, characterization, flow, etc. It's not personal (though we do like each other and that helps!). Because I write supernatural stories, I also belong to an online RWA critique group that focuses specifically on my sub-genre.

Both affiliations are more than worthwhile: they are motivational, inspirational and corrective when necessary. To say thanks for their support, my CPs are called out in the dedication for Where Souls Collide. Additionally, I've selected my friend and colleague, Karen White-Owens (a multi-published author) to launch my monthly author interview segment here.

Q) Karen, how long have you been writing and what made you start?

A) I've been writing for appropriately fourteen years. I started writing when I took a family medical leave to be with my mother during the last months of her life.

Q) What is the most important lesson you've learned as an author that you want to share with aspiring writers?

A) I think it's very important for an aspiring writer to become part of a writing community. Join a critique group. Go to writing conferences and find authors that write in the same genre to help you.

Q) Do you have a favorite character?

A) Cameron from As Long As There is Love is my favorite character. She made mistakes, but continued to strive for a better life for herself and her daughter.

Q) How would you describe your stories overall?

A) I believe I write contemporary mainstream novels with a twist of romance.

Q) Tell us about The Way You Aren't: What was your motivation/inspiration for the story?

A) The Way You Aren't was inspired by the Best Buy Geek Squad. I was driving along beside on of those Volkswagen Bugs with Geek Squad on the side and I started thinking about how geeks are always portrayed by men. I began to think about how a female version of the normal geek would act. By the time I arrived at work, I had outlined a story idea.

Q) What do you want readers to take away from the story? When will it be released?

A) The Way You Aren't will be released October 1st. I'd like readers to realize that we all have a little geek in us and to learn to practice tolerance with people who are different from you.

Q) How can readers contact you?

A) There's several ways to reach me. If you go to my website, Karenwhiteowens.com, you can e-mail me from there. Or, you can e-mail me directly at karenwhiteowens@yahoo.com

Thanks, Karen! Best of luck with The Way You Aren't!

Live. Love. Dream!

Stefanie

http://www.stefanieworth.com/

In recognition of Sickle Cell Awareness Month

2007-09-04T23:07:00.000-04:00

I've decided to share my family's experience with Sickle Cell Disease. To learn more, visit the Sickle Cell Disease Association of America.

The Baby God Gave Me

“That boy’s going to be a pistol!”

Mom’s response to my unborn son’s refusal to remain head down summed up our shared personality prediction. Estimated at over nine pounds and still breech at 38 weeks, his fetal stubbornness was just a preview of the challenging personality he'd bring to the world. Born a few weeks later at a very healthy 9 lbs. 15 oz after day-long labor and (finally!) a C-section, Pistol Punkin a/k/a Ethan* and I eventually made it back home where life settled into its new normal.

We enjoyed our daytime aloneness, growing and bonding in our own special way. On one of these “all- is-now-right-with-the-world” afternoons, my boyfriend dropped by for lunch --nothing elaborate, just a Big Mac and fries with Young & the Restless humming in the background. I glanced out the window behind us to see that the mailman had just arrived. But instead of the sound of mail sliding through the chute, he rang the bell.

“It’s another present,” I thought.

What the mailman brought that day was a certified letter from the Sickle Cell Disease Association of America--Michigan Chapter. I assumed the communication was a formality, informing me that my newborn carried the Sickle Cell trait like me and his older brother. Cold words from the form letter informed us that our baby’s newborn testing had revealed “a sickle cell condition,” there was a doctor at Children’s Hospital of Michigan prepared to care for our now ten-pound baby, and counselors were on hand if we should “need additional information.”

The mailman brought our whole world down around us.

The story continues on my website

Never doubt, never fear

2007-08-24T01:04:00.000-04:00

Have you met Maxwell “Mack” McKnight? Named for two favorite singers – Maxwell and Brian McKnight – he’s the leading man in Where Souls Collide. As you read the book, you’ll notice the music strewn throughout. Whether en route to work, chiming from cell phones or accompanying love scenes, tunes abound.

