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In Memory of “Sweet” Francis Ray

Jul15

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On Tuesday, July 2, Dallas-based romance author Francis Ray passed away. I was shocked when I heard the news and saddened. Even now (several days later) as I’m typing this I still can’t believe she’s gone. Yet even in the midst of my disbelief and gloom, I am still able to smile because of the beautiful memories that are exploding in my head. I was blessed to hang out with Francis for many years and it’s the times and experiences that we shared that reside front and center now.

Francis and I met in the early 1990s. She was already a member of North Texas Romance Writers of America when I stumbled upon and joined the group. From our first meeting, we clicked. Maybe because we were the only two black members at the time. Maybe because we both loved writing and reading. Or maybe because we shared a strong commitment to write about black people in love. Regardless, we clicked and I was privileged to watch (from the front row) her writing career coast, accelerate, then skyrocket.

I remember her writing career started with short stories for women’s and confessional magazines. Her stories featured white characters. Then, she moved into full-length novels with black characters. I remember her disappointment when a white editor told her she would buy her novel if she changed the characters to white. Francis said no and a few years later sold that same book, and yes, the characters remained black. I remember her excitement when she learned one of her novels would be turned into a movie. I attended the movie screening and if I was walking on cloud nine that night then she was floating in heaven. I also recall her being so emotionally impacted by a story she wrote on domestic violence that she started a fund to financially support women (and men) who desired an escape from abuse.

By the time God called her home, Francis had churned out an amazing 54 “sweet” romance novels. Sweet romances are defined as those that feature heroines with high moral values and limited life/sexual experiences. Sweet romances are usually light on sub plots but heavy on the main plot, that of boy and girl meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Francis was the queen of sweet romances and readers couldn’t get enough of them. Thousands of fans worldwide devoured her books, planting her solidly on both the New York Times and USA Today best seller lists. Not bad for a school nurse from the small town of Richland/Corsicana (Texas).

In recent years, I didn’t get to see or talk to Francis much. Our paths diverged but the memories haven’t and for that I am grateful. Thank you, dear Francis for the sweet memories. May you rest in sweet love.

Unchartered Territory

Jun10

Uncharted Territory 2

You may be wondering why this picture. I snapped this shot one morning as I was travelling a road that I rarely travel. It’s not the clearest photo (the camera on my cell phone is not the best) so let me explain what you’re seeing. It’s a stop sign, obviously, with a vine growing up the pole. Vines are not supposed to grow up a stop sign pole. The vine is not supposed to be there. The vine is in unchartered territory.

Which is where I am. Which is why this sight caused me to stop my car in the middle of a residential street and capture the sight permanently. I need a permanent, visual reminder that if a vine can flourish in unchartered territory, I can too.

See, I knew way back in 1990 when I joined my first writer’s group and decided I wanted to be a published author that I did not EVER want to self-publish. I wanted the traditional route of finding an agent and landing a publishing deal with one of the major publishers in New York City. And guess what? I achieved all that (minus the agent; turns out I didn’t need one for romance). However, when phase two of my writing career kicked off in 2000 (I switched genres; hence, phase two), the industry was in such a state of change that I wondered if I could hang on to that want. But, I plowed ahead, and set my efforts on finding an agent and signing a contract with one of the big boys.

But ten years and hundreds of rejections later, I revised my wish and said, “Okay, I still want to be traditionally published but I’ll be happy with a small, independent press.” Lo, and behold, in 2012, I got my wish. I signed a contract with a small publisher to be traditionally published.

But, two months before the release of my book, Fuller’s Curse, I found myself having to do the very thing I said I never wanted to do—self publish. The small publisher I’d signed with closed shop and I found myself in unchartered territory. Like the vine.

And like the vine, since I had already started up the pole by publicizing my release date and scheduling signings and appearances, I dug in and kept creeping ever upward, picking up and completing tasks I said I’d never do—coming up with a name for my publishing company, filing all the right DBA (doing business as) papers, revising the cover art, finding vendors for formatting and printing, securing ISBNs, and establishing accounts. The work of self publishing my ebook and print book continues and there are many days when I am overwhelmed (read: stressed) by all the production tasks that have to be accomplished as well as the tasks involved in marketing and selling.

