For the umpteenth time, an agent has rejected your manuscript. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the email, but the excitement the agent led with is gone by the fourth word. You exhale, sinking into yourself like a deflated ballon. What’s the purpose of writing all of this if you can’t get aContinue reading “Beware of Slum “Publishers””
A lot of writers who do not have book deals classify themselves as self-published or indie authors. They take on that title and expect instant success. Most of the time, if their first book does not do well, these “authors” drop out of the race to being America’s next great writer. Over the last twoContinue reading “What It Means to Be a Self-Published, Indie Author in 2018”
Yesterday, a fellow blogger asked me a good question about formal education as a writer versus no formal education as a writer. A lot of writers struggle with this. Some see education as the end all, be all that will make them a best-seller. Others who don’t have this education sometimes feel inadequate. It tookContinue reading “Becoming Writer: Formal Education as an Author Versus None as a Writer”
Nearly three months ago, my third beautiful daughter was born. Her eyes are a color I have never seen before and I cannot name. I was hoping for my first son, but I’m blessed either way. The question is, where do I go from here?
Recently, I have been working my ass off, writing, finishing my MFA and going to school while also helping to raise my three daughters. The question I am constantly asked is, “How do you find time to write?” I don’t find time. I make time. That’s the difference. Life will give you a million reasonsContinue reading “How to Write a Book”
About two weeks ago, I had the unfortunate opportunity of being pulled over by a twenty-something cop who thought he knew it all about traffic law. It was nearly 11 pm on a busy street when a girl on her cellphone zipped into the street. I pressed my brakes so hard, the tires squealed. AsContinue reading “The Cop Who Knew Nothing, Except Everything”
One of my most vivid memories of my life in Chicago’s Robert Taylor Projects is my friend Travis and me walking through a grassy field and finding a huge ZipLoc bag of crack cocaine. There had to be at least 300 rocks in there. Up until this point, I had seen plenty of crack transactions.Continue reading “I Am a Drug Dealer, Not So Much”
The bullet exploded. The heavy gun powder choked all of us.