Not so much during the writing phase, but definitely as I revised, I surrounded myself with what I deemed the soundtrack of this story. There were songs that seemed to define each character and set the mood I wanted to maintain throughout the novel. For Maxwell and Mack, that song is “For You to Love” by Luther VanDross.

I heard the song on my way to work a few days ago. Every time I hear Luther croon, “I came here. . .through a hurricane. . .never doubt, never fear. . .honey, it’s you I love,” I think of Maxwell’s relentless pursuit of Navena and Mack’s undying love for Vee. That a man would journey across the country – even through time and space – to have the woman his soul yearns for melts my heart. And hopefully yours, too.

After all, who wouldn’t want to be loved like that?

Eyes of the Stove...uh…Eyes on the Prize

2007-07-23T00:39:00.000-04:00

That whole watched pot never boiling thing is not quite true. I’ve been waiting for the UPS truck all week, knowing the advance copies of Where Souls Collide were off the press and en route to my house. Then, in a magical moment on Friday, I glimpsed a brown short-clad man strolling down my front walk, boarding that wonderful truck and wheeling away.

Not much bigger than a boot box (the nice over-the-knee kind), inside the unassuming brown parcel were 25 copies of my dream come true in print.

Giggles and heart palpitations followed. Then, I nearly started to hyperventilate at the thought of all those other books landing in hands across the country. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t completely overwhelming in the most incredible way. I wanted to wallow, but let’s be real, who’s got time?

There are press releases to send and follow up, flyers to design and distribute, a newsletter to create, interviews to conduct, blogs to write, web sites to update, statistics to track and the next book to complete. I figure I’ll stop to breathe at Christmas.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I finished Where Souls Collide, it’s that writing is a business framed by lines: number of lines, deadlines, bottom lines. Yes, lots of personal satisfaction and fulfillment help round them out, but rubbing elbows with those in these trenches has given me a whole new appreciation for being a writer.

I’ve learned to compartmentalize the demands on my limited time. Racking up pages comes first, but promotion cannot be ignored. I’m committed to learning something new about my craft every day and making sure I tend to the business obligations of being published. All this and a family, too!

But, that’s one of the great parts: The people closest to me understand that I don’t function so well without writing in my life. So, we make it work. This quest to be published (well now multi-published) is one of a few pots fired up by my life. With a little prayer and a lot of love, I’m watching every one of them start to boil, ready for whatever comes next.

Rejection

2007-05-22T23:46:00.000-04:00

Well, the Pistons are in the Eastern Conference finals once again. The fact that they’re there, means many others aren’t. In this game – it seems to me – victory is reserved for those who stare down rejection: three-pointers denied, free throws that won’t fall, blatant fouls and bad calls. Even so, this former high school power forward can vouch for the fact that b-ballers have nothing on writers when it comes to the big R.

I still remember my first.

Somewhere between my sophomore and senior years of high school, I decided that years of daily “Dear Diary” entries, and countless lines of carefully rhymed verse had prepared me for the real world of writing: the poetry page in Seventeen magazine.

Five poems – per the magazine’s guidelines – made my personal cut. Using my father’s 200 pound manual typewriter, I transformed each loopy word into uniform stanzas (except for the one key that insisted on dropping its letter just below the line), folded my hopes into a business sized envelope “borrowed” from my father’s office, and sent them off with a self-addressed stamped envelope and all my dreams of becoming the next Maya Angelou.

Weeks later, my father approached me with a handful of mail and my SASE. “What’s this?” he asked, probably recognizing his typewriter’s signature on the envelope that bore my name. “It,” I told myself, heart racing, face burning. “This is it.” Maya, Nikki, Langston, Stefanie.

Not.

I opened the letter as he watched. I felt him studying my fallen face. Absolutely crushed, I was also a little angry. Righteous indignity beat inside my chest. Dad asked what it was and I told him – leaving out the hopes and dreams part, emphasizing the “they didn’t like my poems” that kept bouncing around in my brain. The sorrow of that moment still makes my pulse race. I so internalized that rejection that I figured my writing career was over.