But it’s all good because had I not followed this unchartered path, I would have missed interacting with the supportive online writer/author/publisher forums that have provided me with resources. I would have skipped over friendly, talented writers who publish amazing and encouraging blog posts. I would have snubbed the whole world of social media (who would have ever thought me…a non-techie…would grow to love Twitter?). I would have forfeited everyday miracles and a feeling of accomplishment with each completed task. I would have stunted my growth in faith and truncated my skills. So many good, no, great things I would have missed had I not mimicked the vine and crept into unchartered territory.

I haven’t been back down that residential street in a while but I like to think that if/when I do that the vine will have covered the word STOP. That makes me smile because what’s the opposite of STOP?

>Uncharted Territory

The Worst Boss Ever!

May31

I had planned to save this post for October when National Boss’ Day is recognized but recently I’ve encountered a number of people complaining about their bosses so I decided to share this now. I hope it will offer another way to look at having the worst boss ever.

In February 2009, I took a new job as a technical writer. I was so excited because it was with a major employer, the commute was easy, the pay was good, and the company had dress down Fridays (a BIG bonus for me, a girl who loves her sweats).

My new boss, who I’ll refer to as WBE (worst boss ever) hired me after a grueling panel interview. I did not learn until after I started that few internal employees had applied for the position because most of the employees at company X reviled WBE. For good reason. WBE’s bullying and verbal abuse was known company-wide and for me it started my first month of employment. Here’s one example of the dysfunction I encountered:

One day as I walked down the hall wearing my new company windbreaker, WBE stopped me and asked why my first initial and last name had been monogrammed on my jacket. I stood there looking like she’d spoken a foreign language. Moments later, I managed to ask, “Excuse me?” WBE repeated herself and again it struck me as ludicrous so I started smiling, looking around for a camera and Ashton Kutcher with his “Punk’d” crew. But no. She was serious! Her rigid stance and angry face told me so. I stumbled through, “This is how I received it.” Spitting words, she asked who ordered the windbreaker. I gave her the name and off she stomped to report the incident to the vice president and off I ran to report the same to the person who had ordered and delivered the windbreaker to me. Thankfully, he was not concerned. He was well aware of WBE’s antics and had a great rapport with the vice president. He informed me WBE’s windbreaker had been monogrammed with her last name only, which was the former practice. I left his office, shaking my head, thinking one extra character—my first initial—had set her off.

Needless to say, reporting to WBE was a daily exercise of trying to dodge land mines and every day I failed, managing to step on one and blow myself up! No, I didn’t lose an arm or a leg or my life, but I lost confidence in my skills and abilities. I lost my enthusiasm for the job, for the company, and lost respect for upper management, who seemed to support her in her madness.

As the days and months stretched on, fear, animosity and stress piled on. I felt myself changing into a person I didn’t know, and I hated that person. That person was fearful, incompetent, insecure, angry, and she felt cornered. That was the worst! Feeling like I had no way out and no support. Not even when I filed a labor complaint.

Then it happened. I went on vacation.

During my days of rest and relaxation, I poured into my journal, complaining about my life, my job, my future. I also took time to revisit my life goals, and I recited affirmations as if my life depended on it. Now that I think about it, it did!

One morning as I journaled, I dared ask the hard question, “What should I do about my job?”

“Quit,” is the answer that came from that quiet voice within, the voice that leads and directs if one is willing to follow and obey.

“But, I have a mortgage, a car payment, and only a small amount in savings.”

“You have faith. That’s all you need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

I asked the same question repeatedly over that lengthy vacation and received the same answer every time. I knew what I had to do. When I returned to work, I gave two week’s notice and promptly took off a week to spend time with family and luxuriate in the feeling of power and freedom.

So what did I learn from my experience with WBE? I learned that I was stuck on the wrong life path. But thanks to WBE’s poor management and people skills, it forced me onto the right life path. I am here on Earth to be a self-employed writer and publisher. I was not living that truth until WBE entered my life. I also learned from that experience the real definition of “security.” Security no longer represented a steady paycheck or benefits with a major employer. Security was faith and knowing with surety that God’s word will not fail. Lastly, I learned my encounter with WBE was a karmic setup. After my emotions had returned to normal and I had settled into my new life, I thought about the days when I supervised people. And I had to admit I was not always fair in dealing with those who reported to me. Karma, payback, ‘reaping what you sow’ is real and it can hurt.