My dad, being the insightful man that he is, smiled and praised my courage. He told me that it took a lot of guts to send out something personal, let other people read it and judge it. He was so impressed that I had taken such a chance. And he was proud of me for not being afraid to try.

His viewpoint morphed that painful experience from an ending into a beginning for me.

Fast forward 25 years. Picture me seated at a computer keyboard (sans dropped letters) still angst-ridden and hope-filled, churning out query letters, submission packages and SASEs for my first manuscript. The ritual is no less gut-wrenching than the Seventeen magazine attempt. And no more successful. But, it is different.

My husband told me a few days ago that he knew I was serious about publishing Where Souls Collide when I received the book’s first rejection. He said he could tell by my reaction, because I was so upset. What’s ironic is that I don’t remember my response. I’m sure I was disappointed – crushed, angry, indignant, no doubt.

But, in the years since I mailed off my Maya hopes, I learned that the word NO is a big part of freeing caged dreams. I got over that first “Not for us, sorry,” moved on, and racked up a slew of similarly phrased rejections. They’re all in a red folder with the date I received them noted in the upper right corner. And everyone who turned me down received a very polite “Thanks for reviewing my query, perhaps we can work together someday” kind of note from me.

Several letters contained helpful suggestions for plot or character adjustments. Most were complimentary of my writing. Many (too many!) were form letters without a hint of what went wrong. I learned how not to internalize every comment (positive or negative) and how to hang onto my belief in myself.

And then, on October 10, 2006, I got The Call from Dorchester. Suddenly I realized that the timing was perfect. Had Seventeen come calling on my adolescent self I could not have appreciated the moment the way I did when it finally happened. With all the energy I put into reaching this milestone, the accomplishment wouldn’t be considered “slam dunk showy” or “nothing-but-net easy” on a basketball court. Worlds wiser and really ready, the dream points I’ve scored in getting published resulted from the shoot around it often takes to outplay a bigger opponent.

Dropped pass. Sketchy plots.

Double-dribble. Weak heroine.

It’s all part of the game.

Take the shot; go for your dream.
There is no other way to win.

Personal Space

2007-05-03T13:19:00.000-04:00

So, have you tuned into the whole Barack Obama MySpace debate? Or is it floating over your head in cyberspace somewhere? From the vantage point of new author who doesn’t want to tick off any potential readers (translation: book buyers), I thought that maybe I should sit back and be quiet. Just let the issue ride.

Ha.

Many of you know that I am a journalist by training – a former radio, television and newspaper reporter who once had a weekly column in the Michigan Chronicle, Detroit’s premier African-American targeted weekly paper. I’m also a bit of a chatterbox in real life, so being quiet is just plain hard for me to do.

Here’s the situation in a nutshell: An Obama supporter, Joe Anthony, had been manning a fan site on MySpace for Barack for just over two years. Apparently Anthony and Obama’s people shared rights and responsibilities regarding content and site maintenance. However, with the site’s growth in popularity due to Obama’s escalating presidential campaign, his camp saw a need for greater – or shall we say, sole – control of the MySpace page that bears his name. Anthony now wants to be paid for his work. The two camps have parted ways over the issue, with MySpace stepping in to grant Obama domain over the site. A call from Obama to Anthony may help smooth things over, though he’s still pretty disgruntled.

Why?

I guess I look at this from the perspective of personal space. In the early days of the internet boom (well, around ’94, ’95, I’ll say), rights to domain names were a hot topic. Once companies began to understand “this web thing” and started trying to figure out how to get on the Net, savvy entrepreneurs took to buying up celebrity and corporate brand names like wildfire. Individuals and companies were actually paying people to get their names for domain use. Then, of course, the law stepped in and people had to start finding other ways to make money on the internet besides usurping people’s cyber identities for re-sale.

Seems to me that’s where MySpace is at the moment. Booming from its own self-population, I guess backers and users feel that restrictions on naming sites on social networks like MySpace would inhibit the free-flow feel of the place.

I came across this controversy because I do have a MySpace page and I’d tagged Obama as a “Friend” there. I’ve also tagged the Toni Morrison fan site as a Friend. But that site makes it explicitly clear that Toni doesn’t run that page. It’s maintained by a fan. I appreciate the distinction. If Toni decides to host her own MySpace page, I see no problem with her having the rights to name her page after herself and gather her own cadre of Friends. And I’d certainly hope her biggest fans would understand that.

I can tell you that I assumed Stefanie Worth would be available as a site name when I registered at MySpace. (I mean goodness, I haven’t even made it to Oprah’s couch yet. Who’d want my name, right?) But you can bet I would have been a tad pit peeved to discover that someone – fan or otherwise – was running a page under my name and wouldn’t let me have it back! I mean, come on, can’t you call yours People Who Love Stefanie Worth? The Society of those Smitten With Stefanie Worth's Books? Fans of the Great and Powerful Stefanie Worth? Okay, I’m kidding about the names, but, really, must we argue over this?

You wouldn’t go to the store with someone else’s ID and make purchases under their name and good credit. You wouldn’t open a business under a well-known alias and perpetrate your way through sale after sale, would you? So why do we think that’s okay to do in cyberspace? If Anthony’s site had been named Obama ’08 or We Back Barack, would this controversy even have erupted? Would he still expect to be paid?

While the laws and regulations regarding some internet dealings are still pretty loosey-goosey, things are beginning to change in terms of copyright, etc. Look at the Napster case. And there are colleagues on my writers loops fighting sites that make free book downloads available. (Gulp. Please stop. We really don’t make that much off our books as it is. Please pay the $6.99 paperback price.)

To me, a lot of this haggling can be alleviated through common sense. You wouldn’t stand on my foot in an elevator, please don’t step on my name – via domain, social network sites, etc., – on the web. Give me MySpace and I’ll give you yours.

Peace.
Stefanie
www.StefanieWorth.com

For more commentary on the Obama MySpace debate, visit:
The Battle to Control Obama’s MySpace at http://www.techpresident.com/node/301
Obama’s MySpace Conundrum at http://thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/05/02/obamas-myspace-conundrum/
Our MySpace Experiment on Obama’s official site at http://my.barackobama.com/page/community/blog/rospars

The King's English

2007-05-03T13:09:00.000-04:00

(Originally posted on my other blog, February 9, 2007)

I was skimming through The New York Times’ online version recently and ran across their Feb. 4 article titled, “The Racial Politics of Speaking Well.” Beside the headline is a pair of hands with two fingers each bent to mimic quotation marks.

I knew what the story was about before I even read it. Still, I scrolled down into the depths of the debate on black people who can talk; that whole “articulate” conversation.

Now, I don’t read the NY Times often (a former Mizzou colleague recently joined their staff, so I peeked in) and not many topics raise my ire. However, this perfunctory surf opened up the gates to a whole herd of memories and opinions that sparked this column.

Let’s see:

“You talk like a white girl.” – Classmate taunts. (elementary school)
“I thought you were white!” – An in-store customer who’d chatted with me on the phone a few minutes before. (high school)
“Where are you from? What do your parents do?” – My on-air audition for Mizzou. The answers, BTW are St. Louis, nurse and works for the Department of the Army. The instructors’ amazement? I sounded so “Midwestern.” Duh. (college)
“If you don’t mind my asking, are you white?” – A phone exchange with someone who knew of me, but had never seen me. (fully grown woman, as Cedric the Entertainer might say)

This is the part where I vacillate between sighs and GRRRRs. By the time I was 12, I was sick of people commenting on my voice like it was some rare, extraordinary attribute. Imagine how those backhanded compliments come across now.