So you see there was tremendous good from that God-awful experience so I ask you…what is your encounter with your WBE trying to teach or show you about yourself? Take time now to chew on that because the revelation(s) just may save your life. It did mine.

A Librarian’s Tribute

Feb26

Lori Kirtley Wilson

A few days ago, I learned that my high school librarian, Lori Kirtley-Wilson passed away (pictured above).

A few days ago, I learned more about her than I had learned during the three years I walked the halls of my high school.

In high school, I knew her as a caring, dedicated, gentle adult who enjoyed working with the school’s drill team. She spent as much time preparing those of us on the drill team to be ladies as she did leading us through practices, selecting uniforms, and coordinating appearances/trips. I can still hear her saying, “Ladies, never forget, you are the epitome of womanhood.” During the summer, it was nothing to see her driving around a car full of squiggly, giggly, nerve-racking girls, and always with a smile.

A few days ago after reading her obituary, I learned that Mrs. Kirtley-Wilson had written a book on dreams and angels. I learned she had been a Queen of the Red Hat Society. I learned that she was active in church and community.

Surprised by all the new things I learned about Mrs. Kirtley-Wilson I felt sadness that I had not taken the time when in her presence to learn the woman who wore the title of librarian and drill team sponsor. It made me wonder how many other people I interface with and yet take for granted. How many other people have I not fully connected with because I haven’t explored the person behind the title?

I don’t want to learn about the lovely aspects of a person or their personal achievements from an obituary. I don’t want to make that mistake again. So today and for as long as I breathe, I commit to look beyond the title of librarian, teacher, mechanic, president, letter carrier, bully, teller, parent, etc. to see the real person inside. It might not be a successful look-see. Then, again, it might. My intention might be misunderstood or met with resistance. Then, again, it might not. But the least I can do is try. The least I can do is venture forth and try to make a human-to-human connection. This much I owe to Mrs. Kirtley-Wilson. This much I owe to myself.

Mrs. Kirtley-Wilson, I am sorry I am just now learning of your full greatness, but I thank you that even in death, you are still pushing me to be the best I can be. Have fun in heaven. I’ll see you there one day, and I promise when I get there, we’ll laugh about those special drill team days and have great conversations about books.

My love and thanks to other librarians who I have connected with in small and great ways:
Laverne Brown, Dallas Public Library
Victor Kralisz, retired, Dallas Public Library
Karen Beckett, Irving Public Library
Janet Vance, Richardson Public Library

Encountering the Written Word

Jan28

Words, writing, and books….these are topics I can talk about for hours, and typically do with a friend who is as into these topics as I am. Recently, this friend and I were talking, trying to determine if we could live one day without encountering the written word. Not necessarily in book format but in any form. We decided we couldn’t but to help us reach that decision, we walked through a “normal” day. Below is a sample of a normal day for me and as you’ll see, I could not avoid the written word all day (of course this makes me happy).

A Normal Day:
I wake up and start journaling my dreams and thoughts. Words. Before I finish journaling, I want coffee. So off I stumble to the kitchen to make a few cups. Since I’m a coffeeholic, there’s no bumping into written words since there’s no need to read directions. All that’s required is action (an aspect of writing that we’ll leave for another day) and barely any thought.

Resettled in my favorite chair, the bed or the sofa, I sip coffee, finish journaling (is one ever finished journaling?) and decide to catch the morning news as I wait for my computer to boot up. Turning to a local channel, I see words on the screen. Did you catch that? …words on the screen.

My cell phone dings and by the sound I know it’s an incoming email—words. I turn off the TV and turn toward the computer to check email and then write, write, write. Nothing but words. (Okay, so maybe that’s cheating since I am a writer and that’s what I do most days.)

Some hours later, it’s errand-running time. I turn off the computer and dash out of the house. Again no words, but lots of action. As I’m running errands, I read billboards, road signs, traffic alerts, etc. Words, words, with a few numbers thrown in (yuck to numbers!). I sign my receipt at the grocery store (one of my errands) and see enticing words offering me a percentage off of this, a percentage off of that, words and numbers (yuck to numbers!).