I sound the way I do because that’s how I was taught to talk. My father always stressed being able to “speak the King’s English,” which he and my mother did very well. Neither of them claim overly impressive backgrounds. They hail from ordinary southernish upbringings with hardworking parents who earned far less than middle class money.

Yet, both my parents possess incredible tenacity. They each set their sights on a goal, figured out what they needed to do to achieve it, and went about making it happen. Subtly for my mother and overtly for my father, Lesson One translated into making sure their kids knew how to “talk right.” And I have to say that more than anything else, surprising people with a pleasant tone, and well-pronounced “ings” and “ers” has probably gotten me further than talent alone.

I find that both amusing and maddening.

That anyone would assume how I’m going to sound when I open my mouth is, first of all, a little insulting. Come on. Nothing made me crazier in Journalism School than watching my fellow black students get booted out of the broadcasting sequence because they “sounded ethnic.” Especially considering that white students with southern or Bostonian accents got to stay, along with a bevy of international students.

Until then, I’d never seen the reality of non-standard speaking make its point so succinctly. Just being able to move my tongue deftly between teeth and gums made the difference in my college career; allowing me to anchor early morning TV news and long format evening radio.

Now, some people associate "articulate" with "intelligent" as if those who aren't swift of tongue must be stupid. So, was I the smartest student in the J-School? Not hardly. (No slacker, but never valedictorian.) The guy I dated throughout most of college ran circles around me academically. And, of course, he was extremely well-spoken. By choice, he was in the print sequence back then, better known as newspaper, and is now an exec at one. So, while his voice may not have caused him grief, others -- whose speech betrayed their backgrounds -- suffered for it.

That’s where the whole drawl vs. diction debate got hot: Well-spoken-but-sounds-black did not play, while well-spoken-Alabama-dialect did. I happen to have an incredibly middle-of-the-road tone that has nothing to do with my race. It is fairly indistinguishable in a crowd and, obviously, very inoffensive to those who need a well-spoken woman of color to conduct an interview, address a staff meeting, or facilitate a workshop.

(SPOILER ALERT) There’s a line in Dreamgirls where Jamie Foxx’s character tells Beyonce’s that he chose her vocals because they’re…what was his phrase? Innocuous? No personality? Something along those lines. That’s my voice: The Innocuous Blessing + Parents’ Demand of King’s English = The Ability to Get Folks’ Attention and Then Put Your Talent on the Table.

Please note today's takeaway: I am hardly an endangered species in the black community.

I guess that’s why I’m a writer. Now author. (Big grin there.) Voice comes through via air and on a page. Mine, though nondescript to the ear, has been known to pack a punch in a paragraph.

Whether in a column, feature story, ghost-written speech or manuscript, I’m known to be a good writer. And that’s all I want. Here, in the world of keyboard strokes and ink, no one has ever called me articulate.

For that, I simply say “thank you.”

Raising Readers

2007-04-18T00:35:00.000-04:00

When “How to Eat Fried Worms” opened at the movies a few months ago, the trailer inspired yuck-filled disgust from my kids, but evoked a giggle from me. See, when I was in grade school, I read the gross aforementioned book. I liked it so much that I checked it out from the library three times in a row. (Since no one was waiting for it, Mrs. Riley said I could). Then I lost it.

I recall every painful day of that experience because books were treasured in my home. Of course I scoured the school, searched every room in the house, all to no avail. There was no way I could tell my parents. They’d kill me. (I thought.) Mrs. Riley, being my buddy, fully understood. But, she explained, the book had to be replaced.

(This is where the post-traumatic-stress-disorder kicks in and I forget how much it cost.)

Coming from a family that didn’t believe in allowance (you did what you were supposed to because…you were supposed to), any amount was too much. Again, the intuitive Mrs. Riley tapped into my distress and offered me a deal. Pay for the entire book, plus the overdue fee, and no one would ever know. Considering that my dad was president of the PTA and I thought he knew EVERYTHING that happened at the school, the idea of a secret like this was overwhelming. But I agreed to the impossible.

No penny went unpinched. No couch coin stayed covered. Every nickel treat meant for the Five & Dime went to Mrs. Riley instead. And, by the end of the school year, I’d paid off the entire debt. Whew.

Was I that afraid of my parents’ wrath? Sure. I had ultimate respect for them. But, more importantly, it was the high regard we held for books, reading and education that made me want to right this situation.

I don’t remember ever being read to as a child. (That’ll make mom and dad cringe.) What I recall is the total immersion in all things learning that our household embodied. Using common sense, building book knowledge and speaking “The King’s English” were my father’s only boundaries. Beyond that, the world was ours to discover.

Every room had a bookcase – some wall length and ceiling high. My father read the paper every day, all day, front to back, comics, too. My mother attended college my entire life (from earning an LPN, to her RN, an associates, bachelors and, eventually, masters degree) and her medical books were strewn from room to room.

While me and my brothers’ bedrooms were overrun with children’s books of all kinds, World Book Encyclopedias, a set of children’s dictionaries, a series of animal journals and Ebony magazine’s African American reference library supplied my upbringing with authoritative information.

I remember teaching my dolls – lining them up along my closet wall with pencils and paper – from the time I was barely bigger than they were. (Much to his chagrin, my brother closest in age, now a major in the Marines, often got tossed into this “classroom” mix.) And what were my instructional materials? Textbooks my parents purchased from the school whenever the district revamped its curriculum.

A few years ago, while back home for a visit, I gathered all those old encyclopedias, reference books, and cherished childhood stories still stored in the basement. I carted boxes and boxes of dusty, much-thumbed and well-preserved books to my own hallways, bookshelves and coffee tables. Like the house I grew up in, my own family’s home boasts something to read in every room.

The lesson learned from losing “How to Eat Fried Worms” is that literacy is crucial. I spent one school year paying off a book and its fines. The costs of not being able to read, having access to decent schools or being open to the mind-expanding experiences education offers are socially irreplaceable.

Changing Times, Changing Tastes

2007-03-24T18:23:00.000-04:00

“It’s been a long time coming, but a change is gonna come.”
--Sam Cooke song

News of poor sales at WaldenBooks and Borders has reverberated through the writing community. For those of us who aspire to window-sized ads accompanying our book releases, indications that people aren’t buying books can be really unsettling – much the way poor car sales have rocked Detroit.

I have, in fact, been told that “nobody reads anymore” a time or two since I announced my book sale. Of course, I quickly corrected the messenger. People may not be buying Detroit-made cars the way they used to, but they do still drive. The trick is finding out what sells a vehicle these days. And so it is for books.

Without question, the biggest lesson I’ve learned about being an author has nothing to do with writing at all. I can put words on paper with my eyes closed and hands behind my back. Somehow, they would find their way out into the world. No, what’s been tough is figuring out the industry.

Believe me when I say that since I finished the book in September ’05, I’ve spent countless hours learning what publishers like, how to craft a pitch for the “book of my heart” so that it fits with the current market demand (or what publishers think readers will want 12-18 months from now!) and how to promote the book and encourage sales. Many people think your publisher handles all your marketing. Au contraire!!

To me, the biggest boon in getting a book deal is having someone to place your 300+ pages on store shelves all over the country. (Ask any self-published author how hard that feat is to achieve.) So, while your publisher helps with marketing, a lot of it falls on the author. Woe to those who have no clue as to go about it.

I consider myself infinitely blessed to be a marketing communications professional by day. This marketing stuff has eaten up an incredible amount of time – and I do this for a living! But my hopes remain high that the hard work and insider knowledge will pay off when release day actually arrives.

What I try never to lose site of is that while many people visit stores to purchase their books, many do not. Luckily, authors now have the Amazons of the world to help tout our work. Even though it doesn’t usually account for the bulk of one’s sales, it can provide exposure in a very crowded marketplace. E-books have also become increasingly popular. In this high-tech, everything-on-the-go world, doesn’t that seem a logical course for books in print? I liken it to the birth of broadcasting in a world that had only received official news via paper since the dawn of the press.