Back at home, I settle back into my work, writing, which is not work at all except when it comes to editing (yuck to editing!). My stomach growls and it’s getting dusky outdoors so I know it’s time for dinner. But it’s also time to exercise so I grab a quick snack and off I rush to the gym or track. No written words required. Just action and sweat. In an hour, I am back home and seriously scouring the fridge for a real meal. I throw one together which does not require written words except when I decide to try a new recipe, then it would be an encounter with written words. But trust me, that doesn’t happen often. I try to spend as little time as possible in the kitchen.

To end the day, I watch TV–no words unless I accidentally hit the subtitle button or view certain commercials such as those featuring class action law suits against drug companies or Meow Mix or the starving artist art show. Finally, after the evening news, it’s time to read myself to sleep–words, words, and more words. Hmmm…are there words in my dreams?

What about you? Can you make it through a “normal” day without encountering any written words? If so, how in the heck did you do that?

The End of the World

Dec10

December 21, 2012…the world ends!

On that Friday, eleven days from today, the world will self destruct and humanity will exist no more. Except…

I suppose a remnant will remain (God always keeps a remnant, right?). If I’m blessed to be included in the remnant, then when I wake up on December 22, here’s my hope:
I hope that donuts, cake, pie, and egg nog ice cream no longer have calories;
I hope there is no more waiting in line especially at Wal-Mart or the bank;
I hope my hair is automatically self-cleaning;
I hope my acne clears up permanently;
I hope there are no more red light cameras;
In fact, I hope there’s no more traffic, period!

I’m being silly, of course. I don’t believe the world will end on December 21. I do, however, believe there will be a great spiritual shift as humanity leapfrogs to a higher level relationship with God.

Can you imagine a world where:
People are incapable of hurting (intentionally or not) one another;
Crime and injustice are no more;
All people are treated as equals regardless of… (skin color, background, national origin, etc.–you fill in the blank);
Tranquility and harmony reside at all times;
There is no lack and all people are free.

Oh, wait! Did I just paraphrase the Constitution of the United States? Oops! So maybe we do need the world to end for another chance at getting it right. What do you think?

All I Want for Christmas…

Dec2

The day after Thanksgiving, I watched my young cousins grab the sales circulars out of the newspaper and begin circling–with a Sharpie no less–the toys and games they wanted for Christmas. I couldn’t help but smile as they “shopped” and wished. Oh, but their joy and excitement was infectious.

Later, I happened to watch one of my favorite movies, Mr. Holland’s Opus. Some of you may recall the story of the music teacher who while teaching, tutoring, and helping to raise a deaf son, steals a minute here, a minute there to write his own American symphony, his opus, his gift to the world. As the years roll by, he becomes more and more frustrated that he is unable to devote unfettered time and effort to his dream. Finally, his last day of teaching arrives. On this day, we learn that it took his entire teaching career to finish his opus but more than that we learn that his true opus, his true gift to the world is the students he nurtured unselfishly during his 30-something years of teaching. Many of whom went on to become accomplished adults. As their gift to him for his love and sacrifice, his former students play the symphony he composed.

When the movie ended, I thought about these two seemingly unrelated events—the kids’ Christmas shopping and the movie—and discovered they are not unrelated.

For Christmas, I want a pair of new boots, and there’s a pair I’ve been price-watching for a few weeks now. But when I put my material wants aside and really think about what I want for Christmas it is to leave a positive legacy, to leave humanity better than when I was birthed into it.

I know this seems like such a lofty goal. At least it did to me when I first thought it, but then I rewound the movie in my head and realized it doesn’t take much to leave a positive gift to the world. Mr. Holland didn’t have millions of dollars. He wasn’t a genius nor did he have influence or access to the media. Mr. Holland simply extended himself. He did simple, ordinary things such as listen, share, give, advise, and follow his heart.

These are things I can do. I can judge writing contests and encourage young writers. I can challenge the kids’ thinking in my creative writing classes. I can donate a blanket or socks to a homeless mission. I can read to senior citizens at a nursing home. I can smile at a stranger or review a resume’ for a friend.

All of these SMALL, common things don’t require anything but my time and focus (and a little bit of money). But they are BIG at helping me get what I really want for Christmas–a positive legacy.

Yes, I am still going to get those boots but while I’m out shopping, I’ll give, share, listen, laugh, but most of all…I’ll follow my heart.

What about you? What do you want for Christmas? No, what do you really want?