We as writers and authors must be flexible to keep up in an ever-changing world. We can fight it all we want, but change will come. For me, lower book sales don’t herald the end of reading anymore than shifting auto preferences signal the end of traffic. It just means that maybe one day I’ll get to narrate all my books so that joggers can “read” them as they run.

As long as I still get to write what they hear, that’s just fine with me.

Publication Date

2007-02-11T20:50:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to drop in and let you know that I have an official publication date for WHERE SOULS COLLIDE. It's going to be on store shelves August 2007.

My original offer date was for Spring, but this works just as well. It gives me more time to work on promotion for the book. Speaking of which, I'll be participating in my first major event this Saturday --a book fair at the Macomb County Library. I'll have Valentine's Day candy, postcards and business cards to hand out as well as a sign up sheet for all those folks missing out on my e-updates. Drop by ifyou're in the 'hood. ;)

I've created a special web page for WHERE SOULS COLLIDE at www.booksbystef.com. Be sure to take a look at the book teaser at www.stefanieworth.com/souls_trailer and let me know what you think. I hope to have other news for you in the next few weeks.

'Til then (for those of us who aren't in the South), stay warm! As always -- thanks for your support.

Stefanie

Never Just a Book

2007-01-23T01:29:00.000-05:00

OK. You can’t hear me but I’m taking deep, deliberate breaths. Despite the effort, my heart still pounds every fourth beat or so. To soothe the growing ache, I exhale, mouth open, nostrils flared. And I stare.

“I think I can. I think I can,” I tell myself. “It’s just a book.”

Ha.
Sure.
“That’s why you haven’t touched it since you brought it home.”

Mind you, this is progress.

I stared at the title for months. Every time I went to a bookstore, there it was. The author demanded my attention and I ignored him as best I could. Until yesterday. He obviously caught me off guard.

How could I fend him off with an armful of Geronimo Stilton mouse detective books, a Barbie diary, stuffed duck, and AP Bio Study Guide? Trapped by my weakened state, I was forced into the novel’s snare and rescued it from the shelf. It teetered atop my load, stretching my wallet and my mind.

“What could possibly be inside there that you can’t handle? Was The Stand so bad? The Dark Half or Carrie?”

No. Or so I thought. That is, after all, how he hooked me. I was young and impressionable, trying to hone a style and find my genre. I absorbed everything he wrote and then one day, I got scared. Like when I snuck and read The Exorcist kind of scared. (Slept with the light on for weeks after that one.) So I broke off my love-hate relationship with Stephen King. Until yesterday.

Lisey’s Story has spent her second day on the end table, where the glowering red hardcover hasn’t budged since I brought it home. There beside I Dream A World, I can pretend it harbors gentle thoughts and tranquil endings.

Breathe.

“You used to live for that stuff. King’s stuff. Stay up all night to inhale hundreds of his pages by daylight.” I know, I know.

Many years later, what I also know is that – twisted as Stephen is – he guides a gifted pen. Weaving words is all-consuming. Those of us who do it understand how stories demand to be told. The ways they push your mind into spaces begging to be explored and exposed. Whether real or imaginary, cityscape or dream world, we authors go there – and take you with us.

Given time, Stephen’s lure – Lisey’s Story – will ask me to ride shotgun down a road that forbids sleep. If I make it to the end, page 509, I’m sure I’ll close it with a shudder. Then I’ll clear the book a spot on the shelf, plunge back into my own journey, and marvel.

A trek that started with a paperback purchase in the seventh grade led me to become a supernatural suspense fan. A high school English teacher’s grade alluded to a future as writer, not just reader. Piles of manuscript pages later, I’m ready to lead you into stories I hope you’ll follow.

My aspiration? To never write "just a book," but rather, words that sing like Maya Angelou, tattle like Toni Morrison and haunt like Stephen King.

(Well, not quite.)

'Til next time . . .sweet dreams.

Stefanie
www.StefanieWorth.com

The Call!!

2006-12-22T01:12:00.000-05:00

Every writer craves The Call. That’s the day your phone rings and an editor or agent says the words, “We’d like to make an offer for your book.” When I last blogged (on October 14th), I alluded to great things happening in my life. That’s because my Call came on October 10th.

It was Tuesday afternoon and I was at work. My smartphone buzzed and a text message popped up that I almost ignored. Tekkie that I am, I have mobile mail, so I’m alerted whenever I get a new personal email. Curious, I logged on and opened my inbox. And there it was:

“Thank you for allowing Dorchester to consider your manuscript, WHERE SOULS COLLIDE. I would like to make an offer to publish for 2007.”

The email was from Monica Harris, now my editor. I called her back to discuss the terms, as she’d requested, and found out they wanted to publish the book in the Spring and she needed my full manuscript.

Backtrack here. Part of the reason the offer was so exciting is because it came on a partial. Translation for non-writers means that the process went a little different for me than it does for many first-time writers. Typically, you send off a query letter and the first three chapters of your book. If they like it, the editor writes back and asks for the full manuscript. Then, if they want to publish, they make you an offer. However, once you’ve published a book, many editors will make an offer on proposal. That’s a partial from an incomplete book. So, because I’m a first-timer, getting an offer on my partial was quite an honor.

Now back to The Call.

I asked Monica for time to think about her offer. I contacted an agent who’d expressed a belated interest in the book (at that time titled INKLING) only to find that she felt there wasn’t much she could do since I’d already accepted the offer. I talked to my critique partners, one of whom uses a literary attorney to review her contracts, pays the lawyer a flat fee and keeps the 15 percent (of everything) that would otherwise go to an agent.

In addition to all the external folk, I chatted this over (incessantly) with my husband. Called my family and friends and accepted the offer two days later. That was Thursday. I then dashed off to Staples for proper manuscript mailing supplies and spent the weekend giving the book one last read before shipping it off. And, yes, printing 400+ pages in 12 point Courier will use an entire ink cartridge. (I now have several extras on hand.)

Monica received the priority mail package on the 18th and my waiting began. Colleagues and critique partners warned me that the writing world moves slowly. It would be 4-6 weeks at least before I received my contract. One colleague said hers took “a good” two months. Didn’t matter. I ‘bout wore the mailbox out checking it every day.

Then, finally, (actually two months to the day from when Monica received the full), I arrived home to find an oversized envelope sticking out of the mailbox. And it said Dorchester in the corner. Woo hoo! (Stole that phrase from a friend.)

Since then, I’ve faxed off the contract to a literary attorney for review. I have to return it before Jan. 2nd. I’ve talked to my editor who tells me my editorial letter (and revisions I presume) will be mailed “before Christmas.” Guess how I’ll be spending my holiday vacation?

I wouldn’t dare complain about the work ahead. I’ve been writing since I was ten and I am so ready for this.

Till next time –
Peace!
Stefanie

www.stefanieworth.com
www.booksbystef.com

Gumption & the Grace of God

2006-10-14T23:20:00.000-04:00

Things are going really well for me lately. I have a lilt in my voice and a lift to my step. I’d say it’s about time!

Seems to me that this is the light at the end of the tunnel we all aspire to. (It could just be a crack in the tunnel wall that’s letting the sun through, but I’ll take it.) However it came, why ever it’s here, I’m grateful for the reprise from life’s ongoing struggle. That doesn’t mean everything’s all peachy. No, a lot of the day-to-day life crap is still on my heels.

The difference is that I’ve been working hard to make a few things happen. Praying that God would let them happen. And one day, a phone call, a letter, a head shake during a meeting and you realize, “Whoop, there it is!”

More later.
Peace.

www.stefanieworth.com